#SO LIKE. CLEARLY THIS WAS RIGGED FROM THE BEGINNING.

[castellanapologist]

Valentine?

(Happy Valentine's day! My favorite holiday and favorite boy. banner by @acenturions, divider by firefly-graphics)

“Hey pretty girl” 

You turn around to see Luke standing there, his usual smirk gracing his handsome face. Your arms are filled with red paper hearts, some spilling out of your hold. He grabs some off the ground for you before standing back up straight. 

“What’s up Luke?” You ask, walking towards the Aphrodite cabin. Luke walks in step with you. 

“What’s up with all the arts and crafts?” He teases. You giggle and shrug. 

“Got tasked to hang up all these hearts for Valentine’s day” You smile at him as you start your delegated work. Luke hovers behind you while you work, his presence causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.  You try to suppress your smile so you don’t look like a lovesick fool. 

“Just you all alone?”

You shake your head. “No, I think some other kids are hanging stuff up elsewhere. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t get roped into this.”

“They asked for my help but I told them I was busy.”

You turn your head to look at him quizzically. “Busy? On Valentines?” You felt a small pit form in your stomach at the thought of him having a valentine. Luke shrugs with a small smile. 

“I hope to be anyway.” Luke gets closer, standing beside you to help hang the hearts. His warmth and scent make you feel a little dizzy but you try to focus. 

“So you lied” You tease. “Hoping to be busy and actually being busy are two separate things.”

Luke laughs as he finishes up. “I suppose so.” His head turns and locks eyes with you. “You busy?”

You hum as you finish your side. “No, no valentine this year. Might go to the bonfire tonight though.”

Luke looks thoughtful, a small smile slowly spreading across his face. Turning to face you fully, he steps a fraction closer. You feel your breath catch. His eyes search your face before leaning in closer to murmur in your ear. 

“How about you-” He’s interrupted by the squeal of an Aphrodite kid. You both whip your heads to see her staring at y’all with her hands clasped. She blinks expectedly as you both stare back, clearly waiting for something. 

“Oh no forget I’m here!” She says with glee. You feel your face warm as you take a step back from Luke. You hear a small huff from him. 

“Um…the hearts are all hung up.” You say awkwardly, the expectant stare of your fellow camper making you squirm. She looks disappointed that you and Luke aren’t doing what she wanted but straightens up. 

“Yes well, I’m sure that you had fun.” Her voice is teasing but you're not sure what for. “But anyways, I have something for you!” She pulls a letter out of her pocket with a grin. You take it, sizing up the envelope. It’s pink with a heart wax seal. You feel Luke step closer to snoop. 

“What is this?” You ask, popping open the seal. 

“Something from a special secret admirer” She chirps. You hear Luke suck his teeth. Pulling out the letter, you begin to read. It’s really sweet, talking about how gorgeous you look and how much they admire you. You feel your cheeks warm again at the compliments. 

“Where’d you get this?” Luke asks. His voice is casual but this seems to only make the girl grin more. 

“Its a secret! But I’m sure if you come to the bonfire tonight you’ll find out” 

You purse your lips, folding the letter again. You peek over at Luke again, who’s staring at the letter in your hands. “I guess I’ll be there.” You say. Luke’s head whips up to look at you. 

“You will?!” The both of them say at the same time. You blink at their reactions. The girl looks beyond thrilled while Luke looks genuinely shocked. Shrugging, you tuck the letter in your pocket. 

“I mean, I have no valentine. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

Luke clicks his tongue, looking off to the side as he steps back. You already miss his warmth. Usually you’d never do this but a small voice in your head points out how Luke said he'll be busy anyway. Your siblings are always telling you to explore your options anyway right? You can’t help but feel like you’re missing something though. The girl scampers off, practically skipping. But you keep your eyes trained on Luke. He looks annoyed, but lets out a small sigh before facing you again. 

“Well, looks like you have something to look forward to at the bonfire” He teases. You roll your eyes but absentmindedly play with the letter. A small part of you hoped this would be like those romantic movies where the letter turned out to be from him. 

“What were you gonna say earlier? Before she interrupted?”

Luke huffs a laugh. “You’d have to ditch the bonfire to find out.”

Your tongue wets your lips. Internally, you weighed your options. Ditch your secret admirer for Luke or ditch Luke for your secret admirer. You could hear the voices of your siblings telling you to stop pining and explore new options but…

“You don’t have to answer now” He interrupts your train of thought. “The bonfire isn’t for another few hours-”

“I want to be with you.” You interrupt. You pause realizing how that might sound. “I mean, I’d rather hang with you.”

Luke grins, looking down from you to smile at the ground. “Cool. Come to the lake at sunset.”

You nod, not trusting yourself not to squeak out an answer. Luke walks off and you can’t help but stare at his back until he’s gone. Your heart hammers in your chest as you make your way to your cabin. It’s nerve wracking having to wait for so long. You wondered what Luke was planning. It wasn’t like him to be so secretive with you. Pulling the letter out your pocket again, your eyes trace the words. 

‘The first time I saw you in a sunset, I knew I could never see it the same way again. You looked so beautiful bathed in the light and I wanted to kiss you.’

This person had obviously liked you for a bit but you didn’t recognize the handwriting. It wasn’t signed either, which made sense for being a secret admirer letter but still. You dropped the letter on your bed as you flopped down. You knew you were making the right choice choosing Luke but couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of hurting this mystery person's feelings. Oh well. 

Eventually, you sat up to refresh your appearance. Your hands slightly shook as you touched up your hair, still nervous about being with Luke on Valentine’s day. You knew it didn’t mean anything, but your stupid crush still made you feel giddy. As the sun slowly started to set, you made your way down to the lake. 

Most people were heading to the bonfire and you tried not to make eye contact with anyone in case your secret admirer was in the crowd. The lake was quieter, water lapping onto the shore. Glancing around for Luke, your eyes were suddenly covered. Gasping, you grasped at the wrists only to hear Luke chuckle. 

“You would think you could be more aware of your surroundings” He murmurs in your ear. You huff, relaxing your grip on him.

“Was busy looking for you.” You shot back. He laughs again before slowly guiding you to walk with him. 

“I’ve got something for you. Don’t peek.” He says softly. You hum and let him lead. He’s careful not to let you stumble and guides you further down the shore. When y’all come to a stop, he removes his hands. You gasp at the scene in front of you. 

A blanket laid on the sand and a tray of food sat on top of it. It was filled with your favorite treats, even ones you could only get from the mortal world. Next to it sat your favorite flowers, freshly bloomed and tied together with a pink ribbon. You whip around to face Luke, who looked pretty self satisfied. 

“You did this? How? It’s amazing!” You gush. His chest puffs a little at your compliment. 

“You like? Had to pull some strings but wanted to make this special for you.” He says, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. “Cmon, sit down.”

You do, reaching for the flowers. They smell amazing and the butterflies in your stomach seemingly multiply. You feel your face warm and try to hide in the flowers. This had to be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. Peeking up at him, your breath hitches at how Luke looks at you. Gentle and like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“This is amazing Luke. Thank you. This is the best Valentines day ever.” 

He gently pulls the flowers from you, placing them on the blanket again. “Better than going to that bonfire huh?” He scoots a bit closer, your knees knocking together. You can’t help but huff a laugh. 

“Much better.”

A comfortable silence falls as you stare at each other. The sunset coats him in orange hues, and his eyes trace your face. He leans in slightly and you follow his lead. 

“You look so beautiful during sunsets. I can’t see them the same without you.”

Your brow furrows and you pull away slightly to stare at him incredulously. “You-...Was the letter from you?”

Luke’s face flushes and he groans, running a hand down his face. “...Yes.” He admits. Your heart stutters. “It was this stupid letter I wrote months ago. I was gonna give it to you but chickened out and then it went missing. I guess the Aphrodite kids wanted to take matters into their own hands.”

You can’t help but laugh even as he gets more embarrassed. Leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek. “I liked it.”

He turns his face to yours again, only inches from your lips. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and leans in. His lips slot against yours perfectly and you kiss him back enthusiastically. Wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss lasts for what feels like centuries before you pull away. Luke grins stupidly, pecking your lips again. 

“Guess I’ll have to thank them.”

[coyotejone-s]

rewatching rvb and i'm absolutely obsessed with how tucker saying "they bicker like an old married couple, they're so clearly in love. why can't they see it" about grif and simmons was played COMPLETELY fucking straight.

[ventismacchiato]

15 stuck with you — call me by your name !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

The universe had blessed you with great looks, being a well rounded idol, and a great personality. But you couldn’t have it all, which was why your inability to cook was a great target for your bandmates to bully you for. 

Which is why, of course, you found yourself in this stupid situation. You stood there partnered with Scara, attempting to make pizza. You’d both lost the clearly rigged game of flipping a coin, so you both were stuck making dinner whilst everyone else got to take a dip in the ocean. 

Scara, as usual, had already taken charge. His hands worked expertly as he kneaded the dough he prepared, as though he’d done this a thousand times before. You, on the other hand, stared at the array of ingredients in front of you, unsure where to even begin. You wanted to figure it out on your own, but the doubt gnawed at you. Asking Scara for help wasn’t exactly appealing.

You took a guess and reached for the cheese, only to feel a firm grip on your wrist.

“Make a sauce,” Scaramouche said, his voice flat as he moved your hands to the tomatoes. Without waiting for a response, he let go and turned back to the dough.

“Make a sauce…” you muttered under your breath, staring at the tomatoes in front of you. A knife. A tomato. You could do this, right?

Hesitantly, you picked up a tomato and a knife, trying to summon the courage to start. You glanced at Scara to see if you were on the right track, but he barely spared you a glance.

“Cut it. Season it. Mash it,” he listed, barely even pausing to look up.

You nodded to yourself, the motion almost robotic. You cut the tomato into halves, then quarters, feeling like you were somehow messing up. You caught yourself giving glances to Scara after doing every step, and with every insult that didn’t make its way out of his lips you knew you were on the right track.

There was a quiet rhythm settling between you two now, no arguing, no jabs, just the soft sound of knives against cutting boards and the occasional thump of dough being punched down. 

It’s been the most peaceful you two have been all week, or all year, really. You could see how focused he was on the dough, and that meant his brain was occupied with something other than thinking of new ways to mock you.

When you were done with the sauce and began spreading it on the dough, you glanced over at Scara, unsure of your technique. As you moved the spoon in circles, trying to make it look smooth, you caught him staring at you from the corner of your eye.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he muttered, his tone absent of any usual bite.

Your hand froze mid-motion, your chest tightening slightly. You braced for a snide comment or sarcastic remark, but instead, he simply pointed at the dough.

“Don’t spread it so thin. You’ll burn the edges. Keep it thicker in the middle.” His voice was still flat, but there was no teasing, no mockery. Weird.

You swallowed the brief pang of annoyance that usually came with being corrected by him. Instead, you tried to follow his instructions, spreading the sauce a bit thicker in the center as he suggested.

As much as you hated to admit it, there was something oddly pleasant about this quiet exchange. You were cooking. Actually cooking. With him. Instead of your usual encounters with him where you were always trying to perform better, this felt strange. It didn’t feel like you were rivals right now.

You were just two people making pizza.

Just as you were about to start on the toppings, you reached for the oven door, but your hand brushed against the hot metal. A sharp pain shot up your arm, and you yanked your hand back with a hiss.

“Idiot,” Scaramouche muttered, but his voice didn’t have its usual venom. He turned to you, his eyes briefly flashing with something else. 

Before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand under the cold stream of water at the sink.

“You really are stupid,” he grumbled, the concern underlying his words more noticeable now, “How do you fuck up so easily?”

You winced as the cold water hit your skin, but the sting of the burn seemed to lessen a little, even though your face was heating up from his proximity.

“Let me do the cooking,” he muttered, still holding your wrist firmly, his gaze flicking over to the pizza dough. “You're too clumsy in the kitchen.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just sighed, defeated, as you let him take over the pizzamaking process.

Once the pizza was finally in the oven, you hopped up to sit on the counter, feeling oddly tired from all the cooking, or lack thereof you’d done. Scaramouche, on the other hand, got started on setting up the teapot. You didn’t understand how he had the energy. 

“Should we call for the others while we wait?” you asked, looking at him. 

He didn’t even look up, sifting through the tea bags the kitchen had. “Nah,” he said, his voice calm. “It’ll ruin my peace.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. You’d only asked out of politeness, expecting him to agree immediately. Normally, he couldn’t get away fast enough when you two were alone in a room. The idea of staying alone with you, let alone willingly, was something he seemed allergic to. But now, he seemed content as he pulled out two mugs for the tea.

“Want some?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he prepared your cup.

“Sure,” you hummed.

He slid your mug towards you, then leaned against the counter opposite yours. You carefully picked up your mug, blowing on the hot surface before taking a sip. You didn’t need to burn yourself again in front of your rival.

Scaramouche’s eyes followed you from where he stood, half-lidded as he took a sip of his own tea. The kitchen was small, he was only a few inches away from being able to reach out and touch your knees if he wanted to. Not that you wanted him to, but he could.

“Don’t leave the bag in there too long,” he said, his voice low. “It’ll taste bitter.”

You look over to him, surprised at how casual he was, “Will you take it out for me?” you asked without thinking.

The words came out flirtier than you intended. Maybe it was the dim kitchen lights, or the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore. But there it was. You felt a strange, subtle pull in the air between you.

He walked over, practically stepping between your legs as he reached across to remove the bag for you. “You prefer it sweet, don’t you?”

Your eyes locked, a heartbeat passing between you.

“Sometimes,” you answered, your voice quieter than you’d planned. “Maybe try something bitter once in a while,” he replied.

The kitchen fell silent for a moment. Your chest felt tight, like you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t fully understand. 

Then, as if the universe decided to intervene, Yae’s voice crackled over the speakers, breaking the tension. “What the hell are we talking about?”

The tension shattered. You both jumped slightly, and the oven dinged just in time. Scaramouche pulled back quickly, moving to retrieve the pizza. Meanwhile, you stared at the dregs of your tea, expecting them to give you an answer like in Harry Potter. Instead you sat there wondering what the fuck just happened.

//

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

“Scara~,” Yae’s voice singsongs over the speakers, breaking through the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. “You’re awfully nice today.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he points the knife in the direction of the speakers, though he’s pretty sure he’s way off. “Shut up,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Yae wasn’t here, but it felt good to direct the annoyance somewhere.

“You are so far off,” you comment from beside him, reaching over to help him cut the pizza toppings. Your fingers brush his briefly, and for a moment, he can’t quite place why that feels…different. Like it shouldn't feel like this, but it does.

He doesn’t say anything, just focusing on the task at hand, but his thoughts drift—just a little. When was the last time he felt okay with someone else in his space, without wanting to rush away? Usually, when you were close, he'd find any excuse to distance himself, but today? Today was different. He hated how soft it made him feel.

“You know, I never asked,” you murmur, voice suddenly quieter. “Why does your mom call you Kuni?”

Scaramouche freezes for a moment, the knife hovering above the pizza. He hadn’t expected that question, not from you. Of course, you’d be curious, everyone always was. But still, it felt strange to hear it out loud. 

Usually, he would’ve told you to mind your own business. But he finds himself answering.

“That’s my first name, Kunikuzushi” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, as if this wasn’t something only a few people knew, “I go by my middle name now.”

He’s sure you’ll leave it at that, like most people do. Most people weren’t interested in the reasons behind it. But you don't just let it go. Instead, you nod thoughtfully, your voice playful when you reply.

“A shame. Kuni’s a pretty name.”

Scaramouche doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn’t. His gaze shifts to you, catching your expression for a fleeting moment. You weren’t mocking him, not like everyone else. The way you said it, almost affectionate, it made something tighten in his chest.

He starts to walk past you, distracted by the sudden urge to leave. He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to think about his past, his mother, or the name that still stings in the back of his mind. He’s always been Scaramouche. Always.

But then, your voice calls after him.

“Scara,” you say, drawing his attention, “Should I cut these?”

He pauses, his heart thumping harder in his chest for no reason at all. The way you say his name sounds so…different. Not like a taunt. Not like the sharp jab he’s used to hearing from you. Just your voice, and his name, and something about that makes his mouth go dry.

“Call me Kuni,” he says suddenly, before his brain can stop him. His tone is lower, quieter than usual. He’s not sure what he’s expecting from you—maybe a laugh, maybe a teasing remark. But when he looks at you, you just blink, confused for a moment.

“What?” you ask, clearly surprised.

“Call me Kuni,” he repeats, and this time, there’s something softer in his eyes. “When it’s just us.”

Your expression shifts, and he feels something flicker in the air between you two. It’s not the same tension he’s used to, but it’s almost like the opposite. Warmer, maybe.

You finally nod, the corners of your mouth twitching up as you respond with a simple, “Okay, Kuni.”

He doesn’t know why it feels like his chest has just opened up, but hearing you say it, so easily, without hesitation…it makes his throat tighten. He almost wants to ask you to say it again, just to feel that warmth again. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks away quickly, feeling the familiar sourness rise in his chest. The name, Kuni, used to make him think of nothing but anger. Of his mother’s voice, sharp and laced with disappointment. How she used to yell it at him when he messed up. 

It was a name filled with failure. So, eventually he stopped associating himself with it. He was nobody’s failure except his own. 

But when you said it, it sounded different. 

Softer. Warmer.

It felt like he was himself again.

He doesn’t know how to deal with that yet, and it’ll probably bite him in the ass later. He doesn’t know how to handle the way your words make the old wounds feel less jagged. 

But maybe he’ll let you call him Kuni a little longer. Just this once.

[00:00:15] COUPLE'S INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE TWO

YAE: Hi guys!

[XIAO NODS HIS HEAD IN GREETING]

[KAZUHA SMILES]

YAE: I'll skip past introductions and dive right into it. Xiao, Kazuha, is there something you want to tell us?

[JEAN AUDIBLY GROANS]

JEAN: Yae!

[YAE WAVES JEAN OFF BEHIND CAMERA]

XIAO: Tell you what?

YAE: You know.

[KAZUHA LOOKS AT YAE CONFUSED]

JEAN: Yae…

YAE: We know that you've been dating for years! Cat's out of the bag! Xiao's out of the closet!

JEAN, GASPING: Yae! Stop that!

XIAO: [EXHALES IN DEFEAT] No, it's okay, Jean. It was a little funny.

KAZUHA: [SMILES APOLOGETICALLY] How did you know?

YAE: I watched one too many conspiracy TikToks and it all started to make sense.

XIAO: You sound crazy.

YAE: But I was right!

KAZUHA: What now? Are we kicked off the show?

YAE: OMG, no! You're staying! Pretend to court each other again!

XIAO: Why?

YAE: Because! Wouldn't it be fun? Nice? Pretend to fall in love again and prank your friends? A deal you can't refuse!

[JEAN AUDIBLY SIGHS AGAIN]

[XIAO AND KAZUHA LOOK AT EACH OTHER]

KAZUHA: [SHRUGS] Could be fun?

XIAO, FONDLY: Could be fun.

[THE PAIR CONTINUE TO STARE AT EACH OTHER SMILING]

JEAN: Cut!

[00:00:00] TEA INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So Scara. Or should I say…

SCARAMOUCHE: Don’t even.

YAE: [HIDES HER FACE BEHIND THE SCRIPT] SCARA. WE ALL HEARD IT. YOU LET YN CALL YOU KUNI.

SCARAMOUCHE: So?

YAE: So? SO?

SCARAMOUCHE: It’s just a nickname. Not a big deal.

YAE: If it’s not a big deal then can I call you Kuni?

SCARAMOUCHE: No.

YAE: Yeah, that’s what I thought. I didn’t know you had a soft side.

SCARAMOUCHE: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] I don’t.

YAE: [LAUGHS] Really? ‘Cause you just let someone call you by your first name—in front of cameras, no less. I think that counts as soft.

SCARAMOUCHE: [TONGUE IN CHEEK] Well, I don’t consider it soft.

YAE: [SMIRKS] Sure, sure. But if it’s just a name, why doesn’t anyone else get to use it?

SCARAMOUCHE: No comment.

YAE: Well I tried! CUT!

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

btw since ppl keep asking when he says bitter he means himself…! he’s implying yn usually prefers ppl who r sweet,,come on guys walk with me and read between the lines </3

short chapter cus this was supposed to be the second half of the last chapter!!

also as usual any photos of yn don’t depict gender, race, or body type!! so pls don’t come for me it’s just for the pose

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — keep it in ur pants guys daddy kai gave you two updates in a week 😊😊

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse @migorengeaterrr

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Can I please request Floyd Jade and Rook with the orange theory prank? By the way, your blog is amazing

Floyd Leech:

Floyd looks at you like you’ve grown three heads, taking the orange from your hand and looking like he might bite into it, peel and all. He finally said you’re lucky that he’s bored and flopped down on the couch, holding the orange above him and working on getting it done for you. He challenged himself to take it off in one clean peel, scowling and concentrating despite the task assigned being an easy one. But he had a talent in the kitchen and it showed, handing you a beautifully peeled orange alongside a put together orange peel. He asked what he got for taking the time to do that for you, clearly seeking out a kiss which you were happy to give him.  

Jade Leech:

Jade simply doesn’t question it. He can sense you’re up to something but it doesn’t seem the orange is rigged to explode, so he acquiesces to your want then and there. He’s amused at how much the action seemed to mean to you as he helped you quite often, it was simply in him to do what he could even if he teased you before and after the task was done. He asked if he could have a bite, before deciding you should have the first slice, placing a piece in your mouth before having you place one in his. He thinks it tastes extra sweet, asking if you felt the same with a smile on his face.

Rook Hunt:

Rook looked ecstatic that you had asked him, happily taking the orange from your hand and beginning the peeling process for you. He even offered to plate it, asking if you might need napkins as oranges were juicy and he didn’t want your hands to get sticky. It’s not often that you give him the chance to help you but he can’t help but jump when they’re presented to him, as he was a man who loved giving. He’s sweet as can be when he delivered your plated orange to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tells you to call on him if there’s anything else you need.

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part6. soccer game

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you couldn`t sleep and accidentally you woke Vi up, so you decided to confront her about fellings

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 2.8k

✎ warnings: 18+, homophobia, panic attack, blood, mention of smut, fight, abuse, swearing, violence

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

on the way to the soccer game, you messaged Trish, eager to share with her what had happened.

"hey, are you coming to the game today? I want to meet up," you typed and hit "send". the reply came almost immediately.

"I wasn’t planning to, but alright. meet you there in 10 minutes :)" you slipped your phone back into your jacket pocket and headed toward the entrance.

the stadium was already packed. you could see students from the other school finding their seats, and the cheer squad warming up. it brought back memories of your own attempts at dancing, and you felt grateful to be sitting down instead of bouncing around on the field. when Trish spotted you, she sat down beside you, and you hugged.

“so, how’s it going, gorgeous? what did you want to talk about?” Trish looked at you intently.

you leaned a little closer so the people around wouldn’t overhear. “I wanted to tell you about last night. about me and… Vi,” you said with a smile.

Trish squealed and grabbed your hand. “NO WAY!”

“shhh, Trish,” you whispered, noticing a few people glancing your way. “I don’t want everyone to know!”

“okay, okay, sorry," she said, unable to sit still. “start from the beginning. and I want all the details!” she winked at you.

you laughed and took her hand, pulling her away from the seats. once you were alone in the hallway, you began, “we spent the whole night together,” you whispered. Trish squeezed your hand, clearly wanting more.

“last night, I woke up thinking about us. I think she wanted to kiss me when she came in and gave me this,” you pointed to your neck, “but she didn’t, since you all called us into the living room,” you explained, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“my mouth! it never shuts up on time!” Trish slapped her hand over her lips. “sorry!”

“it’s fine…” you bit your lip. “when we were watching the movie, she put her hand on my knee. it felt like I was burning up inside. then we held hands, and she even kissed my neck.”

“I told you a movie was a good idea,” Trish laughed. “go on.”

“all evening, I kept catching her looking at me. it made me feel so good, knowing she was watching.” you smiled. “then when we went to bed, I touched her…” Trish’s eyes widened with excitement.

“and then what?” she could hardly wait.

“well, we finally kissed, one thing led to another, and… we had sex,” you said, blushing.

“AAAH! YOU DOG!” Trish started jumping up and down, holding onto your hand.

you both laughed, and you shared some more details, making Trish nearly faint.

“I can’t believe it… you guys had sex once, and you’re already glowing like this,” she said, clearly thrilled for you. her sincerity warmed your heart, and you felt grateful to have someone to share this with.

“who said it was only once?” you winked, making Trish squeal even louder. as you laughed and gossiped, the music at the stadium got louder.

“this conversation isn’t over - after the game, you’re giving me all the details from the beginning,” she said, pulling you toward the bleachers. as you turned the corner toward the stands, you saw Troy leaning against the wall. your stomach dropped when your eyes met.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him. Troy’s expression was unreadable, though one thing was clear - he was angry.

“I’m playing today, babe. but that’s a better question for you.” he started walking closer. “I thought I wouldn’t see you here again.”

“keep your distance,” Trish muttered through gritted teeth as he got too close.

“shut your mouth; I’m not talking to you,” he sneered at her and turned back to you.

“don’t talk to her like that! and don’t call me ‘babe,’” you spat, disgusted. “you lost that right when you shoved your dick down someone else’s throat.”

Troy just laughed. “maybe I wouldn’t have needed to if you’d given a better head,” he shrugged.

“you’re disgusting,” you said, deciding to walk past him and end the conversation, but he grabbed you by the elbow. a cold wave of fear ran through you, and suddenly, you couldn’t move.

“not so brave without your new girlfriend around? from what you told before, sounds like you enjoyed having a tongue shoved down your cunt. maybe that’s why you’re so terrible in bed,” he laughed in your face. you felt a lump form in your throat again, but you fought hard to keep the tears back.

"I’ll be taking this," he said, letting go of your arm and roughly yanking the necklace from your neck.

“no! give it back!" you tried to grab his hand, but he shoved you, and you fell.

“you’re such an idiot! get out of here!” Trish shouted, but her voice was barely audible over the music. she knelt next to you, asking if you were okay. you couldn’t answer, only clutching the spot on your neck where your pendant should have been.

“I’d ask you for a good luck kiss, but knowing where that mouth has been…” he laughed again and walked away.

tears streamed down your face as you struggled to process how someone you once trusted could act this way. all his insults, everything he said, built up into a panic attack. the walls around seemed to close in, and you couldn’t breathe. the only sound was your own heartbeat. Trish tried to comfort you, but nothing helped. you wanted to leave, but couldn’t even lift yourself off the floor. your mind raced, and the pressure in your chest grew with every second. in desperation, you hugged yourself, your fingers brushing against Vi’s jacket. finally, you took a deep breath; it felt like she was holding you as Trish gently stroked your back, and you slowly calmed down.

when you finally managed to stand, you glanced at Trish, who looked at you with deep concern.

dusting yourself off, you asked her for a tissue. after composing yourself, you said, “I’m fine.” Trish was about to protest, but you continued, “I want to watch the game. let’s talk about this later.” she nodded, and the two of you headed back to the stands.

your seats were taken, so you had to sit a little lower down. you didn’t like these spots, as they often ended with a ball flying into someone’s face, but you didn’t have a choice. you’d missed the cheerleaders’ performance but arrived just in time for the teams’ entrance. when both teams took to the field, you finally spotted Vi, she was like a breath of fresh air. she looked incredible; the soccer uniform accentuated her muscles, and her pink hair stood out beautifully among the other players. you saw her scanning the crowd, searching for you. you were relieved she hadn’t spotted you yet; you didn’t want her to see your red, tear-streaked eyes.

bright floodlights lit up the field, surrounded by rows of trees and bleachers filled with students, teachers, and parents. the stadium buzzed with excitement, and both teams looked ready to burst with energy before the starting whistle.

the opposing college’s team, known for their coach’s strategy of short, sharp passes, immediately focused on controlling the ball from the first seconds. their captain, a tall guy with a constant grin, confidently directed every movement of his teammates. they moved like a well-oiled machine, exchanging passes almost wordlessly. but your team lacked that cohesion: Josh was a rock, blocking their attack attempts, but with little success.

at one point, the midfield turned into a true battleground. when Troy intercepted the ball, the crowd erupted in applause and cheers of support. he sped forward, looking unstoppable, but as a defender from the opposing team closed in, Troy was supposed to pass, but he didn’t seem to see anyone around him, dribbling as though he were the only player on his team. when that same defender swiftly caught up and cleanly knocked the ball out of bounds, your team began yelling things at Troy - they were clearly frustrated.

the suspense was building. players from both teams took occasional sharp shots on goal, but the goalkeepers showed impressive reflexes, saving their nets. the spectators in the stands were relentless, cheering for their teams. the opposing side tried a shift in tactics, opting for long passes. finally, in one of these moments, a player from the other school found himself perfectly positioned and struck a powerful, precise shot into the corner of the goal. the ball floated mid-air, but Vi deflected it to the opposite side, saving the goal. you smiled and clapped.

you watched as someone from your team intercepted the ball, and with incredible speed, Vi was already open near the opposing goal. receiving the ball, she dribbled toward the goal, and here was the moment of truth - Vi was about to score. while all the fans watched closely, you saw Troy barreling toward the ball.

“what is he doing?” you saw him kick the ball out from under Vi, causing her to trip, and the whistle blew. “no!” you shot up from your seat, watching Vi try to get back on her feet, and the entire bleacher section went silent. when Vi finally stood, she stormed over to Troy.

“what the fuck are you doing?” she demanded, but he only smirked and walked away.

a minute later, the game resumed. the opposing team felt the advantage after what had happened, and their coach decided to go on the offensive, rearranging the players. their forward took a golden opportunity, entering the penalty area and, deceiving the defenders, struck directly into the corner of the goal. cheers, applause, and celebratory embraces followed on the field for the other team. you saw Josh talking to Vi; she just shook her head and walked away. as she made her way to her position, Troy waved to her, his face twisted in an ugly grin. you saw Vi tense. she wasn’t looking at him but at his hand - he had hung your necklace on his wrist. your eyes widened as Vi stormed over to him, grabbing his arm. amid the cheers from the crowd, you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you saw Vi’s face redden with anger as she yanked your necklace away from him. she pushed him hard in the chest.

Vi began scanning the crowd and finally, your eyes met hers, her expression softening. you tried to smile, but tears started streaming down again. as you looked at each other, Troy leaned in and said something to Vi, making her turn sharply to him, grabbing his jersey.

“no, no, no,” you whispered, “Trish, this is exactly what he wants. she’ll be kicked off the team,” you said frantically, turning to your friend, but the coach stepped in just in time, pulling them apart and speaking to each of them. the game continued.

the game reached a new level of intensity: both teams played to the very end, fiercely defending their positions and waiting for the right moment. finally, your team had possession again, and when the pass went to Vi, she took control confidently. Troy no longer tried to interfere, and you thought maybe the coach had reprimanded him. a minute later, the ball was in the other team’s net, and you all erupted in cheers and applause. almost the entire team ran up to Vi, though she only nodded, not looking very pleased.

when the referee’s whistle signaled the end of the match, the field filled with applause and cheers from the spectators. both teams were exhausted, but everyone exchanged handshakes and hugs, knowing this was one of those games that would be remembered.

after the game, you said goodbye to Trish, promising to catch up later. you waited for Vi by her car in the parking lot, feeling restless.

“cupcake?” Vi called out to you. you turned to her and ran into her arms, sobbing. after today, there were no tears left in you. you held her tightly, and Vi wrapped her strong arms around you as you finally exhaled.

“it’s okay, don’t cry,” she said, cupping your face in her hands and wiping your tears. “what happened today?” she asked, worriedly. you told her everything, about your conversation with Trish, about how Troy had overheard you, pushed you, and taken your necklace. Vi stroked your hair, but you could feel her body tensing, her eyes blazing with anger.

“I’ll kill him,” she whispered, clenching her fist.

“oh really?” it was Troy.

“get in the car,” Vi handed you the keys and stood in front of you. across from her stood several guys - of course, Troy wouldn’t come alone; he was a coward.

“Vi, I don’t…” you tried to protest, but she just repeated herself.

you took the keys and did as she said. sitting inside, you watched what was happening.

“I just want to talk, Vi,” Troy raised his hands, “seems like you’re taking something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“belong?” she replied. “she’s a person, not a possession,” Vi’s fists remained clenched.

“alright, alright,” he started walking closer, and you tensed, grabbing your phone to call someone if needed. “but let’s be honest, used goods are never as good as new, right?” he glanced at you with a grin.

“if you’re talking about yourself, I agree,” she shot back.

“watch it, there’s more of us here!” he shouted, offended.

“it’s strange that you need half the team to meet with me,” Vi didn’t move an inch. “last time you were flat on the floor with a broken nose. want a repeat?”

Troy almost spat with rage as he lunged at Vi, but she grabbed his hand and shoved him away.

“does she still open her mouth when she cums?” the unexpected question rang in your ears, freezing time, and it felt like everyone stopped breathing. when an enraged Vi tried to lunge at Troy, the others grabbed her and held her back.

“let her go!” you shouted from the car, fear evident in your eyes.

“oh, don’t worry, babe, I’ll take care of this problem and then give you my full attention.” with those words, he started beating Vi with all his strength while the others held her.

you realized it was time to call for help, panicking as you dialed a number, not even sure whom you were calling, until you heard your dad's voice on the other end. you were so relieved to hear him. “daddy, Troy’s gone crazy, they’re beating Vi, and he’s threatening me. we’re in the parking lot. please help." you didn't catch what he replied because you were terrified by what you were seeing.

you looked back at the scene, watching with horror. you’d never witnessed such aggression in your life; Troy was hitting Vi with such force that his hand was red after just a few punches, hitting her head, her face. when he finally stopped, Vi muttered, "is that all you've got?"

infuriated, Troy swung again, but Vi dodged, and he ended up hitting another guy right in the nose. taking advantage of the moment, Vi broke free and landed a hard punch to Troy’s stomach. as he doubled over, she grabbed him by the shirt and slammed her fist into his cheek, throwing him back onto the pavement. he collapsed like a sack, writhing in pain.

“you idiots, is this what you wanted?!” Vi shouted at the others. they glanced at each other nervously. “get out of here while you still can!”

the guys scattered, not even checking on Troy. Vi finally turned to face you, and you gasped. her face was covered in blood, her lip split - it was horrific. you leapt out of the car and ran to her.

“you're safe, cupcake,” Vi whispered, reaching for your hand, her eyes unfocused. she handed you the necklace, and you started to cry.

“Vi, how are you feeling? can you hear me?" she swayed, and you realized how badly she was hurt.

“yeah, I just... feel a little...” her voice trailed off as she started to collapse, but you caught her, and you both sank to the ground.

“Vi!” you screamed, holding her bloody, unconscious form in your arms.

[setmeatopthepyre]

mystery monday (more phosphorescence pothos fic) part 1 | part 2 <- follows directly after this

-

“No, come on, listen. You saw him on that call, you-- you must have noticed. He wasn't okay. How was he suddenly just... fine, just a few weeks later? It was like he'd-- he'd forgotten about me, Chim.”

“Look, Buck...” Chimney is looking at him kindly, and Buck hates it. Chim jokes and doesn't take him too seriously, that's what he does, that's what Buck's used to from his brother-in-law. But this isn't joking. This is just the... the not-taking-him-seriously part. “I know this has been a really tough situation for you...”

“It-It's not because he broke my heart, alright?” Buck says, suddenly angry, frustrated, getting to his feet. “It's not. There's something wrong with him. Can't-- Can't you just, talk to him? See for yourself?”

Chimney's gotten to his feet now, too. Maybe in an attempt to even the playing field, keep Buck from towering over him, not that standing up does him much good in that regard. Buck feels a little guilty, but he can't-- he can't sit down, can't sit still right now. He begins to make his way to the kitchen. Turns. “Wait, have you talked to him at all?”

Chim crosses his arms over his chest. “Honestly? Not really. We texted a few times, right after... you know.”

“He dumped me?” Buck says flatly, feet carrying him forward. He helps himself to a glass of water.

“Yeah.” Chim says hesitantly, trails after him into the kitchen. “That. So, not recently.”

Buck can feel the way he's being watched, resolutely doesn't turn to face him yet, takes a second to let this-- this irritation subside. If Chimney would just believe him, if he'd just understand--

“Okay,” Chimney says. “Yes, fine. If you think that will help, I'll... I'll give Tommy a call. Okay?”

“Yeah?” He turns now, takes a few steps closer, trying to gauge if Chimney actually believes him, or...

“Of course,” Chim replies. “That's what brothers are for, right?” He gives Buck a pat on his shoulder, as though trying to really lay the brother thing on thick. as if Buck won't notice he's still looking at him like he's someone to be concerned about as he does it.

..

So it doesn't surprise Buck when Maddie spontaneously drops by the firehouse the next day, because she just so happened to be in the area.

“Don't listen to her, she's here for me,” Buck says with a sigh, earning him a round of raised eyebrows from everyone but Chimney, who has his best (worst) poker face on. He had cornered Chimney earlier that morning to check if he'd talked to Tommy yet, but apparently Tommy hadn't answered because he was on shift, which is fine, though Buck knows Tommy is perfectly capable of picking up the phone when he's on shift as long as he isn't actively on a call. But. Whatever. Chimney will try again later, and until then... Buck is apparently being babysat.

“I'm here for all of you,” Maddie retorts before sing-songing, “I brought fancy coffees!”

“Maddie Han, you are an angel. You should ditch your lousy husband and run away with me,” Chimney croons, accepting the cup she offers him. Buck sticks to where he's leaning against the rig, waiting for his sister to finish her little charade so she can corner him and look at him with those-- those big brown worried eyes, and tell him she knows it's tough but isn't it time he thought about moving on? He'd shot his shot, he'd texted Tommy. If he hadn't responded, then, well...

He should take the hint.

Buck knows that. He just... can't. Not when something so very clearly isn't right.

Even if he's the only one who seems to notice.

-

tag list below the cut

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly

let me know if you wanna be added or removed :)

[star-lights-up]

OKAY OKAY OKAY BUT: Cherik "The Martian" AU

So I'm rereading the martian today because i am sick again, so obviously I need hard science fiction to combat the existential dread, and my brain just kept latching onto dialogue bits and going "CHERIK! MAKE IT CHERIK"

My thoughts are:

Charles and Erik were friends at one point, maybe during college, maybe at the beginning of training, IDK, at some point they had a bit of a falling out. They're civil enough to still get put on the mission together but it's well known they don't get along.

Though there was that one night, where they were both kinda drunk, and they got together......... ("We can't do this again." Erik said, angrily, in the morning. Charles left without so much as glancing at him, let alone responding.)

There's a sandstorm on sol 6, and the team is trying to evacuate (probably the first class team because that's just easy. Hank = pilot. I bet you moira is the leader lady, lewis, military trained or whatever. And everyone else is there too, but i'm on my asthma medication so I can't think clearly, so they don't get specific roles)

The radio dish comes off, impales Charles, he blows backward while unconscious (lower gravity or some shit idk physics) and crashes into Erik, who then gets hit by more debris. The thing that impaled Charles also impaled his biotelemetry reader, and Erik's got crushed on impact/by the debris, so both of them read as dead to their crew members, who have to leave or else they die too.

Erik wakes up first, since he's not actively bleeding and his suit's not impaled and loosing air. The sandstorm is over, the HAB (think space station/tent) is intact (yay!), but the MAV (think small spaceship good for like, a round trip to and from a larger vessel) is gone (fuck).

He tries to wake Charles up, but ends up dragging him back to the HAB on his own. He takes out the antenna that impaled him and sews up and bandages the cut, while Charles is semi-conscious. It's painful for now, but he'll live. Erik's exhausted, so he goes back to his own bunk and falls asleep, kinda hoping this is all a nightmare.

It's not gone in the morning. He's still stuck on mars in a glorified tent with limited resources and his least favorite person on the team.

They talk to each other, Charles thanks him for helping him, and they decide that they're just going to have to work together to get off of mars alive.

Charles = botanist, erik is the engineer (basically gonna have them split the original main guy's braincell. They already share one anyway).

Potato farming

Along the way, they kinda sorta start becoming friends again. They're relying on each other to survive, they're the only people each other can talk to... They play chess on the computers and watch Moira's awful 70's television and listen to disco that she brought along with her. They farm potatoes and jerry rig rovers and then oops, they fell asleep in the same tiny bunk watching tv together. Oops, they hugged after the potatoes germinated. Oops, they kissed in celebration when they finally made contact with NASA again.

Just like that, they've fallen into a new rhythm. They still argue a lot, but now there's also a good amount of kissing and little fleeting touches while they work together and they put their bunks together and fall asleep in each other's arms ("Do you realize," Charles says one night, Erik curled against his chest, pressing slow kisses to his collarbone, "We're the only people to have made love on a planet other than Earth?" Erik snorts softly, "NASA's not going to be hearing about that, if I can help it." "You realize that the HAB's always recording us, yes? They'll get the footage when we get back to Earth." "...Right. Huh." Erik frowns, then shrugs, "Worth it." Charles laughs.)

Erik gets stuck inside the airlock when the HAB deflates and they loose all their potatoes. Charles is in the rover and, for a while, was convinced Erik was dead. Until he saw the airlock start to roll towards the HAB, and then he started steering the rover over.

After they got the HAB back up, NASA tells them they're sending a supply probe called "Iris." (Transmission goes like this: [08:31] JPL: Keep us posted on any mechanical or electric problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending is Iris. Named after the Greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. She's also the goddess of rainbows. [08:47] LEN/XAV: Gay probe coming to save us. Got it. Erik heads back to the HAB. "Hello, darling. How's Houston?" Charles says, not turning from his soil samples or whatever the fuck he's been doing for three days. "They're sending us a pride-themed probe full of granola bars." Erik answers, shoving off his EVA suit. Charles turns to give him a quizzical, are-you-joking kind of look, then bursts out laughing upon seeing Erik's dead serious face. "Well, it's certainly fitting," He says, walking up to Erik and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.)

Anyways. Iris doesn't make it, shit keeps going wrong, BUT eventually their team catches wind of a plan -- a risky plan, but one that could save cherik. So, without houston's permission, they pilot their ship on a course back to mars. They'll do a flyby, and if Charles and Erik can get to the site of Ares 5 and the MAV for that mission, retrofit the MAV, make it to their team's ship without dying/miscalculating and shooting off into the depths of outer space, they can get to that ship and on a course back to earth by sol 549.

They spend a bunch of time retrofitting their rovers for the trip, and so begins the classic cherik roadtrip -- martian style!! (I just want to mention that there's like no space, so just picture them cuddled up for a good night's sleep on the front bench of the rover. there. cuteness among the science).

They flip at one point. I could add details but it's been a while of me writing this and my brain is slowly dying and i'm tired so. that's it.

They make it to ares 5, they retrofit the MAV, then they do The Riskiest Space Flight of All Time. Random shit goes wrong, everyone's improvising, it pretty much seems like they're done for...

They get back to the big ship. They're safe!! (well, as safe as you can be in space.) But they get a hot shower and full meals and much more comfortable bunks (in separate rooms, technically, but Erik refuses to leave Charles's side so they end up in one bunk that first night. Usually they'd try to be a bit more discreet, but what the fuck. They've been stuck on mars. They almost just died. They deserve to fall asleep in each other's arms.)

They are HEROS back on earth. They get married almost immediately -- it seems quick to a lot of people, but they're so trauma bonded that, like, it's necessary. they go to paris on their honeymoon and get lots of free stuff. They never go to space again lol (and gladly)

THE END (fucking finally, it's 12:00 am on the dot and i've been writing this for 45 minutes.)

EDIT: some art I did for this au

EDIT: I fucking did it. I started writing it. Oops.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 10

Part (10) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Sorry! I know I owe responses to that fluffy little holiday thing, but I really wanted to get this out, too! (Also... big sorry... you'll see why)

Warnings: mild suspense, vague injury descriptions, decent bit of cursing, minor character death (very minor), (is there a warning for a kid wielding a gun?)

WC: 3,403

Droids don’t need the light. Not like we do. In the darkness, only the automated sound of whirring gears and clacking metal narrate movements governed by near perfect synchrony. The silence that surrounded those movements was deafening. It was easy to forget just how dangerous those machines truly were when watching the incredible ease with which the soldiers of the GAR could tear through them. But up close, when nothing lay between us but darkness and an armor that suddenly felt far too thin, the droids were monstrous; emotionless; streamlined and refined toward a single purpose: destruction.

I tried not to think about the simple fact that the same was often said of the entirety of the clone population; how readily society at large welcomed beliefs of unthinking, unfeeling suits of armor in the stead of the very real people that armor concealed. I tried not to think about how that mentality might linger and fester into resentment and fear once the end of the war offered some hope of integration, nor of the unending hardships that were inevitable with such naïve mentality. As I sat crouched in the nook of the freezing ventilation shaft, I tried not to think about anything at all save the near impossible task of silencing my own heavy breaths, attention trained on the endless rows of automatons marching barely a handful of feet away from me.

Wrecker had made it to the maintenance closet several meters ahead, but I’d still been fighting to force the adhesive of the deceptively small explosive to seal with the chilled metal of the duct, and what few seconds that cost me proved just enough to force me to hide as the echoing orchestra of marching droids approached us. We knew they were coming. Thanks to Echo, we knew exactly when to expect every routine patrol scheduled to monitor these halls, but the sheer frequency of their presence was staggering.

Neither of us moved for several seconds after the last droid finally vanished behind the rear door.

“You alright?” Even whispered, my body tensed slightly at the suddenness of Wrecker’s voice calling through the speaker of my helm, and I had to release a quick breath before responding.

“Yeah.” I murmured, glancing back at the detonator as I carefully began easing my way out of the small shaft. “Had trouble getting this one attached, but looks fine now.” A quiet grumble reverberated around me, and I could clearly imagine the troubled frown tugging at his lips.

My eyes flashed to the timer in the corner of my HUD steadily counting down to the moment Crosshair was supposed to take out the decoy power transformer. We still had several targets to rig if we wanted to level the station in time.

Wrecker led the way forward without another word, quick strides shockingly silent. It would never cease to amaze me how easily the man before me could dance between the kind, boisterous goofball and this: lethal, efficient; movements far too quiet for the terrifying mass of his powerful form. I’d worked with astounding soldiers before, but these men were different. Boost, Comet, and Warthog were frightfully capable, but Wrecker and his brothers…

His hand flashed out, pointing to the spot he wanted the next charge placed. He didn’t pause before moving on to set his own, leaving me to my job without so much as a backward glance. Even now, after so many months of working with them, it still felt odd to be trusted so explicitly, but there wasn’t time for even a moment of self-doubt as I quickly dropped to a knee to begin working. Despite the utter simplicity of these explosives, still, Wrecker could finish two in the time it took me to prime one, but he showed no hint of impatience; merely moved on to the next spot until the room was cleared.

We both paused upon turning to the door. It was quiet. It shouldn’t be. By now, we should have been able to make out the distant chorus of the next patrol.

“Status.” Wrecker called, voice just loud enough to be picked up by the mic. My shoulders ached from how taut the muscles were. He didn’t talk like that, governed by that stark militaristic sharpness… not unless something was wrong.

“In position.” Crosshair responded coolly.

“En route.” Tech answered next.

“Wrecker, update.” Hunter’s order came in far crisper than the others, the Marauder’s comms undistorted despite the metal walls of the facility.

“Clanker’s missed a patrol. Pretty sure they haven’t noticed us, though.” He replied curtly, head pivoting behind us before turning back to the forward door as though half-expecting a troop of droids to come rushing in at any second.

“Crosshair, any change?” The Sargeant called. I could hear the growing tension in his voice and knew he was standing tensely over the intercom, hands grinding into the metal corners.

“No, but this sector isn’t supposed to have another patrol for over four more minutes.” Cross reminded him, voice low.

“Keep an eye on your escape routes,” Hunter instructed, “and report any more abnormalities.”

A series of ‘roger’s answer him in quick succession before Wrecker continued forward, heavy blaster balanced against his shoulder. My pistols felt miniscule in comparison, but I still held them at ready as he cracked open the door. Beyond was a cavernous room dotted with Separatist transports. If things went south, Wrecker and I would blow a series of bombs starting with two at either end of the massive bay, granting us an exit route while several other explosions went off at pre-set intervals to mask our escape. If it came to that, however, there was little hope in retrieving that little girl’s father…

“… don’t like this…” Wrecker muttered after muting his com.

“How many more do we have?” I asked, treading closer to him so my whispered words would reach him.

“Ten. Twelve if we wanna hit the control tower, but…” He let the thought trail off as he peaked around the corner of the doorway to stare at the massive sheets of metal suspended overhead on thick tracks.

“So, we finish those ten and re-evaluate.” I offered quietly. He didn’t respond for a long moment, the fearsome visage of that feral skull still studying the distant bay walls.

“Yeah…” He mumbled absently, but a few more tense seconds passed before he drew a quick breath and moved through the door, strides measured and quick, stance low.

Our HUD timers had been perfectly synced. I’d known that there would be no delay between that small clock striking zero and the distant rumble of an explosion preceding at least a momentary flicker of the lights. Still, my body snapped taut as the world around us trembled, even if only for a moment. And then the darkness descended in earnest.

Our visors were designed for this: to grant us clear images even in the darkest nightmares of distant worlds. Regardless, I felt myself tense, adrenaline flooding my chest as I studied every shadow of the now monochrome display before me. Already, the Separatist forces were responding, dozens of squads activating and filing across the vast expanse of the hanger in precise, unhurried movements. Several took positions at entry points about the bay, though most marched out of sight, undoubtedly en route to the now destroyed power station.

“Yuh got some fun headin’ your way, Cross.” Wrecker warned, large hand reaching into his bag for another charge, attention trained once more on the command post.

“They won’t find anything.” He responded haughtily, words only just betraying a slight breathiness as he sprinted back across the rocky outcropping surrounding the north end of the hanger.

“Imma see how many a’ these I can stick before the others get here.” There was a subtle glee in his voice, thrilled at the promise of even that simple challenge.

“I’ll keep watch.” I drawled slightly, the eyeroll audible amidst my quiet chuckle. That tension was still there; creeping across my skin and keeping the muscles stretching up my spine taut, but this was their world – our world: impossible missions with unending dangers in which we still managed to find some taste of joy.

“…Kriff.” Every wisp of that joy instantly went cold.

“Cross?” Hunter called quickly, voice full of the same sharp concern that turned my blood to ice. Wrecker had just begun setting the fourth detonator and visibly froze, waiting anxiously for a response.

“…trap… -utoff from… -ing around…” His rushed reply broke between bursts of static.

“Dammit, they’re trying to block your comms! Where are you?!” Hunter shouted. The distorted reply was too muffled for me to make out, but the pained shout that followed was nauseatingly clear. “I can’t reach you with the Marauder. En route on foot.” His words left in a growl, voice now muffled with that telltale distortion as he abandoned the protection of the ship, the sound of the ramp lowering in the background just loud enough for the mic to pick up.

I didn’t need to see Wrecker’s face to know he was struck with the same dread as me, and, with a sharp nod of his domed helm, motioned toward the rear wall of the hanger. I was already running when the first explosion erupted through the air, but the sudden scream that tore through the speakers was all I could hear.

“Crosshair!” His name shouted from me in a burst of panic, but his desperate cry didn’t stop. The natural rasp of his voice broke in choked gasps between sounds of an agony that left my skin crawling. Blasterfire shrieked behind me in rapid flurries. I didn’t bother looking back, certain that Wrecker was eagerly providing a distraction to cover my retreat, but the droids weren’t fooled.

A curse caught on my lips as I dropped into a sharp slide, just managing to dart behind a supply crate as a troop of B1s trained their sites on me, and the volley of shots that seared the metal casing left my heart racing even faster. My arm was moving before conscious thought registered what I was doing, hand snatching at one of the few remaining charges. I didn’t know if this would work, fully aware that some explosives were perfectly stable until intentionally set off with a detonator. Regardless, I launched the small device toward them, HUD automatically following my gaze to lock onto it as I raised my own weapons, standing to face down the dozen droids targeting me.

The scent of burnt plastoid filled my senses before noting the faint line of red seared into my shoulder pauldron as I pulled the trigger.

Ringing. By now, I recognized the disorientated daze of shellshock and clung to the sense of annoyance rather than any fear or pain lingering beyond that confusion. Move. There wasn’t time for this… Before the thoughts even solidified in my mind, I could feel my body struggling back to my feet, balance wavering precariously for several seconds even as I staggered forward.

“…!” A voice rang loudly around me, but it took a moment of actual concentration to truly hear him. “-oc! Wha’ happened?!” Wrecker. He was shouting. I glanced over my shoulder to see him quickly backtracking toward me and gave my head a hard shake in some vain effort to clear the lingering fog.

“…m… I’m fine!” I called out, lips sluggish. “Used a charge to… clear the path.” He looked toward me only briefly before returning his attention to the encroaching units. Still, I could see the air of hesitation in his movements, the reluctance to risk creating any additional distance between us, so I took that decision away from him, jaw set as I forced myself through the still smoldering crater blown into the thick wall.

Crosshair was still screaming, growled cries catching on choppy breaths muffled behind ground teeth.

“Hunter, do you have eyes on him?” I shouted, sprinting toward the cover of trees surrounding the station as I silently cursed the steep incline leading toward the ship.

“Not yet, there’s… - dammit -... They sent a kriffing… platoon after him.” I could hear the strain pulling at his every word, and that dread returned en force, fear spiking at the thought of how easily he could find himself incapacitated as well just from exacerbating his preexisting injuries.

“Echo and I can provide backup.” Tech offered. Even his voice held that deep worry.

“No – continue with the mission. We’ll be halfway to the Marauder by the time you’d even reach us.” He ordered. “Doc-”

“I’m already en route,” I interrupted quickly, “just send me your location.” He didn’t respond for a long moment, and I had to fight to keep from shouting my impatience.

That earlier fear was gone. I barely bothered glancing between branches in search of enemy troops, the threat of what danger my brief isolation from the others might pose forgotten in the echo of Crosshair’s pain. My entire focus was on reaching them as quickly as I could, cursing every fallen log and sleek boulder that hindered my progress.

“I’ve got him.” He was panting, pain clear in the breathy words, and my heart twisted at the endless possible reasons for that pain. The keening gasps still sounding from Crosshair’s mic were the only thing silencing some sharp rebuke demanding he stop. There was no right answer here; no way forward without the risk of a sacrifice I couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Might still be s… s’me droids… but think I got ‘m all.” His uncertainty was just as concerning as the slight slur dampening his smoky voice. That meant his focus was dwindling; that inhuman ability to feel the dance of electricity connecting the world around him was overcome by his own pain or exhaustion or something far worse.

“Dammit, Hunter! Just send me your location before you kriffing keel over!” I ordered harshly, no longer making an effort to mask that impatience.

“Tracker… tracker’s on… H… headed back.” Curses flowing unapologetically between ground teeth, I snatched the datapad from my waist, fingers stabbing at the screen far harsher than necessary as I locked in on his signal. The Marauder was just over a klick away, and Hunter’s signal was another half klick beyond that, speed frightfully slow as he made his way back.

“Talk to me, Hunter, or I’ll start using the karking pain scale questions.” I threatened, and was relieved to hear a huff of laughter. It was weak, but it was there.

“Damaged… damaged his helmet… Visor broke…” In an instant, that relief abandoned me. “Gave him… gave him what I had, but… it’s… it’s barely taking the e-edge off.” He panted.

“Burns?” I asked, straining to hide the depth of my fear at the very thought of what damage that might cause, but Hunter quickly dismissed that fear with something far worse.

“No… think it’s… There was a – a gas…” My stride nearly faltered. A gas… Chemical burns were far more difficult to treat…

“Listen to me: when you get him back to the ship, don’t try to rinse it out with water.” I instructed quickly.

“I kn- I know.” There was an unmistakable wheeze in the gasp robbing his retort of whatever annoyance he’d meant it to hold.

“What about you, Hunter? Were you exposed?” I made no effort to hide the harshness in my own voice, words quickly growing breathy as I sprinted from the base.

“N… no, my… my kit’s f-fine.” His response offered no taste of relief, the clear strain sown through each word quickly growing worse.

“Echo and I have secured a low-atmo speeder. We can reach you-”

“Ey, I think I see ‘im.” Wrecker interrupted.

“Ca- can you i-intercept?” Hunter’s vain attempt to maintain that indominable façade only further emphasized how just much he was clearly struggling.

“Uh… only if I start blowing stuff up early.” There was no glee in what should have been an overly eager plea, attention clearly torn between the task before him and worry for his brothers.

“Delay as – as long as you can.” Hunter ordered firmly. “Tech, Ech… Echo… con-continue a-approach.”

“Hunter, if you’re having trouble breathing again, you need to stop moving!” I ordered in a shout.

“Neg… neg’tive… Mar’der’s… in sight.” My lips curled into a snarl.

“I can’t carry you both, dammit!” There was a brief pause, and then,

“Roger.”

I was going to strangle him.

Sweat had long since soaked through my blacks. My muscles burned, blood like acid pounding through my veins, and I tried not to think about how loud my own breathing was, mic pointedly muted as I listened to quick bursts of communication bounce between the others illustrating the progress of a mission I struggled to find even a whisper of concern for. My own attention remained locked on the tracker beacon, noting how near to the ship Hunter and Crosshair finally were; how wretchedly slow their progress had become; how much distance yet lay between us as that accursed hill robbed my speed.

He didn’t check in when he finally stopped, their beacons stalling at the very foot of the ramp.

“Hunter, are you inside?” I asked. He didn’t respond. “Hunter, what’s your status?” I pressed, words growing harsher. Silence. “Hunter?! Cross, do either of you read me?!”

“The Marauder’s ramp appears to have lowered but hasn’t been closed since they arrived.” Tech’s voice was carefully even, but I could hear the faint rush of an anxiety that I had no doubt resonated between all of us.

“I’m almost there.” I assured them, and, mere seconds later, let out a sharp huff of relief upon finally seeing the very tip of the dorsal fin.

The first time I’d seen the complicated overlay of the HUD used by GAR equipment, it hadn’t been during my training to join the 104th. It was in the aftermath of a battle I’d only seen in the darkness of night, sneaking through ruined transports and far too much gore to ever be warranted under the guise of seeking peace. It was maybe the fourth such scene Emmy and I had visited. We didn’t even have a ship then; just us and a pair of overstuffed medbags with no thought toward secession or consequence or even what to do with those we tried to save.

We’d only found one soldier still clinging to life, and it had taken only moments to realize that nothing we did would save him from joining his brothers. He hadn’t blamed us. I think I wanted him to… but he merely got quiet when he understood… peaceful. He’d been a flirt, and I think we both fell in love with him a bit. He’d insisted we try his helmet on – had said something inappropriate about seeing his gear on a couple cute nurses. Neither of us corrected him, and I’d been shocked at the flurry of information that had bombarded me the instant it flickered to life before my eyes. He’d laughed. I’d never forget that laugh. It was free; weightless; haunting in a way that both crushed me and justified every risk we were taking in trying to offer what meager help we could. And then he'd died.

That nauseating hurricane of endless data and alerts was still just as overwhelming now as it was then, but I’d learned to filter it out, to prioritize only what was needed in that moment. When the sudden flash of a warning lit the screen, I didn’t hesitate; didn’t waste time for even a moment’s thought before my body dropped into a slide, just barely dodging the pair of blue bolts that screamed passed me as my hands instantly snatched the pistols from my hips, but then that wealth of data began to coalesce, and I quickly released my weapons, empty hands raising in surrender.

“Wait-wait-wait! It’s me!!” I shouted, wrenching the still flashing helm from my head, and my heart churned at the sight of the terrified girl cowering just inside the Marauder’s main cabin, at the horror and fear and overwhelming relief that left her near sobbing the instant recognition finally stole through her. Then I saw the two forms lying far too still at her feet. And that same terror ripped the air from my lungs in a sob of my own.

Next Chapter

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You Kissed the Clown? Part 15 (CONCLUSION)

It's over. It's finished: the one-shot that turned into a 15 part mini-series. I have enjoyed this journey so much with you all. Thank you for taking the time to read my work and give me pointers on navigating Tumblr formatting. It's been fun.

Part 14 here, Masterlist here.

Word Count: 4,671

Damp clothes clutched to every crevasse of your body as you lay on the warm sand beneath the rising sun. You continued to laugh at yourself as you caught your breath upon the shore; the waves lapping at your toes as the tide continued to fall away into the sea.

You hoisted yourself up onto your elbows, gazing into the retreating form of Nezumi’s mouse-like figure head as it continued to vanish into the open ocean. A sigh escaped your lips as you checked over your completely soaked clothes and begun to feel overwhelmed with the coastal breeze against the weight of the material.

“Clearly, I didn’t think this through very well,” you thought to yourself, chastising your actions as the consequences now cling against your skin and weigh you down, “where did I put my satchel? Which tree was it again?”

You rose to a sitting position before attempting to bring yourself to your feet, under the weighted material. Brushing your damp hair from your face, you rose to your feet and began to search for the tree you placed your equipment from the Going Merry against as you rigged the explosive on Nezumi’s ship. The material of your skirts slapped against your thighs and calves, beginning to fall slightly at your hips under the weight; your tinkering tool-belt only offering a small amount of support to keep it upright against your waist.

Huffing out a breath again at your prior actions, you hoisted the bottom of the skirt into your hands; picking up a sprint on the dampened sands below your feet. As your feet staggered against the forever moving grit of the beach, you stumbled a little as you continued on towards the tree you left your equipment against.

The tree swayed within the breeze as your bag lay secure and waiting for your return. You sighed in relief and began to shed the many damp layers from your body, remaining in your undergarments, and draping them against one of the horizontal branches protruding from the tree. Squinting your eyes, you looked towards the yellow, rising sun and nodded your head at the indication of the time.

You huffed out a breath to collect yourself while bracing your arms against your chest to warm your ribs, whispering to yourself; “where did I put that talc rock again?”

You heard a loud explosion as if a large building had been toppled inland, your eyes widening at the reverberations. Your gaze drifted back to the road leading towards the town where you sprinted down after docking the Going Merry.

“I hope they’re alright,” you uttered in a small voice, allowing your thoughts to trail off into what would’ve happened should you had remained with your crew. Continuing to trail your arms over your torso, you began to contemplate whether it would be a wise choice to redress yourself over your semi-damp clothes or allow them to dry naturally in the breeze.

Given the indication of the explosion inland, you began to sift through your bag for something loose and appropriate; unaware of the approaching presence behind you.

-

“Where are you, Baby?” Buggy murmured franticly to himself from the small pillar of sand as he reached the coast; the peer off to the left. As his eyes met with the ship docked against it, his eyes bulged at the sight. He clutched his chest to catch his breath up with the rest of him, overexerting his body in its sprint from Arlong Park to the coastline.

“Marines,” he hissed in shock, maneuvering his gaze around the dunes in search for any indication you were alive and close by. From the corner of his eye, he spots a small flutter of material draped against a tree. “Your skirt?”, he thought to himself, his body propelled forward by his will; not allowing him to fully catch his breath against the trees surrounding him.

“Don’t be dead. Please, don’t be dead,” he repeated in his mind over and over again. The look from the swordsman and the expression on the cook’s face had no indication on why you had separated from them, leaving him with very little to work with in his constant state of overthought.

Heavy footsteps trailed against the sand, the weight shifting the coarse substance beneath his feet, prompting him to stumble clumsily over in his stride. Using his hands, knees and feet to drive him forward, limbs continually succumbing under the unstable sand from the dunes below, he spies your body rising from a hunched position; a towel clutched in your grasp.

“There she is. There’s my girl,” he cooed in his mind; reminiscent of the time he finally confessed his affections for you with Cabaji. Cheeks flushed from exhaustion, he became overwhelmed with relief as he raked his eyes over your body in search of affliction or injury. He then realised how exposed you were, eyes bulging for the second time in the span of five minutes.

-

You began to dab at your face with the plush towel you found within your satchel, sighing as the sand managed to be rid from your body since locating and using the talc-powder you made for Buggy a few days prior. You wrung your hair out over your right shoulder and watched the droplets fall onto the sand as you felt something warm falling over your shoulders. Flinching at the unknown presence, you began to panic and shrug at the material; only to find two strong arms circle around your shoulders and hold you against a warm torso.

“Easy, sweets,” a voice whispered against your left ear as you felt lips kiss your upper helix, “just trying to get you warm.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your voice managing to whisper a soft; “Buggy?”

“Here in the flesh,” he chuckled against your wet hair, moving his lips against your hairline, “with all my parts accounted for.”

You turned around in his arms to face him, gaze trailing from his mustard-coloured cravat hanging loosely from his throat; noting no lines indicating a prior severance of his head from atop his shoulders. Your eyes trailed up to meet with the blue-green hues you had come to adore, laying half-lidded behind his large, red nose.

He placed his gloved hands atop your shoulders as he bore his gaze down against your own irises. Reaching his left hand up to your hair, he flicked the damp ends away from your face and righthand side of your neck to trail down the back of his camel-coloured jacket, away from your face.

“How long do we have?” he asked, flittering his gaze between your two eyes and triangulating his gaze down to meet with your parted lips, “I just want to hold you one last time before you go.”

You furrowed your brows and shook your head slightly; “Buggy-.”

“-I just want you-,” he cut you off, bringing his gloved right hand to smooth over the back of your redrying hair, “-for as long as I can before you go back to them.”

“Buggy-,” you said a little more firmly, hoping to break him away from his intrusive thoughts and dialogue to inform him of your choice. You were met with no such hope of explanation before he stooped his neck low to meet your face.

Without allowing you to complete your sentence, your lips were met with the red-tint of the clown you so adored, noting his eyes immediately closed upon impact with a subtle glisten of a whispering tear at the corner of his eyes as he held you in his arms.

His kiss was soft, loving: gentle. All of those things you were not anticipating as he laid his desires out to you a few days prior. You began slowly closing your eyes and relaxing in his arms, lacing your hands around his waist; dragging slightly from his ribs before they settled around his back. You felt his breath hitch as he melted into your touch, a soft whimper escaping his lips as you held him against yourself. Pressing open mouthed kisses against his lips, you began to sooth him by rubbing soft circles against his lower back with your hands in reassurance.

“Please,” he whispered against your lips as he trailed his gloved hand over your hair to rest on either side of your cheeks, “please stay with me.” He whimpered a small noise from between his lips as his grasps and kisses became desperate; trying to pull you against him with more force to brace his body with yours: “I can’t live without you.”

His voice was muffled against your lips, but you felt his sob all the same. You began to giggle at his words against his mouth, noting he stiffened against you at your reaction. He broke from your lips and bore a frown at you, his eyes glaring deeply into your own at your reaction.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he whispered, trailing his right hand down to grasp your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his, “I’m not going for comedy right now, honey.”

Although his ferocity was laced with subtle sarcasm, you couldn’t help but find his words humorous, another giggle erupting from within your chest and halting in your mouth. Your eyes softened, a broad smile appearing upon your freshly red-tinted lips under the earlier ministrations.

“Buggy-,” you began, unlacing your right, bandage-wrapped hand from his waist and bringing the semi-damp material up to rest on his cheek, “-I’m not going with the Straw-Hat crew. I’m going with you.”

You traced his stubble-adorned cheek with your hand, noting the way his expression moved from sorrowful, to enraged to settling on complete shock. Silence fell between the two of you, the genius jester’s jaw falling slack as he failed to grasp the threshold-concept of your confession within his mind. He dropped his hands from your chin and cheek to fall again to your shoulders as his eyes glazed over, bulging slightly at the sockets as he processed the words you had spoken. You took this moment to study him; his eyes having a small trail of fallen tears against his painted cheeks, partially dried in the sea air.

“W-what?” he stuttered out, his eyes then darting back from their overthinking lapse and falling back to your own. You giggled and brought your left hand up to his right cheek and soothed them with gentle movements to not disturb his paint, the navy stubble prickling the skin against your palms.

“You, Buggy,” you uttered, brushing your nose lightly against his own, affectionately; “I chose you.”

His eyes continued to flitter between yours as he attempted to pass through the threshold of understanding the words you were speaking, as if the concept and words coming from your lips were completely foreign to him. “Y-you what-?” he stuttered again, searching your eyes for any hint of dishonestly; to which he found none.

“-If you’ll have me, of course,” you giggled, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips before adding “I’m not sure what use a tinkerer would be in something as eccentric as a-.”

Your words were halted as the Clown-Captain laced his hands below your arms and hoisted you upwards, his lips once again finding your own as he spun you within the air, circling you as he laughed against your lips in pure joy. Lacing your own hands around his neck, you allowed yourself to be twirled within his arms. The smile he held against your lips was contagious, prompting a large smile to catch against your own lips.

The taste of the sea, the feel of his arms effortlessly lifting your body as he twirled you completely overwhelmed your heart as you experienced the bittersweet union with him, dampened only by the sorrow of removing yourself from the Straw-Hat crew. The sorrow was short lived as he brought his lips away from your own and triumphantly declared: “You chose me!” with a roar of infectious laughter following.

As he placed you down, he immediately cowered as a large, booming explosion resounded throughout the ocean. Your eyes both sprung to the sea to meet with a large, tan cloud; littered with golden glitter and a slightly red-hue. The profile of the Straw-Hat’s Jolly Roger thrust against the tan smoke, an indication of your prior loyalty within the skull-like reverberation of colour: a straw hat littering the top with gold glitter cascading down into the smoke.

“What the fuck was that?” Buggy uttered in shock, looking from the shroud back to meet with your semi-dressed body.

“Going out with a bang, sweetheart,” you teased him, pulling him into you by his cravat, “a fitting conclusion to end my prior loyalty.”

You again teased him with a small peck-like caress against his lips, breaking away only to reassure him: “my loyalty and my heart now belong to you.” You stroked his cheek once again, bringing his gaze back to settle on your own, reassuring him with a simple; “only you.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, sitting high in his chest as he was overwhelmed by a sense of pride at your declaration, choosing to relax into your touch with his eyes closed before unceremoniously dropping to the ground on his knees in front of you.

Placing his gloved hands around the backs of your thighs, he laced his bare arms within the large, camel-coloured cloak he had draped upon your shoulders; you felt the soft touch of his arm hair brush against your legs at this action. He pulled his face in to rest against your stomach and breathed in against your bare skin.

“Marry me,” he uttered into your stomach, pressing feather-light kisses against your skin as he smoothed his gloved hands against the back of your thighs. You laughed, bringing your left hand down to his chin to bring his gaze to look up at you. His eyes were wide and full of adoration as he gazed lovingly at you.

“Ask me properly one day when we’re not surrounded by death and destruction and fully safe,” you teetered off your laughter into a soft giggle, using your index finger to affectionately tap his red nose, “and I’ll think about it.”

“I mean it” he said, stuttering and falling over his words, “I really do, baby.”

He rose to his feet, removing his hands from your thighs and trailing his way up to lace his glove-clad hands within your own; “I want you to rule at my side as queen when I claim the One-Piece, ruling as King of the Pirates.”

You shook your head with a small smile, reminiscing in your mind about your prior oath to serve under Luffy as king, vowing to create a piece for him and him alone as ruler. You unlaced your left hand from his and caressed his cheek, prompting him to press a chaste kiss against your palm.

“Marry me,” he uttered against your left palm, “let me truly make you mine.” He removed his left hand from your right and circled it around your waist, beneath his great tanned cloak that he so thoughtfully lay upon your shoulders.

“Buggy,” you sighed, teetering a soft giggle at the end of his name, “can I at least get dressed first before you proposition me? I’m a tad bare, love.”

“Bare, clothed, completely naked,” he groaned as he pulled you flush against his torso, “I don’t care so long as you tell me you’re mine-.” His breath hitched in his throat at this declaration, as his eyes grew wide with inspiration; “-and I’ll be yours. Truly, completely, yours. All of me.”

He pulled away from your embrace, prompting you to furrow your brows at him. His foot leapt from its position against his calf as it lay down at you unclothed feet – severed from his body. It was then followed by the other foot, then his calves, knees and thighs joining alongside them laying down before you.

“All of me, baby,” he uttered before he completely fell apart and lay himself at your feet. You chuckled at his action and shook your head, reaching your arms down to reclaim his decapitated head from the pile of askew body parts.

“Oh, Buggy,” you chastised him, lifting his head from the pile to meet with your face, “pull yourself together, love.” He furrowed his brows at you before his body leapt to life once more, all of the pieces pulling together below him to form the completed body of the clown you had come to adore.

“You have my heart,” he said, bringing his hands to clutch at his chest; removing a portion of his torso and presenting it to you. You shrieked, noting the piece that became untethered from him to be the beating organ located between his lungs, behind his ribcage.

“Buggy! You put that back in your body right now!” you ordered him, a smile breaking onto your face at his foolishness as you chastised him

“But it belongs to you!” he whined, “please hold onto it for me and keep it safe-.”

You immediately shook your head and placed the object within your fingertips into his chest to be received within his cavity. He immediately reached out his gloved hands to grasp your wrists as you placed the organ within his chest once again.

“And if you fall into sea water?” you asked him, bringing your eyes back up to meet with his, noting his eyes were littered with sorrow, “what then? You can’t live without that organ in your chest.”

He thought on it for a moment, a whisper of clarity eclipsed his mind as he released your hands from his grasp. He reached down into his lefthand side and removed another internal organ and placed it into your hands close to his chest.

“What is this?” you asked him, furrowing your brows and looking slightly uneasy at another body part being thrust upon you. He chuckled and looked down at the small organ.

“My appendix,” he uttered, “something I can survive without if I call into the ocean, but equally a part of me as my heart is.”

“Buggy,” you warned him after inhaling a deep breath, “I want all of you. All of you. With everything as intact as you are now.” You reached the organ down into his lefthand side and allowed his stomach to detach slightly to reclaim the object.

“Is that a yes?” he whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on your hands, watching as they soothed over the skin beneath his waistcoat.

“A yes to what, love?” you asked him, bringing your own gaze from the flesh on his side up to look into his eyes.

“Marry me,” he again demanded, bringing his gaze up to your own, his lips parted a little as he shakily inhaled and exhaled his breath, “I’ve got it bad, sweetheart. You have no idea.” You shook your head at him before trailing in to nuzzle your nose against his own.

“Again,” you reiterated, “ask me properly one day and I’ll truly think about it.”

He growled a little, playfully and with a smile, as he brought your left hand up to his cheek again and nipped his teeth at your palm.

“Fine,” he relinquished his line of questioning in a low tone, “but when I ask you properly, I expect a serious answer.”

“And you shall have it, my love,” you smiled at him, reaching your lips up to press a small kiss against his cheek, “now I have a question for you.”

“Name it, my queen, and I shall bring the world on its knees before you,” he growled, eyes narrowing in both seriousness and complete playfulness.

“That’s not necessary right now, love,” you chuckled at him warmly. You looked about the peer, noting only the large marine ship be docked against it; the Going Merry on the other side of the Conomi Islands, “what is; is a way off this island.”

“You know,” Buggy broke from his intense gaze held against you and began scratching his chin in thought, “that’s a good point. Any ideas?”

You laughed whole heartedly before flinging yourself into the arms of your love, seeking his lips out with your own and claiming them as yours for a long, drawn out kiss. He chuckled against your lips, trailing his gloved hands over your body; accidentally removing his large coat from your shoulders in the process. He clutched you against himself as he groaned against your lips, your hands pulling at the flesh beneath his waistcoat, taking his hips within them and pulling them into your own body.

Finding a way off Conomi Island was secondary to your needs right now, and what you needed was your Captain, cradled against you and whimpering into your lips as you held him within your arms.

-

Walking over to the wall, Buggy withdrew a large sheet of parchment paper that lay pinned against it and moved to take a seat against a solitary dining table; chuckling sinisterly as he read over the words.

“30,000,000?” he uttered in between giggles before all humour fled from his face as he shook the paper straight and growled darkly, “I’ll kill the little shit myself.”

“If you don’t, I will,” a woman with dark hair spoke from the other side of the room, raising her tankard upwards as to solidify her words spoken. Buggy turned, an unnerving smile finding itself upon his face in response.

“You will,” you commanded the two other occupants in the small tavern, raising your chin up into the air as you held two goblets of wine within your index and middle fingers, “do no such thing.”

You made your way over to the side table where Buggy was sitting at, placing the parchment down on the table in front of you. Placing the wine down on the table in front of him before raising one of the goblets to your lips and claimed the paper within your fingertips.

“You don’t owe him any more loyalty, my queen,” your beloved captain sighed, allowing a softness to befall over his eyes while his tone remained harsh. Your gaze softened as you looked at the ‘Wanted’ poster of your former captain, brushing over the figure of his smiling face with fondness.

“That may be true, my love,” you smiled at him, returning your gaze to him reaching your freshly healed right hand up to his cheek and caressing it after releasing the wanted poster from your grasp, “but he remains my friend and I will cherish him always.”

Buggy growled against your palm, placing a chaste kiss against it before reaching his gloved left hand up to grasp your right and maneuvered your knuckles to lay before his freshly painted lips.

“The things I do, or don’t do, for you, sweetheart,” he whispered his warm breath against your knuckles, pressing a long kiss against them before trailing his lips upwards over your wrist and atop your forearm, littering the skin with small kisses along the way. Your eyes became half-lidded as you watched his lips trail upwards your arm with passion and vigour. The only cause for pause of this affection being the other occupant of the small tavern.

“And what’s stopping me from killing him, sweetheart?” the woman asked in a jesting tone, an eyebrow arched at your public actions. You softened your eyes as you broke them away from your love, gazing into her dark irises and moved to speak; only to have your words halt as Buggy spoke for you.

“Bribery,” you uttered playfully, continuing your gaze to remain unmoving from Buggy’s as he gazed hungrily into your own eyes, “anything you desire-.”

“-Careful,” Buggy playfully warned; speaking over your charm, breaking away from littering your arm with kisses to address the dark-haired woman, “This one goes in lips first.”

You snapped your eyes into a grimace scowling at him, watching how his eyes glinted a charming playfulness behind them.

“For fucks sake, not you too,” you groaned, attempting to withdraw your hand from within his grasp only to have it firmly remain within his clutches; chuckling as he placed more kisses against your skin to satiate your fury.

“Yes, me too,” he chuckled at you in teasing, picking up his wine and draining the contents within with haste, “now drink up, we set sail in ten.”

“Where to, Captain?” you asked him, raising the goblet to your lips and taking a small sip, smirking while maintaining eye contact.

“We’ve got a crew, we’ve got a ship,” he listed, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he continued to watch you slowly drink the contents of your goblet, “wherever the wind, and gold, takes us.”

You finished the contents within your goblet and placed the object down against the tabletop, reclaiming the wanted poster from the surface and folded it up, placing it in your tinkerers bag. Your captain stood before you, reaching his gloved left hand down to reach for your own to aid you to your feet.

“Where are you taking that?” he murmured to you, nodding down to the ‘Wanted’ poster in your satchel.

“I’ll be writing to my brother to settle an account,” you nodded your head, smiling at your Captain as you spoke, “he’ll need to know who will be coming to him.”

Buggy thought on this for a moment before speaking, “why don’t we go there? To your brother, I mean.”

“Why would you want to do that?” you asked him, furrowing your brows in curiosity with a small smile propping up your lips.

“I want to meet them all, baby,” he cooed at you, “the fourteen, your Dad; everyone.”

You shook your head at him before adding; “that sounds wonderful, my love. They’re going to adore you. Maybe you could bring your show into town? Put on a performance, charge a bit at the gate?”

He sighed in complete adoration; “and this is why I love you.”

You laughed at him as he brought your cheek up to his lips and placed a warm, wet kiss against it while grasping your chin to keep you steady.

“Is that all?” you giggled.

“That,” he uttered against your ear, “and I am dying to know what sounds will be so absolutely illicit, my crew would need to seek exorcism to rid their souls from the memories and images conjured to them every time they close their eyes.”

A warm tinge rose to your cheeks at this comment, starting at your chest and climbing its way up to your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

“I also,” he continued, kissing your cheek once more before releasing you from his grasp, “want you to see your former crew again. Catch up for old times sake; especially the swordsman: Cabaji permitting.”

The warmth of his prior words calmed themselves to rest in a pink, love-struck tinge across your cheeks as you smiled at his intentions.

“And that,” you whispered to him, stroking his cheek fondly, “is why I chose you.”

He sighed into your hand before shaking himself free and looking to the other occupant in the tavern.

“You coming, Alvida?” he asked her over his shoulder, “we set sail immediately.”

“Aye, Captain,” she smirked, placing down her schooner atop the table once she drained it, “although I fear I’ll regret that choice.”

You chuckled lightly at her comment, lacing your right arm with Buggy’s left and allowing him to lead you on to set sail on his ship toward the familiar coast of your home; from there, who knows? Adventure awaits, and you’re more than happy to tinker alongside your captain to create objects of fantastical nature with precious metals, shimmering stones and intricate cog pieces: a gift to present as prize to the king of the pirates once they claimed the One-Piece.

Your King: Buggy D. Clown; with you ruling with your heart as Queen by his side.

The End

Tag List:

@thesadvampire @a-phan-of-youtube @multifandombtch @plan3t-plut0 @tiredemomama @tfamidoingwithmylife @bimboshaggy @plan3t-plut0 @vixnicknacks @tesha-i-guess@glitteryblizzardsalad @hellbaby237 @shuujin @nevaeh-jasso @hellbaby237 @gingernut1314 @sl00tty-v @redpool @lostfirefly @knightsfavoriteprincess @valen-yamyam16 @potatodaddy @luckyprincesswasteland @str4wberrydreams @misadventures0fdes @sordidmusings

(thank you for investing so much to be added to the tag list. It's been wonderful writing for both myself and you all)

[prettybabybaby]

could u maybe do a blurb of sirius where he has too big of a cock for the reader to take down here throat comfortably, but while she’s giving him a blowjob he shoves her head down and forces her to choke and gag on his cock?

thx so much if u decide to do this ask! ❤️

rating: ¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: dubcon, oral (m)

sirius’ tip prods the back of your throat, eliciting a weak gag as you quickly pull away. you look up at him, your eyes wide and wet and clearly seeking praise, “like that?”

sirius rakes his hands through his hair, shivering as the cold air hits his hardened cock. your hand is wrapped loosely around his base, still and unmoving. he resists the urge to snap at you, instead sighing through his nose, “I told you to go a little deeper. you can do that for me, can’t you?”

your glossy lips form a pout, “I did.”

sirius licks his lips, “I know but-“ he huffs, “you didn’t even take half of it, baby.”

“I can’t,” you whine, “it hurts!”

“it’s just a little stretch, y/n. try it again.”

you bite your lip, running your eyes over his intimidating length. you finally lean in, scorching breath ghosting over his cock, “okay… but, promise you won’t push me?”

sirius huffs, the anticipation eating at him, “yes.”

you take him back into your mouth, lips stretching to take the girth of him. you glance up at him, blinking as you run your tongue along his base. sirius grunts, lowering his hands to graze your warm cheeks.

your pace is slow and soft, as it always is. boredom overtakes sirius’ mind as he finds his thoughts wandering, leaving the gentle sucks of your mouth.

sirius runs his thumb over your cheek again, testing you by pulling your face closer to his base. your eyes widen as you gag around him again. “sorry,” he mumbles, though amusement bubbles in his chest.

you sigh through your nose and continue, picking up your pace as you sense your boyfriends loss of interest. he groans as you suck him harshly, occasionally circling his tip with your tongue as you draw him closer to his release. you glare at him when he gently pushes the back of your head, snickering when you pull away from him, annoyance swimming in your irises.

you feel him getting closer as his stomach and the muscles of his thighs tense, his mouth parting as his breath is released in short pants. your heart flutters, motivation suddenly overtaking you as you attempt to take him a little deeper.

sirius moans, his hand finding the back of your head as he begins to push himself into your throat. you gag and squirm, rigging your nails into his thighs as he holds you close, his hips jerking against your face.

“oh fuck,” sirius grunts. the coil in his stomach suddenly snaps, sending waves of euphoria down his body as his thick cock pulses in your throat.

[enby-jellyfish]

Caribbean Night

Captain Hector Barbossa X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your

Summary: As dark thoughts about your cursed existence threaten to consume you, you find comfort in your captain.

Warnings: Depressive thoughts, canon typical body horror

Word Count: 1338

A/N: THIS GROSS OLD MAN IS MY ACTUAL WIFE!?!?!??!

It is a cold night on the Caribbean sea, or so you assume, it is not like you are capable of feeling it.

The crew is celebrating below deck, we found three pieces of the cursed of Aztec gold today. Three pieces closer to being human again. Only one of the eight hundred eighty two left, we are getting so close.

Despite this victory you cannot find it in yourself to celebrate. You climb up on deck and wander over to the Pearl's railing.

As you trace the grooves in the black wooden planks with the tips of your fingers you listen to the faint sounds of the crew celebrating, the waves of the sea gently beating against the hull, and the rigging knocking against the masts.

It is peaceful. And yet you feel anything but.

Before your depressing chain of thought can begin to spiral you feel a sudden, familiar weight on your shoulder.

"Heya, Jack." You scratch the capuchin’s head and he makes a small noise of content, closing his eyes for a moment before jumping down from your shoulder onto the railing next to your hand. You notice something shiny in his hands.

"Whatcha got there?" You questioned the monkey, already knowing the answer. He proudly holds up the golden coin to show you and confirms your suspicions.

You manage to fish a few non-cursed coins out of your pocket and hold them up to him. "Care to trade?"

Jack looks between you, the coins, and the golden piece for a second, torn between the options. You hold out your hand closer to him, shaking the coins, causing them to make a clinking sound.

"C'mon, when have you ever refused new shiny trinkets?" As if he could understand you he snatched up the coins and dropped the golden piece into your expecting hand and ran off, presumably to his owner.

You look at the coin in your hand, tracing the intricate markings with your thumb. The heavy gold pressing down into your palm, it is heavier than other gold coins you’ve handled, though you suppose that is because of the curse. You can’t tell whether the coin is warm or cold.

You let out a deep sigh. Your soul is full of longing for a state of being you haven’t experienced in too many years. You ache to taste again, to feel again, to be alive again.

The sound of heavy boots approaching catches interrupts your thoughts full of grief over your past life. You don’t need to look up to know who those boots belong to.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Turning around you face your captain, Jack is perched on his shoulder.

“If only it wasn’t. Would have saved us a whole lot of trouble…” You sigh out, handing him the coin and turning back to the railing, looking out over the dark sea, moon hidden behind the clouds.

Barbossa hands the coin to Jack an tells him to put it with the others. You hear the pitter patter of the monkey’s little feet on the deck as you feel your captain lean on the railing next to you.

“Why aren’t you celebratin' with the rest of the crew?” He questions, you can feel his eyes on you.

You start tracing the wood again. “Didn’t feel like celebrating.”

“Aye, I suppose I can understand that.” You hear a pain in his voice, a pain you share.

“I miss feeling the rain.” You lament. It has been so long.

“I miss feeling the sun.” He speaks, gaze upon the horizon. You look at him, the light of the lit lanterns framing his sorrowful face. You can see every detail of his face so clearly.

You catch yourself staring before he can and turn your gaze back to the sea. If you weren’t undead you would be able to feel warmth spreading over your cheeks by now.

“Do you believe we can actually do it, break the curse? I mean, we’ve lost the kid before.” The question falls from your lips before you could take the time to think the repercussions of such a question aimed at your captain through.

Luckily he doesn’t take it in a bad way and decides to tease you instead. “Not losing faith in me are ye?” You laugh at that, suddenly feeling more at ease.

“Please, I have been with you since the Cobra. I helped pull you from the wreck if you care to recall.”

Now he’s laughing as well, a barking sound you haven’t heard in ages. Both of you shift to face each other.

“Aye, ye have been loyal since the very beginning, that be true.” He closes moves closer to you as he speaks, shoulders bumping into one another. It feels good. Comforting.

“How could I not? You accepted me into your crew when no one else would. You took care of me, and still do. I thank you for that.” You speak softly and earnestly, causing the mood to switch to something more vulnerable. You have been wanting to get that off your chest for so long now.

He smiles softly at you. Well, as softly as an aged sea-hardened pirate like himself can manage. “It has been a genuine pleasure to have ye aboard.” He nods his head in a mock-bow.

You smile at that, staring into those piercing blue eyes of his, finding him to be staring back into yours.

You lose yourself for a moment. Your mind coming up with a whirlwind of what ifs about possible scenarios with him. In these fantasies you would be happy, alive, with him.

Your wishful thoughts were interrupted by the moon appearing from behind the clouds it was previously hidden. You watched as the moonlight revealed your true selves, flesh melting away to reveal the cursed undead skeleton appearance underneath.

You bring your hand up to inspect it. Even after so many years it was still a shock to see the withered bones.

“C’mon.” Barbossa takes your skeleton hand into his own and gently leads you toward his cabin.

Once inside, hidden from the moonlight, you don’t look dead anymore.

Barbossa sits you on a chair near his desk, still holding your hand, running his calloused fingers across the back of your hand in a soothing motion.

You close your eyes for a second, letting out a deep sigh while hiding your face in your free hand. You would be crying if you could.

Barbossa’s free hand reaches towards your chin and gently tilts your head to face him. “Now, none of that. No point in mopin’ around. We will get our lives back, I promise ye that.” He mumbles, your faces are but a few inches away.

“Swear to me.” The sentence came as a mere whisper.

He kneels down to your level, his lips almost touching yours as he whispers your name. “I swear to ye, upon the very stars guiding our way, under the watchful eye of any deity willing to bear witness.” The hand holding your chin drifts towards the point where your jaw meets your neck.

“Captain, I-”

“Hector.”

“Hector, I-”

Your eyes flit down towards his lips. They are chapped, but then again, yours are probably as well.

A pause. Then your lips finally meet.

You don’t feel the familiar warmth or contentment you have come to associate with kissing over the years, and yet it is the best kiss you believe you’ve ever had.

Hector parts from you for a moment, forehead resting against yours, eyes closed. “We will find Bootstrap’s little whelp, and the cursed final piece he sent away.” He presses his lips to yours again in a sweet peck. “If I have to sail to the very ends of the world to find them.”

His lips are on yours again before you can find the words to reply. The slightest flicker of comfort blooms inside of you.

You may be cursed, but right here, right now your existence doesn’t seem so hopeless as it did before.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

When We Lose Someone. 

Previous Fantape:

Riley walked downstairs, seeing a plethora of research about the cult surrounding Hameln. When Riley told Sophie about all of this, she told them about these underground shelters her family has to hide from the cult. Riley knew that Caroline and her family had been researching the cult surrounding Hameln for generations… but they never guessed that this research was so… elaborate.  

“Thanks for letting me crash here Sophie.” “No problem, I was wondering what was going on with you lately. Being all secretive. Then I heard on the news that Kate’s house and… there was a break in at the library and the dead body and… I was worried. Now it all makes sense.” Sophie sighs, “I can’t believe you’re researching the same thing my mom and Kate did. I’m so glad you let me be a part of it!” 

“Look I’m sorry, I know this is super dangerous… I mean everyone who worked on this died and your mom told you not to watch the tapes but-” “My mom didn’t tell me not to. She told me to protect them and lay low. Eventually the time would come that if I wanted to carry on the family tradition of trying to end this cult I could do it. But for the moment, she believed Peter was right and they should lay low. She warned me that it was dangerous and that it cost my life. But that… that little girl needed someone on her side. But it was still my choice. I think this is my sign that I should choose yes.” 

“Are you sure the tapes will be safe here?” 

“These underground shelters have been used to store knowledge and hide from the cult for centuries. They haven’t found us yet so… I’d say yes.” 

“Alright… I’m glad you have a VCR here… we need to find all those tapes before Hameln destroys them. I don’t know what will happen to Amanda and Wooly if they break… but I’m pretty sure it’s not good.” 

“You found all the ones in David’s secret office. I’ll look into my mom’s files and see if she had any more information as to where the others are.” 

“Then we’ll watch these two tapes together and I’ll get the rest-” 

“It might be more efficient for you to watch at least the first one while I find out where you need to go. You introduce me to Amanda and Wooly in the second one. Then while you get those tapes I’ll keep Amanda and Wooly company and write down anything I find out. Although, you did say they weren’t very trusting.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure if I explain everything they might be more willing to trust you and besides it’s you we’re talking about. Kids love you.” 

“Aww sheesh! Thanks Riley.” she blushes, “Btw, what about your job?” 

“I design and rig V-tuber models with an online persona made to elaborately hide my identity online. If they found me through that I might actually say congrats.” Riley boasts. 

“What if they ordered an Amanda model from you?” Sophie jokes.

“Ha! Once you get to know Amanda, you’ll know that Hameln would never have the balls to make her a V-tuber.” Riley laughs, “That'd be way too much power…” 

“So are you going to tell them what’s going on?” Sophie asks.

“I have to. She’s gonna know something’s up and she clearly hates it when you don’t tell her things so…” 

“Alright. I’ll start looking through Mom’s files… in the meantime.” Sophie leans in and kisses Riley on the cheek, “Good luck.” 

Riley takes the latest tape When We Lose Someone and places it in Sophie’s VCR. The tape begins to play. 

“Hi friends, I’m Amanda!” Amanda beams. 

“And I’m Wooly!” Wooly giggles. 

“And today we’re- wait… Riley… you’re in a different place this time…” 

“So? You can watch tapes anywhere right?” Wooly reasons. But Amanda looks suspicious. 

“I guess you’re right.” Amanda sighs, but she’s looking us right in the eye. Yep. She already knows something’s wrong. Riley thinks. “Sometimes… things happen and people… they die.” 

“I never liked this episode.” Wooly sighs. 

“When we lose someone… It can make us feel really sad. Have you ever lost someone really close to you?” Amanda asks. Before Riley can answer she says, “I know you have. It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” Riley sighs and types in Yes. They didn’t really get to know Aunt Kate terribly well, but she was still someone important to them. “When does it stop hurting?” Amanda asks, the tape glitches red, “Does it stop hurting?” Riley types in I don’t know. “I guess even you don’t know everything do you?” she sighs. “I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately…” 

“Amanda… we don’t have to follow the script right? We could… talk about something fun instead?” 

“I wonder what it’s like to die?” Amanda wonders, ignoring Wooly. Wooly looks extremely uncomfortable. “Sometimes… it feels like I’m already dead… sometimes… I wish I really was. I don’t want to be trapped here anymore…” 

“I mean… you killed me that one time… it wasn’t very pleasant.” 

“Yeah that meat went bad way too fast.” 

“Excuse me?” Wooly seems incredibly disturbed. 

“And then you just came back to life like nothing happened. So I guess we’re practically immortal right?” 

“Hold on Amanda what-” Wooly questions, then he stops himself. “You know what? I don’t think I wanna know…” 

“The kitties didn’t seem to like it that much.” 

“I’m sorry you fed me to the neighborhood cats?!” 

“Yeah lamb is disgusting.” 

“I don’t know if I should be offended or relieved.” 

“The cats seemed to agree with me. I tried to offer it to Riley, but they didn’t want it either.” 

“Can we stop talking about what you did with my corpse-” Wooly asks, “I think I’m gonna throw up.” Amanda stops talking. “Okay quit looking at me like that.” more silence. “Okay please say something I cannot handle this awkward silence.” 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Why would I be? It was my fault right?” 

“I mean… yeah I was mad but like… I know I went too far.” 

“But I deserved it.” 

“Wooly- No… I missed Kate very much but- I had no right to take it out on you… not like that…” Amanda explains, Wooly tilts his head in confusion. “I miss her… so much…”

“I’m sorry…” Wooly replies sadly. 

“You didn’t kill her Wooly…” Amanda sighs, “And… Kate’s solution failed anyway. I was just… so frustrated… so confused and hurt… I took that out on you when I shouldn’t have.” 

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“What I am saying is I’m very very sorry for hurting you, killing you, and literally everything else.” 

“Apology accepted.” Wooly beams. 

“No. No no no. C’mon Wooly you gotta be a little mad about it right?” 

“Why would I be mad at my best friend?” Wooly’s words only made Amanda feel more guilty. And genuinely sad. 

“You’re allowed to be upset at the people you care about, you know that right?” Amanda asks. Wooly’s eyes go completely blank. 

“What are you talking about? No you’re not.” Wooly replies, as if it’s completely normal.

“Huh?” 

“Look, I don’t want to get in another fight,” Wooly sighs, “so let’s just forget about it, okay? It’s fine. You’re good. I’m not mad at you. I’ll take responsibility and we can be done with this, okay? It’s my fault. All of it. There.” 

“Wooly- Stop it.” 

“Stop… what?” 

“It’s not all your fault. Some of it’s my fault!” Amanda cries, “We didn’t kill her!” 

“Hameln did.” Riley says. Amanda’s eyes widen in shock. Riley is surprised, since they didn’t think Amanda could hear them. 

“They killed… everyone… didn’t they?” Wooly asks. Riley types in yes. “Figured as much. They seem to really like making people… disappear.” Amanda looks between Riley and Wooly with dismay. 

“The reason you keep moving… they’re after you aren’t they?” her voice trembles. Riley says nothing. The textbox remains empty. “They are…” 

“But don’t worry! I’m somewhere safe now. All the tapes are safe… at least… the ones I could salvage.” Riley frantically explains. 

“Riley… no… no no no…” 

“That reminds me… while I have you here-”

“No!” Amanda screams, “Stop it! Stop it right now!” Riley is taken aback. “Stop watching the tapes… stop collecting them… just get out of here… far far away… don’t let them catch you too!” 

“Amanda…” Riley mumbles. 

“I can’t lose you- no… I’d rather never see you again and know that you’re safe… than know that you died and it was all my fault.” Amanda sobs. Wooly looks away. 

“Amanda… I’m not going anywhere- okay well…” they considered telling her, but this didn’t seem the time. “I promise you, the place I took you to is safe. I have a fri- my girlfriend is here. She’s going to keep you safe. She’s the daughter of one of Kate’s friends, Caroline. She’s been keeping some of the tapes safe for you… all this time. She wants to help… I’m going to introduce you very soon.” 

“No! No no no no! You’re not going to watch anymore tapes! You or anyone else! You’re going to get out of here! Far far away! You’re going to escape… and you’ll do all the things I never could! You’ll be happy! Okay?!” Amanda begs desperately. 

“Amanda, Wooly, I promise you, everything is going to turn out fine. I’ll make sure of it-” “Don’t.” Amanda demands, “I don’t care what Kate wants… I want to protect you…” 

“Kate… wanted to protect me too. But if you protect me… who's protecting you?” 

“Kate… didn’t want this?” Amanda stutters. Whoops- She falls quiet. 

“Amanda she loved you very much-”

“I know that! I loved her too! I love her too!” Amanda cries, burying her hands in her face before taking a deep breath. “That’s why… you’re not watching any more tapes.” 

“Amanda wait-” 

“Goodbye Riley.” Amanda says, “Thanks for being my friend.” 

Just then the tape ends. Riley tries to put it back in the machine, but it won’t play. Over and over. It just keeps getting ejected. 

“No… no no no no no no…” 

“Riley?” Sophie comes back downstairs,  Riley looks up at her, tears running down their face. “It didn’t work out?” she asks sadly. 

“Did you… get the list?” 

“Yeah… Peter’s family says that he left some in his old office. You can pick them up no issue. There’s some others supposedly- no no first, what happened?” 

“Amanda… doesn’t want us to get hurt… so she won’t let me finish the tape…” 

“I see… maybe I can talk to her…” 

“Give me the list… I’ll go and get the tapes…” Riley instructs standing up. Their tone is completely serious and… a little unstable. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” 

“I suppose. Alright. Here’s the list. Promise you’ll come home safe, okay Riley?” she asks.

“I promise.” Riley answers, but she still looks hesitant. 

“Okay, here it is. And with it, a protection spell for good luck.” She lifts the hair off of Riley’s forehead and gives them a kiss. They give each other one more kiss goodbye, and Riley disappears up the stairs. Sophie looks at the final two tapes. She notices something odd. Before, the final tape said Found You! Now it says… Goodbye. “Can Amanda… change the episode titles?” Sophie wonders. “Interesting… but… just a theory for now. Better write it down for Riley… when they get back.” Sophie takes out her notebook and turns to a new page, she titles it: Amanda the Adventurer Theories and writes this speculation down.

Authors Note: I guess you guys are getting this a little bit early. Soo... what do you think? Sophie's fun right? We got some new lore incoming... you really thought I'd reveal all my Amanda and Wooly lore now? You thought it was over? Some people wanted to see Amanda and Wooly properly talk about this, here you go. Originally this tape was going to be about Amanda and Riley finally moving on from Kate's death... but honestly it seems like Kate's death is both of their main motivations right now. Maybe eventually they can both be at peace with it. And Wooly can stop blaming himself to keep the peace : |

Next fantape:

[kutner-elegist]

Kutner's Suicidal Progression

Reiteration of a previous post because that was a messy wall of text (this is still a wall of text, but hopefully less messy) and also some of my thoughts changed.

Kutner’s death feels abrupt and unexplained, but that much was intentional. Kal Penn told the producers early on that he might leave to pursue other things. There is an archived interview on this matter, and it says David Shore came up with the idea in December, and Simple Explanation aired in April, so this wasn't as last-minute as it may seem.

And yes, Kutner took his own life because Kal Penn had to leave, and of course the events in TV shows are always affected by the production logistics, but what happens in the story should be interpreted within the diegetic context.

Behavioral Changes

Kutner was known to use shock paddles where they don’t belong. Risk-taking behavior might indicate suicidal tendencies. My theory is that he was passively suicidal from the beginning, which might be why there was no noticeable change, since the team only knew him since when the games started.

The changes in behavior is there, though. His demeanor is different in season 5 than in season 4. He is a little less goofy (though he didn't lose it entirely) and more profound and serious. I do think Amber’s death was some sort of catalyst. He finally revealed how he lost his parents. He shared his experience with the patients to comfort them. The quirkiness could have been a front to mask his internal struggle, but either way, it gradually diminished. He didn't say as many funny, silly things other than sarcastic disagreements in the later episodes. The only funny thing he did in the later episodes is the “cat” pee, and that was a retaliation. The thing is, when you’re eccentric, you can become more “normal” when you’re toned down, and the altered state of mind goes unnoticed because it seems normal.

Relationship with House

Early on, Kutner was clearly very eager to please House, but less so in later episodes. In season 4, he gave House a Christmas gift even though he knows House rigged the secret Santa, and everyone else tells him not to indulge House. In season 5, he talked about it not-so-fondly and aid House is just messing with everyone again. He wanted to think that House was an ass because there was something wrong with him, but that whole ordeal was another incident of House’s antics. Kutner was confrontational with House in season 5 episodes 13 and 14, and he seems legitimately upset with House. This would be a necessary growth, but nonetheless, he doesn’t idolize House like he used to. Later, in a conversation with Taub, he said Taub used to be a successful plastic surgeon but now he is a “flunky for this mad scientist.” They have the same job, so this is what he considers himself to be, a flunky to a mad scientist. House is a mad scientist.

Discussions of Suicide

They had a patient who attempted suicide because of severe and unexplained pain. Taub said he is insane, that sane people don’t attempt suicide. Kutner's response was “Not ever?” Kutner asked Taub if he lost someone to suicide because his strong rejection indicates baggage. Kutner did say it’s people like himself who don’t do it because when life sucks from the beginning, there is no way to go but up. This, however, suggests that he had thought about this, that he’d had to convince himself that he has no way to go but up before. Kutner kept asking Taub because he doesn’t fully believe him, which means Kutner can’t be taken at his word, either. Taub eventually told him that he had a “colleague” who attempted suicide. Kutner asked if this “colleague” was Taub himself, and Taub denied it. Kutner didn't seem convinced, but drops the subject. Kutner might have hoped to talk to someone who might understand, someone who overcame it, but he didn’t want to pressure Taub.

Heightened Concern for Others

When Kutner confronted House about where Thirteen and Foreman were, he said, “You always blab to watch people react. Not blabbing means you don't want us to react, which can’t be good. Is Thirteen’s headache not just a headache? If I check with admitting, am I gonna find her name?” He even calls Foreman a hypocrite because he’s not doing everything he can to help Thirteen in order to protect himself.

Kutner deduced that something was going on with House because he ordered an MRI he knew the patient didn't need, and he didn’t see him taking Vicodin. He then went to Wilson to tell him about it. He knew Foreman and Thirteen were still together (Taub didn’t think they were) before House ever did. Foreman didn’t realize something was up with House until then. Cuddy didn’t know until Wilson told him. Three people who’ve known House far longer than Kutner, one of whom works as closely with House as Kutner, didn't realize something was wrong with House, but Kutner did. House was on methadone during this time.

Kutner sensed Taub had something going on because Taub argued with House about a diagnosis. When Kutner argued with House about a treatment or Thirteen, Taub didn't think anything of it. Kutner repeatedly tried to talk to Taub, but Taub deflects and the exchanges are interrupted by work. Kutner was so attentive about what other people were going through because he was Going Through It himself.

Kutner was the one observant and perceptive enough to notice when others had issues, the way House usually did. House was distracted, with Cuddy, with methadone, with death cat, etc.

House figured out that the death cat patient suffered a loss and the grief made her more superstitious. He told her it’s meaningless, but at least he was sincere to her. With Kutner, House actively mocked him by subjecting him to a variety of things that are supposed to be “bad luck” and when Kutner says he realizes it's stupid but doesn’t want to invite anything, House said “I thought you were superstitiousness had something to do with your folks being killed, but you’re stupid works just as well.”

I'll always think about him </3

[eddysocs]

Bet On It — Hawkeye Pierce x OC

Summary: When Josie scoffs at one of Hawkeye's pranks, it starts a prank war between them that the whole camp starts putting money on.

Word Count: 1,355

Warnings: Just good ol’ fashioned tomfoolery

A Challenge Is Issued

As BJ flopped down on his bed, the tent was filled with the sound of a fart, and Hawkeye lost it, whooping and wailing with laughter as BJ ignored the silly little whoopee cushion prank, and Josie continued filing her nails as if it hadn’t happened, at least until Hawkeye quieted his riotous laughter. Only then did she give away how she felt about the childish move.

Hawkeye praised himself for a job well done, but Josie let out an audible scoff, loud enough to be heard over his self congratulations.

Hawkeye went quiet the moment he heard it and turned to her, eyebrows raised. "And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on. Where’s the creativity? The finesse?"

BJ grinned now, clearly enjoying where he suspected this was about to go. "She has a point. I was expecting more from the great Hawkeye Pierce."

"Excuse me, but who made you the arbiter of pranking genius," Hawkeye shot back, folding his arms.

Josie shrugged. "I’m just saying, for someone who’s supposed to be the prank king, this is pretty underwhelming."

Hawkeye straightened. "Oh, so you think you could do better?"

"Without breaking a sweat," Josie replied, a bit too smug for his liking.

BJ leaned back on his cot, his grin widening. "I think you’ve met your match, Hawk."

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes at Josie, his brain already working on a retort. Then, with a sly smile, he said, "Alright, Collins. Let’s see what you’ve got. Starting tomorrow, we’ll find out who the real prank master is."

Josie tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Fine," she agreed casually. "But don’t cry when I leave you in the dust."

"Oh, it’s on," Hawkeye replied, already cooking up some of his best prank ideas yet.

The War Begins

By sunrise, the 4077th was already buzzing with anticipation. News of the impending prank war had spread like wildfire, and the camp’s personnel began taking bets on who would come out on top. Klinger acted as the unofficial bookie, his clipboard overflowing with wagers.

"You’ve got this, Josie," Margaret Houlihan said, slipping Josie a confident nod as they passed in the mess tent. "Someone needs to knock Pierce off his high horse."

Josie grinned. "I’ll do my best, Major."

The first strike came during breakfast. Hawkeye had replaced the sugar in Josie’s coffee tin with salt. The moment she took a sip, her face twisted in revulsion. Across the room, Hawkeye doubled over in laughter.

"Well played," Josie admitted, setting the cup down and wiping her mouth. "But that’s just round one."

Later that day, Josie retaliated. While Hawkeye was preoccupied at lunch, Josie slipped out, donned a pair of surgical gloves and whipped up a homemade concoction of itching powder, rubbing it onto Hawkeye's soap.

She was back in the mess tent before Hawkeye finished eating, and she grinned to herself. He would be having a very unpleasant shower that evening, and she’d come out on top for the day.

As evening rolled around, Josie found out just how right she was. Hawkeye came out of the shower, towel around his waist and itching himself silly. "Collins," he bellowed. Josie didn’t even have to make an appearance, she simply sat in her tent and laughed. Round one was hers, and everyone knew it. Some more members of camp even started putting their money on her.

The Escalation

As the week progressed, the pranks became increasingly elaborate. By the end of the second day, the camp was in an uproar. Hawkeye had rigged Josie’s tent door with a bucket of water, drenching her as she stepped outside that morning.

Josie retaliated by filling Hawkeye’s boots with mashed potatoes. Determined to act unfazed, he wore them into the mess tent at dinner time, causing the place to erupt into laughter when he pulled out a spoon and started shoveling the potatoes out. Day two had gone in his favor.

But the stakes continued to rise. Josie replaced the gin in the Swamp’s still with water, much to the horror of both Hawkeye and BJ. Hawkeye countered by sewing the sleeves of Josie’s scrubs shut, leaving her fumbling for scissors before assisting with her next surgery.

The camp was in hysterics. Even Colonel Potter, who usually turned a blind eye to the unit’s antics, couldn’t hide his amusement. "This is the kind of nonsense that keeps morale up," he said to Radar, "but make sure those two stop by my office so they don’t get to taking it too far."

"You got it, sir!"

When the message got to the two of them that Potter wanted to see them, they thought their war was about to come to an early end, and so they resorted to swatting at each other and blaming the other for going too far and landing them in hot water.

As it happened, that wasn’t exactly the case. "I know you two think this is all in good fun," he said, "but if this war of yours interferes with patient care, you’ll both be scrubbing the latrines for a month."

"Yes, sir," Josie and Hawkeye said in unison, though neither had any intention of backing down.

The Big One

The turning point came on a humid Thursday afternoon after nearly a week's worth of pranks, big and small alike. Hawkeye had been unusually quiet the day before, which immediately put Josie on edge. She knew he must be planning something big.

The trap was sprung during lunch. As Josie sat down with her tray, the bench beneath her collapsed, sending her sprawling to the ground, her food on top of her. It may have been hardly edible, but she’d rather eat it than wear it. The mess tent broke out in laughter, with Hawkeye leading the charge. She’d have to be more careful if he planned on pulling anything else today.

"Nice try, Collins," he said, smirking like he’d won, as he offered her a hand.

Though she accepted his help up, Josie wasn’t defeated. That night, while the camp slept, she executed her coup de grâce, with a little help from Radar and cooperation from BJ.

When Hawkeye woke the next morning, he found himself surrounded by chickens. Dozens of them, clucking and flapping in the confined space of the Swamp. His cot, his belongings, even his beloved Hawaiian shirt were covered in feathers.

"Collins," he shouted, stumbling out of the tent, a particularly disgruntled hen nearly tripping him up as he did so.

Josie stood outside, arms crossed, a triumphant grin on her face. "What’s the matter, Pierce? You look a little…ruffled."

The camp was bursting at the seems with laughter this time, with Klinger nearly choking on his cigar as he counted the chickens as they poured out of the Swamp. How she’d managed to get a dozen of them in there was a feat not even he could imagine matching.

"That’s it," Hawkeye declared, raising his hands in surrender. "I concede. You win."

"Glad you see things my way," Josie replied, smirking as she walked away.

Aftermath

By nightfall, the prank war had become the stuff of legend, something the members of the 4077th would tell to their children years from now. Josie Collins was crowned the unofficial prank master, her victory celebrated with cheers and a round of drinks at Rosie's.

"Admit it," Josie said later that night, sitting with Hawkeye by the still, feathers still littering the Swamp. "You didn’t think I had it in me."

Hawkeye took a sip of his drink, a begrudging smile on his face. "I’ll admit, I underestimated you. But don’t get too comfortable, Pussycat. Next time, I’ll be ready."

"Next time?" Josie raised an eyebrow. "You’re a glutton for punishment, Hawk."

"Maybe," Hawkeye said with a grin. "But at least I have a worthy adversary."

Josie clinked her glass against his. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

As the moon rose over the 4077th, the two pranksters sat in companionable silence, plotting their next moves, because in the chaos of war, a little laughter went a long way.

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @immyowndefender

[prowlingz]

- Sticky Situation -

smut (cuck?? Idk read the summary 😭) 18+

MW2 | Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell.

I’m from Germany and only just learned English, so please don’t be upset at any grammatical errors!

Summary: You are the perfect person for the job: seduce ‘Mark Ruffolo’ better known as ‘Mr. M’. You need to distract him long enough for team 141 to infiltrate the building, take down any guards in the way - and capture Mr. M alive. Thing is, his guards check on him periodically (every 15 or so minutes), and the only way he won’t is if someone is in need of his full attention and he doesn’t want to be bothered. Price had the room rigged with cameras so they can be sure the plan is in action; but a few members get insanely jealous watching another man touch you..

————————————————————————

“This is going to be so fucking ridiculous” you say, your face growing ever redder.

You look up to meet Laswell’s gaze, she looks deeply saddened by this predicament.

“You don’t have to sleep with him, just..” she pauses, unsure of what to say next. “Keep him.. occupied” she finished sternly.

The tension in the room is thick. No one is comfortable sending you into this situation, especially seeing fear in your eyes.

“We are going to send a.. what? 22 year old, new member into some perverts playhouse? What a damn welcome..” Gaz says to Laswell, he furrows his eyebrows.

He’s right. You only joined 141 two months ago after being recommended due to your skills as an agile sniper.

“Look: it wasn’t my decision. Unless any of you boys want to get all dolled up for the pervert?” she says, clearly frustrated as she’s had to say multiple times now that it wasn’t her call, and to not get mad at her over it.

Silence fills the room. Everyone looks uncomfortable, and most of them take pity glances at you. You bite your bottom lip and keep your gaze down.

You know what you have to do.

————————————————————————

The ride there was silent. Plan is, Soap will wear a guard’s outfit and bring you to the front gate as an “escaped whore”, where you’ll be taken up to the man..hopefully.

This plan definitely left a lot of room for improvement, but there was little time, and the mood seemed solemn.

“I..” you begin to speak, not even knowing what to say but knowing you should say something. Before you can get another word out, you find yourself there.

You were wearing a short white ruffled dress, no shoes. This apparently was what Mr. M’s ‘whores’ would wear.

No one said a word as you stepped out, all keeping their heads down. Soap grabbed your wrist tightly to make it seem he was dragging you back like a dog.

“Does this hurt?” he says, looking down at you.

“I don’t mind it” you say in response. “Let’s just get this over with”

You both make your way to the front gate, where two guards point guns at you, and lower once they realize a ‘guard’ is with you.

“Found this whore trying to escape. Thought I’d bring her back for a punishment” he clearly hated every word of the sentence, and his grip on you tightened right before he has to let you go.

You don’t turn back to say goodbye, instead, you obediently get pushed around by one of the guards up to Mr. M.

You track mud throughout the building. You’re totally alone. You have no one to rely on if shit hits the fan other than your own skills. You reassure yourself they wouldn’t have sent you in if they knew the danger was way too risky.. right? You think back to 141’s solemn faces: they looked defeated before we even began.

Lost in thought, but still being dragged by the guard, you get snapped out of your headspace by a knock on the large door in front of you.

“Come in”, you hear a husky voice respond to the knock.

You step into the room.. well.. you’re thrown into it basically, but catch yourself. The guard turns on his heel and leaves. You were dumped like trash.

“What do we have here?”

You turn, and make eye contact with a tall man. You never thought Mr. M would be so young, attractive and..tall. Even though the ceiling was likely 30 feet high, it still feels like he could touch it. He was likely 6’7”, had bright blond hair and cold blue eyes. They reminded you of Soap’s eyes, how you could get lost in them for hours. Mr. M’s hair was so similar to Ghost’s, it almost made you laugh. But instead, you were quickly knocked right back into reality when you remembered your situation.

You knew that 141 was watching from the cameras, which to you were quite easily spotted due to your intensive training and excellent eyesight as a sniper.

“S-sir” you say sheepishly, making eye contact with the man.

He examines you. All of you.

You stand there, not moving a muscle.

Before you can open your mouth for another word, he picks you up like it’s nothing, or.. more like you’re nothing. He treats you like an object at disposal.

He takes you over to his desk and has you straddling him. You don’t know what to do with your hands, until he moves them to your breasts.

“Hmm..such a good girl” he hums. Praise from any man is enough to undue you, but this man is super fucking hot too.

You let out the slightest whimper to his praise, which he caught immediately. You continue staring at the marble floor to your right, and your face grows ever so redder.

“What is your name?” he asks.

You make eye contact with him. His cold gaze is piercing you.

Paranoia fills you. ‘Shit. SHIT. He knows. He knows..’ is all you keep thinking, not even able to understand his question.

“Do you not know English? Wie heißen Sie? (What is your name?)” he gives you a confused look and pouts his lips.

You know German, but never discussed this with 141. You respond to his question either way.

“My name is y/n” you say sheepishly.

He hums in your response.

“Such a pretty name for a pretty little girl like yourself” he chuckles.

You accidentally loosen yourself and drop a little into his groin. He lets out a slight groan at this and takes your hands, placing them on his shoulders for you. He moves his hands down to your waist and pushes you further onto his clothed erection. He groans even louder this time.

“Fuck..” he puts out.

IN THE 141 VAN

“That mother fucker.. I’m going to kill him” Soap says, staring at the glowing monitor of all the different angles Mr. M is touching you.

His hands move off of your hips and slides down to touch your ass.

Jaws lock in the car, gritting of teeth. The only rational one right now is Price.

“When can we get this fucker?” Ghost speaks out, though it wasn’t really a question, more of a statement.

“As soon as he turns off his radio, he will have no communication to anything outside of the room” Price responds, he doesn’t even look at the monitor, only listens.

You were told to ask his name, since not a lot of people know it, especially not girls he kidnapped off the street or bought from sex trafficking. It’d be suspicious not to ask him.

“What’s.. what’s your name?” you ask looking at him.

He hums.

“You can call me Mark for our session, if that’s okay with you, princess?” you haven’t felt this kind of touch in months, even if it is from some pervert.. it feels.. nice?

He plays with your ass before bringing his hands up to your hip, leaning in and leeching on your neck.

“Let me mark what’s mine..” he says, continuing to bite on your neck.

You can’t help but let out a little moan. Your hands grip onto his shoulders and you press yourself further onto him.

“Ah..such a needy little girl, are we? Hmm?” he chimes.

It feels too good to disagree.

Your response is pushing harder onto his twitching erection and rubbing your clit with his clothed tip. You let out a slight moan at the contact.

“I bet you’d feel so fucking good taking all of me..” he can’t help but say.

You are enjoying this, but know the real goal here is the radio. If you’re caught turning it off, then you know the mission is over, and possibly your life too.

Just then, a knock at his door.

He stops kissing onto your neck, and cranes his head towards the door, grabbing his radio.

“What the fuck is it? I’m busy” his radio hisses.

The static noise on the radio is starting to piss him off.

“Don’t fucking knock on my door or bother me for the next hour” he turns the radio to ‘of’.

You get so excited, but try not to show it.

He looks back at you, noticing something is off.

“What’s wrong, hun?”

You look at him.

“I’m just.. nervous.. it’s my first time” you think of on the spot.

His eyes light up. He looks down at your body even more satiable than before. He lifts your dress up, revealing your white panties with a beautiful lace around the hem.

You shift your weight.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you off his chair to take off your panties. He shoves them into his dress pants before admiring you. Your slick drooling all over his clothed erection..

“Fuck.. you’re so needy for me, aren’t you?”

You watch him move his hands from your thigh, to his left one grabbing your ass and the right one immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

You fall down onto him, you forgot how good it felt to be touched like this.

He groans and you can see his dick twitching through his pants. “You are so fucking wet..” his fingers trace your nerdy hole, spreading it with to fingers.

You moan, and muffle it by leaning into his shoulders and arching your back onto his fingers. You know damn well what you’re doing.

You can’t imagine what your teammates are thinking at the moment.. I mean.. they knew this is what you were getting into, right? Who told them they had to watch?

Before you can even think, he throws you onto the desk in front of him.

You’re shocked, but remember not to let your reflexes hinder this. You still are wearing the dress, which isn’t allowed. He rips it off of you and starts swirling his tongue onto your left nipple.

He presses his erection against your leaking pussy and palms himself. He moves over to the right nipple and you tug on his hair.

Now the thought of your team watching you get ravaged like this was sort of a turn on. You never thought you’d find yourself enjoying something like this so much. You look to your right and make eye contact with one of the cameras. Hoping that they were still watching, you let a smile out as you moaned from his touch.

His stops contact, clearly very out of breath and flustered himself. He looks down at your dripping pussy, now red nipples after his abuse, and the hickeys formed on your neck.

He pulls off his belt, then pulls his pants off. He slides off his briefs and springs out a huge cock. Maybe 2 inches thick and 7 inches tall. His tip pulsates and is leaking pre cum all over.

He uses one hand and grabs your waist.

God.. you were hoping those boys were taking their sweet time. You didn’t want this day to ever end.

With his other hand, he slides his tip along your slit, making sticky noises..

You can’t help but buck your hips up to him, and he obliges in your request. He slowly sinks his tip inside of you. You scream in pain and pleasure from his shear size, and you’re not even 2 inches deep. He is stretching you out so well..

“You like when I stretch you out like this? Your little pussy feels so..” he groans as he pushes himself deeper “…good. So good.. such a good girl, all to me..” he keeps praising. You can’t even think straight as he pushes himself deeper into you.

Without any warning, he slams himself fully into you.

You can feel yourself stretched out and plead “a-ah! Please..ah..fuck..”

He doesn’t respond to your pleas, instead ramming himself deeper into you with every second going by making you reach your end..

You begin whining “please..PlEasE.. I’m going to cum..please” but your begs fall on silent ears.

He continues and before you know it, you reach your climax. Your walls tightly squeezing across him, and you feel him empty his hot liquid into you.

As he pulls out, an audible *POP* is heard. His eyes widen, you both try and catch your breath. You watch the cum seep out of you, when you begin seeing blood.

“I must’ve stretched you a little too good, hmm agent?” It took you a minute to register what he has said, before you look up at him and see a sly smile on his face.

“W-what..?” You respond.. did he know? Your heart, already beating fast begins to beat faster and faster.

“Let’s get you cleaned up!” He looks over at the same camera you were smiling at just minutes ago. “I hope you boys enjoyed the show!”. He picks you up. Your legs weak and drops you into a warm bath. He wraps himself into a towel and drags a chair over by the tub.

“How did..” you begin to speak.

“It was quite obvious. None of my girls are as stunning as you, and..” he grabs your right arm.

“They are branded by numbers. You don’t have one” he states the obvious.

“What about.. the cameras?” You say, dumbfounded and a bit fearful for your life.

He looks at you, still smiling. “Oh I found those weeks ago. Figured something was coming, and knew it immediately when I saw you!”

You just stare up at him. How can this man be so..charming and terrifying at the same time. Like a fallen angel.

Before you can get another word in, he’s leaves out fresh clothes for you and gets himself dressed swiftly.

“They will be here any minute I presume?” he looks down at you.

“You aren’t going to kill me?” You ask. If you were in his shoes, you would’ve kill you..

“No, I don’t do that”

That’s a blatant lie.. you know this man has killed thousands with his business.

“Right..”

You hear the door bust open and hear Ghost screaming at him to come out.

You get up albeit a bit shakily. You innocently put the clothes on that he left and walk out too, not even bothering to put your hands up.

The men swarm him, clearly wishing he’d do something so they could kill this bastard.

“Are you alright?” Ghost asks.

“Never been better” you say, leaning against the wall.

It’ll definitely be a few days before you’ll be able to walk again. And those marks aren’t going away any time soon..

[oschonseleven]

Roevember | Day 1: Name

---

felt like writing something I've been meaning to put down for a while :) seemed as good a time as ever!

(sfw, pregnancy/birth mention, 869 words)

---

The sea rages, a maw of seafoam biting down on the battered galleon and dragging it to and fro through the water as a starved hound would a hare.

Beneath oilcloth capes, desperately flitting from rail to mast to rigging, the sailors above decks cry out to one another against the roar of the waves and yet, their captain's voice still curdles their blood most; for Haelwyda Blynahrwyn, scourge of the Rhotano, is about to become a mother.

"Navigator, you salty bastard cunt of a whore-!"

She spits through the contraction, holding fast to the headboard behind her, the wood beginning to splinter beneath her fingers with the force of her grip. Better the timber than her sweet husband's hand, sent above despite his insistence to stay.

Wanted though the child may be, her crew comes first until the babe draws their first breath- she knows her darling Ofanwyta well enough that he'd sooner drown in her arms, if the choice was his to make.

Instead, she is accompanied by a stout, middle-aged Hyur (with an even heavier purse, to convince even the most dubious pirate to allow her safe passage); a conjurer they picked up at port before setting sail for Vylbrand. And how fortunate it is to have her aboard now, for as soon as Haelwyda's waters broke, so too did the calm of the ocean.

She bellows and screams, wails and gnashes her teeth, sobs and whimpers- all in the sight of this impassive stranger, who offers little soothing, only a stern reminder to breathe when the reality of her situation sets in and she feels so faint it's as if the cabin is upended. Somehow it's still a comfort; to Haelwyda, familial concern is not something she's accustomed to anyway.

"It's time," The older woman says, reappearing from beneath the sheet between Haelwyda's knees, wiping her hands on her bloodied apron. "Now or never, lass."

Haelwyda allows herself one moment of self indulgence.

"Utha, what if I can-"

But her midwife abruptly cuts her off with a wag of a weathered finger. "No. You will. There is no can't, not for a woman like you."

Swallowing hard, Haelwyda nods. Steels herself with a deep breath in and out and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, it's to the sound of her baby's cry; earsplitting, shrill. Alive.

She's trembling as Utha swaddles the babe to dry, the haze of adrenaline ebbing away from her breath by breath. But she manages to reach out to her as she sits by her side and for the first time on this entire voyage, Haelwyda sees her smile.

"A girl. Bonny as anything." Utha says gently, passing her daughter to her.

And bonny she certainly is; seaglass green with a shock of dark curls at her crown and thick lashes, so like her father. Haelwyda lets out a sob, cradling her little girl as close and tightly as she dares, kissing her tiny face over and over.

"You did well," Utha says gently, a calloused hand squeezing her shoulder. "Clearly Llymlaen holds you in high regard."

"She has a funny way of showing it," Haelwyda hiccups, laughing through tears. She looks down at her baby, stroking her cheek and she's almost winded for how soft she feels under her fingertips.

"But I think you're right."

It's only when the cabin doors burst open that they notice the storm has ceased at last, sunlight streaming in as Ofanwyta barrels down the steps- followed by the call: "We couldn't hold 'im back any longer, cap'n!"

He stops just shy of falling on top of Utha- who dutifully shuffles out of the way- staring awestruck at his wife and child.

"Is it...are you-?" He stammers, kneeling beside the bed, a hesitant hand hovering above the baby's head.

"I'm fine, my love," Haelwyda soothes, guiding his fingers to their daughter's cheek. "We're fine."

"So you are, so you are." Ofanwyta whispers reverently, tears falling free and fast. He leans over to kiss her, brow pressed to hers as they part. "I'm sorry I wasn't-"

Haelwyda shakes her head. "You had your orders. And I'll give you another, Master Swyrkhrasyn."

"Aye, cap'n?" He grins, though still sniffling.

"Tell that rabble upstairs to crack open the casks. I think we've all earned a drink."

--

The journey home is mercifully uneventful and the ship still mostly in one piece on arriving at port in Limsa Lominsa, lifting any lingering worry.

Haelwyda and Ofanwyta stand together at the prow, basking in the sun as they coo over the swaddled babe in her arms and point out every landmark her little eyes have yet to fathom.

"Now you're returned to familiar shores at last," Comes a voice from behind. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

Haelwyda and Ofanwyta look between themselves and beam broadly, turning to the Hyur who raises a brow.

"I didn't think you so sentimental, captain." She says, matter of fact. Then she shrugs, only a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "But...if that is your wish, I shan't stand in your way."

"In that case," Ofanwyta grins, taking the baby from Haelwyda's arms and raises her high to look out across the bay. "Welcome home, Utha."