#Note that ‘Fella’ is gender neutral here

[call-me-casual]

Since we’re on a roll with the Rescue AU-

Assign your favourite marionettes! There can be multiple per space ^^

[running-with-kn1ves]

Late Mornings

A/N: Just a short little thang I felt like writing. The idea of writing a smut w/ these two is very tempting 🧐🧐

Incubus x Gender neutral reader x Succubus

Summary: Just a normal morning with your secret succubus/incubus roommates, nothing odd here at all

“Hey, have you been going into my room lately?”

You looked down into your cup of warm tea, sticking your thumb in to feel the temperature. 

Your female roommate scoffed, cutting herself off with a laugh.

“What? No. What kind of question is that, why would I go into your room?”

“Well,” You chest squeezes, your heart feeling like it was about to squish and explode. “I-- Every morning, my door is open. I never leave my door open; not when I’m not home, anyway. I’ve been paying attention to it more, and it’s no coincidence--”

“What are we talkin’ about fellas?” A raspy voice says from behind, startling you. 

Your hand shakes, mug slightly tipping to leave tea on the white tablecloth. Shit, this was your grandma’s.

Your female roommate, currently still cooking with her back turned to you, let out a groan of disgust.

“Didn’t know the beast woke up before noon.” She chides. 

Warm hands fall onto your shoulders, holding them still as if to keep you from getting up. 

“You’re up, Gabriel?” You try to turn around to face him, but find that the male is already next to you, his warmth radiating off of him, part of it likely still remaining in the sheets he just tangled himself out of. 

“You too?” He frowns, unattractive lines forming on his pedicured face. “I don’t sleep that late most of the time, you know. I have to get up for work by 10-- usually.”

“Yeah, when you don’t have a ‘guest’.” Your female roommate counters. 

“Ugh shuddup Liz, as if you’re not the same. Besides, you know I gave that up a while ago.” 

For some reason, Gabriel looked toward you while saying this, you in return giving him a confused look. 

He massaged your shoulders, leaning all of his weight onto you as he nearly fell asleep again, yawning and closing his eyes. 

“You believe me right, sunshine? Haven’t heard anything in these thin walls lately huh?”

You cringe at how he shoves his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling your smell so obviously it nearly makes you shudder from embarrassment. You would’ve shoved him off if Liz had turned around, witnessing it. But she still was turned cooking, making breakfast for you. She made enough for all three of you to eat, but you knew you’d be the only one with a plate when she was done. 

“C’mon Gabe you’re suffocating me,” You pat his hand, hoping he’d stop himself from reaching over the chair to hold you. But he didn’t, instead giving you a awkward hug from behind as he rocked you back and forth. 

“Blegh, don’t call me that; you know I hate it. Just gives me more of a reason to hang on…” He says, noting the way you shimmy in his grip, trying to make him let go. 

Liz turns with a pan in her hand, dumping the eggs and bacon in it onto your plate, pulling Gabriels ear with her free hand. 

“Let go.” She says, with a little more harshness than you would’ve expected. 

“Mind your manners, you never learned how to share.” She glares daggers at him, flicking his nose as he backs off. 

You’re too busy pulling at your neck, a wave of nausea and sleepiness coming over you, as if Gabriel’s exhaustion rubbed off. 

“So mean, bitch..” He mumbles, stretching his arms as he goes to sit next to you. “Well, atleast I feel energized for the day.” 

His face has a newfound freshness, dark circles less ingrained as he looks around the room. 

Gabriel scooted his chair over noisily, sitting nearly beside you now despite your chair being at the short end of the table. 

You let out a small sigh of exasperation, feeling what seemed like bruises on your shoulders and neck. Had he really pressed that hard?

“Stop messing with it, you’ll make it worse.” He said, bringing your hand down as you felt a strange indent in your skin.

“Make what worse?” You questioned. Could he see something on you that you couldn’t? Well, you hadn’t looked in a mirror since you woke up. 

“What are your plans for the day?” Liz interrupted, holding a mug with one hand as she sat across from gabriel, moving her chair with her other hand. You always admired the grace she seemed to have when doing things, her balance and lack of clumsiness making her appear so capable. If it were you, you probably would’ve gotten the chair stuck on the rug, dropping the mug in the process. 

Her chair was close, but not nearly as close as Gabriel’s. You watched her pour her coffee as you began to pick up your fork. Gabe held onto your other hand, petting it with his thumb as he grabbed a clean mug from across the table. 

Trying to pull your hand away, you found that Gabriel’s came with it, holding on as if he was an extension of you. 

“Gabe.” Liz barked, watching the scene unfold. Gabriel was mid-sip as he let go in an offended manner, throwing up his free hand and rolling his eyes from behind the mug. 

She scoffed, muttering under her breath about his childness as she turned her attention to you. 

“So, your plans for today, Bee?” Liz repeated.

You perked up at the nickname, having not heard it for quite a while. You much preferred it over Gabriel’s overly sweet ones-- It wasn’t even about him trying too hard, he was just naturally that sappy to a tasteless degree. 

You looked up like a deer in headlights, not expecting the attention your roommates were giving now, since they were previously so occupied with one another. But they both awaited your answer, watching you shovel bits of cheesy eggs and overdone bacon into your mouth. You took a scalding sip of your tea, some of it dripping down to your chin as you tried to hurry to answer. 

“You’re almost as bad as Gabriel,” Liz sneered, though with less conviction than she gave to the aforementioned male. “Take your time, don’t rush.” 

She pulled a napkin from the holder, grabbing your chin like a mother would to her child. Though, you didn’t feel the napkin grace your face, instead her thumb was wiping away whatever remnants you left on your unwashed skin. 

Satisfied, Liz licked her thumb clean, drying it on the napkin she pulled. 

“So...?”

You cleared your throat, licking your lips under the hungry gazes of your roomates. 

“Uh, I really hadn’t planned much, since its been my first day off since--” 

“You should stay home with us; what do ya know, I have today off too.” Gabriel interrupts. 

You look towards him, a cheeky grin covering his face as he pushes his socked foot against yours, hip nearly touching your own. 

All of a sudden Gabriel yelped out, his knee hitting the table as Liz shot him a glare that you swore could paralyze. You hoped to never be on the receiving end of her wrath. 

“While I don’t usually agree with the dimwit,” Liz commented, turning her attention back to you as her hard expression softened. “I think it could be nice to have a roomies day-- Just relaxing, watching movies, indulging in some needs… You know, just simple things.” 

Gabriel nursed his foot, holding it as he nodded with a frown. 

“I could do your hair.. Liz could take you shopping…” Gabe’s excitement had turned to slight pouting. 

You thought about it for a moment. Why not? You had hardly spent much time with the two, even though they always seemed to be around, sucking up your energy and time like vampires. You swore it was a mistake to have two extroverts as your roommates. 

There seemed to be something off about them too; something they wouldn’t say. But you didn’t mind-- especially since they had quit some of their more tedious habits like bringing nightly “friends” home, since you came along. You didn’t know how much longer you could handle the embarrassment of hearing their every move, every sound. Thankfully, you didn’t have to have much of a discussion about it, their one-night stands decreasing by the second week of your move-in. 

“Awe please say yes,” Gabriel pouted, reaching for your hand as he bunched his own against the tablecloth, attention pulled back to you. “We hardly get your-- well, any time with you. C’mon, won’t you do it for us?” 

Liz would’ve reprimanded him if it weren’t for the way your frown turned slightly upward. You took his hand, giving a dramatic sigh and roll of your eyes. 

“Does that mean yes?” Liz questioned. 

“I guess so. As long as we aren’t going extreme-- I don’t need a whole wardrobe change, OR a new hairstyle.” 

You looked at Gabriel with your eyebrows raised. 

“I’ll do the best I can to restrain myself.” He cackles, rubbing his hands mischeviously. 

“Ah, I’m excited,” Liz says with a grin, pushing her foot towards yours. “I can’t remember the last time I got to go out with a… friend.” She gave you a smile that seemed out of place. 

You smiled back, slightly forced as her cold foot ran up and down your leg, stroking above your pajama pants as she gleamed at you. 

“Well we gotta get ready-- first, its my turn. I need to get you dressed and right for the day-- before missy here takes you for a shopping trip that counts more as an excursion.” Gabriel pushed out of his seat, leaving his full cup there as you took another bite of food. 

“Don’t keep me waiting,” He pushed your head towards his face, giving a longing kiss to your cheek as you chewed. “I know where to find youuu.” He sing-songed, pressing a finger to your nose as he pecked the same area once more. He skipped back to his room, humming as he and Liz refused to break eye contact. 

Was it normal for roommates to be so affectionate? You weren’t sure, but the rent was too cheap and they were too nice for you to say no to his advances. 

“He’s right, its already eleven.” Liz commented, her busty body already dressed in normal day clothes that showed off the right parts; You had to admit, you were a little jealous of how well she knew how to dress for her body type.

Liz grabbed her mug with her fingertips, pushing your hair back and giving a gentle peck to your forehead. 

“Don’t let him do too much, you’ll regret it.” Liz warned. She laughed a little as she walked away, your chewing stopping as you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. 

You quickly finished your food, feeling another wave of sickly nausea pressing into your sinuses as your head went heavy. You were going to need much more than your normal amount of strength to survive those two today.

[h0bg0blin-meat]

What hindu gods/deities are lgbt (I'm sorry if this is rude or ignorant I just wish to learn as I've heard some are)

Dw it's neither rude nor ignorant. Now before I start I do wanna say that almost all the queerness we see in Hindu mythology is highly subtextual most of the time, which is like pretty obvious cuz these were the ancient times. So this might lead to a varied number of interpretations, and I can only offer the same. But most of them are pretty convincingly queer, so let's get into it cuz why tf not. (This is gonna be a loooooong post so buckle up)

Vishnu

This fella is probably the most pan-coded deity in the entire pantheon. Extremely comfortable with both his masculine and feminine side, Vishnu can sometimes be considered one of the peak genderfluid icons out there. His avatar, Krishna, despite being referred to as the Parampurush (in other words the manliest man in the entire universe), his physical appearance (which is what is considered to be a very feminine body for a man today, i.e., slender and soft) breaks the stereotype of what masculine man should look like. There are paintings of him and Radha where I've stared for like a hot minute trying to figure out which one is Radha (mostly in grayscale cuz otherwise their complexions are a dead giveaway) and yet, he slays it like a badass.

Then we also have Mohini, the goddess of beauty probably the best seductress out there, and the only female avatar of Vishnu. Through her having a union (yk what they mean by that) with Shiva (AHEM subtext amirit), Vishnu gave birth to Ayyappa, and wouldja look at dat he has two dads, which was actually prophesized. Mohini in one of the versions of Mahabharata (not the original one) ALSO slept with Iravan (Arjun's son) the night before he was gonna offer himself as a sacrifice for the Kurukshetra war. Reason was that Iravan had a wish to get married and spend the night with his wife before dying, and wishing his wife would mourn for him after his death. So Krishna felt bad for him, turned himself into Mohini and married him. The next day she held her husband's body and mourned for him like any wife would. We can also go back to the time where he sported (make of that word what you will) with Arjuni (female version of Arjun) as well as the female version of Narad (for a year in the latter's case).

In short, we can see how chill Krishna is with his fluidity with sexuality and gender, so much so that it's hard to put a label on him sometimes, which is fine. But yes interpreting him as queer wouldn't necessarily be a preposterous claim after all.

Shiva

Tbh Shiva is also pretty queer-coded, given his union with Mohini (and yes he specifically ASKED Vishnu to turn into her and hence he KNEW it was his best friend after all), and him turning into a woman to join Krishna's leela that one time, which also denotes that he's pretty confident in his gender fluidity as well, to some extent. He also has a sort of female avatar, who's actually very underrated. I think it's called Shivani. Also no one can deny the tension between Shiva and Vishnu let's be real here. They even have a ship name- Harihar, PLUS that "Vishnu is in the heart of Shiva and Shiva is in the heart of Vishnu" line. Btw this was a joke, but now you know why they're one of the popular ships of Hindu mythology. I personally have very neutral stance to the kind of bond they share, whether you call it platonic or something else.

(Note that I personally do not consider Ardhanarishwar and Vaikunthakamalaja as any genderfluid thingy because I just see them as literal fusions of the two couples, but yes many consider these two fused versions of Parvati-Shiva and Lakshmi-Narayan respectively to be gender-nonconforming, or non-binary of some sort.)

Lakshmi

Why did I add her here? Because I have a feeling she might be bi, given the fact that her husband is also technically her wife, considering we take Mohini into account, who I'm pretty sure she loves just as much as she loves Vishnu. But again, that's just my take on it.

Agni

Now he's one of the more popular queer-coded Hindu gods, specifically known for his implied poly-esque relationship with his wife Svaha and Soma (the wind god). Now many sites on Google have claimed Soma to be his husband, but I am yet to find a scriptural evidence for that claim, so I suggest you to take their words with a grain of salt. But what IS true is that these two guys do share a pretty profound bond. There was also this one instance where Soma went to a mountain and Agni followed him. Then both of them at the top of that mountain, 'became one' (what does that mean? not sure but it sure as hell sounded romantic. anyways). Also Soma is considered the "seed" and Agni the "progenitor" hence releasing the "seed". Now again what does that mean? Idk but that's sus as hell for sure.

Plus, Agni is also very well-known to be the (oral) receptor of Shiva's (and sometimes Soma's but not sure about the second one) semen, which he then flung into Ganga cuz it was too hot to bear for him, and that's how Kartikeya/Murugan/Skanda (Shiva and Parvati's son and a God of war) was born. So yeah.

Mitra-Varuna

These two.... are another pair of popular queer-coded Hindu deities. They're almost always summoned and worshipped together, and you can say they have canonically.... well had a union, and good news is none of them became a woman for the deed. Their union is recorded in the Shatapatha Brahmana 2.4.4.19, where Mitra is said to have "implanted his seed in Varuna" (hmmm nothing homosexual going on here) during the waning moon. Many people consider this a metaphor for the cyclic nature of celestial phenomena so it's upto you to interpret it however you want.

Now they also give off that sunshine x grumpy vibe, with Mitra being the god of friendship, sun, daylight, dawn and stuff while Varuna is the god of the waters, moon, nighttime, dusk etc. Plus, the latter has anger issues but he has a bubbly Mitra (pun intended) to calm him down for dat :D.

They are also known for siring two sages, Agastya and Vasistha after they accidentally released and mixed their semen into a pot as a result of getting enchanted by Urvashi (one of the apsaras or celestial nymphs).

Budh and Ila

Budh is technically an AMAB non-binary (or intersex) deity (and technically the planet Mercury) born to Chandra (who's also synonymous to Soma most of the time) and Tara, to put it simply, and got cursed to be neither male nor female because Chandra had an affair with someone else's wife -_- (Tara was the wife of Brihaspati, or Jupiter, who was also the guru of the gods).

Ila is another genderfluid deity. Some versions of the myth says they were born a woman, some say they were born a man called Sudyumna, while some say they were born a woman, but since their parents wanted a son, Mitra-Varuna (who they preyed to) changed their gender and Sudyumna was born (but then there was some issue with the rituals, which led to the duo to turn him back to a woman, which is when they took the name of Ila. Ik, too much gendershifting going on, bear with me). Anyhoo they got this genderfluidity from Shiva's spell and every month they'd change sex from Sudyumna to Ila and back to Sudyumna and so on. Budh got enchanted by Ila and married her, and bore the Pururavas with her.

Later on, some versions say Ila permanently turned into a man with Parvati's boon. But personally interpreting, Budh was technically still married to Sudyumna so..... idk what happened to them afterwards tho. I hope they were still spouses...

[testosteroneb0y]

NSFW alphabet - HABIT emH

-Cross posted on ao3-

CW: explicit/18+ content below the cut, A lot of kinks are implied but not directly mentioned and there is probably things I could add in here but I'm too lazy, just know it's kinky and smutty and all that jazz

Author's Note: this is the first thing I've written in a while and most of it is just me yapping. I tried to go over it and fix any mistakes but I've been too tired to properly proofread it. I also tried to keep it mostly in character but Habit is just such a questionable character it's rather hard to make it not end up being ooc. Gender neutral but made with afab body parts in mind.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I would like to think there would be a little bit but tbh it seems like a no. He'd probably make you see stars and then go straight back to murdering people or something <3

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His : hands. This fella probably has hands that would be on the larger side (which is shocking) and he just loves that, he can do so much more whether it's wrapping a hand around your wrists to hold them together or something else (that I can't think of rn😔 I'm too tired) he just loves the fact that it gives him more control

Partner : thighs, hips. I don't really have a good reason for this, he just seems like the type of guy to love leaving handprints from grabbing too hard on thighs 😇 similar to the thighs part, he probably just loves gripping onto them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he cums inside, there's no denying it. He'll say things like "'gonna fill you up so good, m'kay, rabbit?" I don't even think he would be that big on breeding but my god does that man love seeing his seed dripping out of you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jerked off and came into a pair of your underwear and put it back into your drawer. He would be soossososoooo obsessed with the fact that you'd end up not realising and wearing them will they were still dirty

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Habit knows his stuff and I stand by that. Evan, not so much. From being in so many different people's bodies he has to have gotten some action. He was probably pissed off when he realised Evan's body couldn't take as much as he would like to.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Literally any as long as he can grab at your ass, or thighs, or hips. Also doggy style occasionally because he just loves absolutely pounding down into you, shoving your face into a pillow and going to town.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

(This is more my Evan hcs bcuz yk its his body n stuff !!)

Naturally doesn't have much hair down there besides a little happy trail

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

honestly, canon habit probably would not give a fuck, as long as he gets to cum then he is fine but I'm a fanboy and dont care, i like that anyway :3

on the more ooc side, I think if he was truly inlove with you he would try to be more romantic but it's hard for him considering his violent nature

He would always try his best to make sure you have a nice (well...as nice as getting your brain fucked out of you can be) time.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he is shameless. He will leave a room and go to the bathroom or something and have a wank, he doesn't care if people in the other room hear him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

CHOKING. He fucking loves choking people because he likes the way they try to grasp for air. The light leaving their eyes is enough to get this man GOING.🥰 he loves pain, inflicting it mainly. I think it would be kinda obvious considering his...occupation, if you will. He is big on corruption. He just loves turning a little innocent "rabbit" into the freakiest person :3

I could go on and on about his kinks but I'm trying to contain myself.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Despite popular belief, I think he probably prefers being in his own house, but he would do it anywhere in the house.

If he is reeeally horny then he might pull you into an alley or something for a quickie

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything and everything you do will turn him on. I'm leaving it at that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Im a strong believer that tbis man likes everything no matter how weird but maaaybe like scat n stuff, I can just see him not really being the biggest fan of things like that, he probably thinks it's too gross (and will say that while being covered in like 6 different peoples blood)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves receiving, Face fucking is one of his favourite things. Everything from how you look in the aftermath of it, to (going back to the choking thing) Your eyes rolling back as he just shoves his cock down into your throat.

Although he likes receiving, I think he would be pretty good at giving. It's almost like a wasted talent of his.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I don't even know why I have to say this but he definitely is rough ASSSSFFFFF. He will plow into you like there's no tomorrow. If he is feeling really cruel he will go super slow at first, only moving very slightly, making it almost like new form of torture.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he is even slightly pent up he most definitely will let it out. He seems like the typa guy that hates being sexually frustrated and he HAS to have some sort of release to calm him down or he is just rougher later on in the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is down to try everything and if I'm being honest he probably has already tried everything, and I genuinely mean every single thing a person could like. This isn't to say he likes everything, but he does probably enjoys mostly everything being the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 he is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could and would go all day, all night. Unfortunately, he has other business to attend to. (Brutally murdering people 😍)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

oh brother, he has toys, TOO many toys. Mainly to use on other people but I can see him using a vibrator on himself on occasion. He also would own everything that could he used for bondage, which also happens to come in handy when he gets a bit silly and kidnaps people ! This is kind of random but I can see him loving nip clamps.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

So much, too much. I personally would not be able to stand the amount that he would tease, and I can put up with more than the average person. He is just a cruel motherfucker.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I can't imagine him being very loud. Evan whimpers, Habit himself wouldn't WANT to but that's the price that he has to pay when he uses other people's bodies.

He will talk and whisper dirty stuff into your ears most of the time but sometimes if he has had a bad day and is just really angry he will just shut up and get it over with.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves putting you in your place, even the slightest little bit of back chat and you are done for.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I think he would be pretty average in size, maybe even slightly smaller considering Evan's height, but he would make up for it in other ways.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It doesn't take much to get him going so even just the simple act of bending down infront of him, whether it was purposely or not, and he will have you bent over.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Habit himself wouldn't be tired because of the whole being an entity but he would realise "oh shit this body is so tired" and he would just force himself to go to sleep.

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 15

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slow burn

cw ; none, dottore is mentioned but none of his hideous acts

notes ; WHATS UP SMART FELLAS AND FART SMELLAS ⁉️

I PROMISE IM NOT DEAD,,,, see the thing is that since i published the last chapter of this, i’ve done some crazy things like finishing and graduating highschool and studying and doing national exams and preparing to apply to colleges and yknow….. really normal, totally not time consuming stuff LMAO i can’t promise that i’ll be consistent again as i am still pretty busy with all that bizz but i’m very happy to have finally gotten a new chapter out

ANYWAY ITS MEROPIDE TIME BABEY ‼️ finally get to write my pookie wookie shmookie wriothesley, can u tell that i think he’s neat :3 can u tell that i am brewing up something with him :3 can u :3

also i HAVE OTHER WRITING PROJECTS COMING OUT SOONER OR LATER MORE LATER I PROMISE,,,,, currently cooking up something for whatever dungeon meshi-heads out there that r willing to enjoy it!!!!!

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this line could not be moving slower.

you’ve been standing here for so long— any progress forward is merely two steps further but your legs have long since turned to lead, making each movement arduous and achy. mind hazy and limbs sluggish as you drag your feet through the rusted metal flooring. the most likely cause for your sudden stagnation is the overwhelming pressure from being… however many feet underwater you are, as you haven’t had much time to adapt to that yet.

ironically, it almost makes you regret your decision and you hadn’t even truly gotten inside the fortress of meropide. perhaps this was some sort of intentional psychological warfare towards the new prisoners, some sort of initiation for the upcoming torments of their sentences. even so, you look back on the moment and think it was the best course of action.

you remember the way your heart dropped upon hearing the word ‘guilty’, the way it fell all the way down to your feet and picked its pace back up again, beating a hundred miles per hour. you remember the way you weren’t even given time to say goodbye, to reach out to childe as he rebelled against the guards and was immediately detained by the iudex.

the iudex… you become conflicted at the thought of him. part of your brain tells you that you should be angry and despise him for only letting you visit childe after he was reported to be missing from the fortress, under the guise of inviting you to investigate his disappearance. though… he was so kind about it. you must’ve visited his office nearly everyday to ask for permission to visit the prison, every time being met by the same answer of ‘it’s beyond my capabilities’, but each of them he remained utterly patient and civilized— something that you ashamedly can’t say that you did in return. and even so, he graciously offered to grant you a fake sentence so you could find the harbinger yourself, with the help of the traveler and paimon of course.

there was a certain air to monsieur neuvillette, one of silent melancholy and deep thoughtfulness. your first impression of the iudex had you recalling zhongli as a comparison, but now you’ve grown more certain that they have far more in common. neuvillette is most definitely not human, you’ve long since assessed that, but every time you get a look at his eyes while visiting his office, you notice an almost draconic appearance to them. perhaps that’s why you can’t fully bring yourself to dislike him— he reminds you far too much of you the fond friendship you’ve found within the consultant of wansheng funeral parlor.

there’s a shove to your shoulder that snaps you back into reality and you realize it’s your turn to have your mugshot taken. mugshot… what would your mother think of you now? both her own child and their childhood best friend having criminal records in another country— you can practically feel the pinching of your ear, even if the false charge was something as ridiculous as stealing lady furina’s cake. despite the flash of the kamera making your eyes sting, you do your best to maintain a neutral expression and wonder if the traveler and paimon had already gotten their turn and have long since installed themselves in the fortress. you especially wonder so when you’re left to venture the fortress of meropide alone, with only a room number and no knowledge of the prison’s system to your name.

“hey! you there!”

oh dear heavens, it’s already started— you’ve not stepped foot into prison for one whole minute and you’re already about to become a bullying victim. you swallow thickly and turn around meekly like a cornered rabbit. a particularly grumpy-looking guard is the one who calls you over, expression hard and stoic. you nearly consider begging him to not be mean to you like a cowardly little kid, but he speaks before you even get to open your mouth and spew anything embarrassing.

“you’re y/n, the new inmate, right? the duke wants to see you in his office.”

oh it’s so over for you.

perhaps you haven’t become a punching bag just yet but you’ve sure, somehow, irked the warden enough to be immediately sent to his office. oh gods… is it because you’re fatui? you heard there were quite a few fatui operatives already residing in the fortress of meropide— perhaps the duke has a particular distaste for your kind. the guard half-heartedly shows you the way to the duke’s office, the singular, imposing tower at the center of the fortress.

the silence inside the tower is deafening, the only sound heard is the clang of your steps against the metal stairs, almost as if you’re the only living being inside. the second floor introduces itself through the incredibly faint, almost innate herbal scent that wafts around you more and more the higher steps you climb. finally, it reveals an atmospheric office with bookshelves rounding the walls, a comfortable-looking sofa with a coffee table littered with teacups before it and in the grand center of the room, a wide desk— the last thing you register is the man sitting at it expectantly.

he looks nothing like you expected him to.

by the title of duke, you were picturing an older, posher man adorning expensive fabrics and a distasteful, condescending expression towards the ‘lower lifeforms�� of his prisoners. instead, he’s much younger and rugged, littered with scars, dark tones and sharp edges to his outfit— he almost looks like an inmate himself. despite not appearing necessarily condescending, the duke of meropide is still plentiful imposing, as his icy blue eyes and platform boots send a shiver through your spine when he stands up to greet you. he sticks out a hand and you instinctively flinch away, although the hand only hangs in the air passively awaiting a handshake.

“y/n l/n, prisoner 7458, it’s a pleasure to meet you. welcome to the fortress of meropide.”

oh… his tone is so casual and friendly, it completely takes you aback— like you’re meeting a friend on the street instead of the highest authority of an enormous prison as one of his very own prisoners. you scramble to shake his hand and awkwardly fall into some sort of bowing motion in the midst of you’re panic.

“a-ah yes! thank po you very m-much, your grace.”

with this proximity, you have no choice but to look at the duke’s face up close. he wears an easy smile on his otherwise seemingly hardened face, one that you can’t help but subconsciously think of as handsome. another juxtaposition to your expectations toward the duke is that, despite his rugged and troublesome appearance, he is quite well kept— as seen by his neat peach fuzz. he confuses you entirely.

the duke chuckles amusedly at your entirely perplexed demeanor.

“no need to be so nervous, this is a casual talk that i personally wanted to have with you, rather than a… part of the fortress’ welcoming ceremony. so please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable— i’ll prepare us some tea. oh! and call me wriothesley.”

you do as… wriothesley says and sit on the surprisingly cushy chair in front of his desk as he himself steps off to the side to make the tea. your mind is still running at miles per hour with everything that’s happened and with what might happen next, with what to say or not to say to the duke, with where childe, the traveler and paimon might be right now. not to mention the sickeningly sweet smell that fills your brain even further… this must be some strong tea. wriothesley sets a teacup in front of you and sits at his grand, tall chair behind the desk. he faces you with a bright smile that you force yourself to return, yet you still can’t help but keep the thought of this ‘casual talk’ having other intentions gnaw at the back of your mind.

“so, i won’t dilly-dally with what i’d like to talk about— as you may have noticed, the fortress harbors quite a few inmates from the fatui.” bingo. who knew that your blinded anxieties were actually right.

“all of them arrive here with similar ranks, under similar sentences for similar crimes. standard stuff, really… but this is the very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a sergeant.”

although the duke keeps up an easy-going and lighthearted demeanor, you can’t help but remain on edge. you feel once again like prey cornered by a calculating hound. the smell of the tea still plagues your mind with its unavoidable presence— what’s even worse is that the scent isn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, the memory is just out of your grasp, frustrating you even more.

“and even further, this is our very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a fatui sergeant whose crime was… to steal a cake from lady furina?” wriothesley briefly looks down toward a document on his desk to make sure he’s actually recalling your crime correctly. you barely listen to what he’s saying, still laser focused on recognizing this irking fragrance.

“adding onto that, it seems as though we’re receiving two new inmates today who are arriving on the exact same sentence for the exact same crime as yourself. seems a bit curious, doesn’t it?”

your attention is caught by the mention of the traveler and paimon and you shoot up in your seat.

“oh yes, those are my friends! a-are they okay? have they arrived yet?”

wriothesley is seemingly surprised by your sudden enthusiasm, as he chuckles with certain shock and amusement. he looks at his file once again, eyes trailing over to the two other prisoner registry’s below your own with a certain analytical hint to his gaze.

“i’m certain they’ll be arriving at the fortress shortly. in the meantime, why don’t you tell me how exactly the three of you managed to commit such a heinous crime?” he asks humorously.

wait!

you’ve finally recognized the scent… a lesser known tea leaf from liyue, with no real definitive name for itself— only truly studied within the medical field for being one of the few tea leafs to contain sodium thiopental, a barbiturate that slows the speed of the communication between the spinal cord and the brain, making high-functioning tasks such as lying harder to perform. a truth serum.

wriothesley has served you a truth serum.

so much for a ‘casual talk’. you’ve known the man for not even a full day, yet you still feel a sting of betrayal fermenting in your chest. but truly, what can be done when you’ll always have a big fat target on your back that labels you as nothing more than a fatuus? you’ve chosen this wretched bed, now you must lie in it.

and lie you will.

with a forced laugh, you feign a reminiscent smile. “a-ah, it’s actually quite silly— i believe it goes without mention that my friends and i are foreigners and still wildly foreign to fontainian customs. we were invited to a meeting with lady furina and monsieur neuvillette in the spirit of diplomacy but, ahah… i guess we were unfamiliar with lady furina’s predilection for sweets and just took one for ourselves!”

wriothesley laughs in turn, but you’re unable to discern how genuine it is. you watch his periwinkle eyes flicker briefly toward your untouched teacup and suddenly, the atmosphere turns into one akin to a game of chess— innately hostile and strategic, where both of you must be hyper aware of the other’s next move lest you make a mistake and lose your carefully constructed composure.

“i must say it is an unlikely set of circumstances…”

you subconsciously look toward wriothesley’s own teacup, seeing that his remains as unsipped as yours. with a chilling feeling, you look back up to see that the duke’s gaze was already fixated on you, which means he saw you checking his teacup. which means he knows that you know.

“though, i’ve got to ask… what exactly entails your position in the fatui? this is purely out of my own curiosity, as most of our inmates all come from the house of the hearth.”

you swallow hard.

“well… i’m head of the infirmary, that’s all my position is, really. the sergeant title is just a half-assed justification for how high my ranking is.”

the calculating hint to wriothesley’s gaze softens in the slightest amount possible and he lightly looks off to the side, as if reminded of something, or someone he knows by your answer.

“i work directly under the second fatui harbinger, il dottore. i’m somewhat his… assistant.” the word assistant leaves your mouth with a tinge of disdainfulness as your body almost instinctively tenses at the mention of… him. the duke picks up on it.

“the doctor, huh— haven’t heard much about him myself, but what i have heard seems like more than enough for me.” you can’t help but snort at that.

“do you like it? working for him, that is.”

you’re staggered into silence and a shocked expression— the suddenness of the question completely taking you by surprise. the speechlessness you feel is painfully reminiscent of when kunikuzushi asked you if you’d like to kill dottore. despite the answer being obvious to you, there’s a subconscious fear gnawing at your side that dottore might be out here listening, disguised as someone else or as one of his segments, living a false life. but you can’t allow yourself to live in fear of him anymore— his segments are gone and he’s pathetically stuck in zapolyarny palace by himself while you’ve been out and traveling miles and miles away from snezhnaya. kunikuzushi doesn’t fear him, so why should you?

you’ve always been terrible at bluffing, so fuck it— you might as well not bluff at all.

instead of answering wriothesley immediately, you lunge for the teacup and gulp down the entire thing, much to his surprise. the duke is stunned in return as he merely watches attentively for your reaction to the serum. the silence between the two of you is prolonged as you give the serum time to take effect. the taste itself is a delightful, slight earthy flavor— making it even more enticing to drink normally for one unaware of the leaf’s properties. you don’t feel any different after a few seconds, if not ever so slightly woozier. you breathe in and out deeply, letting the first answer that comes to your mind be the one that comes out.

“i take my job very seriously, your grace— i am a medic, my ambition is to save lives. and there isn’t a soul in teyvat that i would ever want to kill more than i want to kill him.”

the answer feels foreign and unexpected even to yourself. the first time you were asked such a question, before one who was once the balladeer and dottore’s experimental god, your answer was no. it felt easier to say no— to tell him you’d rather he be the one to end the doctor’s reign of terror, because for the most part it was true. but then kunikuzushi found closure, he found new life and prosperity in places outside of godhood or tormenting others or spiting his ‘mother’ or going after dottore.

and you, you stayed the same. you’re still suffocating within the grimy, clawed grasp of the second fatui harbinger. you’ve been through so much, visited four different nations within the span of the last year, fought an abyssal creature and an artificial, nearly god-like being yet you still feel as stuck as you did while you were still stationed in snezhnaya. you’re still stuck having reasons to want to kill dottore, kunikuzushi moved past his.

the duke still can’t find an immediate response, as he merely scoffs incredulously at what he’s just watched. you see a faint glaze take over his gaze when he looks aimlessly down at his desk, as if truly involving himself in memories of the past— his eyebrows furrow briefly, as though the memories he recalls aren’t good ones. something grips at your throat, an anxious feeling, as you regret being so impulsive as to reveal something so damning about yourself. to a prison warden, no less. you feel as though you’ve sobered up and feel the need to make up for what you said and excuse yourself, but before you can even open your mouth wriothesley is already standing from his chair.

“well i respect your honesty, sergeant. i’m afraid we’ll have to leave our talk here, as i have to welcome more of the new prisoners into the fortress, maybe even your friends will be amongst them— i’ll make sure to give them the word that you’re here.”

you nod briskly and scurry to leave the office while the duke insists on seeing you out himself. your head pounds with nervousness, and perhaps slightly with the truth serum tea you just downed all at once— so much so that you almost don’t notice wriothesley’s hand sticking out once again in a polite handshake. much less do you notice the fascinated studying scan of his eyes across your face as your hand meets his.

“and again— welcome to the fortress of meropide, y/n.”

you don’t sleep well on your first night at the fortress.

perhaps it’s due to not being used to the overwhelming pressure of the water, perhaps due to the lack of warmth that your metal surroundings bring, perhaps a side effect of the tea.

or perhaps… it’s because you dream of ajax.

at first, the dream is sweet— drowning in cheesy, tooth-rooting romance tropes dug from the most delusional corners of your brain, ones that you desperately tried to suppress after you got over your phase of reading romance novels as a child. you’re reliving the tension-filled moment inside your hotel bathroom from the other morning, where some mystical force had pulled you and ajax so close together you shared the same breath, getting painstakingly closer still. only this time, instead of getting interrupted by those guards, the scene keeps going… and going… until you truly, finally meet each other in the middle.

within the misty midsts of your slumber, it almost feels real— there’s a shock of electricity when your lips touch, your heart beats faster from even outside the dream, you can nearly feel the warm sigh of satisfaction that ajax lets out from his nose and onto your face. but it still isn’t enough, the tightness in ajax’s desperate grip onto the back of your head and on the small of your back aren’t present enough. the juxtaposition of his fiery warm skin against your own cold one isn’t contrasting enough, your skin doesn’t burn as fiercely as it does when you touch him in the waking world.

and soon enough, the dream shifts… shifts into scenes of ajax inside the fortress. you’re not lucid enough to find the images strange, as you’ve never seen him inside the fortress yet— so you remain stuck, watching as he sneaks past a plethora of guards to reach a decrepit tunnel, overridden with plant-life as it connects out into the fontainian sea. your vision starts to blend incomprehensibly like watercolors on wet paper, until all the remains is a blinding, blue mess and a faint whisper in ajax’s voice:

“something’s… calling me… i… i have to go…”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

and don’t forget to boycott this shitty game!!

[jellyfishoreo1206]

hey dude! really like ur work lol :3 can you write a tf2 medic with a fem or gn reader who is alternative (like punk/goth?) it can be headcannons or a drabble or whatever u want :) thanks bud!

Medic with an Alt! Reader (gender-neutral)

Notes: Of course! Again, I'm sorry if it seems like I ignored your ask! For that, I'll attempt to make it extra long :3 Please correct me if I get anything wrong about the history of Alternative fashion/music, I mostly referenced Wikipedia, but I don't think there was enough information for me to go on. I didn't know if you wanted this to be a romantic pairing or just platonic, so I'm doing both!

So coming back to this, I realized that the first half of this is talking about Alt Reader, but then the next half it's literally just romance head cannons that have nothing to do with the ask. I've been carried away by the amount of ideas that have been flooding my brain at night that I completely forgot what I was doing in the first place. At this point, I'm just rolling with it, I'm sorry Anon

Warning(s): Medic being medic, cussing, mentions of reader smoking, slight spoilers for the TF2 Comics.

M/C = Merc Class

---

Platonic

Considering that this is the late 60's (and alt becoming a thing somewhere in the 1970's or 80's), Medic would take a keen interest in you.

Whether you take interest in Emo, Goth, Hip-Hop (which apparently is a form of Alt fashion! Good to know), Punk, Rocker or Grunge fashion; all of them have a few things in common, they all stand out from the mainstream fashion going on in that time, some are more artistic and attention-grabbing, and some coming to be as a break from beliefs.

I'm not going to lie to you, at first he thought it was some type of disorder

"I want to find out what's wrong with them" That's what's going through his mind 😭

He's so curious, you're going to be his new subject of interest until he has studied every inch of you

Whether that be operating on you or studying how you behave from afar.

---

Several days have passed since you've joined the mercenaries. You seem to be adjusting well enough to the team, getting along semi-okay with your teammates (if you ignore how the on your first day Soldier nearly killed you because he mistook you as a demon, shouting absolute nonsense). Engineer has been one of the most welcoming out of your teammates, offering to show you around and letting you know what to watch out for.

But there is one teammate that you can't even bring yourself to being around. The Medic.

God, you would think that the Engineer would at least warn you about him and his behavior, dude is seriously all kinds of creepy.

Ever since you got here, he's been watching you like a hawk. Always seeing him out of the corner of your eye, conveniently always being in the same room as you; Hell! Even following you out in the battle field. You even think you woke up to him crouching menacingly in the corner of your room, watching as you slept with a creepy smile on his face and an insane look in those eyes of his. (Desperately wishing that it was some kind of paranoia-filled nightmare and praying to whatever god that is up there that it wasn't real.)

"I swear! Was it something I did??" You decided to express your concerns to the Engineer, considering he is one of the more reasonable one's out of the mercs, and being the first person you hit it off with when you first arrived. He hummed in thought—putting down the sentry gun that he was tinkering with—turning to face you as he pushes his hard-hat back into place.

"Medic is a strange fella, I know tha'. But I don' think I've ever heard him act like this..." His response only seemed to add on to your distress, sitting yourself on the floor of his workshop with a loud groan. Great, so even he doesn't know what's going on either. "I'll hafta talk with him la'er, see wha's up with 'im."

"I appreciate it, Engineer."

"Please, call me Engie."

---

When the Engineer brought up the Medic's behavior to him, he just laughed it off

"Oh Herr Engineer, you must know as a man of science that this is simply an observation!" "...What exactly are ya' observin'?" "Haven't you noticed? How they dress! Is it a form of trauma? Or a type of disorder! I must find out!" *Cue him holding a bloody hand saw in the most menacing way possible* "Then..why don'tcha jus' ask them up front?" "I like my methods better."

Yeahhhh, he has a really bad case of autism

When Engie told you what the Medic told him, you just got even more confused.

What would the way you dress have anything to do with your mental state?

I mean, yeah, you've turned heads whenever you went out to do mundane tasks back home (such as picking something up from the store or returning something to a friend), and you had several people tell you that'll they will pray for you, but you've never had someone assume that it was straight up a disorder??

The thought itself just confuses you

Engie was right about him being weird..

---

A month has passed, and it seems like the Medic's behavior has calmed down a bit. Emphasis on a bit.

He stopped following you around out in the battlefield as much and seems to be getting back into his regular schedule of being the medic for the team; but you're starting to notice something else...

It seems he's attempting to talk to you! The whole entire time you've been here at the base, you two never actually had a proper conversation (mainly it was because you were attempting to avoid him as much as possible at the start, and Medic because he just saw you as another subject). The first time it happened was late at night, almost the early hours of the morning. You were in the kitchen, making some coffee for yourself and the Engineer (who has yet to go to sleep). You were pretty sure it was only the two of you awake at this time, since you didn't hear anything else other than the distant clinging and clanking of the engineer's machinery.

With both hands occupied with a mug of hot coffee, you were about to make your way out of the kitchen when you felt your heart drop. Jesus FUCKING CHRIST, HOW LONG WAS HE STANDING THERE????

Might as well be called The SPY instead with how fucking quiet he was.

You both made awkward eye-contact—awkward for you anyway—he seemed tired, but that didn't stop him from smiling at you—teeth and all.

"Ach, guten morgen!" He offers a small wave, his voice cheery despite his obvious exhaustion.

You didn't say anything, you bolted out of there.

Nope nope nope nope nopenopenope-!

---

The Medic didn't seem to take that reaction personally

If anything, it made him more curious

So he attempts to strike up another conversation, but this time with company around, since he was scolded by the engineer the very next day

Whether it was during dinner-time, before a match, or even game-nights (as chaotic as they can be); he always attempts to strike up conversations, whether you don't respond or you give one-word responses.

Going on to long rants about any topic that comes to mind, whether you want to listen or not; most of them are usually about the human biology or his previous experiments

You wish you could erase the memory when he told you he got a man pregnant with baboons.

When you asked why he wanted to talk to you, he merely gave a shrug and a almost sheepish smile

His response?

"Oh for no reason, I just got bored when I realized there were no results in my observations."

Yeah

You kept your distance as much as possible, still feeling a bit uncomfortable around the man

Though it eventually started to slowly fade away when he kept attempting to talk with you, a big part of it was also due to his birds perching themselves on you whenever you needed something from the medbay, cuddling up to you in a mass of feathers

You actually started to enjoy the conversations when he asked why you dressed the way you did

---

"Let me give you a brief summary," You start, sitting on the worn-out couch with the Medic on the far-end, a freshly lit cigarette in-between your fingers, "-there's a small community of us, people who also dress like me. But like I said, small community, not many of us." Taking the first drag of your cigarette, you see from the corner of your vision Medic holding a scolding look, eyeing the cigarette in your hand with disgust.

Blowing the smoke out in small puffs, you continued, "But, the reason why we dress the way we do, there's several and it varies from person to person."

"It could be a way of self-expression, a break from the mainstream style, or...damnit, I always forget the last one's. But there's many reasons why is what I'm trying to get at."

"What was your reasoning?" The Medic finally spoke, crossing his legs as he (un)discreetly takes out a notepad, writing down the information that you have just stated. The question processes in your brain, taking a long drag, repeating it over and over until an answer formed.

"Mm, nearly everyone dresses the same, no variety in their fashion." Finishing the last of the cigarette, you put it out in the ash tray atop the coffee table, leaning back into the couch with a stretch. "Everyone is always expected to dress the same. I wanted something different."

"Interesting..."

---

Romantic

Now for the romantic part of the relationship, it would take him FOREVER to figure out that he likes you

YEARS if nobody brings it up

He would just brush it off as excess adrenaline from the battles (even if there was a ceasefire)

He would also began to show a certain type of favoritism towards you (his birds especially)

Whether that be storing a jar of lollipops in his office for you to take from (and only you), telling you a in-depth explanation/step-by-step of his experiments before anybody else, scolding you whenever you do something that's unhealthy, or just treating you like a normal doctor whenever it comes time for the yearly check-ups (like not experimenting on you/doing a random surgery or injecting random chemicals into your body to see what effects it'll have on the battlefield.)

---

"Aye, doc! How come you only give M/N loli's!" For what seemed to have been the tenth time that day that Scout has complained about the same thing—over and over again—it was starting to get on the doctors nerves as he attempted (emphasis on attempted) to rescue his beloved bird that has somehow snuck his way inside of the scout and got himself tangled in the intestines while the Medic was preforming surgery.

"And for the last time, Scout." A sharp snap fills the tiled-room, a small piece of the Scout's rib cage in-between the Medic's gloved fingers, throwing it somewhere behind him without much concern for it as he continues with his current task at hand, "They aren't such a nuisance, unlike you."

---

That's his only excuse whenever someone asks really :/

He always seems to enjoy your company the most out of all the mercs and is seen with you more times than anybody else on the team

It's until one of the mercs bring up his favoritism from another point of view that he begins to think...differently

Not a bad differently, but a "What do I do" differently

Like that's the moment when he begins to realize his affections for you

Personally, I believe that man has never been in a romantic relationship/had romantic feelings for someone

So him being in love for possibly the first time in his life, he's stumped

Like what does he even do in a predicament like this???

Would probably go to Engie or Heavy about this predicament for some sort of guidance.

His behavior around you would change a bit

He would still act like his regular self

But with you around he could be seen fidgeting with whatever he has in his hands and stumbling over his words more often, maybe even calling you pet-names in German

There will be times where he'll have a red flush seen on his normally pale face whenever you do something he sees as attractive/adorable (whether that be ruthlessly killing the other team, laughing at something one of the mercs did, cooing at Archimedes, etc.)

Like, flushed to the tips of his ears down to the nape of his neck type of blushing

You can tell he's blushing whenever his glasses fog up <3

---

"Who's a pretty bird? You're a pretty bird!" Said blood-covered dove cooed at the various praise he was receiving from you, flapping his wings in a joyful matter. You came to the medbay to ask Medic for something that the Engineer needed but quickly got sidetracked when a certain dove flew down from his perch and decided to greet you.

Bringing a finger up to the dove, you give him small gentle scratches atop his head, continuing to coo at the bird with a big smile stretched across your lips.

Medic watches as the whole thing happens from his desk, a look of adoration in his eyes as he watches the on-going interaction between you and his bird. A feeling of warmth began spreading across his face, the beating of his heart increasing just from the sight alone.

He's absolutely clueless on what to do—the well-composed Medic, the man who has made a deal with the Devil and tricked him, sowing 8 souls to his very own, and has done many experiments that should be impossible to achieve—is confused on how he should proceed with his arising feelings for someone he considered a colleague and friend.

What a very troublesome situation.

---

He would probably be a bit straightforward when he decides to confess to you, probably in a private space like in the Medbay or when it's late at night so nobody is awake to walk in on the two of you

When I say "a bit straightforward", I mean like he'll beat around the bush for a brief few seconds before just going for it, and keeps eye-contact throughout the whole thing

If you accept his feelings; he's ecstatic! But he doesn't know how to act, to say.

'What do couples do??' 'How does one act when they are in a relationship?' Mainly the questions that are going through his mind

If you reject his feelings; he'll become quiet and distant around you. He might even be a bit mad at himself, whenever he's by his lonesome; staring at his reflection on his bone-saw as his birds attempt to comfort him

Like, you guys will still talk, but it'll just be awkward—a tension between the two of you

Okay moving on.

Once entering a relationship with the Medic, it's best if you take things slow; discuss boundaries with one another, what to do and what not to do, etc,.

Would probably become a bit more touchy? Like, small brushes against your hand or one of your limbs, holding you hand or just linking pinkies with you whenever the two of you are alone

Like those kind of touches, soft.

Kisses would probably start off small too; small kiss to your knuckles or a kiss to the palm of his hand to bring a flush out of him (Though he prefers both of these in private)

Would absolute want to attempt to do your hair and make-up

I feel like he's either the kind of person to keep his love life private, but also not? Like, he would drops hints that he's in a relationship with you, but they are so subtle they fly over a few of the mercs heads

---

Again, Anon, I'm sorry for going off-topic

[cervinae-canine]

Hello and Howdy! My name is Piper but I also go by Tyrian, or Ty!

20 years old + white + non-binary / gender non-conforming + bi/pan + goes by any/all except from neopronouns (you can also call me 'bro' and 'dude'. I don't mind at all!) this is a selfship blog for @tyrianluda!

This is the blog where I totally act normal about the TF2 mercs and other fellas (<- lying). If you want to see me insanely gush about my F/Os, you’re in the right place. 

My Media fixations are currently Team Fortress 2, Punch Out, StarKid & Left 4 Dead / Left 4 Dead 2. My other interests also include art, writing & analysis!

{F/O List <- Here}

{ On a relevant note; if you are uncomfortable with sharing any of my f/os and wish to block me, you’re in your right and I have no hard feelings over it. Some people call selfshippers that don’t want to share ‘delusional’ or ‘gatekeeping’ and I heavily disagree with that notion. You’re all good, don’t worry :] }

Do Not Interact / Follow: Basic DNI Criteria, RPF or Real Person Fiction, adults that selfship w/ minor characters, Proshippers/"Comshippers", SpyScout shippers and incest shippers in general, Pro-contact + Neutral contact Paraphiles (involving pedophilia, 'zoophilia', incest, necrophilia and rape), lolicons and/or shotacons, a supporter of J.K. Rowling, TERFS and bigots of any nature (including anti-semitism and zionists) If you harass anyone (suicide-bait, sends death or rape threats to anyone) for any reason, do not fucking talk to me. also i block freely. Before You Follow: I do sometimes reblog and post stuff that may contain suggestive imagery or concepts (no nsfw or anything past the words whore or slut / mentions of their tits / maybe some pinups). I have an after dark 18+ account for posts I don’t feel comfortable posting either here or in my main. cough @/blutig-hund cough cough. Regardless, I recommend that minors and others uncomfortable should filter my “cw: suggestive” tag.

Thank you for reading this!

[fanfic-the-wish-your-heart-makes]

Two Rain-Drenched Detectives in a Gangster's Cherry Blossom Filled Mansion 🌸⛈

Pairing: Gobblepot (=Jim Gordon x Oswald Cobblepot) x reader fluff, polyamorous attraction (everyone's attracted to everyone)

Plot: When you and your partner — slash crush — Jim Gordon find no leads on your current case regarding the so-called "Spring Sword", you turn to crime boss - slash your other crush - Oswald Cobblepot, who invites you to come to his mansion.

Jim only plans on being there for a short time but he underestimated the incoming storm.

Reader: gender-neutral cop (no pronouns)

Warnings: one light-hearted suggestive joke (referenced once quickly after it's made)

Author's note: This is a part of GobblepotSpring organized by @gobblepotgazette (link to the challenges & inspiration)

and my first time participating in a challenge 🤗🌸🌷

Here are the bingo prompt words I used: storm, spring fever (the positive one) & cherry blossoms

Gobblepot writers contribute hugely to me still having hope in Jim as a love-interest, so this one's for you 😚🤗

Word Count: 1534

⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈⛈

You were about to exit the building Jim and you had just searched when you heard the evening sky rumble above you. Overall the weather discouraged you from going outside.

Jim took a step back from the door, "Goddamn it, why does spring in Gotham have to be so...wet?"  The detective made a face.

You laughed. "Harvey's not here, so I'll say it for him: you should have—"

"—should've listened to him and the weather report, I know." He sighed, "I really thought we'd find some kinda evidence here. Before the rain." He looked from the building to the dark sky, then back to you with a contrite expression. "You can go home if you want to. I'll have to find something else either way."

You sighed too, "Where do you wanna go next?"

Jim lightened up, "You're coming with me?"

"I can't let you wander around alone with an impending storm, now can I?" You grinned.

"Yeah? Wanna watch my clothes get soaked, huh?"

"M-maybe, who knows?"

Your face grew warm. He was distractingly handsome enough in full outfits.

They were simple, mostly blue or black, occassionally brown but never something daring, unlike—

Oswald Cobblepot's. The powerful criminal Jim and you had visited more than a dozen times by now. He always wore a tie with some intricate detail or tie pin, maybe a brooch. Not to forget his hairstyle: the black spiked-up hair resembled a crown on the kingpin's head...at least you thought so. What does Jim think about his style? you wondered, Does he find him as attractive as I do?Could he ever find me attractive? Could both of them?

Jim brought you back to the situation at hand by...taking off his clothes?

He caught you looking and bunched up the fabric, grinning.

You followed his head nodding to the window, grateful for the distraction.

"If I leave this on, it'll get soaked by the time we've reached our car."

"Hm, you're right."

You decided to take off a layer too, eyeing Jim and catching him looking.

The flustered detective explained himself, "It's just that I thought you'd put on your raincoat." He scratched his neck and looked away.

"I thought that too," you said, "but then a friend of mine forgot to bring his own and now I'll offer mine as a shared umbrella."

Oswald would have an umbrella right now, you thought.

"A friend of yours?" Jim said in mock curiosity.

"Very handsome fella," you mustered up the courage to say, "he was gonna walk out shirtless," Jim and and you were chuckling together with smiles on both your faces. "He might've walked right into the arms of one of Gotham's notoriously prevalent criminals."

Jim laughed and responded with a smirk, "What a nice job you're doing looking out for the citizing of Gotham, officer." Jim saluted you and opened his phone again, "Speaking of running into criminals' arms though, I think we might need Penguin's help for this case." Running into his arms, that got you picturing the scenario: you quickly entering whatever place you were meeting him in and stumbling into the criminal, him catching you and letting his arms steady you for a little longer than necessary. Maybe Jim would say something, perhaps even make a flirty comment like he'd-Jim looked back up to you and you quickly looked to the ground.

He took in your flustered state. Damnit, he hadn't meant to make you uncomfortable with the flirting!

"Hey, did I go too far with what I said?"

Oh. "No! No no, everything's fine, uhm, I just..." fantasized about you and a dangerous gangster. "You got me good with that last one", you said instead, and added, "Don't worry, I liked it", followed by a wink.

Jim's face relaxed and a small proud giddy smile crossed his face. "What was that one again?"

You shot him a playful look. "Something with you shirtless, I believe."

He looked away to your side, his cheeks a little more colorful than before. You could be so distracting.

"Who's flustered now?"

He chuckled and looked you in the eyes again, not finding a word to say. A few seconds passed until you both shook out of it and Jim found it in him to say, "I'll ask him whether we can come over now, is that alright?"

"Let's do that."

You watched him press call and hold the beeping phone to his ear. Today was one of his better days: he'd joked around more and smiled despite the stress. Even the prospect of getting soaked by the rain didn't really bother him.

A hopeful thought whispered that it was because you'd spent a lot of time together.

"Jim, old friend! What can I do for you?" You perked your ears.

Jim put the crime boss on speaker. "We need help on a case. Does the term 'Spring Sword' seem familiar? We've come up empty looking for evidence and if we don't find him soon, more could die."

"Spring Sword? Mhm. What else do you have?"

The detective scratched his neck. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that over the phone." Jim knew that part would come and he almost smiled when Oswald said, "Would you like to come to my place?"

Jim's gaze went to you for a second to check whether you were still in. "When can we come over?"

Oswald told himself to stay polite. He was at home and while the idea of Jim visiting him with you was fabulous, he disliked the idea of detective Bullock snooping around there.

"Who is 'we'?" he inquired, hoping that his tone didn't let on what he was thinking.

Jim quickly assured him that it was merely you and him and just like that, Oswald was asking whether you'd had dinner yet. "I could have the cook prepare something for my hard-working detectives." He cleared his throat, unsure all of a sudden without any feedback from Jim, visual or audible.

"No, we haven't but we'll have to leave quickly anyway so we don't get caught up in the storm."

Oswald laughed at Jim's hope, "Apologize my assuming but you calling me this late when the weather's forecasted to change in..twenty minutes to half an hour is almost like arranging a sleepover."

You snickered and Jim mouthed a defensive 'Hey!".

"Even I'm at home, Jim. It wouldn't make you lazy if you went home early for once."

"Tsk, what 'early'?" you piped up. "We're already working overtime."

"Y/n! It's good to hear you! Are you coming over as well?"

He kind of sounded like a friend happily planning a sleepover.

"Yes, I am. If we can get more information during the storm, we might get ahead of the Spring Sword."

"I see. Well, I have nothing against two guests, even if I may end up housing you for the night."

You smiled and let Jim speak again, "We'll take the chance".

"Awesome, I'll have a meal prepared for-"

"-we're not staying overnight", Jim responded assertively.

"O-okay, just something small then."

"No, really," Jim assured him, checking whether you were uncomfortable at the prospect of dining with a mob boss, "we'll be in and out of your manor like..." He scrunched up his face, "Like..." He caught your amused reaction and blushed. "Like the police."

You burst into laughter and listened to Oswald's chuckle while enjoying Jim's cute mortified look. "So, uhm, see ya", he managed to say, then ended the call and "fixed" his hair, hiding his face from you.

"Got a little too much into the flirting, huh, detective?"

Jim pressed his lips into a comically fine line and held out his hands bashfully, "Hey, it can happen. Was pretty fun though."

"Yeah," you agreed, glad to know that you hadn't made him give up on flirting. You quickly opened the door again to keep him from seeing your grin and schooled your expression into a more mild one.

You held up your raincoat for him to get under it. "So you won't show up completely soaked."

And because he didn't budge, still being embarrassed, you figured you'd lighten the mood by adding, "although getting a bit of soaked is okay, 'moving in and out' and all." You made sure to say it in a flirty, non-judgmental tone, and it worked: his frown was replaced by a smile and then laughter.

You gave him a pad on the shoulder. "Don't worry about upsetting him. If he'd been offended, he would've said something."

"Yeah, I guess."

That hadn't really been it, Jim was more concerned about getting too comfortable with a criminal and dragging you of all people into it. Whatever, he figured, I'm in a good mood, maybe I should really relax for once.

You stepped outside and ran to the car as fast as possible with two people under one coat. The rain had gotten stronger, now  accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning, meanwhile the air had cooled only slightly, still carrying that spring warmth uplifting your moods.

You leaned back in the seat and swiped some rain from your head, looking forward to being in Oswald's warm house.

🌧🌧⛈🌧🌧🌧⛈🌧🌧🌧⛈🌧🌧

Author's note: This will be continued of course and have some more of the prompts in it! 🤗 Let me tell you, I wrote so much of this on the last day to still make it on time 🤭😂. The flirting took a lot of space but I love flirty and happy Jim! What do you think? 😄🥰

->chapter 2

[allzelemonz]

Warm Welcome: Micah Bell X Gender Neutral Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Reference to sex Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, reunited, post-Guarma, mentions of cannon character deaths, confessions of love Summary: Micah is the first to find the group after Guarma and he’s been thinking about you for weeks.

When news hit that the robbery went bad you weren’t completely surprised. You and Sadie got everyone out of camp as quickly as possible, finding Charles and a new home. Sadie left a note behind, coded so only one of you would understand it. Between Abigail and Charles’ accounts of the job everyone pieces things together. Whispers circulate as people try to figure out why things really went wrong. Dutch, Javier, Micah, Bill, and Arthur are central parts of the group and are sorely missed. Getting the bodies of your fallen friends would have been much easier with the others here, but you manage.

Just as things really start to look bleak and people are starting to lose hope, you spot something in the distance. You’ve taken the late watch for the past few days, finding peace it it despite the creepy nature surrounding you. Nothing is ever there, nothing of note. But tonight there is a rider on the path. A lone rider coming into camp and you’re the only one awake.

You raise your rifle. “Who’s there?”

The rider stops a few yards from you, dismounting. “Now is that any way to greet your ol’ pal Micah?”

He walks into the light of the lanterns. It is, in fact, Micah. His face is sunburnt, his hair is dried out, and his clothes are ragged, but it’s Micah.

“You’re alive?” You say, lowering your rifle. “What happened?”

He sighs. “I was gone for weeks and all you got is questions?”

“Welcome back, Micah.” You say, mockingly. “Where the hell were you?”

“Ya really know how ta charm a fella.” He says, stepping closer. “We was stuck on an island, nearly died.”

“We found Lenny and Hosea, is everyone else okay?”

“They’re fine.” He clears his throat. “Ya know, cowpoke, all that time got me thinkin’.”

“Don’t you want to go see everyone?” You ask. “Nevermind, I know you don’t care.”

He chuckles. “There’s only one thing I been thinkin’ about since I washed up on that island.”

You shoulder your rifle, giving him a curious look. He steps forward, further into the light, and you can see more of his rough state. His shirt is halfway buttoned and the skin underneath is settling into a tan as the sunburn peels away. He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him.

“Jeez, Micah.” You sigh. “You okay?”

“I will be in a minute, Darlin’.”

He closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours, his hands cupping your face and holding you in place. His lips are chapped, badly, and his hands are tough with calluses. He leans into the kiss, putting all of that pent up thought from his time on the island into it. He only lets you go once he needs to breathe, holding your forehead against his as you both take much needed breaths.

“That was a much better welcome, cowpoke.” He presses a short kiss to your lips and hums as he lets his hands fall to his sides.

“That’s all you could think about?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a few steps back. “Oh, I thought about plenty more, but we got time for all that later.”

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts and refocus. “I’ll, uh, I’ll show you where they put your stuff.”

You turn and walk towards the main house, tip-toeing around the others to grab Micah’s bag and a cup of water. He takes the water from you first, chugging it with a sigh. You hand him the bag and he takes it, opening it right away to get at his hat which he places on his head.

“The washing barrel is around the corner.” You say. “You wanna see the others or do you still not care?”

He chuckles, digging through the bag for his usual clothes. “I’d much rather stay out here with you, Darlin’.”

A shiver goes through you. “Just don’t distract me from watch.”

He steps closer and presses his lips to yours again. “I ain’t promisin’ anything, darlin’.”

You steady your breath as he steps away and disappears around the corner towards the washing barrel. The relief finally comes over you, knowing that your friends are alive and on their way home. Things might finally get back on track.

[jewbeloved]

Hello hello!I am back with an empty brain bc i have no ideas but this goofy one: How would main four+Team craig(if its too much,you can just write for main four!)react to their s/o making really good edits of them.

Team Stan + Clyde and Tweek with a s/o who makes edits of them✏️✏️🎨🎨

Note: Sorry! I can only write up to 6 characters maximum. I hope this post still satisfies you.

Warnings: None

Gender: Neutral

❤️🧡 The Main Four 💚💙

Let's imagine you had a social media account that nobody knew, not even your boyfriends..

You post edits on there but each and every one of them always include one of the boys.

The boys always wondered why you were so invested on your phone and you wouldn't let them look at it.

"Guys I think Y/n is looking at hentai stuff" Cartman whispered while snorting.

"No they're not Cartman! knock it off!"

"Maybe it's something important that they don't want us to see guys"

"There's no way that they are keeping stuff from us Stan, we know their secrets and they know ours"

They continued to bicker back and forth until Butters ran up to them.

"Fellas!....Fellas!" Butters panted while trying to regain his breath.

"What do you want Butters, can't you see we are busy at the moment!"

"Yeah I know, but you guys are going viral on the Internet!"

Butters showed them the edits on his phone.

"What?"

"There are edits of us..?"

*muffles* (Woah, I look good in this one!)

Cartman stared at the phone for a moment before looking at Butters.

"Where did you get these edits Butters"

"Well...I didn't get these I just only saw them on this site called TikTok! you guys can find them on there" Butters ran off to go show the other kids the edits leaving the boys staring at him in confusion.

"Okay....so somebody is making random edits of us"

So yeah, they definitely wanted to find out who was making these edits of them-

After looking at the account, the first person they decided to ask about it was you.

You tried to play it cool and pretend that you had no idea who was making them, but the only one who saw through your lies was Cartman.

C'mon, Cartman is the master at lying and manipulation. It'll take more than that to lie to him.

"I'm not buying it, you were very suspicious from the very start anyways Y/n"

"Huh?"

*Muffles* (You were always being secretive on your phone, and then all of a sudden certain edits being made of us were going viral. Is this your doing?)

"Let us see your phone Y/n!" Cartman moved closer to grab your phone but you back up quickly against the wall.

"You guys are mistaken! It's not me!"

You were unfortunately out of luck since they crowded and prevented you from escaping while Cartman snatched your phone and they took a look at it.

After looking through your phone, they turn their heads to face you.

"Here..." Cartman handed you back your phone and you took a sec to see that their cheeks were tinted with pink.

"Are you guys upset at me..?"

"No we are not, the edits are really cute... were just upset that you never told us from the beginning"

They were indeed disappointed that you hid your account from them like you didn't had any trust in them.

But however, they love the edits!

You could personally say that they are glad no random weirdo was making them besides you <3 💙💚🧡❤️

❤️ Clyde Donovan 🍂

He probably wouldn't even notice it was you in the first place either.

He might even act like he made them himself to act a little cool, but of course the person saw through his ways and didn't believe him.

When the edits start getting more popular, he would immediately go to you and talk about how famous he has gotten and you knew that the cause of that was the edits you've been making of him.

If he does find out, he would be very shocked about it.

"Huh?! You were the one making those edits the whole time Y/n?!"

"Yeah...I thought it would've been cool to make them, but I originally planned to only make them for myself I didn't think a whole bunch of people would view it...."

Clyde didn't know exactly what to say, he was completely out of words!

You opened your mouth to say something again until your interrupted when Clyde tackled you into a hug making you both fall onto the floor.

"C-Clyde?!" You found him on top of you giving you a warm smile before leaning down to give you a peck on the lips.

"I think the edits you made of me are wonderful and cute! but I don't appreciate that you used photos that had me crying in it....as a matter of fact why would you take a picture of me crying anyways?!"

You stayed silent before starting to laugh.

Clyde glared at you for a moment before he smiled again and started to laugh with you.

It looks like he doesn't mind after all...❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

💛 Tweek Tweak 🎀

He probably might take it the wrong way around to be honest-

He may even have flashbacks to those yaoi arts from him being shipped with Craig.

Tons of freaking out 100%

But that doesn't mean he fully knows who is making the edits.

If he finds out that it's you, he would be very flustered and confused on why exactly you wanted to make edits of him in the first place.

He's hesitant at first, but he might confront you about it at the last minute tbh-

"Ehm..Y/n? why are you ACK! m-making edits of me...?"

"Why? I couldn't resist how adorable you would look in multiple edits! I apologize for not asking you for permission earlier though, I just couldn't help myself Tweek <3"

"Ah....! Y/n....." Tweek's heart cried out in embarrassment while covering his face that is tinted in red.

"Are the edits bothering you? I can stop making them If you want I don't really mind!" You were about to delete the draft of the edit you were currently making.

"No! don't! I don't really mind since it's ACK! you..."

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yeah!"

Yeah, he really doesn't mind you making the edits, but he hopes nobody else will start making them too.

Or else it might turn out like the Tweek x Craig situation-💛💛💛💛💛💛

South park never offends me 😌👌👌

[hannahtempler]

Hi! I am a big fan of your webcomic (and also I just realized you did some of the artwork of Thirsty Sword Lesbians and congratulations on that, it rules). Anyway, I found the Book 1 of Cosmoknights at a comic book store yesterday and I have been pouring over every little detail since. And there is one thing that's making my brain buzz. So I hope you don't mind me asking...

The thing is, I am reading the French translation, and that means stuff is a LOT more gendered. Particularly, in Cass' flashback during her time as a princess, when she goes to meet with Bee, people use male epithets to refer to her, including Bee. Also, Jaws uses female wordings to talk to both of them at the bar, but during the tournament the only time the turn of sentence genders her he says "tu es cinglé", which is the masculine form. I have checked, and all the male epithets correspond to places where the original story says either "fella", "dude" or "big guy", which could mean that the translator has just decided to keep the masc vibe of those terms and ignore that fact that (as far as I'm aware) the terms they're using in French are not as gender-neutral as they are in English. And I guess Jaws saying "cinglé" instead of "cinglée" could be a typo. But all put together, with the fact that the commentators use he/him for Bull even in the English version, makes me wonder...

So I guess my question is, on one hand, did you get any say on the translation? Is this the translator's interpretation, or yours?

And if it is yours, can you tell us a little more of what's going on with Cass' pronouns here? Is she (I'm using "she" because Bee does) genderfluid to some degree? Is she just someone who likes male epithets because of their associations? Does she have a male alter ego as a cosmoknight to keep pursuers at bay? If yes, does that mean all the cosmoknights know and are willing to protect the secret that she's a woman to the public, and that's why Jaws genders her like that at the joust?

(Also, is the second book going to come out in French? I'd love to have the series all in the same language, and not paying the price of the book in shipping fees would be great)

I hope I've not overwhelmed you, i'm sorry for the wall of text, and I hope you have a great day!

Hi! Thanks so much for your kind words and thoughtful questions! I'll do my best to answer here:

I didn't get a direct say on the translation– although I do speak French, I don't practice a lot, so I would probably miss a lot of the subtleties you're describing. It's possible that there is variation after translation, but from what it sounds like, the French version does come close to the intention of the English version.

Cass uses any/all pronouns and is gender-fluid– most of the time she uses she/her pronouns, but does not object to more masculine descriptors (for example, Bee affectionately greets her with "Hey, big guy" during the flashback). It's less that she has a male alter ego, and more that she is unconcerned with how people interpret her gender (Cass's gender expression matches my own, so I'm also partially speaking from personal experience here).

It's worth noting that during the games the commentators assume she is a man because of her size and approach to fighting while still referring to Bee as a woman, and often in public Cass is addressed with male pronouns (or "hey fella" etc.)– and while that may help keep her identity hidden, it's not necessary for a secret disguise (some women do compete in the games, after all). Cass loves to play in the gender playground and gets a kick out of people's perceptions– for those who don't know her (e.g. fans of the game) it's an indictment of their assumptions about gender, and for those who do (for example, Jaws), it can be a sign of mutual respect and acknowledgement of her fluidity.

It makes a lot of sense that she would enjoy flexibility when we consider the highly gendered expectations placed on her growing up*– now that she's away from home and dressing how she wants (often wearing a binder), she's free to thrive in and out of people's expectations.

I hope that makes sense! There's a little more about this in the second book (specifically about the way knights interact with each other outside of the ring) that I think helps illuminate some of this too.

Also: yes, the second book will be out in French either later this year or early next year! No exact dates yet, but the publisher (Bliss) will announce at some point soon.

*here's some fun bonus Cass trivia: she's the youngest of five, and all the boys in her family have names that mean "ruler" or "king"– Kingsley, Derek, Rory, and Elric. Expecting another boy, her parents picked out the name Caesar, but she juked 'em :^)

[o9t1mus-x]

Dilf/Silver Fox La Squadra

bc we all need a bit of them in these trying times, amirite fellas ??

Note: Reader is babysitting their child, or is being paid to help care for their child.

warnings: suggestive themes, pretty gender neutral reader but pronouns are gender neutral, older man/younger reader, general sluttiness

Risotto

• Hi, Daddy ? Excuse me, daddy ? Pardon me, Daddy ?

• He has such beautiful silvery gray hair, you can oftentimes see him waiting for his kids after school lets out, or if you’re lucky, you can see him at his day job of tattoo artist/piercer with his hair tied into a loose bun. His tattoos are lightly faded, and you can tell which ones are designs picked out by his child and which ones were designed by him personally. His stubble is oftentimes neglected, though it’s not a bad thing per se.

• He hasn’t given up his gothic flair though. Whenever you see him in his free time, his biceps are not hard to miss under the skintight corset tops he’s fond of.

• However, despite his tough exterior, he is such a kind dad. Never failing to show to a Christmas concert, a Halloween party, and if he has the time, helping out at school as a parent volunteer at small events (he prefers to help out in the classroom, he values watching his kid work and it brings him warmth to his burly chest.)

• He is hesitant to speak to you at first, watching from a ways away while you help with his child, lending helpful tips. He’s quiet and leers over your shoulder often, but the deep timbre of his voice is not missed on you. He will pass by you with a hand on your shoulder, a burning gaze on your back as you leave to take his kid to school.

• And if you come back early from dropping them off, forgetting your keys or maybe a useless knickknack, maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Maybe you come back to see him working out in his small workout room adjacent to the living room.

• Who’s getting hurt if you stare a bit, you wonder. Who would want to miss the happy trail crawling into a bush of silver hair on his chest, his back piece flexing with every pull up of his arms? Is anyone really bothered by hearing him let out soft pants as he works out, the sweat dripping down his shoulders?? You would much rather have him dripping sweat over the top of you instead.

• And if he turns around and smirks, dropping his weights and grabs his towel and looks at you, almost growling “If you’re just gonna stand there and look pretty tesoro, then can you help me cool off? Or would you rather me warm up instead?” Who says it’s such a bad thing?

Prosciutto

• He never saw himself having children, but here he is. And though he worries over it, (the small lines crowding his forehead show this completely) he is a kind father. He holds their hand as they cross the road, ties their shoelaces and sings a song to teach them, and bakes treats for his child’s friends when they play dates. As a work from home parent, things are hard, but he tries.

• Though he is slightly scrawny, he makes up for it with devilishly good looks. His hair has lightened considerably over the years, and he often throws it up in a bun or a simple long ponytail. And over the years he grumbles to himself over the Italian genes that have given him such a huge amount of hair everywhere. He keeps it trimmed, but if you peer long enough, you can see the bushel of hair on his pecs.

• And though his fashion is still as expensive as ever, he keeps his silk shirts and trousers, though he trades in his gaudy necklace for some even gaudier rings on his age worn hands. Who can hardly complain when he smells like bergamot, and he has the looks of a supermodel even now?

• He is hesitant to hire someone to care for his child, but he knows he needs to not crowd them so. He is guilty of being a helicopter parent. But how can he look away from his child’s caretaker when they make his pants tighten embarrassingly often. He’s too old to chase after a sweet young thing like you, he tries to tell himself.

• But his plans come to fruition when you bring his kid home and tuck him in, and walk in to say goodbye and see such a sight as him? His hair down, a small glass of wine perched elegantly in his hand, reading his Vogue. He nibbles his lip, his brows pursed into a worried look. Oh, you want to smooth it away with kisses.

• He looks up to you, so sweet, and he lets out a small grin at the way your face is flushed, how you wring your hands to tell him about his child’s day. He shushes you, and beckons you closer with a wave of his still so finely manicured hands.

• “Surely you weren’t leaving so soon?? You have so much to tell me about your day, and how you’re doing? Oh come sit down, I’m not getting any younger you know. You’re such a sweet thing, come curl in closer and tell me everything.”

Formaggio

• Big beefy man, such sweet little kids he has!! Always boasting, giving them embarrassing nicknames. He gives them piggy back rides, lets them get treats from the local convenience store, and he tells the best stories to them before bed. Sure, he may be a bit forgetful sometimes and forgets when they get out of school, or when they need to go to the store, etc, but you can bet his kids get a giggle every time they see him.

• Beer belly and the biggest happy trail you’ve ever seen, he’s even more tan now from working as a groundskeeper for the local parks. And when you catch him working on a pet project at home with his wifebeater on and a beer in his hand, he is truly a sight to see. His grin is still as big as can be, and he still breaks out the leather vest (and rock it better than any dad at his kids school, to Risottos despair.)

• And while he may have lost the abs he had as a young man, he can easily lug a kid or two around and pull his weight.

• He was so happy to see such a sweet little baby like you come around to take care of his kids, he felt like a creep at first. But when the days kept getting hotter and the shorts kept getting shorter, well… so did Formaggio’s restraint. He’s still a horn dog unfortunately, but he can keep it together for a cutie like you!

• And while the kids are out playing in the kiddy pool and you come in to grab a soda for them, well there he is. In all his glory, stretching out on the porch taking in the suns rays like the cats he still brings home. (His favorite cat Ms.Kitty is off to the side taking in the rays as well).

• He’s oiled up, his shirt is off and his happy trail is shining in the light, almost glowing. His arms are behind his head, and you think to yourself ‘Hmm, I wonder what it would be like to sit on that fat-‘ You pull yourself out of it, and flush. It’s not the heat this time.

•He opens his eyes and strains against the light and smiles a big, bouncy grin. He laughs, big and booming. “Oh sweetie baby, is the heat gettin’ to ya too?” he looks around and smirks at you, your legs shifting closer together. “Or is it just me?”

Illuso

• What a pompous man. Once he had his baby, he was an absolute nightmare to deal with. It was like the nights with a newborn didn’t phase him a bit, his face even and glowing with the ego of a new father. And when he cradles his baby to him, he smirks with the arrogance of a man who knows he’s hot shit.

• And he’s right to be! His baby is a darling, giggling and laughing. It’s so easy to just coo at them and fall immediately in love. Too bad Illuso doesn’t know the first thing about being a father, besides giving them a cutest hairstyles and clothes.

• He’s still relatively young, the air of youth makes all the mothers he talks to lean in close and sigh. But his laugh lines are closing in quickly, and the worry lines on his forehead are giving Prosciutto a run for his money. And his work as a cosmetologist is paying well!! (He is getting angry that his abs are leaving though, though the big burly look and the small hints of silver in his hair seen surprisingly sexy)

• But when you come around, he’s smitten, though he won’t admit that. The way you coo and smile at his baby, rock them in your arms and tell him what he needs to do has his heart thumping in his chest. He ignores it and tells himself to drink less caffeine.

• And the nights are long and you’re there often to make sure Iluso isn’t having any trouble. You’re always happy to help! His hair is loose from his normal hairstyle, the silver on the sides of his head showing vibrantly, and his pajama pants show his long toned legs, and though you haven’t seen it yet, you know it’s doing wonders for the front of his pants as well.

• His kid is fast asleep, and he walks to the couch, and you can see him in his full glory. Relaxed, pants just tight enough to see the bulge you’ve been thinking desperately about since you’ve seen him. His abs are showing through the front of his shirt.

• He laughs loudly, almost mockingly. “Dear, I didn’t think you were brazen enough to stare at me so blatantly. But I understand” he purrs “Maybe we both need a chance to relax, won’t you come here and take a seat? Oh not on the couch, amore”.

Pesci

• Oh dear, the love of my life!! The love of all of our lives.

• He is so smitten with his kid. They have him wrapped around their tiny fingers and he is well aware. He makes sure they have a good lunch, hiking them up on his broad shoulders to get to school quicker. He takes them on fishing trips, to the park, to the zoo, anywhere they wish. He goes to their room when they sleep just to think to himself “I am the most lucky man in the world.”

• He’s bulky and strong, though he doesn’t have much time to work out anymore. His hands aren’t used for dirty work, only improving dishes at the small diner he works at. He opts for casual clothing, but keeps the lipstick and eyeliner he has worn for years. His kids are notorious for having green lipstick on their cheeks as a result of goodbye kisses.

• He gets off work late, so he depends on you to help his child after school with homework, eating dinner, etc. He’s a worry wart, but when he sees the way you tenderly hold his child’s hand as you cross the road, when you help put on their jackets while it rains, he can’t help but grin and helplessly wish for you to be there more.

• It’s a late night, he comes home and rushes to his child’s room, only to find you there waiting for him. He apologizes, and quietly explains what happened. You’re so understanding, his heart melts and wishes, beating so fast in his chest for something, anything! He pushes it down and offers a cup of water to you.

• And as you stand in his kitchen, you reach out and cup hands accidentally. He almost drops it, and whispers out an apology. Your heart thrums. You smile and insist it’s ok, it’s more than okay. You push the thought of wanting his calloused hands somewhere else.

• And you lean in, and insist that everything’s more than alright and brush your lips against his neck. And Pesci knows he’s utterly done for.

Melone

• He is what every dad should strive to be! He cares so deeply for his babies, holding them in a papoose and swaddling them close to him at all times. You can catch him either helping out at their daycare, at the fresh and local market he frequents often, or at the park with his baby. He can’t get enough of how they toddle about, he gives them little snacks and keeps every single random thing they bring to him. He’s truly never been happier… that is, until you started babysitting his kid.

• He’s still lanky, and he knows it. While he still wears outlandish fashion, he’s toned it down so that he doesn’t being unnecessary attention to his baby at the wrong times. His skin is glowing, and he often keeps his hair tied up in a trendy ponytail for convenience. And while he still does genetic research from home, he keeps up with his health better than some other fathers he knows. He’s got a toned belly, and the recent addition of a flower tattoo on his hip for his kid.

• He needs you to help balance him out, he either throws too much or too little time into his work, always a workaholic. So when you walk into his room with his baby on your hip, oh dear. I’m so sorry, but he’s raving to have another.

• And if you come over when he’s just getting out of the shower, towel hanging loosely around his hips and his hair dripping water onto his firm pecs, he giggles. “I’m so sorry, I’ll go get changed right away, darling.” He’s not sorry at all, don’t you dare think he is for a second.

• When you put the baby to bed and announce you’re leaving and see him lying on his bed asleep, his shirt riding up to show his lavender trail of hair that’s been trimmed earlier, you leave with an aching burn in your thighs. He wakes up when the door closes and smirks to himself.

• The icing on the cake is when his friends take the baby for the night, and you aren’t aware. So when you arrive to see him at the dinner table with a glass of Riesling, he smiles a grin fit for the Cheshire Cat.

• “This night doesn’t have to come a waste amore, come, take a seat. Though I know what I want to eat more than dinner at the moment is sitting right in front of me. Who am I to neglect such a sweet treat?”

Ghiaccio

• Nobody saw him becoming a father, least of all Ghiaccio himself. But when he picks up his baby after giving them a bath and holds them to his chest, he doesn’t regret any choice that brought him here. He’s short with them, but never in a mean way. He holds their hand, they play house and he watches his kids shows with a grumble and a groan. (You can often hear him humming the Arthur theme song under his breath at work).

• Work as an at home mechanic keeps him busy, but he enjoys the work. He’s toned, and he’s packing lean muscles everywhere. He’s got little hair, but stubble in his face creeps up quicker than he realizes. (He’s got a bubble butt that all the local moms stare at intensely)

• He knows he needs someone to help, HE KNOWS he just… doesn’t want to give up time with his kid. He knows they need other influences and he needs time for work, but he’s hesitant. But when he hires you and sees you wipe applesauce off of his kids cheek, he blushes as hard as can be. But he pushes it down and returns outside to work. He thinks about it again that night and SCREAMS into his pillow.

• Another time your hand brushes his and he just freezes. You apologize and he has to hold back a rant. Not that he’s mad, he just doesn’t want to admit he and his child enjoy your company, in fact, they relish it completely. He thinks about how soft and delicate your hands are, and ignores the tent in his pants.

•So when you put his kid down for a nap and see him leering in the doorway, you ignore the urge to jump this older man’s bones. He’s got a small shirt on that clings to him, and the muscles on his back twitch and he fights the way he wants to make you scream his name into the pillows.

• “Hey. You aren’t busy, would you like to, Uh, come check out something with me?” The words come out of his mouth stilted and awkward and you smile. Hopefully you can check something out other than his butt as you walk down the hall to see whatever he wanted to show you. He grabs your hand and it all makes sense, the flush on your cheeks is only going to get worse as the night goes on, but neither of you know that yet. :)

[peaches-and-creams]

The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson: A tale of tea

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Tags: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1388words

Notes: This is written from John's perspective because why not,,, the indented parts are the actual events in the fic, the rest are part of John's retelling. It's a bit lacking since I did it on a whim but I really liked the idea that John would post things like this on his blog, Tell me if you want me to make another John's blog entry. Enjoy :]]]

"I am sure many of you, my regular readers, know of the tale of how Sherlock and I had met. I have shared my recollection of our adventures together, all the bizarre situations we’ve found ourselves in because of cases that interest him. I can safely say that I have gained a little understanding of just how that brilliant mind of his somehow works through the years.

However recently, I’ve been introduced to a friend of his. I know. Surprising, because ––as per his brother ––how many friends do you think he has? A lot, apparently. He forms friendships in the most unusual times, and this friend is no different.

I was told that they met as kids. Contrary to beliefs, Sherlock was very charming as a child. According to Y/N, Sherlock’s friend, he was a people person up until 1st grade –I’m guessing that was when he started doing his deduction thing. They said that it wasn’t until years later that they progressed as friends, when Sherlock helped them prove that they, as a matter of fact, did not cheat on an important exam. In the end, Mycroft had to step in to placate the matter as Sherlock’s guardian (lie) and clear Y/N of the accusation.

But I won’t go into detail on that because this is a tale of how I met Y/N L/N.

It was after Sherlock came back from the dead, months before my wedding. It was somewhat peaceful that day, we were getting fitted for our suits and gowns back in Baker Street when suddenly an unusual fellow walked in. I say unusual because they were dressed in medieval clothes, probably from the 1700s, and carrying a walking stick despite the lack of necessity. “Sorry, mate. We’re on a day off today.” I said, although they ignored me and walked towards Sherlock. I was on alert. Living with someone like Sherlock, you learn that occasionally, he pisses off someone who personally tries to settle things with him. The stranger backhanded Sherlock across the cheek, but he e only raised a hand to tell me to stand down. By now, they’ve noticed that they weren’t alone in the sitting room. They dragged him to Sherlock’s room and harshly closed the door.

“Oh, the neighbors!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, breaking the silence. “Should we be concerned?” Mary asked pointing at the silent room. “Oh, don’t worry. That’s just Y/N, they’ll be out in a minute.” Mrs. Hudson dismisses. “Who’s Y/N?” John asked. Mrs. Hudson laughs. “Don’t be jealous, John.” “Mrs. Hudson, I’m getting married, to a woman, she’s standing in front of you. I am not gay!” John firmly stated. Mary joined her in the teasing. “Y/N is Sherlock’s friend from school. They had an on and off communication for the last 10 years or so because Y/N was in Madrid, teaching. Poor fella, they weren’t here in time for Sherlock’s burial, they grieved alone all this time.” “No! You have been so unfair, Sherlock! I had to find out that you’re alive from Twitter. Then your first mail to me is demanding me to go back to London to play as your date to some stupid wedding!” Y/N’s shouts were heard. “…It’s not stupid.” They could hear Sherlock faintly respond. “Shut it, you don’t get to speak just yet. I mourned you, you asshole. Did you ever stop to think how I felt when I heard that you have died? Which by the way, I found out from Twitter, AGAIN! You could’ve told me it was all fake so I didn’t have to grieve for so long. I’m your best friend for god’s sake, Sherlock!” Y/N sounded mad, disappointed even. But they were also holding back tears, the tears that they had refused to shed out of denial when they received the news of Sherlock’s death. “I know…I’m sorry.” “No, you don’t. You don’t know how hard it was to hear everyone saying you’re a fraud. You don’t know how hard it was to hear you had died. You don’t know how it has been for me you…” Their words died at the end, no longer able to hold their grief, choking out an exhausted cry. It took a lot of apologies and explaining, that the people outside no longer heard, before the two of them calmed down. It was quiet for a few minutes before they both exited the room, both red-eyed from crying. Y/N had slipped on a shirt and a pair of trousers they borrowed from Sherlock, having relieved off their elegantly heavy wardrobe, they say quietly in Sherlock’s chair. “Tea?” Sherlock asks. “Two sugars, please.” They said, holding up two fingers. “Of course.” The sitting room remained quiet, only the sound of the water boiling was heard. John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson had all kept quiet at their end of the room while the seamstress took their measurements, only stealing glances at the two. Sherlock handed Y/N their cup and sat down in John’s chair.

We heard strings of unpleasant words from Sherlock’s room. For a moment, I almost dashed in to possibly save Y/N or Sherlock. Now, I said before that I lashed out at him a bit. But Y/N, I think they were just as close as dragging him back to his grave. Eventually, things became quiet, which worried us for a bit. It didn’t take long for them to come back out. I think they were both crying because their eyes were a bit red and they were sniffling, I don't think it’s bad allergies. I’ve only ever seen him cry a few times, one was when before he jumped (although his face looked like of an ant to me, I know he cried), another was when he pretended not to know how to defuse a bomb to dupe me. But really that wasn’t the most bizarre thing that happened that day. After their little argument, they settled in the sitting room. Y/N had sat in Sherlock’s chair (he never let me on there) and Sherlock made them tea (he won’t even make one for himself).

After a few minutes of silence, I suppose he couldn’t take it anymore, Sherlock proceeded to deduce everything that had happened to his dear friend.

“You arrived yesterday, and since have stayed in Mycroft’s place. You’ve had a limp a few months ago, obviously, you’ve healed. You started at your new work today, you wanted to make an impression on your students. Huh…you’ve broken off your engagement, didn’t like you working?” I remember, these were his exact words because Y/N responded with “Always a delight to meet you, Sherlock.” Which surprisingly sounded genuine. He later introduced them to the rest of us, and since then Y/N had taken my old room after I had wed.

They had managed to manage Sherlock. Seriously, it’s amazing! Yesterday I dropped by because as usual, Sherlock needed someone to do all the “boring” stuff for him, and the flat was almost a whole other place. I had to double-take to make sure I was indeed in 221b. The table where Sherlock did most of his chemical experimenting? Clean. I can smell the chlorine but it was clean! And the fridge, OH, THE FRIDGE! It had actual foods in it and ONLY FOODS. Apparently, Y/N had successfully convinced Sherlock to buy a new fridge for all his bloody equipment. About time someone talked some sense into that intelligent brain of his. Anyway, I’m about to clock in. hopefully you all will be satisfied and stop emailing us about who’s that 3rd fella who accompanies us sometimes in cases, Sherlock complains when these emails pile above his cases." Comments

Oh, don’t be jealous, John. I’m sure Sherlock hasn’t forgotten you! Mrs Hudson Again! I am not gay. John Watson Sure dear. Mrs Hudson John, you’re over-dramatizing everything. A tale for tea? really? Sherlock Holmes I really appreciate you dusting the flat, Y/N. Sherlock never let me touch his things. Mrs Hudson No problem Mrs. H Y/N L/N Y/N is restricting Sherlock’s thinking process theimprobableone Y/N, do not touch the microwave. I have an ongoing experiment in there. Sherlock Holmes Well, you better clean it after. And keep it in your damn fridge, Sherlock. Y/N L/N Great to hear someone has finally managed the great Sherlock Holmes. Mike Stamford

♣︎♣︎♣︎♣︎

[just-miru]

I posted 23,629 times in 2022

That's 23,489 more posts than 2021!

1,195 posts created (5%)

22,434 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@coffeeandconfusion

@terrence-self-ships

@irummna

@/shinekittenace

@/poormeowmeowcollector

I tagged 12,385 of my posts in 2022

Only 48% of my posts had no tags

#blueycapsules - 1,733 posts

#the lovable bastard &lt;3 - 1,727 posts

#my beloved - 942 posts

#sillies you'll look again - 921 posts

#william afton - 750 posts

#aaaahhh!! :dd - 526 posts

#dave miller - 490 posts

#so true - 459 posts

#irummna answers - 430 posts

#hehe yesss - 404 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#jesse we need to thank me tho for the first time in two weeks and i have a question for the silly little picture above the other hand oh my

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

[Blueycapsules]

Dave Miller x reader

-------------------------------------------------------------

i got this idea from a small one-shot with Ayano Aishi written by Ck_TvN on Wattpad :D

since our boi Dave is on my mind constantly, i decided to give it a shot and write a small x (gender neutral) reader fanfic with him because yes :D

not to mention, there is almost nothing for/with him out there :(

with Blueycapsules version of Dave/William, i mean

my first time writing something like this, so it might be total shit, but it doesn't matter :D

also, Dave might be a bit ooc since i haven't done anything like this before, so yeah

there is a first time for everything, so here we go-

[tw: small mention of alcohol (wine) | possible typos and/or other small mistakes | also, it's first-person point of view, so no pronouns are used for the reader - idk, though i should mention it | nothing else, only crack | fluff | one-shot]

[word count: 1,050 words | 5,274 characters]

[first published: 14.02.2022]

[slightly edited: 16.02.2022]

-------------------------------------------------------------

untitled

chatter filled the small hotel room, muffling the small TV in front of us. sitting on a pretty comfy, brownish couch, a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table in front of it, me and Dave talk about everything and anything that comes to our minds as we wait for Phil and Jeremy to come back with the-

honestly, i don't even remember what they said they were going after. oh well-

we've grown pretty close to each other in the short period of time we have worked together - it's like we know each other for years. still, as we talk and talk, the time passes, and the conversation starts to die out, we both focused on whatever is playing on the TV; some sort of drama involving a woman and a vampire.

i mostly stare at the screen, lost in thought, not paying attention to what's happening between the two anymore.

bringing the glass to my mouth, i take a small sip of wine. 'it's kinda sweet' i think, then take another sip.

Dave looks towards me

"so... yer single?" he asked out of nowhere, with a playful tone and a small glint of what seemed to be hope in his icy blue eyes - his usual shit-eating grin getting even wider as i choked on my drink. 'why was he asking that out of the sudden?' i thought to myself.

facing away from me, he takes a sip from his drink, eyeing me from the side while waiting for my answer, grin still on.

trying to re-composture myself, i clear my throat a bit, a small grin of my own starts tugging at the corners of my lips

"as a matter of fact, i am not."

i answer with such fake confidence that i am a little surprised he didn't seem to notice it. that, or he decided to play along with my silly game.

"who might the fella be?" he asked, moving his gaze away from me towards the TV, its lights dancing over his features.

my eyes focus on the half-empty glass in my hand as i say quietly "oh... no one, really..." looking over at him, i see his eyes still glued to the TV screen, head resting on his hand, no trace of the previous grin left on it.

"..."

See the full post

327 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#4

for my very cool and awesome mutuals

[image/edit not mine]

391 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

#3

i mean-

yESS!!! gimmie!!! >:D

671 notes - Posted February 28, 2022

#2

See the full post

969 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

sillies look-

found a silly picrew :D

silly tags (no pressure, of course!): @coffeeandconfusion, @terrence-self-ships, @chuuyas--boo, @oc-x-cannon-on-main, @ninasrandomships, @just-slightly-unhinged, @spideygal and whoever whoever wanna join :D

1,672 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[worth-more-than-two-thousand]

Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know. 

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry! 

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes. 

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run. 

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder. 

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand. 

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will. 

Oh, if Fives could see him now. 

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?” 

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space.  “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha. 

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?” 

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. 

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame." 

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!” 

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.” 

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?” 

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling. 

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.  

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. 

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands. 

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear. 

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.” 

Or not. 

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at. 

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking. 

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”   

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp. 

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’ 

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone. 

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could. 

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all. 

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town. 

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy. 

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment. 

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away. 

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to  the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days… 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’ 

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious. 

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building. 

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers. 

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock. 

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock. 

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself. 

He looked ridiculous. 

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death. 

What if she was with someone new? 

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all. 

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open. 

Two Y/C/E eyes met his. 

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face. 

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him. 

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter. 

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand. 

He guarded his heart. 

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back. 

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?” 

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.” 

“...good.” 

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten. 

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear. 

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear. 

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty. 

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes. 

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling. 

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing. 

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were. 

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation. 

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face. 

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.” 

[writing-with-whiplash]

Stealing More Than Kisses

“Stealing More Than Kisses”

Hey guys! This is a fanfic of @jangofctts amazing clone oc Sweets! Go check out her awesome clone oc’s by searching for “sunburst squadron” on her blog and also check out all the other amazing fics she has! Sweets is her creation. I do not own his character, I’m just writing for him.

Sweets x mechanic!reader

Word Count: 2450 

Warnings: clone discrimination, stealing, mild swearing, fluff, gender-neutral reader

This is my first fic, so I’d appreciate any constructive comments and reblogs! Have an awesome day!

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When you had been assigned as the new mechanic to the Sunburst Squadron, you had no idea why all the others before you had quit. That is, until you met the wild bunch that you affectionately called the Sunburst Boys. Although they were loyal and dependable soldiers, and your closest friends, you couldn’t help but think of the squadron as a bit chaotic. Between the death-defying trick flying of the pilot Kamikaze and the reckless altruism of the trooper Blue, it’s no wonder that you and Commander Blanche hadn’t had heart attacks trying to keep the squad together. Or in your case, keep the ship together, which brought you to your current predicament. 

“Kamikaze!” you hollered across the hangar as the Sunburst Boys unloaded from their battered spacecraft. “What did I tell you about bringing the ship back all banged up?” 

Kami turned sheepishly toward you, raising his hands in defeat. “Couldn’t help it,” he shrugged. He must’ve been exhausted to not send a snippy quip your way about the ship’s state. In fact, all of the soldiers looked worse for wear, their shoulders sagging under the weight of their brightly colored armor.

 You decided to take it easy on him today. There would be more opportunities in the future to drag him for his dare-devil piloting. “You boys go rest. I’ll take care of the scrap pile,” you huffed. Kami rolled his eyes and slumped past you toward the barracks. The rest of the squadron followed suit, although one trooper lingered by the ship’s ramp. “What’s up, Sweets?” you asked softly, hoping to not startle the shy sharp shooter. Sweets lifted his eyes from the floor to meet your own, his teal bangs plastered to his forehead. He offered a half-hearted shrug and quickly shifted his eyes back to the floor. “Was the mission rough?” you asked, although you could already guess the answer. Sweets was normally quiet, but this time seemed different. The trooper nodded at your question and shook his head when you asked if he wanted to talk about it. “You just wanna hang out with me while I try to fix whatever Kami’s done to the ship this time?” The ghost of an amused smile danced across Sweets’ lips as he nodded again.

Sweets had been the first trooper of the squadron to grow on you when you first started out. Out of the rambunctious bunch, he was the youngest and quietest. While his brothers preferred to bond through roughhousing and swapping insults, Sweets preferred to just be near you. He didn’t talk much, but he loved to listen to you talk or hum while you tinkered on the ship. The quiet sharpshooter also loved to bring you little gifts that he picked up while on missions--a rock here, a bead there, a little figurine from a market on some backwater planet or another. You knew that not everything he brought back was...purchased, per say, but you didn’t mind. Everything he gave you was small and heartfelt and it’s not like the soldiers were paid anyway. If these boys were risking their lives on the frontlines to protect the entire galaxy, then you figured they deserved to swipe the occasional small item without worrying about what anyone would say. Maker, you knew they deserved so much more than that. 

Recently, Sweets had been bringing back items that felt more personal than random rocks. He always had a knack for figuring out what you liked best. Not long after mentioning offhand that a particular type of stone had caught your eye in a jewelry shop, you found a pendant in the same stone in your tool box. When you talked about your favorite kind of candy that you hadn’t been able to find in a while, a few pieces of it appeared in your locker. Sweets had always been such a sweetheart to you and you had begun to fall for him as soon as you started working with him. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship by telling the shy soldier that you had feelings for him. Instead, you simply enjoyed his company as he hovered around your work station in the hangar.  

The ship was truly a mess. Carbon scoring painted the hull that, miraculously, had stayed intact despite heavy damages. The edge of the starboard wing was crinkled and battered--there was an endless amount of reckless maneuvers Kami normally pulled that would cause that kind of damage. You clicked your tongue and shook your head, making a list of all the replacement parts you would need to buy for it. A wiring harness here, a set of gears there, a few durasteel panels damaged beyond repair. You had a lot of welding to do. The hangar had most of the replacement parts you needed, but working on such a small base on an Outer Rim planet left you with a few things to be had. Ah well, you grinned to yourself, all that meant was a chance to stretch your legs at the local market and swap meet. 

“Hey, Sweets,” you called from beneath the ship, scooting toward him on your creeper seat. “Do you want to run to the market with me for some parts?” 

Sweets’ eyes lit up as he nodded enthusiastically, making you chuckle at him and smile. Had you looked at him a little closer, you would have seen the quiet blush spread across his cheeks, highlighting the heart tattoo beneath his eye as he averted his gaze. The sniper couldn’t find the words to say it aloud to you, but he would go with you anywhere in the entire galaxy, just as long as he got to spend time with you.         

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The marketplace was bustling when the two of you arrived, the sounds of vendors hollering and the scents of various foods wafting through the crowds. The sea of customers and travelers parted around you as you wandered from stall to stall, quietly stretching your parts-run as long as possible. Although you could make it through a crowd just fine, you knew that many of the onlookers gave you a wide berth on account of the helmeted clone trooper who hovered over your shoulder at every stall you stopped at. 

Sweets always kept his helmet on during your frequent market outings, telling you that he preferred to see rather than be seen, but secretly he just wanted to watch you without you noticing. He loved the way your fingers danced across the items you touched, the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled at friendly vendors, the way you fidgeted while waiting in line or running parts numbers in your head. All of these little observations over the past several months had allowed Sweets to figure out all the little quirks about you and the interests you never verbally divulged. He knew by the way that you tilted your head and looked at the ground while talking to a vendor that you were about to turn down his price on some wiring. Just as he predicted, you walked back toward him empty handed, a small frown pulling your soft lips down. 

“If I were allowed a bigger budget for replacement parts I wouldn’t mind buying from that guy, but I just don’t have enough to cover it.” Sweets nodded sympathetically as you shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to keep going on down the line. What a shame that we’ll have to spend so much more time in the market, rather than sitting around the base.” You winked at Sweets, earning a quiet chuckle from his helmet’s vocoder. 

The two of you wandered aimlessly throughout the market, striding slowly by stall after stall of alien fruits, handmade items, and spacecraft parts that weren’t on your shopping list. You had to practically drag Sweets away from a booth boasting several species of small cage pets, knowing that he would try to pocket one of the adorable, squishy-cheeked rodents. Just as you turned to tell him not to get in trouble with the vendor, a particular booth caught your eye. 

“Ooh, look at this one!” The pet vendor didn’t have the chance to chew Sweets out as you grabbed the trooper lightly by the arm and pulled him to a booth full of wood bead jewelry. 

Sweets was once again grateful for the cover of his helmet, as his face flushed at your contact. He leaned slightly into your touch, craving more, but, in your intense focus on the beads, you didn’t notice his change in demeanor.    

“Look at this one,” you murmured to him, plucking a bracelet from the top of a large pile of wooden jewelry and displaying it in your hand. Your fingers swiped over the central bead, a little carved heart the same color as Sweets’ tattoo. “It’s you as a bracelet,” you beamed, staring directly into Sweets’ melting gaze, although his eyes were hidden behind his dark visor. Sweets swore his heart completely stopped when you looked at him like that, but all he could do was sheepishly nod. You had already turned around, grabbing a near identical bracelet, this time with the heart painted in what Sweets knew was your favorite color. “We should get matching ones.” 

The old lady running the booth finally made her way over to you after you said that, eyeing you with suspicion. “Can I help you, dear?” she asked flatly. You noted how she only addressed you, almost refusing to look at the soldier standing beside you. 

“Yes, my friend and I would like these two bracelets here,” you offered, already fishing the credits out of your pocket.

The old shopkeeper huffed. “Honey, this fella here ain’t your friend. He’s a soldier. A clone,” she sneered, arching an eyebrow at him. “He’s only here to shoot droids and serve the Republic, not buddy up with you. And I know for a fact that he can’t even pay for his own bracelet. Just shameful.” 

You tensed and grabbed Sweets’ hand as he attempted to back away from the woman. Anger boiled in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your mouth. That old vendor had no right to speak about any soldier like that, especially not in front of one. Not in front of Sweets. You tossed the bracelets back onto the pile with a little more force than necessary. “Well if that’s how you feel about the men giving their lives to make sure that you can sell your cheap jewelry and bitch about them, then I don’t want to buy from you anyway.” You squeezed Sweets’ hand lightly with your own shaky one and turned to leave. 

Before the rude shopkeeper could say anything, a small boy ran up to the booth screeching, “Nan!” The old woman cast one last seething glare at you before plastering on a smile for who appeared to be her grandson. 

The instant she turned her back on you you felt a surge of boldness. You quickly snatched the bracelets you had thrown down and rushed back in the direction of the army base, sniper in tow. He had definitely begun to rub off on you. When you felt that you were far enough away from the booth you had just stolen from, you slowed down, heart still racing. Sweets pulled you into the alleyway between a noisy cantina and a bustling restaurant. Nobody seemed to notice the pair of you as Sweets pulled his helmet off and cupped your cheek. Your breath hitched at the contact and your eyes flitted up to his soft gaze. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured. His other hand grabbed your wrist, rubbing small circles into the soft skin there. 

“Yah, I’m fine,” you whispered breathlessly. “I just can’t believe she’d say something like that! That little--” Sweets cut you off with his thumb against your bottom lip.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. You watched forlornly as his normally bright eyes cast down and away from you. His shoulders began to curl inward and you placed your free hand against his chestplate. 

“No, it’s not. I’m so sorry that you had to hear that. You don’t deserve that. None of you do. You deserve so much better than that.” You sniffed as your voice cracked, throat tightening. Sweets dropped your wrist and leaned closer at your words. You took the opportunity to pull the first bracelet out of your pocket and slide it up between his vambrace and glove. “I hope you actually wanted this,” you chuckled, “because it’s yours now. I’m not taking it back.” 

Sweets rolled his eyes and stepped even closer, his face mere inches from yours. “I love it,” he breathed. The words fanned across your face and you pulled yours even closer to his, noses just brushing. Eyes closing, Sweets dipped his mouth down to press against you. You returned the kiss softly, your lips slotting gently together. 

A fire lit within your chest at that first soft, slow kiss. You gently twisted your fingers through Sweets’ mop of curls while he pulled you close to his chest. You caught his breath between your lips when you parted mouths, panting slightly and pressing the tip of your nose to his. Sweets gazed into your eyes with such warmth and admiration that your knees almost buckled, but he was there to catch you. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing a quiet “thank you” into your ear. You responded with a kiss to his cheek and a sweet smile in his hair. 

Neither of you wanted the moment to end. Days could have passed and the suns would have gazed down upon the two of you standing in the alleway, never parting. But, eventually your comm buzzed with orders to return to base. Reluctantly, the pair of you headed back, hand in hand, wearing matching stolen bracelets, and feeling the happiest you had ever felt in your life. Sweets snuck in one more kiss before replacing his helmet, smirking slightly at your flustered giggle. If this was the kind of response you got from getting Sweets gifts, then you thought you’d be okay with stealing more little things for him. Afterall, he had already stolen the best prize in the galaxy in his opinion: your heart.