#mouthwashing fluff

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Crew Headcanon

Game Night: Hot Seat

Summary: What if the chef (you) hosted the Hot Seat game with the crew?

Pairings: Tulpar Crew x Reader

Day 156

One slow-ass day aboard the Tulpar, someone (probably you, possibly not) decided to shake things up. Enter: “The Hot Seat.”

Daisuke’s brilliant chaos brain kicks in: “Alright, everyone’s asses to the lounge!”

And by everyone, he means EVERYONE. Even poor Swansea, who, you can tell, was plotting your murder silently after his naptime was unashamedly snatched from him

Anyway! You explain the rules, yada-yada:

Take turns sitting in “The Seat” (a janky old pilot chair Jimmy swears is still operational—it’s not. It’s begging for retirement or a dignified death).

Everyone gets to throw questions at the victim-- I mean, participant.

Answer honestly or take a shot of Daisuke’s “mystery juice” (an ungodly concoction of random spices and liquid in the kitchen he found while he was cleaning - punishment by Swansea). He claims it's edible but aside from the glowing toxic green color, something's moving in the juice. Even Anya’s armed with antibiotics, just in case

Round 1: The Captain

Curly starts the game with the intention to stay honest and transparent, the way a captain should (hiswordsnotmine.) He takes a seat with the click of his cowboy boots, "I’ve got nothing to hide. Ask away!"

Question 1: "What’s the dumbest decision you’ve made as our captain?"

Curly's grin falters a bit before answering, "Okay, fine. There was this one time I insisted on manually navigating the Tulpar to impress someone... in my defense, those maps were outdated! And the the che-- I mean that someone was impressed… I think?"

Maybe it was the lighting, but you swear his forehead's starting to get shiny

Question 2: "What’s the real reason you became a captain?"

Caught off guard, Curly clears his throat, his composure slipping. "To lead. To inspire."

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. "C’mon, that’s the PR answer!"

"And… maybe I thought the uniform looked cool. Okay? Next question!"

Yeah no, his forehead was really reflecting light

Final Question: "Have you ever used your rank to get out of trouble?"

Curly’s face turns redder than a warning light, but he still holds his ground. "I… may have politely reminded a customs officer of my rank when they tried to confiscate my coffee stash. It wasn’t a bribe or anything!"

Curly is visibly flustered but still holding onto his Captain pride. "You’re all insufferable," he mutters, FINALLY wiping his sweaty forehead (it was dripping large drops atp). But when no one’s looking, you catch the smile tugging at his lips

Round 2: The Nurse

Anya walks in like she’s ready for surgery. Clipboard in hand, questions already prepped because no one’s catching her off guard

Question 1: "What’s the dumbest injury you’ve treated on this crew?"

Without missing a beat: “Someone tried to impress their crush, slipped on a banana peel, and sprained their wrist and their ego. I won't name names, they know who they are...”

Everyone looks at Jimmy

Question 2: "What’s the most non-standard thing in your med kit?"

“Glitter band-aids.”

"What!? But I never saw one of 'em on anyone."

"That's cause I secretly covered yours with normal bandaids, Swans."

Last Question: "Anya, what’s your guilty pleasure when you’re not in nurse mode? Something you’d never admit..."

In Anya's boyscout-ready clipboard of questions, that's one question that short-circuited her brain

"Uh, what do you mean by... guilty pleasure? I mean, I... definitely... DEFINITELY don’t spend my free time watching those... really bad reality shows, you know, like 90 Day Fiancé or The Kardashians... that’s just... so not me...heh..."

She pauses, realizing she’s digging herself deeper.

"And I definitely don’t have a secret stash of junk food next to me when I do... uh, when I watch those shows... because that would be... unhealthy... right?"

Her clipboard went straight at her face when you all snickered. The flustered nurse was something you weren't prepared to take in, but hey, you weren't complaining ;)

"It’s just for stress relief, okay?! It’s... it's not a habit or anything!"

Round 3: The Co-pilot

Jimmy struts up: attach all cocky gestures a man with an empire-rise-tall ego would do “Bring it. I’m unshakeable.”

First Question: "Do you have feelings for Y/N?"

Without missing a beat, Jimmy reaches for the juice… but instead of a shot, he downs the ENTIRE GLASS

Five minutes later: “I can feel it. IT’S REARRANGING MY PERSONALITY! That FUCKING JUICE is a CRIME to HUMANITY."

Ten minutes later: Trying his best to smile smugly despite the involuntary and random tremors that's hitting him every 5 seconds

Every time you look at him, he avoids eye contact

“It’s the juice, not me.”

Question 2: "If you had to kick someone off the crew, who’s it gonna be?"

“Oh, easy. Daisuke.”

Daisuke protests loudly, but Jimmy shrugs. “That juice deserves jail time.”

Jimmy spends the rest of the game poorly walking at a fine line between bravado and damage control, especially when anyone mentions you or the juice

Round 4: The Mechanic

Swansea reluctantly takes the seat, grumbling about how this whole game is a waste of time

"Just get this over with."

Question 1: "What do you think of Y/N’s cooking?"

He grunts. “Edible. Most of the time.”

“THAT’S THE NICEST THING YOU’VE EVER SAID ABOUT ME!”

“Y'right.”

Question 2: "Why do you always act like you don’t care?"

He scowls. "Because I don’t. Next question." But as the game goes on, his shoulders visibly relaxed, even had him smile when Daisuke roasted the co-pilot

When you teased him for enjoying the game, he went back at that grumpy (he thought it was intimidating, it wasn't) crossed-arms pose

"It's not the game. Yer all just idiots. Just like watching dogs catchin' their tails"

"Yeah and the Nile is a river."

Last Question: "Any sentimental moments with the crew?"

He clears his throat. "Sentimental, huh? Don’t think I’m the type to get all teary-eyed over people... but I’ll tell you, the day that Cap here, couldn’t even fix a damn lightbulb without asking me for help, well, that was... something. Made me feel like I still had some purpose 'round here."

He pauses for a second, almost looking like he was about to say more but after seeing all your expecting faces, the man just grunts and shakes his head

"That’s all yer gettin’ outta me. Don’t go thinkin’ I’m some softie."

All your mouths were collecting flies. That's the most emotional you could make Swansea be

Round 5: The Intern

Daisuke practically cartwheels to the chair... big mistake

Question 1: "Most immature thing you’ve done?"

“Immature? Me? NEVER.”

*Silence, t'was so silent that you could actually hear crickets despite free-floating in space*

“Okay, FINE. I might’ve accidentally stepped on the boss's face one night when I was aboutta pee. BUT I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

"Oh, that explains the fishy smell. My bad Swans, thought it was your hair."

"Look who's talkin', as if I'm the one bathin' once a month."

Yeah, Jimmy's ego couldn't have been more trampled at this point

Question 2: "Most childish crew member?"

Rubs his hand like he's planning a complicated bank heist

"Easy... Jimmy. Why? Well, let me think… maybe it’s because the guy DRANK a juice just to dodge A QUESTION, might I add, that wasn’t even that BAD."

Daisuke crossed his arms and pouts like a disappointed girlfriend

"AND instead of owning up like a MAN, he KICKS ME outta the crew just for the heavenly potion I MADE. Yeah, Real mature, Jimmy."

Last Question: "Whose advice would you take: Swansea or Y/N?"

"Okay, this is seriously like one of those Resident Evil game choices, y’know? Like, who do you pick? Swansea’s all grumpy wisdom, and he’s got the whole... ‘I’ve seen it all’ vibe. I mean, boss is like the living manual for everything that can go wrong."

He glances over at you and grinned wider

"But then there’s Y/N, who’s always level-headed and knows when to just... chill and have fun. And your advice, like, it always has a twist of realness to it, right? You’re like... I don’t know, the sage with a spoon!... Or a butcher knife?"

Daisuke looks up at both of you, his expression is pure puppy-like distress.

"See? This is hard... I mean life and death situation hard."

"Well, the kid’s in trouble now. What’re you gonna do, Daisuke? Take the safe advice, or follow the one with sugar-coated truth?" Swansea bumps your side

"Ha! Mine's got pure truth and a sugary sweet with it, that's different, Swans."

Last Round: The Chef

Finally, you get forced into the seat (more like physically dragged by the men while screaming bloody murder) and everyone goes HARD on you

"What’s the weirdest thing you’ve fed us without telling us?"

"Weird is subjective, right? So if I thought the ingredient was normal, meh, does it still count as weird? Asking for a chef ;)"

"Are you the one who broke the coffee machine?"

"I mean, define ‘broke.’ If we’re being technical, it still turns on. It just, you know, sprays coffee sideways. That’s not broken, just... quirky."

"Do you actually like Curly's speeches, or are you just polite?"

You grinned

"Ah, well, they’re definitely… memorable. You know, it’s impressive how cap can make freighter maintenance sound like a call to arms. Like, one sec you’re zoning out, then next, you’re ready to fight a full Jedi council… for better fuel efficiency."

Who's the worst cook in all the Tulpar?

"Daisuke. Had the rare talent to almost burn the kitchen down, no, the whole Tulpar from just... boiling water. WATER!"

You succesfully dodged them all until you broke when Swansea narrows his eyes and growls:

"What happened to my tools last week?"

Visibly sweating but desperately clawing on the the little control you have left

"Swansea, listen… Those tools have been through a lot. They’ve seen things. I’ve seen things. The point is, they’ve served their purpose bravely. Now, about that wrench…"

At this point, You crumbled under Swansea’s intense dad stare and admit to using the wrench as a garlic crusher

The lounge area was filled with everyone laughing and whooping, and your reign of dodging questions comes to a dramatic (and pathetically hilarious end) after receiving a 20 push-up punishment from Swansea

a/n: second sem's been throwing me around like a ragdoll and it's been like two weeks... but yknow what, lemme make it a challenge. send some headcanon ideas cause all i can do is write at this point, not think :,)

[kkanabel]

co-pilot mischief ✫ curly concerns ✫ chapter uno

captain curly x teasing!reader

curly panics when he realizes he's attracted to his co-pilot. a mixture of professionalism and fear of making you uncomfortable are keeping him from pursuing his feelings. so, when you find out that he has a thing for you, you tease him to see how long it'll take for him to give up.

directory/m.list next chapter ⇨

words: ~3.5k

t/w: sexual references but no actual yucky (yet), reader being lowkey sadistic, cute curly <3, gn!reader/pronouns but reader wears a bra

a/n: hi. been obsessed with this video game recently—well, especially with Curly (go figure. i like fictional men). i needed to make something self-indulgent bc i just like this man way too much. and because i just want to make a world where none of them have to suffer. enjoy~ 

~jambalaya does not exist in this world~

Planned Shipment Duration: 382 Days Elapsed Transit Time: 292 Days

It had been over nine months aboard this damned ship, and Curly was just short of going mad. Not the kind of madness that came with sleep deprivation—he’d conquered that particular beast long ago, his body numb to the restless nights. No, this madness was quieter, more insidious, burrowing into his mind and refusing to leave. It trailed him through the claustrophobic halls of the Tulpar, slipping into the smallest crevices of his day-to-day. The worst part was, he knew exactly what caused it.

Or rather, who.

His co-pilot. The bane of his existence. The source of his sanity slipping through his fingers like sand.

Curly groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands, his calloused palms dragging over stubble. The cockpit was bathed in the green glow of the ship’s display panels, casting long shadows over his hunched figure. For once, he was alone. His co-pilot was off—God knows where—and he was left to grapple with the gnawing frustration that never seemed to diminish. It wasn’t the kind of irritation that burned; it simmered, steady and unyielding, until it became part of the fabric of his thoughts, melting like wax into his very being.

He could see their handwriting on the little sticky notes scattered around the console, each one an infuriatingly sweet reminder to stretch, drink water, or take a break. He tried to ignore the way those notes made him feel a little lighter, even when he wanted to crumple them up out of spite. Then there were the meals—hot, fresh, and left beside him during the long hours he spent poring over ship diagnostics on days he’d forget to come to the main lobby for food. Like clockwork, they arrived, a silent reminder that someone out there cared. Too much, in fact.

It wasn’t the fact that they’d climbed the ranks with startling efficiency or that they were nipping at his heels for his own position. But the issue wasn’t their competence. Hell, he’d been the one to recommend them to the crew. No, the problem—the real problem—was that he didn’t mind the notes. Or the meals. Or the way their laugh lingered in his head long after the joke had ended.

That was the crux of it: he didn’t mind. He cared too much.

Curly growled under his breath and pushed himself out of his chair, dropping into a push-up position before the thought could take hold again. One. Two. Three. The strain burned through his biceps and shoulders, grounding him in something tangible. In the beginning, this ritual had worked. Twenty push-ups, and he’d feel clear-headed enough to get back to work. But now? He was well into quadrupling that number, and the haze in his mind hadn’t lifted.

“Damn it,” he muttered, shifting to one-armed push-ups. Sweat beaded on his brow, but his thoughts remained stubbornly fixed.

It was their fault. The way they lingered in his peripheral vision during late-night shifts, always a step ahead of him. The way their presence filled the cockpit, electric and steady, as if the entire ship ran on their quiet energy. He hated it. He needed it.

Curly collapsed onto the floor, the cool metal pressing against his flushed skin. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the dull ceiling, and exhaled sharply. But it wasn’t their fault. It was all his.

Because no matter how many push-ups he did or how hard he worked, he couldn’t seem to outrun the one truth he hated most: he was falling for his co-pilot, and there was no way to make it stop.

It all started so innocently.

A couple of months ago, when Curly’s sleep was deteriorating thanks to the unholy cocktail of chronic insomnia and the Pony Express directive of “only indulging in five hours of sleep a night,” the signs of wear were becoming impossible to hide. His dark circles deepened, hollowing out his features, and the number of minor piloting errors he made began creeping upward. He hated slipping up, especially in front of the crew. But you had been there, catching the mistakes before anyone else could notice, your tone warm and forgiving as you covered for him without a single reproach.

“How many hours of sleep did you get last night, Captain?” you asked, glancing at him with a knowing arch of your brow. The question was less accusatory and more concerned, which somehow made it worse.

The third time you caught him in the cockpit, chugging yet another cup of bitter instant coffee, you sighed with exasperation. He barely had time to process what you were doing before you nudged him toward the door with a bottle of melatonin clutched in your hand.

“Rest, Captain,” you said firmly, standing your ground in front of him with a tilt to your chin that tolerated no argument. “Don’t go abusing yourself—and caffeine—like that. Do me a favor and take one of these with some water. I’ve got the ship tied down.”

Before he could retort, you physically pushed him through the doorway and locked the cockpit door behind him. He stared at the bottle of melatonin in his hand, blinking in confusion, his mind too fogged with exhaustion to properly argue. He barely made it to his quarters without bumping into a wall. Still, he heeded your demand.

When he woke up hours later, groggy but undeniably more refreshed than he’d felt in weeks, he returned to the cockpit to find the door unlocked and you sitting in his chair, nursing a steaming cup of water between your hands.

The smile you gave him as he walked in—small, gentle—made something in his chest falter, like the ship had hit a pocket of turbulence. He ignored it, chalking the reaction up to gratitude. “Thanks,” he muttered before reclaiming his chair.

That should have been it. A one-off moment. But it wasn’t.

The next time was when you came bounding into the cockpit, an excited glint in your eyes, holding a bundle of old films scavenged from storage. “Look what I found!” you exclaimed, dropping them onto the console as if they were treasures unearthed from a sunken ship. The crew’s old stash of classic movies. You suggested a movie night, and by the weekend, everyone was gathered in the living area, dressed in mismatched pajamas as per your insistence.

The fake day-and-night screen in the living room had been converted into a movie screen (thanks to a favor from Swansea), and you’d somehow transformed the cramped space into a cozy theater. The crew was laughing, the air thick with the buttery aroma of popcorn—smuggled aboard in direct defiance of Pony Express regulations. Swansea lounged in a corner, throwing popcorn into his mouth with perfect aim, while Daisuke and Anya shared a bag of candy bars, their laughter ringing out during the film’s funniest moments.

And then there was you, looking at the rest of the crew, a relieved smile on your face from seeing them having fun and relaxing.

You’d curled up on the couch with bunny slippers, wearing an oversized t-shirt that reached down to your knees. Curly found himself staring at the way your legs curled up in front of you, the smooth skin catching the flickering light of the screen. He shook his head and willed himself to look back at the film, feeling an odd mix of discomfort and… something else.

It wasn’t just your legs that had caught his attention. He watched your shoulders relax as you looked at the others having a good time. From your shoulders, his eyes slowly trailed up to your neck,

There was the lace halter bralette peeking out from the neckline of your shirt, delicate and intricate, its strap circling your neck like a whisper of fabric. He’d overheard you mention it in passing to Anya once, saying how they were more comfortable than traditional bras. Cute, you’d said. Anya had agreed wholeheartedly, and the two of you had launched into an entire conversation about comfortable alternatives, leaving him both bewildered and hyper-aware of the intricacies of brassiers.

That night, you’d tied your hair up, sweeping it off your face and revealing the curve of your neck. He hated how his eyes kept trailing there, lingering too long on the strap of your bralette before snapping back to the screen.

What was wrong with him?

The laughter of the crew filled the room, but Curly’s focus was elsewhere. He watched the way your shoulders relaxed as you leaned back, your smile warm and unguarded as you looked at the others enjoying themselves. It had been a rough couple of weeks, but in that moment, you looked so at ease, like you were carrying everyone’s joy on your shoulders and doing it gladly.

His gaze drifted again, following the line of your neck up to your jaw and almost to your lips before he froze, his chest tightening with realization. He was staring. Stop it, you creep. His heart thudded in his chest, the weight of his guilt sinking in. The last thing he ever wanted was to make you uncomfortable, to let you see just how hopelessly he was starting to lose control of his own feelings.

And yet, even as he looked away, forcing his attention back to the film, the memory of your smile lingered in his mind, burning as brightly as a star in space.

Later that night, after the crew had dispersed to their quarters, Curly lingered in the living area. The faint smell of popcorn still hung in the air, and empty mugs cluttered the low table, remnants of the impromptu movie night.

He hadn’t planned to stay, but you were still there, stacking empty bowls with practiced efficiency. You hummed softly as you worked, the sound low and content.

“You don’t have to clean up,” he said, his voice startlingly loud in the quiet.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Neither do you, Captain. Yet here you are.”

Curly looked so charming, sweeping up the crumbs from the ground with a bashful smile. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Force of habit, I guess.”

He stepped forward and started gathering stray candy wrappers. You didn’t protest, and the two of you worked in companionable silence. The only sounds were the soft clink of mugs and the occasional hum from the ship’s systems.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter. He kept his eyes on the mug in his hand, turning it absently. “I think… the crew needed it.”

You paused, a little surprised. “Needed what?”

“A break. A reminder that things aren’t always so…” He trailed off, searching for the word. “Mechanical.”

You laughed softly, and the sound was warm enough to make his chest ache. “Even machines need downtime, Captain. And so do you.”

He glanced at you, his resolve faltering as you met his gaze head-on. Your eyes were steady, soft, and full of something he couldn’t quite name. For a moment, the ship felt too small, the air too thin.

“I guess I’ll work on that,” he said, forcing a crooked smile and dropping his gaze.

As the months passed, his little problem only got worse.

It started as little things.

The way Curly’s voice would soften when he said your name, like he was tasting it before letting it leave his mouth. How he always seemed to position himself between you and anything remotely dangerous during routine checks, even if the “danger” was just a loose panel or a slightly sparking wire. You noticed those things before, but they hadn’t meant much to you at the time.

But lately, you’ve started picking up on more.

Like how he fidgets whenever you lean over his chair to point something out on the cockpit screen. Or how his ears turn red if your hand brushes his when passing tools or data tablets. At first, you think it’s funny—how someone so competent and in control can get so flustered over little things. But then, there’s the moment in the Main Lobby.

You’re digging through one of the upper cabinets, on the hunt for something sweet, when you hear his boots scuff against the floor behind you.

“You’re always after the chocolate in the vending machine,” he says, leaning casually against the counter like he isn’t watching you a little too closely.

“And you’re always after the coffee,” you quip, holding up a ration bar triumphantly.

“Touché.” His lips twitch into a smile, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes linger on you just a moment too long before he turns to grab his mug from the shelf.

It’s not unusual—this kind of back-and-forth—but as you open the bar and break off a piece, you catch him glancing at you again, almost like he’s about to say something. He doesn’t, though, and the moment stretches long enough to feel... significant.

That’s when it starts clicking.

The lingering looks. The slight hesitation in his voice when he talks to you. The way he goes out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable, even when he doesn’t have to. The realization settles in your chest, warm and a little thrilling.

Does Curly like me?

Your mind starts replaying recent moments with a new lens. The way he always pulls you aside first to explain changes to the schedule. How he always offers to carry extra supplies during inspections, even when you insist you’re fine. That time he casually gave you his jacket when the living quarters were colder than usual, like it was no big deal.

“Earth to you,” Curly says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He’s holding out a water pouch, his brow slightly furrowed. “You zoned out there for a second. You okay?”

You take the pouch and give him a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You tilt your head, studying him, and your smile widens when he shifts under your gaze. “Nothing important.”

It’s a lie, of course. You’re thinking about him—about how he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, about how he tries so hard to act unaffected when you’re around.

And for the first time, you feel a little wicked. If Curly likes you, why not have a little fun with it?

Curly knew something was off the moment you walked into the cockpit.

It wasn’t just the way you greeted him, your voice light and playful as always. It was the way your smile lingered, like you were holding onto a secret you couldn’t wait to let out.

“You’re up early,” you said, dropping into your seat beside him.

“Could say the same for you,” Curly muttered, keeping his eyes on the console. He was grateful for the excuse to look busy, though the screen in front of him was just a diagnostic report he’d already read three times.

“You’re always so serious, Captain.” Your tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He didn’t respond, didn’t trust himself to.

The silence stretched, and just when he thought you’d moved on, you leaned closer—close enough for him to catch the faint scent of whatever soap you used.

“Hey, Curly?”

His stomach flipped. “Yeah?”

You paused, drawing it out, like you were savoring his anticipation. Then, with a sly grin, you said, “You’re staring.”

“I’m not—” He froze, his heart skipping a beat. “What?”

“You are,” you insisted, your grin widening. “You’ve been staring at that same report for the last ten minutes. What’s so interesting about it?”

Curly’s mouth went dry. He scrambled for an answer, but his mind betrayed him, replaying every fleeting glance he’d stolen of you earlier that morning. How long had you noticed?

When he didn’t respond, you leaned back in your chair, smug satisfaction written all over your face. “Relax, Captain. I’m just messing with you.”

But you weren’t. Not entirely.

Because as you watched the tips of his ears turn pink and saw how his jaw tightened, you realized something. Something that made your pulse quicken and your lips curl into a wicked smile.

He likes me.

And now that you knew, you couldn’t help yourself.

Curly swore the ship’s cockpit had never felt this small before.

You were now hovering just over his shoulder, leaning in to inspect a blinking diagnostic alert on the screen. The proximity was maddening—he could feel the warmth radiating off you, the sleeve of your Pony Express jumpsuit brushing against his arm every time you moved.

“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head. “Looks like a minor power fluctuation. Nothing to worry about, but we should log it for the next maintenance check.”

He nodded stiffly, trying to focus on your words instead of the fact that your hair was so close it tickled his cheek. “Right. I’ll, uh, take care of it.”

But when he reached for the keyboard, so did you. Your fingers grazed his, and you both froze.

“Sorry,” you said, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. A playful smile tugged at your lips, and he didn’t trust it for a second. “Didn’t mean to get in your way, Captain.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered, turning back to the screen. But his fingers trembled slightly as he typed, and he cursed himself for it.

“You know,” you said, leaning against the edge of the console, your voice deceptively casual. “You look good when you’re focused like that.”

He nearly choked. “What?”

“I said you look good when you’re focused.” You shrugged, like it was the most normal, casual thing in the world. “It’s kind of intimidating, actually. In a good way.”

His face burned, and he fought the urge to bury it in his hands. “I—uh—thanks, I guess...”

The smile you gave him was nothing short of devilish. “You’re welcome.”

You stayed there, watching him a little too closely, and he could feel his pulse thudding in his ears. Finally, he risked a glance at you, only to find you tilting your head with mock innocence.

“Everything okay, Captain?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, focusing hard on the screen. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Oh, no reason.” Your voice was light, teasing. “You just seem a little... tense.”

He stiffened, embarrassed and confused as to what you were doing but powerless to stop it.

“You know,” you continued, leaning a little closer again, “you really should loosen up. It’s not good for your health to be so serious all the time.”

“I’m not—” He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” You studied him for a moment, and then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you added, “If you ever need help relaxing, Captain, just let me know.”

He froze, his brain short-circuiting at the double meaning behind your words.

Before he could stammer out a response, you straightened up, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t work too hard, okay?”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving him alone in the cockpit, his heart racing and his mind a chaotic mess.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. He was doomed. Absolutely doomed.

From the moment you saw Curly’s ears turn red, his fate was sealed. You’d never imagined the stoic, dependable captain could be reduced to such an adorable mess, and now that you’d seen it, there was no going back. It was just too cute—the way his bravado would falter, his words stumbling over themselves as he tried and failed to maintain composure.

Normally, Curly was all broad shoulders and easy charm, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. But you’d discovered a crack in that armor, a secret button that turned him from the ever-confident leader into a flustered, helpless schoolboy. And oh, what a delightful button it was to press.

You’d always found him attractive—how could you not? He was responsible, dependable, and unfairly handsome. But for the longest time, you assumed he’d only ever see you as his co-pilot, someone to rely on professionally but never personally. Yet now, the way his gaze lingered a moment too long, the subtle flush on his cheeks whenever you got a little too close, told you a very different story.

It gave you a strange, heady sense of power, and you had absolutely no intention of letting it go to waste.

A small, wicked thrill ran through you whenever you imagined the possibilities. What if you teased him just enough to make that carefully controlled exterior crumble? What if you pushed him to the edge, until he couldn’t hold it in any longer? Your mind wandered to a particularly wonderful thought: Curly, unable to take it anymore, bending you over the console with a heated, desperate confession.

You shivered, the fantasy almost too delicious to bear.

And so, your mission began—not to reject him, but to push him. To tease and torment, to watch his resolve unravel thread by thread. You weren’t cruel, not really. You knew he’d crack eventually, and you planned to reward him handsomely when he did. But until then?

Until then, you’d savor every stolen glance, every stammered reply, every moment he tries and fails to hold himself together.

After all, what was a little mischief between co-pilots?

a/n: let me know what y'all think! biggest thank yous to those who have written curly x reader fics thus far, y'all fueled me lmfao.

oh yeah.. smut.. eventually...

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics... also might be accepting requests hehe! i can't guarantee that i can do em, but i'll accept ideas!

thanks for reading! <3

btw. not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos or inconsistencies stay safe & hydrated as always!

(and go to sleep if you're reading this super late. don't be a curly. take care of yourself! (i say, writing this at midnight))

crossposted on ao3

directory/m.list next chapter ⇨

[yoyomomiko]

AAAA we seriously need more Daisuke x reader fics (|||´Д｀)

May i request something fluffy for the boy? (-ε- )

Drift to Sleep

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader (gender isn't mentioned)

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping properly, maybe your boyfriend will help out with that.

Warnings: a bit cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): I'm sorry this is so short!!😔 Btw just to throw this out here I wish Jimbo didn't exist. -> m.list

You dragged your feet on the ground, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as best as you could. Your eyelids drooped down, threatening to shut completely over your eyes and lead you to sleep.

You can't remember the last time you've had proper sleep ever since you stepped foot on the Tulpar. You've had trouble staying awake, yet you couldn't even take a nap.

You don't understand why you can't sleep for more than two hours. Seriously, you keep waking up in the middle of the night, either by nightmares or simply because fate has other plans for you.

At least you had Daisuke.

The way his smile would click something in your brain and instantly power you on, matching his energy. He could easily brighten up your day, even when you felt dull.

"Good morning!" Daisuke beamed, immediately grinning as he saw you entered the room.

"Morning..." You muttered, forcing yourself to smile back, barely managing.

"Not 'good'?" He tilted his head to the side, noticing your tired expression.

"If it was good I would be sleeping." You mumbled in a flat tone, taking a seat next to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned at the way you were so drained out.

"It's hard to sleep... I don't know why or how, I just can't." You explained, furrowing your brows. "I'm tired, but I just can't..." You added, gazing in front of you as you zoned out.

Daisuke only gave a head nod in response, smile faltering for a bit. He didn't like seeing you in such a state, he just had to figure out how to make you feel better.

"Maybe you can get Anya to check on you." He suggested, gently wrapping an arm around your waist loosely to keep you closer to him.

"It's not worth it... I'll just waste her time." You replied, closing your eyes but to no avail. You knew you had work to do, had to force yourself to stand up and do your chores. It was just so hard...

୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧

You turned in your bed from side to side, forcing your eyes closed as you tried to control your breath and count sheep, hoping that you'd fall asleep that way.

You tried every sleeping method you could think of, but none of them have worked so far. You figured out you could just give up and walk circles around your room to exhaust yourself even more.

Just then, you heard a soft click, and then a creak coming from the door. Light came in through the crack, revealing Daisuke's smiling face.

"Daisuke? What's wrong?" You asked in a hushed tone, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. You squinted your eyes due to the blinding light as Daisuke made his way into your room and shut the door silently.

"I can't sleep either." He shrugged with a big, dorky grin on his lips. He started walking towards you with light steps, just so that he's not being too loud to alert any other crew member.

"So... Why not try to fall asleep together?" He suggested, silently making his way over in your bed as it shifted under his weight.

You chuckled at him, watching as he layed down with open arms, waiting for you to throw yourself into him so he can cuddle with you.

You shook your head, pulling the blanket over the two of you as you placed your head on his chest, throwing one of your legs over him as his arm wrapped loosely around you.

His body was so warm, the embrace you two were in felt heavenly, and you certainly didn't want to pull away from it.

You felt your eyes close themselves, feeling Daisuke's chest rise up and down from his soft breathing.

You could hear the way his heartbeat was increasing, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back while you were slowly drifting to sleep under his touch.

If you knew it was this easy, you would've done this from the start.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[luvologyy]

Hi!!!! Love your writing so much!!!

I was wondering if you liked the idea of aftercare headcannons for Daisuke himself- like the aftercare we give him (like how it is)

Thank you!!!!

Aftercare ᝰ

Daisuke x reader 🌺

˚ ༘ .˚ 🛁 🫧 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Contains: fluff, comfort, showering/bathing together, just fluffy fluff🫶

Reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🫧

★ This baby loves to take care of you, being able to spoil you, but he’s gonna be a bit clumsy. Stuttering and second-guessing himself.

★ but daisuke also NEEDS aftercare himself. Especially if it's his first time. he’s gonna need some reassurance afterward.

★ he'd prepare a warm soapy bath/shower for the both of you, having the right soaps and shampoo to your guys liking.

★ you guys would help scrub each others bodies like both of your neck or back.

★ daisuke would play with the soapy bubbles on put them on his face or yours, giggling while doing it hehe

★ you'd help scrub shampoo in his hair. He especially likes it if you have longer nails, It'll scrub and itch his scalp.

★ when you guys are done showering, you'll have fresh, warm pj's from the dryer ready for the both of you.

★ daisuke doesn't know how to properly dry his hair. He'll just let it air dry or sleep with it wet, so you'll help dry it.

★ so here he is, sitting on the floor, you rubbing his damp hair with a towel. He'll move so much that you get so annoyed 😭

"Daisuke how do you not know how to dry your hair??"

"I dunno! I don't need tooo!" He said squirming

"Oh my gosh stop moving UGH!" You rubbed the towel harder on his head

"YOU'RE BEING ROUGH!"

"GIRL NO IM NOT!!"

★ after you guys put your pj's on, he'll order take out food for the both of you.

"Hhmmmm are you feeling pizza or mcdonalds?"

"Definitely mcdonalds.."

"Mkay!"

★ after you guys eat, you two will brush your teeth and go cuddle in bed.

★ when you guys cuddle, daisuke will be big spoon most of the time. But also likes nuzzling his face in your neck while you play with his hair.

[mikuluvu]

Could I request pre crash Curly x single mom reader and their dating adventures? I really liked your fic about Curly’s daughter, and I think Curly would be an amazing stepdad (esp a girl dad).

A/n: FR, I can see Curly being a girl dad anon! Btw, everyone please suggest names for her :D Thank you thank you.

Pre Crash Curly x Singlemom!Reader

Warnings: Noh

You met him at one of the rare docking stations where families were allowed. Your daughter, was so amazed by it she wandered a bit toooooo close to the restricted areas while you were also too focused on the ship. Curly found her, crouching down in his bulky uniform, and gently said, "You know, kid, the coolest parts of a ship aren't in the 'Do Not Enter' Zones.

When you came rushing over, apologizing repeatedly, Curly just smiled and handed your daughter those pony express pin.

Curly wasn't someone who would let people in easily. But you were strong yet soft and independent. It started with casual conversations and slowly turned into shred coffee breaks at the station cafe.

Your daughter ADORED this man almost immediately, nicknaming him "Cap'n Curly!" and would see him as her "Space Hero"

If you were on board temporarily, he would make sure your quarters were near the safer parts of the ship.

If anyone looked at you, your daughter or even one of the crew the wrong way, oh... he would give them a mean glare >:(

Your daughter would often sneak drawings or little notes on the corkboard when she could, Anya would feel happy when she would see them and would also doodle.

Your daughter would ask you, that why was some of her drawings went missing... huh, you did see a doodle on curly's locker...

He wasn't overly affectionate, but when your daughter fell asleep against his arm, he stayed perfectly still, letting her sleep.

Curly would show his care in subtle ways. A repaired toy, or a quietly delivered cupp of your favorite drink.

He'd memorize small details about you both: your daughter's favorite bedtime story, the way you liked your coffee,the lullaby you's hum when you thought no one was listening.

The Crew picked up on the the shift. Curly would visibly relax when you or your daughter were nearby. Daisuke and Anya would tease him about it.

A/n: Please... CURLY PLS BE MY WIFEY. Thank you for the request anon, I was giggling and kicking my feet while typing this HHAHAHAH.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs w/comments is appreciated. Please donate my broke ass on my ko-fi

[p0pp3t]

daisuke x reader | what are you doing new year's eve?

content: sfw, fluff, confession, daisuke calls reader "man" and "dude" but gn reader otherwise, mostly dialogue whoops

word count: 895

writer's note: jimmy only speaks once, but in my head this is an au where he does nothing wrong so reading it like that might make it more bearable. sorry for giving jumbotron dialogue </3

Holidays never meant much on the Tulpar - especially not New Year’s. Days blur together when you follow the same routine in the same place for months on end. Time hardly passes -  and another rotation around the sun doesn’t feel the same floating through space anyway. 

Still, your humble crew made the best of it. And now all of you were gathered around the coffee table with a cake in the center, waiting for the clock to hit midnight.

“Any resolutions, guys?” your captain asks. “Let’s hear it.”

“To find a new fucking job.” Jimmy states, crossing his arms and slouching back into his chair.

“Guy’s got the right idea. As much as I hate to say it.” Swansea agrees. His party hat has shifted out of place, though he makes no effort to readjust it.

“Oh come on, guys, don’t be such downers,” Anya interjects, trying to lift the mood. “We’re with each other, right? It’s not all bad.”

“Yeah, the New Year’s all about opportunities and fresh starts and junk!” Daisuke adds. “My resolution this year is to finally find myself a hot date.” he laughs, pleased with himself.

“Still,” you sigh, “It’d be nice to be home right now.” You rest your chin in your hand, hunched over a little with your elbow on your lap.

Daisuke smiles and pats you on the back reassuringly. “Don’t sweat it, man! We’ll be home before you know it.” He rests his hand on your shoulder, oddly comfortably.

The living room screen flashes to life with a faux-happy countdown to midnight. It’s far too bright, especially compared to the gentler nighttime graphic (“I miss it, but ‘tis the season, right?”). As the clock approaches 12:00, only some of you bother counting along aloud, though those who do are rather enthusiastic. And when the clock strikes 12:00, only some of you bother cheering. The ship’s speakers ring out with a joyous tune, and Polle’s artificial voice wishing his most valued team a happy new year. Your crew goes around exchanging handshakes and hugs and all the gestures that come with the New Year’s fresh start.

The last to approach you is Daisuke, who spreads his arms out wide, smiles even wider, and squeezes you tight in a hug.

“Thanks for everything, dude. You’re awesome! Couldn’t do it without you.” 

Nobody takes a Pony Express internship for the company’s good reputation. Like your fellow intern, you were down on your luck, unsure of your future, and looking for something to get you on your feet. Luckily for you (or perhaps both of you), he made things a little easier. You’ve learned and laughed together since the start of your time on the ship. No matter how tough things got, Daisuke was always there, ready to crack a joke or offer a listening ear. 

“Couldn’t do it without you, either.” you tell him in earnest. “You make it good.”

He lets go of you, his smile dropping slowly. Daisuke looks off somewhere to the side with the slightest flush to his face.

You tilt your head. “Is something wrong?”

“No! No, everything’s alright, I just, uh-” he trails off for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Can I talk to you for a second? Like, just us?” The flush on his cheeks deepens.

You look around to find that the rest of the crew has busied themselves with slicing and distributing the cake. “You’re sure everything’s okay?” 

“Promise!” he says, pushing some confidence.

The two of you slip out of the living area and into the hall, walking a little ways away from the festivities and commotion. 

“What did you wanna tell me?” you ask.

“You’re really cool, y’know?” he says after a beat of silence. “Like you’re always helping me and explaining things when I don’t get them and saving my ass from getting yelled at. I meant it when I said you’re awesome.”

Your eyes and lips raise into a small smile. “That’s really sweet, Daisuke. You’ve been great too, always keeping our spirits up. You’re wonderful.” 

He beams, happily accepting your praise. You look him in the eye, anticipating whatever he might say next.

“But there is something I wanted to tell you.” Daisuke raises his hands out of his pockets hesitantly, his palms up. “Can you hold my hands first? I think it would help right now.”

Your eyes widen slightly in pleasant surprise, and you place your hands in his with a comforting grasp. “What’s up?”

“I’ve liked you, like, like-liked you for a while. Like, ever-since-we-started-working-together a while. So I was wondering maybe possibly if you wanted to, you could be my date? Like I was saying earlier?” He blurts out the words, nervous for your response.

It’s unglamorous - but it’s sincere and heartfelt and so perfectly him that you can’t help but break out into giddy laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me, that was hard!” Daisuke scolds in mock-frustration. 

Your amusement dies down and you sigh contentedly, his eyes meeting yours.

“Yes, I’d love to be your date.”

Daisuke wasn’t sure when he’d hear the end of it. Maybe asking every other person on board for advice wasn’t worth the relentless teasing that would follow. But, he was sure it was worth it for his first proper New Year’s kiss, and for the life you would lead together back home.

[bratdotcom]

Sweet Like Apples

swansea x coworker!reader ⋆ asking him to open fruit for you (read part one of the coworker!au here)

⋆ tags : coworker!au, established relationship, coworkers to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, swansea acts a little mean bc he doesn't want daisuke to think he's gone soft (you're really killing his tough guy persona)

word count : 1k+ (and proud!! >3<) ⋆

Daisuke and Swansea sit together in the Tuplar's conversation pit. Daisuke sits with one heel on the couch, balancing the book in his hands with his knee. Swansea watches quietly as he scribbles his answers onto paper, already knowing which ones he's gotten wrong without giving the sheet a second glance.

Swansea exhales calmly.

The kid was starting to grow on him. He was beginning to think he was too harsh.

He softly reprimands the intern, no actual disdain behind his words. Swansea keeps his voice steady, though. Can't let the kid think he was going soft. "Don't sit like that." The older man lightly taps his shoulder, making Daisuke's hold on his pencil slip. "You wanna end up like me?"

Daisuke fixes his posture, sitting more properly on the L-shaped couch. He gives Swansea a quick roll of his eyes and continues to concentrate on his book work. Swansea rolls his eyes in response, a small, barely noticeable wry grin on his face as he looks away.

Ever since you came into his life, acknowledged his feelings for you, the whole world seemed a whole lot better. Brighter, even. Compared to the artificial stimulation of the sunlit sky, splayed across the living room walls.

The screen was bright, but damn, you were brighter.

"Let me see that." Swansea holds out his work-worn palms, gesturing for Daisuke to give him his mechanic's handbook. He obliges, hesitantly scanning his tired face for approval. The older man points at each line of ink with the tip of lead, reading over the bubbled answers Daisuke put in.

The tension was palpable. To Daisuke, at least.

To Swansea, this was another day at work. "You got all of these wrong." He says, dragging the nub of Daisuke's pencil over each question number, voice gruff yet lenient this time around, even though by now, he would've called him out on his mistakes.

Daisuke was a good kid. He had a good head on his shoulders. Even though he acted stupid. Swansea could probably count enough times on his hands how reckless he was at his age.

Another sigh leaves his person. Swansea sets the pencil in between the pages of Daisuke's workbook and places it down on the palette-shaped coffee table.

Swansea strums his fingers against his thigh before methodically standing up, using the wooden divider that separates the conversation pit from the rest of the lobby to support his weight. "Let's take a break." he suggests, much to Daisuke's surprise.

"Wait- what? Really?" he asks, eyes widened in a mixture of shock and surprise. A part of him was relieved that he wouldn't have to stick his nose into a musty book, but another part of him was genuinely surprised that Swansea of all people was suggesting that he should take a breather.

"Fifteen minutes." He states firmly, arms crossed over his beer belly. "That's all you're gonna get outta this, kid." he tilts his head off to the side, waiting for the younger man to get up himself.

Daisuke grins at him,fifteen minutes was better than getting no minutes at all. Swansea huffs out a quiet laugh, watching as his intern makes a beeline to the kitchen, your expanse of the ship and expertise.

Just as he thought, you were there. Apron and all, cutting up fruits into little cubes.

For a guy like him, the kitchen was small. A little cramped for his size, but in a comforting sort of way. He knew you'd be here, always, waiting for him. Just like that night you shared with him weeks before.

Having three people in the kitchen definitely made it more crowded than it needed to be. Swansea's glad that you and Daisuke were chatting amongst yourselves. You, being too focused on explaining what you were making and Daisuke, too absorbed in listening along and sneakily grabbing bites of cut up fruit to slip into his hand for later. Swansea doesn't say a word.

A warm feeling in his chest as he watches the two people he cared for most on the ship talking to each other. There was a word for this feeling, wasn't there? He couldn't remember.

"Swansea, hun, can you help me with this apple?" You crane your head away from the counter top to address the man directly. Swansea almost chokes. The way the nickname easily leaves your lips, like you've been married for years, even though you just recently admitted your feelings for him.

You were going to be the death of him.

Swansea smooths out the company logo on his shirt. His heart was beating wildly against his chest like a battering ram, all because you decided to call him something other than his own name. You called him hun. All you did was call him hun.

He pretends to let out an uninterested huff as he saunters over, a strong hand over the logo of his work uniform.

If Daisuke wasn't in the room with you he would've reacted much worse.

Swansea's intimidating frame looms over you. "Gimme that." He says, holding out his other hand. "The apple?" you ask, setting down your paring knife. "No sweetheart, the bowl." Swansea replies flatly, Daisuke snickers. Swansea shoots a glare at the younger man, as if to quiet him, which he instantly obliges.

With a soft chuckle, you hand him the apple. "I need this guy for the fruit salad." You explain, watching curiously as Swansea twists the stem, tossing it off into the pile of scraps you had neatly set off to the side. "You're not going to use a knife?"

"I don't need a knife." he replies, the meat of his palms digging into the apple. His calloused fingers dip into the calyx of the apple. With a twist of his wrists, Swansea cleanly splits the apple in half.

Once again, Swansea pretends that it's nothing and hands you the apple. The apple that he split in half with his bare hands.

It was his turn to make you feel all warm in the chest now. "You're welcome, by the way. Just make sure I get a bite before everyone else does, alright hun?"

Hun. Hearing Swansea call you that almost gives you a heart attack.

Swansea smiles at you like you were the only person in the kitchen with him. He walks out of the kitchen, content with your reaction. The wide-eyed look you gave him was priceless.

He sits at the kitchen table, smiling boyishly as he hears Daisuke hammering you with questions about your relationship with his superior. He'll step in eventually. But for now he'll enjoy the feeling of content in his chest.

[karmaxxx130]

Daisuke’s vlog

Just played mouthwashing… they’re my baby now, I love them so much🥹😭

[dannyz0ur]

Masterlist!

🍰= fluff 🍒 = smut 🥀= angst 🧸= request

GRAVITY FALLS Stan Pines — Cold (🥀) Ford Pines — Gunplay (🍒)

SALLY FACE Sal with a girly, sweet s/o! (🍰🧸)

ARCANE nothing to see here... yet...

MOUTHWASHING Daisuke — Honeymoon (🍒🧸)

CREEPYPASTAS Eyeless Jack with a m!s/o who cooks for him! (🍰🧸) Masky/Tim with a girly, sweet s/o! (🍰🧸) Laughing Jack with a girly, sweet s/o! (🍰🧸) BEN with each MBTI s/o! (🧸) BEN with s/o who has an 80s metal style! (🍰🍒🧸) Tim Wright — NSFW Alphabet (🍒) Tim Wright — Holiday Drabble (🍒)

[the-meme-monarch]

was thinking abt how anya sleeps by the polle statue. which is motion activated to start talking.

+ i like drawing polle as a Character

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Crew Headcanon

Congratulations! You're now the Tulpar Crew's Unwilling Therapist

Why? How? Everyone's a mess and they need you, so stop questioning >:(

One fortunate 2 AM morning, you were raiding a snack stash. Whose was it? You're here to eat not think

And while shamelessly munching on a yogurt coated oatbar like a man lapping his last meal on death row, the door hissed opened

You straight-up started choking to death, trying to secretly Heimlich yourself, and when you finally dislodged the oatgrain having it shot out your mouth and landing 3 ft. away from the couch, you looked up...

There’s Daisuke. Full-on ugly crying. Like he’s the one who almost got scythed by death

Daisuke so damn cheery 24/7 you were half-convinced his cheeks were sewn to back of his head. But now? Yeah, no. The guy’s face is doing this wet sad puppy thing, and honestly, you kinda miss the creepy sewn-on grin

"Y/NNN~"

Shit, it's his stash! You were ready to half-ass a reason to pin this to Swansea but he grabbed your collars and sobs on you neck

"Is it normal to cry on a wrench? Y/N, Boss gave that to me, it's like my cute little puppy. Except, y’know, it gives me nosebleeds when I’m tightening nuts on the ceiling."

Alright, at this point, the oatbar's been reduced to ashes and dreams, the hell is going on?

The door hissed again, and now you were scrambling, the position Daisuke trapped you in right now can get you a free hundred-day subscription for merciless bullying

"It's not what it lo--"

"Hey Y/N, is the kid finished?"

"Wha-- you mean Dai?"

"Yeah, if he's done then you gotta hear me out now. What's the worst thing someone said behind my back?"

Ok right now, your brain's all question marks. 'Cause a sobbing grown ass man is snotting on your neck and another's asking like he's some prep girl needing to beat someone up over some petty rumor

"No-none that I've heard of..."

"What!? No one's talking about me?? That's even worse!"

Somehow, you manage to wrangle these overgrown manchildren, putting them both to bed after they’ve successfully obliterated your snack time

Daisuke, of course, is still clinging to your arm like a teddy bear, overly needing reassurance

After that? Life... it wasn’t the same

The captain received some valuable intel from a certain co-pilot then starts stopping you at the lounge when you relieved yourself at midnight

“Y/N... do you think I’m a good captain?”

It's 1 am

"Well, no one's mutinied yet, so... yeah, you're probably fine."

"Of course! The absence of rebellion is the mark of true leadership! Y/N, you're a genius! I've been looking at this all wrong!"

You watched Curly skipping - SKIPPING - to his sleeping quarters after patting you in the head

The respect you had for Anya skyrocketed, and once being alone with with the nurse you asked her

"Hey, how'd you deal with all the crap with those rascals?"

She looked at you blanked, then you were unexpectedly given a fromt row seat to Anya's hidden and horrifying side

"I CAN'T! ONE MORE "CAN I EAT EXPIRED SPACE FOODS" QUESTION FROM DAISUKE, I'M RAVAGING THAT GUN FROM THE COCKPIT AND PU--"

"Hey hey hey, Anya, calm down, love!"

"IT'S THE 17TH TIME THIS MONTH, Y/N! SEVENTEENTH!"

After what felt like an eternity of inhale-exhale simon says with the nurse (for her, but mostly for you), her breathing finally slowed down. Thank the stars for that

"How'd you do it Y/N? Every time they ask useless nonsense or dump very emotionally overwhelming things... you send them off calm! It's witchcraft, I swear."

"Honestly, I'm as clueless as you nurse. But you've got too much on your plate, lemme handle this. I've got two ears and infinite tolerance."

"Infinite tolerance? You? The same person who chased Daisuke down for 5 minutes just for a yogurt cup?"

"Hey, that was the last cup and were still 200 days away fro--alright. Just trust me Anya, I got this."

Y'all laughed about the outburst, but you're secretly terrified of her now (respectfully, of course)

One day, you were helping the grumpy mechanic and the man's acting weirdly cryptic

“Why can’t people just…? Ugh, forget it.”

Finally, after handing him a screwdriver for the third time, his grumblings axed a huge ass crack in your patience

“Alright, Swans. What’s eating you? You’re gonna blow a gasket at this rate, and I don’t mean the ship’s.”

The man got two choices, save his non-existent high pride or just release it all

“It’s nothin’. Just Jimboy's been stickin’ his nose where it doesn’t belong, Cap’s stressin’ over somethin’ again, and Daisuke-- Why can’t they just… leave me outta it?”

Ah, he chose wisely. and you weren't gonna tease him for it (not yet, he's gotta pay for stealing your dinner twice)

“Maybe it’s because they think you’re reliable.”

The gruff old man had the nerve to squint at you, you can see it through your trusty side-eye (it made your eyeballs hurt)

"Me? Reliable? Bullshit. 'M just keepin’ this old horse from fallin’ apart.”

“'xactly. You keep the ship together, so... maybe... they figured you can keep them together too.”

This gotta break the record for Swansea's longest silence ever, no snorts, no sighs, no scoffs

The mechanic processed that like you just revealed the meaning of life and sprinkled some fairy dust on his dirty blond head (at least the color's just named dirty unlike jimmy's actual dirty ass hai--)

“Hmph. That’s dumb.”

Your eyes woulda twitched if it weren't for his shoulders relaxing and a small smirk on the mans perma-wrinkled face, you were about to leave when you heard a small mumble

“...Thanks. For the help. Or… whatever the hell that was.”

Men and their pride, however you gave him a pass and grinned

“Anytime, Teddy Bear."

Most days, you could never even breathe oxygen in peace

For the first time, you eyed Polle with a jealous-fueled burning gaze. All it does was blast you with warnings, and you don't even have to do anything! Just breathe in its general direction and you've rewarded yourself with "SAFETY'S A PRIORITY!"

Meanwhile, you’re over here, literally tweaking and that damn horse was living its best, noise-polluting and noise-free life

Eventually, they started dragging you into these "group venting sessions," basically just everyone talking over each other until it’s less of a calm-headed, adult and mature discussion and more of a competition to see who can throw the best threat (Anya surprisingly won thrice)

Until you bang your trusty pot and spoon,

“ONE AT A FUCKING TIME!”

a/n: this is what my rotting, sleep deprived, caffeine overdosed brain produced, hope y'all like it :,D

[kkanabel]

co-pilot mischief ✫ both broken ✫ chapter tres ✫ finale

captain curly x teasing!reader

it’s been a month since your epiphany that Captain Curly has a sweet little crush on you, and you’ve been teasing him the entire time. what happens when you push him even closer to the edge? you asked that question, and here we are: Curly has officially broken.

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

words: ~6.1k

t/w: sex, minors dni, overstimulation, fingering, REALLY OVERSTIMULATION, multiple orgasms, curly being a lil shit, so much yucky, gn!reader who wears a bra, no specific genitalia mentioned for reader (if i fucked up & did somewhere, pls lmk), any other things i should mention?

a/n: hi. been obsessed with this video game recently—well, especially with Curly (go figure. i like fictional men). i needed to make something self-indulgent bc i just like this man way too much. and because i just want to make a world where none of them have to suffer. enjoy~ 

~jeremy does not exist in this world~

Planned Shipment Duration: 382 Days Elapsed Transit Time: 342 Days

Since the incident, you’ve noticed Curly’s behavior shift from his usual awkward-but-adorable responses to something else entirely—avoidance. Every conversation with him feels clipped, every interaction rushed. This avoidance comes to a head when you have to discuss the ship's fuel readings.

“Captain, can you double-check the fuel calibration?” you ask, stepping into the cockpit with a tablet in hand.

Curly is already seated at the console, his back stiffening at the sound of your voice. “It’s fine,” he mutters without looking up, his fingers flying over the controls.

You narrow your eyes. “Fine? It’s been showing inconsistencies for two days now. Can we be sure it won’t cause an issue later?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “I’ll… take care of it.” Still, he doesn’t glance at you, his gaze fixed on the screen as if the fuel levels are the most riveting thing he’s ever seen.

You step closer, placing the tablet on the console in front of him. “It’d be quicker if we checked it together,” you say, deliberately leaning over just slightly to try and catch his eyes.

But he shifts, pulling back as if your proximity physically burns. “I’ve got it,” he says tersely, still avoiding you.

The clipped tone stings more than you expect. You hesitate, studying him. His hands grip the edge of the console, the veins in his forearms standing out as though he’s using every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. He looks tired—no, exhausted—but there’s something else in his expression, something tight and defensive.

You pull back, watching him with a frown. There’s an ache in your chest you weren’t prepared for—a pang of guilt mixed with frustration. You liked teasing him, pushing his buttons just enough to see the cracks in his armor, but this? This feels different. It’s like he’s shut a door between the two of you, and you can’t help but wonder if you pushed too far.

You bite your lip, torn. Was it the water incident? The shirt? Or maybe it’s been everything—the touches, the flirtation, the unspoken tension you’ve been toying with for weeks. Whatever it is, the wall he’s built feels higher than before, and it leaves you restless, your stomach knotting with something that feels a lot like regret.

That night, sleep refuses to come. You lie in your bunk, staring at the dim ceiling of your cabin, your mind replaying every moment from the cockpit earlier. His stiffness, his avoidance, the way he couldn’t even look at you—it all swirls together, making your chest feel heavy.

Was he angry with you? Embarrassed? Or worse—had you made him so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to be around you anymore? The thought makes your throat tighten, and you sit up, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

The hum of the ship’s engines fills the silence of your cabin, steady and soothing, but it does little to calm the turmoil in your chest. You’ve been lying there for hours, staring at the ceiling, your blanket pushed to the side as your mind cycles endlessly.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The look on Curly’s face earlier had been… different. It wasn’t just the usual exasperation you’d grown fond of teasing out of him. It was heavier, like he was carrying something you couldn’t quite name, something you weren’t sure you should have pulled at.

You close your eyes and groan quietly into the darkness, guilt and frustration twisting in equal measure. Sure, it’s fun to watch him squirm, to push his buttons just enough to see the cracks in that carefully constructed exterior. But you may have gone too far—even if the water spilling on your shirt was a complete accident. His jaw had set so tightly, his words clipped in a way that left no room for your usual playful retorts.

The memory sits heavy in your chest now, pressing down like a weight.

You roll over for the hundredth time, but the ache of regret and the nagging spark of curiosity keep you pinned wide awake. It’s not just the teasing, is it? Not really. It’s the way his silence speaks louder than his words, the way he looks at you like he’s bracing himself to lose something he doesn’t even have yet

You sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair. You know you should leave it alone, let him come to you when he’s ready, but patience has never been your strong suit.

Sliding out of the bunk, you glance at the reflection of your sleepwear in the metal panel across the room. The skimpy fabric makes you hesitate, but only for a moment. If you’re honest with yourself, part of you still wants to provoke him. But another part—the part twisting in your gut—just wants to be able to speak to him normally again.

The ship feels colder at night, the air biting against your bare skin as you make your way down the narrow corridor. The faint glow spilling from the cockpit confirms your suspicion: he’s there, just as you expected.

You pause in the doorway, your heart beating harder than you’d like. He hasn’t noticed you yet. His head is bowed, his fingers raking through his messy blond hair as he leans over the console. He looks… defeated. The sight sends a pang through you, sharp and unwelcome.

Taking a breath, you step inside, keeping your voice soft as you speak. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He straightens abruptly, his shoulders stiffening as his chair creaks under the sudden movement. His eyes meet yours for a moment before flicking downward and darting back up, his jaw clenching. You catch the faintest flush across his cheeks, but his expression is unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is flat, but there’s a strain beneath it, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You try to smile, but it falters. Stepping closer, you cross your arms, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than you expected. “I—” You stop, unsure of how to begin. “I just… I wanted to check on you.”

His brows furrow, suspicion flickering across his face. “Check on me?”

“Yeah.” You force a small laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your own ears. “You seemed… off earlier.” You hesitate, glancing at the console to avoid his gaze. 

The silence that follows feels heavier than when the ship’s gravity went haywire and pushed down on you all. You risk a glance at him, only to find him watching you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. His hands grip the armrests of his chair like they’re the only thing anchoring him, his knuckles pale.

“It’s fine,” he says finally, his voice tight, controlled. Too controlled. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

The way he says it makes something inside you crack. You know that tone, the one he uses to push people away, to keep himself locked behind walls you’ve only just started to glimpse behind. And it hurts.

“Curly…” You step closer. “That’s not what I—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his voice sharper now, his eyes flashing with something you can’t quite name.

But you don’t back down. Not this time.

“Don’t what?” you challenge, leaning closer to him. You keep your voice soft, almost hesitant, but there’s no mistaking the edge behind it. “Don’t worry about you? Don’t care?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. He just stares at you, his stormy blue eyes locked on yours, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he finally says, but there’s no conviction in the words. They’re a shield, flimsy and cracking.

You tilt your head, your voice dropping lower. “Why not?”

“Because…” He looks away, running a hand down his face, and you see the way his fingers tremble. When his gaze snaps back to yours, there’s fire in it, raw and unfiltered. “Because I can’t keep doing this, alright? I can’t—”

He stops himself, his voice breaking on the last word, and your heart stumbles in your chest.

“Can’t what?” you press, taking another step closer, your bare feet brushing against the cool floor. Your voice softens, and this time there’s no teasing, no game. “Curly, just tell me.”

He lets out a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan, and rises abruptly from his chair. The suddenness of it makes you flinch, but you hold your ground.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is louder now, but it’s not anger—it’s desperation, raw and bleeding. “You waltz in here in your—” His eyes flick down to your barely-there pajamas before snapping back up, his expression torn. “—your… whatever that is, and you look at me like that, and you think it’s funny, don’t you? Messing with me, pushing me, like it’s all some game!”

You blink, stunned by the outpouring of words. “I—”

“No,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking. “You don’t get to talk right now. Do you know how hard I’ve been trying? Trying to keep this… whatever it is… locked down? To keep things professional, to not…” He trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge the thought.

“To not what?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“To not ruin everything!” he bursts out, and the words hang in the air between you, heavy and unrelenting. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, waking up every damn day and seeing you, knowing I can’t—shouldn’t—feel this way?”

His chest heaves, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He’s closer now, the space between you shrinking with every ragged breath.

He leans in closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of hesitation before he barrels on. “Do you know what it’s like to sit next to you every day, to have you so close and know I can’t touch you? Can’t tell you?” His laugh is bitter, almost self-deprecating. “God, I can’t even think straight when you’re around. You’ve got me walking into walls, screwing up flight routes, forgetting my own bloody name half the time.”

“Curly…” You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him, his grip firm but not painful.

“Don’t,” he says again, but this time it’s a plea, his voice breaking. His gaze locks on yours, his eyes glassy with an emotion you’ve never seen from him before.

And then, before you can say anything, he moves.

In one swift motion, he pushes you back against the console, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the unsteady rhythm of his breath.

“I can’t…” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, but you don’t move, don’t dare to break the fragile moment hanging between you.

“Then don’t,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes search yours, and for a heartbeat, everything stands still. Then, with a groan that sounds like defeat, he closes the gap, capturing your lips with his in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from your lungs.

The kiss is not soft or measured, but raw, desperate, and full of everything he’s been holding back for months. His lips crash against yours with an intensity that makes your knees go weak, and you gasp into him, feeling the weight of all his pent-up frustration pouring out into this moment.

His hands, rough and calloused, grip the edges of the console beside your hips like he’s barely holding himself together. You feel the tension in his arms, the way his muscles cord and flex, the sheer power of him caging you in.

And then, suddenly, his hands shift. One moves to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down to your hip, pinning you firmly to the console beneath you. The cool surface bites against your skin, grounding you as his fingers wrap around you with just enough force to keep you there without hurting you.

He pulls away for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of rejection, finding none.

You open your mouth to speak, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His lips crash back down onto yours, more insistent this time, as if he’s trying to erase every teasing word and playful glance you’ve ever thrown his way.

His body presses closer, and you’re keenly aware of every inch of him—the strength in his broad shoulders, the solid weight of his chest against yours, the way his body is being held between your thighs (which you’ve just realized that you wrapped around him), keeping you and him firmly in place. His free hand trails down your side, his touch firm and possessive.

“Curly,” you keen, eyes fogged from the kisses he just gave you.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice low and rough. “Not unless you’re ready to take responsibility for what you’ve started.”

The words send a shiver through you, and you meet his gaze, your breath catching at the unrestrained emotion in his expression—anger, yes, but also longing, vulnerability, and an aching kind of need that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m not sorry,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling but steady enough to hold his gaze.

His lips curl into a gentle smile, and he shakes his head, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours. “I expected such,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less intense.

And then he kisses you again, slower this time, but just as overwhelming. It’s less about frustration now and more about everything else—the want, the need, the relief of finally letting it out. His hand slides from your hip to thread his fingers through yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if to soften the moment, to remind you that despite the force of it all, he’s still Curly.

Even then, as he pulls his lips away to trail his kisses down that delicious neck of yours that he’s been fantasizing about for the past couple months, he bucks his hips into yours subconsciously. 

His eyes widen at the realization of what he just did, and he’s just about to apologize when he hears your soft groan, your hips grinding back into his. 

You’re going to be the end of him. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his mind goes entirely blank while reaching his hands to grab onto the mounds of your chest as he places wet kisses all over your neck. 

The sensation makes you gasp—his warm lips suckling all over the crook of your neck, trailing slightly further down as his large, warm hands grasp at you, fingers gliding against the thin fabric over to the tips of your nipples. He teases it over the fabric, each graze sending a jolt down your core as his pants get tighter.

You watch as Curly’s eyes glaze over while looking at the thin fabric of your shirt, watching your nipples peak and harden under his ministrations. One of his hands pulls away from a breast, brushing down your body until he pulls the skimpy fabric of your shorts and your underwear to the side and places his fingers right onto your heat at just the right spot, rubbing at it.

Your gasping, arms tightening around his neck, and your hands gripping at the hair on the base of his neck only serves to spur him on. His eyes are still hazy with a sheen of lust as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them lasciviously before easing a finger inside your hole, slowly massaging at your walls until he finds your most delicious spot. 

When you tense up and you let out another gasp, his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, knowing that he’s found it. As you reach up to capture his lips with yours, he slips another finger in. 

As you’re kissing, you let out a choked moan as he only rubs against that little spot more, fingers starting to curl up rougher and faster. His fingers filled you up so well—so thick and long, pressing your insides in all the right places. 

When you clench and spasm around his fingers, you expect him to slow down, but his fingers only get faster through your orgasm. You squeak in response, and his eyes are hooded as he finger fucks you into oblivion.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your lips, his voice thick with frustration and something darker. His breath fans hot against your cheek as he pulls back just enough to speak, his eyes blazing as they meet yours. “To push me until I couldn’t take it anymore?” 

His face is a storm of emotions, each one fighting for dominance. His jaw is tight, clenched as though he was holding back. His lips are red and slightly swollen from the kiss, a stark contrast against the stubble shadowing his sharp jawline. 

But it’s his eyes that leave you breathless—dark and blazing with an intensity that borders on feral. Those blue eyes, turbulent and unyielding, locking onto yours like they’re searching for every answer you’ve ever hidden. It combines with the feeling of his fingers pressing you in the right spot, making you see stars.

“You’ve been playing with fire, haven’t you?” he breathes, his voice rough and biting. His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile—a shadow of one, edged with frustration and disbelief. “All those looks, those little comments. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His hand at the console shifts, and he presses a little closer, his body heat seeping into you. “God, do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you parade around like that? Laughing, teasing, pretending you don’t notice what you’re doing to me?” His words are a low snarl now, sharp with exasperation and tinged with lust as he drives his fingers deep into you, earning a squeal from your lips.

“Every time I thought I had it under control, you’d pull something new. A touch here. Showing off some skin there.” His free hand slides along your jaw, his thumb brushing deliberately across your cheekbone. His touch is gentle, almost a mockery of the fire behind his words and the intensity behind his fingers. “You really thought I would break eventually, didn’t you?”

His eyes flicker to your lips, and his fingers keep curling and thrusting inside you in a way that makes you squeak. The sound makes his gaze snap back to your eyes, his expression darkening further. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself from this onslaught of pleasure.

“Was this the plan all along?” he taunts, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “To push me so far I’d lose control? Or were you just so sure I’d never cross that line?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “Well, congratulations. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes again, his lips curling into a wicked smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So tell me,” he murmurs, his tone both a challenge and a warning, “what are you going to do now?” Your gummy walls clench on his fingers as he works you undone again—with both his fingers and his words.

“Please,” you keen, voice breathless. “Just fuck me, Captain.” 

The use of his title in that pleasure-drenched voice of yours makes him sharply inhale. He leaned back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Not yet," he says, his voice low and commanding. "You're going to need to be ready for me. Really ready. So, I’m going to take my time." He knew the company regulations like the back of his hand—no personal items, especially not the kind that could be used for pleasure. And he knew you hadn't had anyone else in almost a year.

Your eyes go wide with shock as he speaks, and you realize what he meant. "But I... I've been... stretching," you protested, face heating up at the implication. 

Curly's smile grows, and he leans down, his mouth hovering just above yours. "With your fingers?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement. "That's not enough. Not for what I've got in store for you." You look up at him in shock.

"Trust me," he murmurs against your lips. "You'll thank me for it later. Especially when I break you like you tried to break me. I’ll have you begging, you little tease." His words send shivers of excitement up your spine.

With that, he slides his hand back down your body, his fingers slipping into you again. Your muscles are still contracting from the aftershocks of your two climaxes. He pumps his fingers in and out, watching your face contort with pleasure and overstimulation. But he knew he had to prepare you, had to make sure you could take him.

He leans in, whispering in your ear. "You're going to come again," he tells you, his voice a promise. "And then again. And each time, I'm going to make you feel so good that you'll forget your name."

Your eyes close, breath coming in short pants as you moan into his mouth. Curly revels in the feeling and the view of your hips moving in time with his touch. 

Curly slides in a third finger, curling them gently, feeling the slickness of your arousal. Your eyes fly open, and you look at him with a mix of shock and need. "Curly," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand, hole stretching around his fingers. "Please..." He strokes you in a steady rhythm, watching your face contort with pleasure. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet, but the occasional whimper escapes. 

He pushes your tiny tank top up, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it as he continues to play with you. Your hands pull him closer, urging him on. He can feel your body tightening, your legs starting to tremble. He knew you were close.

And then it happened. With a cry, you cum again, your muscles clenching around his fingers. He still doesn’t stop, though, instead curling his fingers deeper inside you, keeping the pressure on your sweet spot. Your orgasm went on and on, your body shaking with pleasure, legs giving out.

As the last of your tremors subside, he pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his mouth. He tastes you, watching as your face heats up. "So good," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’m going to push you until you can’t take it anymore.” 

Without warning, he slams his mouth onto your core, his tongue flicking you rapidly. You scream, hips jerking up. Your nails claw at the console, searching for any kind of purchase before gripping his blonde locks.

Curly feels the warmth of your orgasm wash over his hand and lips, juices coating his fingers and face as he watches you come apart in front of him. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you let out a guttural cry, body arching. 

He waits for you to open your eyes, to look at him with the same hunger he feels burning in his gut. When you do, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, and you’re panting. "Please," you beg, voice a whimper. "Please, Curly. I need you inside me." Your vision was already starting to go blurry, and you felt a slight twinge of dizziness from all the mind-numbing orgasms.

His only response is a shit-eating grin and his fingers continuing to work you open. The sound of your wetness fills the cockpit, and he couldn't help but groan. You’re so tight, so perfect. And all his. He watches your face as he works into you, his tongue circling you in time with his fingers curling up and down, thrusting in and out. You’re close, so close to breaking altogether, and he can feel the tension building in your body.

“Curly, please, I-” And then, with a scream, you cum again, gushing wetness all over his hand and face. He pulls away, wiping it from his cheek with a grin. 

"See?" he says, his voice filled with pride and eyes filled with darkness. "I told you I'd make you beg for it."

Your chest heaves, breath coming in ragged gasps. You stare up at him, eyes glazed. "Curly," you whisper with a needy voice. "Please... I need you."

He stood up, his cock straining against his pants. "Not yet," he said again, his voice firm. "We have all night."

He reaches down, helping you to your feet. You sway slightly, legs weak from the intense orgasms. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the Captain’s Quarters. The crew is asleep. The only sounds are the steady hum of the Tulpar's engines and your two footsteps.

Once inside, he places you down onto his bed gently, your legs still shaking. He hovers over you, his eyes dark with hunger. He kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and your desire. You moan, hands reaching up to tug at his shirt.

He breaks the kiss, pulling his shirt off. Your eyes scrape up and down the sight of his bare chest, his muscles rippling in the dim light. He leans back in, his mouth moving down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles. You shiver, skin sensitive from the previous orgasms.

Curly slides his hand down to your hole again, his thumb pressing against you as he kisses his way down your body. You gasp, hips rising to meet his touch. He spread open your legs revealing you, all bare and wet. He took a moment to appreciate the view, your swollen hole and the glisten of your arousal—the glisten of your multiple orgasms.

With a groan, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking over you at the perfect spot. You almost scream, the sensation too much. He slides two fingers inside, desperate to continue stretching out your inner muscles.

He licks and sucks, his mouth a symphony of pleasure. You cum again, body bowing off the bed, hands tangling in his hair. He doesn’t let up, his tongue relentless, his fingers curling inside you, pushing you to the edge once more. Your cries grow louder, more frantic, until you’re almost screaming. And then, just as suddenly, you go quiet.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you go limp beneath him as your body refuses to stop twitching. Curly pulls back, panting, his mouth wet with your essence. He watches your chest heave, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He knows you’re on the edge, just about to shatter into pieces.

He slides his fingers out of you, watching the way you quiver.

He stands, his own desire clear in the bulge in his pants. "You’re doing so good," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now you're ready." Curly chuckles as he watches your muscles twitch. “So cute,” he mumbles as he zips his jumpsuit down all the way and pulls his boxers down. It's massive, thick and long, standing erect and flushed with arousal.

You’re still unable to form words, eyes blank as you come down from the onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes flutter open when you feel him getting back onto the bed, chest heaving as you stare up at him. "Curly," you breathe, voice shaky. "I don’t… I don’t know if I can take it anymore."

He leans over you, eyes dark with need. "You can," he says, his voice firm. "You will. And you're the one who begged for it."

Curly lines up his cock with your slick entrance, the tip kissing you lightly. It's hot, and you can feel the pulse of his excitement. His reddened tip is so much larger than what you've felt before, veins standing out. Your eyes widen, looking at the size of him, and you feel your stomach flip.

Slowly, with a look of absolute focus, he starts to push in, watching your face as you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The head of his cock, that angry red tip, breaches your entrance, and you can feel your body stretching around its thickness. He goes so slowly, so carefully, that you can't help but trust him. The veins on his shaft stand out like roads on a map, and they feel like they're carving into you as he slides in inch by inch.

The pressure is intense, but you’re so wet, so ready for him. He slides in deeper, feeling you stretch around him. Your walls cling to him, and he knows he'd never felt anything so amazing. He pauses for a moment, savoring the sensation.

And to his surprise, you cum again, walls tightening around his cock. A keening sound tears from your throat, and you buck your hips against him, trying to push him deeper. He holds you still, watching your face, feeling your walls pulse around him. 

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, a wave of pleasure so intense it almost brought him to his knees. “Fuck,” his eyes squeeze shut, voice hoarse. 

But he doesn’t stop. He couldn't. He pushes in further, feeling you tighten even more. You were whining now, a high-pitched sound that seemed to echo through the room. He knows he’s hitting all the right spots, that you were on the edge again. And he was going to make sure you fell over it.

You're so wet, so ready for him, that he's able to ease into you with surprising ease, despite his size. Each time he pushes in, you feel your muscles resisting before giving way, your body adapting to his thickness. Your walls clench around him, trying to get used to the feeling of being so full, so claimed. It's as if every part of you is being rewritten, every nerve ending remapped to accommodate his size.

His thumbs press gently against your pulse points, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. “You’ve been in my head for months. Twisting me up so bad I can’t tell what’s real anymore. Hell, I can’t even close my eyes without seeing you.” His voice has dropped lower, huskier, the edges roughened by emotion and strain.

The feeling of fullness is intense, almost overwhelming, but it's mixed with an aching need for more. You can feel your body stretching, adjusting to his size, and it's both slightly painful and incredibly arousing. He's so much larger than any toy you've ever used, and the thought of taking all of him sends a fresh wave of desire through you.

You glance up at his form, the dim artificial lights overhead casting a faint, bluish hue across his bare chest. His skin glistens faintly, a sheen of sweat highlighting the sculpted lines of his muscles—the curve of his shoulders, the sharp planes of his chest, and the ripple of his abdomen. Shadows deepen in the grooves between his ribs and along the flex of his arms as he shifts, his every movement purposeful, almost mesmerizing. There’s faint golden hair dusting his chest and trailing down his stomach.

The sight of him makes you coo, “Curly, you’re so perfect.”

His eyes never leave yours, and in them you now see a fierce concentration, a hunger that's been building for a long time. The head of his cock reaches deep into you, and you arch your back, the sensation overwhelming. You're so full you feel like you might burst. But then he pulls out slightly, only to push back in even deeper, and it's as if you've been hit by a bolt of lightning.

With one final, powerful thrust, he's all the way in, and you let out a cry that echoes through the cabin. Your nails dig into his back, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. His cock is so big, so hard, that you feel it in every part of you, filling you up in a way you never knew was possible.

Your hips are moving, rutting against him, urging him deeper. 

He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours, his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole. You moan, the feeling so intense that you don’t know if you can handle it. Orgasms roll through you, one after another, each one more powerful than the last. You couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, they just blended together into a never-ending crescendo of pleasure.

Curly's movements then become more forceful, his thrusts deeper and faster. Each time he fills you, you can feel your inner muscles clench around him, trying to hold onto that delicious feeling of fullness. He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to pick up the pace.

Tears slide down your cheeks as he fucks you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. Your eyes are now squeezed shut, and all you can see was the bright white light of pure ecstasy. You don’t know if you can take it, don’t know if you could handle his size, his strength. But you don’t want him to stop.

The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. It's primal, animalistic, and you can't help but get lost in it—in the feeling of his body pressing into yours, in the heat of his breath against your neck, in the way your orgasms build and crash over you like waves.

Your body starts to shake, your muscles tensing as you feel another climax building. You look up at him, eyes pleading, and he leans down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss. It's as if he knows exactly what you need, and he's more than willing to give it to you.

Curly starts to hit that spot inside you with every thrust, the one that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. You moan into his mouth, your hips rising to meet his, desperate for more. Fuck, but you don’t know if you can take it anymore. He's relentless, his cock driving into you, stretching you further and further until you think you'll shatter into a million pieces. 

And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you do.

You push him away, just enough for his cock to pop out of you, and you squeal. “‘Curly,” you keen, twitching all over as you release all over yourself, him, and his sheets. His dick twitches as he watches you spasm all over his bed, coating both of you in your cum and slick. 

The corners of your eyes sting with tears of pleasure, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Curly’s gaze doesn’t waver, his lips slightly parted as he watches you, his chest rising and falling with his own labored breaths. 

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his voice hoarse and rough. Then, without hesitation, he flips you over with a strength that sends your pulse racing all over again. His hands are firm yet careful, a mix of desperation and reverence in the way he touches you.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The weight of his words settles over you, and you know this is far from over. His frustration, his need, his months of pent-up tension—all of it is unraveling here and now, and you’re the one holding the thread.

And with those words, you know it’s going to be a long, unforgettable night. The thought crosses your mind in a brief, hazy moment of clarity: How are you supposed to walk tomorrow? But the question is quickly swept away, drowned in the whirlwind of Curly’s relentless thrusting and the electric heat between you.

Hours later, when the two of you finally collapse into each other, exhausted and sated, there’s a rare, blissful quiet in the air. His arm drapes over you after he cleans you up, heavy and warm, pulling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you into a peace you haven’t felt in ages.

For the first time in years, Curly sleeps soundly. No tossing, no turning, no restless hours spent staring at the ceiling. In his dreams, as in reality, you’re there with him. And ever since then, he hasn’t had any insomnia.

And you? You have no regrets.

a/n: the finale~~ let me know what y'all think!

oh yeah.. smut.. neverending smut..

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

btw. not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies stay safe & hydrated as always!

(and go to sleep if you’re reading this super late. don’t be a curly. take care of yourself!)

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter

[unluckiestmember]

Mouthwashing X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Anya, Swansea, Daisuke, Curly and Jimmy

Warning: Mention of death, but outside of that, none. SFW.

A/N: Should I open up requests for Mouthwashing? I absolutely love this game so I wouldn't mind doing some headcanons here and there for it!

Anya

When it came to everyone in the Tulpar, Anya tried her best to have a strong bond with her crewmates. You were no exception. She found your presence along the spacecraft to be a breath of fresh air. She is always delighted to see you and super excited to teach you all she knows about medical practices and safety she’s read up on. When you, her and Daisuke are together on game nights, she always knows it’s going to be one of the best nights ever.

Some nights when she stays up, she appreciates your company and will even tap into her motherly instincts by laying your head on her shoulder or lap while she hums a tune to you. You are one of the only people who knew about her “incident” and jumped straight into action against Jimmy. Anya greatly appreciated it but always tries to keep you out of trouble out of fear of you getting hurt. The final days of her life were hard, but at least she can look back and confidently say that you were one of the best people she’s ever met. She hopes you two meet again in another life…

Swansea

Swamsea didn’t like you when he first met you. He thought you were another airhead like Daisuke or some quiet soul like Anya. But after a while, he came to secretly care for you like one of his children back on Earth. You are one of the only people he opens up about his family to, reminiscing on the past and revealing his inner turmoil as a father. He appreciates how you simply listen instead of overlapping him, bearing his heart to you unlike another lovable young member aboard to Tulpar.

If you love shoes, Swansea will find it easier to love you since the both of you bond over shoes of many kinds. If your shoes get ruined during the crash, he won’t hesitate to give you his own shoes so you don’t hurt your feet on loose materials. Swansea reminds you a lot of your own father, so you guess you can call him a dad away from home? He’ll act annoyed, but he secretly loved this title. He always did…

Daisuke

Let’s not lie to ourselves, when Daisuke first laid eyes on you, he wasted no time rushing to your side. In your eyes, you might’ve seen only a fellow co-worker, but for him, he saw a new friend. The both of you ended up being pals way before the Tulpar even set off into space! The members aboard the ship like to label you two as siblings, one being a chaotic brother and the other the sweet gentle sibling. A golden retriever and a puppy to say the least.

When he’s not bothering Swansea or hanging out with Anya, he’s rushing to your side to see if you want to take turns playing Pokemon on his gameboy or if you want to play dress up with his abundance of clothing. Sometimes he’ll open up about his life at home, revealing the troubles he has with his parents and how he doesn’t like to be labeled as the “rich kid on board for fun and games”. It hurts, but it helps knowing that you’re sweet enough to look past that aspect of him. Even with that axe hanging over his head, he could at least close his eyes and drift to sleep knowing that in taking this job, he met his true best friend; You.

Curly

Though the both of you didn’t spend much time together, whenever Curly was around he always tried his best to make sure you were comfortable along the Tulpar. When you two first met, he could tell you were shy and nervous about your space voyage together. So in good spirits, he opened up a dialogue of Pokemon with you, leading to not only you revealing more of yourself to him, but also attracting the rest of the team. Whenever he had cake aboard the ship, he would always sneak his slices over to you and Daisuke since he made sure to note you loved sweets.

After evaluations with Anya and others, he always made sure to treat you in some way for being such a good member of the crew. The time the both of you spent together was short, but also as sweet as commodorative cake and Curly would’ve loved to spend more time with you. Unfortunately, his chance has passed… There were so many times he wished he would have opened up to you and just. Be your friend instead of your captain… Some captain he was, right? If only he knew that even up to the end, you still cared for him…

Jimmy

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way! Screw it, if you have Mouthwashing requests too, then throw them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧mouthwashing✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

P7

“How could we end up here…?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

TW: OD’ing, death, suicide, mouthwashing deaths in gen

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

4 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

After 10 minutes of being away from the medical room, you figured it was time to go back and check on Anya and Curly. You walked up to the door, gently knocking before waiting for an answer. But to your surprise, the black haired woman didn’t respond.

You became confused. You pressed your ear against the door, your skin glazing the metal. You heard breathing. You couldn’t make out whose it was, causing you to continue knocking, hoping for a response.

“Anya? Are you there?” You asked, raising your voice in case she couldn’t hear you. You heard light footsteps behind you, so you turned your head to see Daisuke walking towards you, a confused expression on his face.

“Is Anya okay?” He raised a brow, pressing his hand against the door. “I don’t know.. she isn’t responding.” You replied, voice soft and filled with worry. You keep your eyes on Daisuke, swallowing the bad feeling inside your gut.

“Anya! You okay?” He shouted, banging on the door. The two of you subconsciously stopped breathing, hoping to hear her reply.

“..Yeah.” She whispered, her voice muffled. Your eyes lit up, hearing her speak. “Is the door stuck?” You asked, feeling a knot get tighter in your throat. This was definitely something more than just a jammed door.

You heard a slight sniffle, causing you to slightly purse your lips before speaking once again. “Anya, we’re going to get you out of there.” You promised, glancing over at Daisuke, his face mimicking yours.

That was until his eyes lit up, remembering something that he paid little attention to before. “Oh, I’ll be right back! I saw Jimmy in the lounge just a couple minutes ago. I’ll go grab him!” He hurriedly explained before turning around, ignoring your calls to wait.

If anything, Jimmy would just make things worse for Anya and the two of you. You knew that, but why didn’t he? You quietly groan, turning back towards the door and banging on it once again.

“Please, Anya, I’m not dumb. Come on out, alright? We can talk this over. Just don’t do anything stupid!” You shouted, feeling the corner of your eyes sting with tears. You shook them away, knowing it wasn’t the time.

After a few seconds, you heard the sound of four feet run against the ground. You glanced behind you before stepping off to the side of the metal door, Daisuke settling beside you.

“Anya? I brought Jimmy!” His voice was filled with urgency, not knowing what to do. Hell, you didn’t know either. “We’re here to rescue you, so don’t worry.” He reassured, his hand on the wall. Jimmy takes a step closer to the door, causing you to shuffle your feet to the side even more.

He gently knocks on the door with his knuckles, the side of his face against the metal. “Hey. Heard the locks broken.” He confirmed, keeping his sentence short. Anya doesn’t speak, causing him to shout her name.

You stood off to the side, one hand resting on your forearm. As you did so, Anya finally replied, causing him to let go of a soft sigh. “The rest of our medicine stash is in there too. Damn, this could be bad..” He muttered. “Did you try to really put your back into it?” He asked, his voice raising.

You rolled your eyes before pushing past the man and hammering your fist on the door. “Anya, this isn’t a game. You need to come out!” You plead with her, not wanting this to go on any longer. Daisuke placed his hand on your shoulder in attempt to calm you down.

“Any wrenches laying around? How heavy is the med kit?” He called out, gently pulling you behind him before getting in front of the door, placing his two hands on it. “Anya, is the door stuck?” Jimmy whispered, wondering if she could hear him through the door without raising his tone.

She didn’t reply for a few seconds before muttering a small, “No”. Your blood ran cold. You opened your mouth, but Daisuke cut you off before any words came out.

“What do you mean?” He asked, raising a brow. Anya didn’t have any chance to reply before Jimmy spoke up. “Look, we’re all stressed. But, you can’t go breaking down at every little hardship.” You glanced towards him, seeing his brows furrow, clearly becoming frustrated.

“Open the damn door.” Your leg subconsciously shook, knowing where this was going to go. “You were right. You were right all along.” Anya’s soft voice felt heavy as she spoke. “I should’ve done this from the beginning.” You turned back towards the door, keeping your eyes locked on it.

“I always believed that our worst moments didn’t define us. Didn’t make us beyond repair.” The three of you stayed silent, the only sound being her echoing voice. “You think i wanted this either? Make no mistake. This isn’t my worst moment.. far from it. It’s the best one I’ll ever make.” She chuckled.

You heard the gentle sound of pill bottles being opened, causing you to immediately panic. Before you could even begin to talk, a firm hand gripped your bicep, causing you to back down.

You shook the hand off, not wanting the man to touch you anymore. “Open the door.” He demanded, hands forming fists. You were just glad he wasn’t holding you in his grasp anymore.

“I’ll take care of it.” Anya promised. Suddenly, Daisuke was the one to panic. He banged on the door with his palms, shouting at the woman inside. “What does that mean?!” His voice was shaky. You couldn’t help but just stare at him, feeling hopeless.

“Curly is still in there with her, right?” Jimmy mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Daisuke turned around, nodding his head. “Yeah. You don’t think-..” He cut himself off, realization creeping into his skull.

Jimmy took a deep breath in. “Daisuke. You and Swansea know the internals of the ship better than anyone. There’s absolutely no other way into Medical?” He started, raising a brow. You turned to him, curious as to where his plan was going.

Daisuke thought for a moment, sounding hesitant. “Swansea said it was strictly off limits..” He stated, fully turning his body around. “Like, super, mega not allowed above all else.” Jimmy’s face twisted to realization. “The utility room.”

Your breath hitched, words getting caught in your throat. “That busted vent in there loops into Medical. But, technically a person could totally fit through it.” The brunette confirmed, causing you to finally budge in, glaring at Jimmy.

“That vent has been busted for a long time now. Someone could get seriously injured if they went inside it.” You warned, taking glances at the two men. “Y/N, if that’s the only way, we’ll make it work.” Your eyes widened, surprised by the boldness of Jimmy.

He then turned his body towards the door, keeping his eye locked on you. “You listening, Anya?” It felt as if the whole ship went silent as you three waited for her reply, but she never spoke. “Fine.” He gave up, relaxing his face. “Come on, Daisuke.”

He motioned for him to follow, causing you to grasp your boyfriend’s arm, making him stop in his tracks. “Daisuke, c’mon. You can’t be serious.” You whispered, keeping your voice low. He was clearly hesitant to go with him, but he gave you a smile nonetheless.

“Trust me, babe. I got this.” He promised. You shook your head, glancing back at the man who waited for the two of you. You slowly let your boyfriend go, resting your arms at your sides. “Fine.” You grumbled. “I’ll stay here, I guess..”

The brunette just chuckled, almost forgetting his task before Jimmy cleared his throat, growing impatient. Daisuke nodded towards him, quickly hurrying towards him, you hesitantly staying back.

If only you fought harder.

______

8 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT

“Jim-.. what the fuck did you do?!” You shout, dragging out his name. As you did so, your voice became louder and more intense. Glancing down, in your arms laid an almost lifeless Daisuke. He gasped in shock, clutching his stomach as you continued panicking.

Jimmy ignored you, staring down at the man in your arms. “Don’t do anything!” He demanded before muttering; “stop” over and over. “I can fix thi-..” He spoke, causing Swansea to cut him off. “Why do you keep fucking saying that?” He asked, hands on his hips.

Daisuke groaned softly, causing the two men to shut up. “I-..I’m s-sorry..” He mumbled, shaking his head in sorrow. You leaned down, hugging his head to your shoulder like he was a baby. “It’s going to be okay, just stay still. I’ve got you, I promise.” You reassured, planting a light kiss on his temple.

“We still have disinfectant, right?” Swansea turned back towards Jimmy, his hands now over his chest. “The one from the extra medical stash?” He asked quite frantically before demanding he grabbed it.

“The cocktail..” Jimmy trailed off, glancing down at Daisuke. “The cocktail?!” Swansea shouted. “What are are blabbering about?” As the two men bickered, you drowned their voices out. You kept your eyes on your boyfriend, watching him squirm in your arms.

“You need to stop moving around!” You cried, almost pleading for him to stop. Jimmy stood up before walking away with Swansea, you being left alone with Daisuke.

______

After about 20 minutes, the two of them came back. Jimmy held a bottle of mouthwash in his hand, causing you to shout at him as he sat down in front of you, taking the bottle cap off. “Are you crazy?” You asked, knowing what he was about to use the blue liquid for.

“It’s the only thing we have.” He replied harshly. He tore the cap off, tossing it to the ground before turning it to the side. You pull Daisuke back, not letting Jimmy touch him. “You can’t!” You plead, shaking your head.

The brunette only glared at you, his grip on the bottle tightening. “Let him go, Y/N.” He demanded. You shook your head once again, not wanting him to touch the man in your arms.

“No..” You mumble, holding Daisuke to your chest. “Godammit, let him go!” He yelled at you, causing tears to flow down your cheeks. Hesitantly, you obeyed. Jimmy let out a deep breath, turning the bottle onto its side once more, letting the liquid fall out and onto Daisuke’s wounds.

It sizzled as you covered your ears with the palm of your hands, hearing your boyfriend’s screams. You hiccup, curling in on yourself.

You just couldn’t bear to listen to his raspy voice cry.

______

3 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

You stayed behind, watching the door to medical. There was a chance she could change her mind and unlock the door, making you the first to see her after the incident. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her guilty face as she stepped out of the door, accepting your attempt to hug her.

But your thoughts were cut short by a loud scream echoing behind the automatic door. You recognized that scream almost immediately. Your face twisted from pleased to panic in an instant as you gripped the side of the door, your fingernails barely grasping the metal.

As you groaned, you pulled as hard as you could. But to your dismay, it didn’t budge. You silently waited, knowing you couldn’t do anything. The only thing swirling inside your mind was the hope that Daisuke got to the other side of the vent, let alone was still alive.

You heard a grunt before Daisuke spoke up. Your muscles tensed, hearing his voice. It was raspy; sounding like his vocal cords could explode any second now. “Anya..? Wh-..What did you do?” His voice was shaky, hinting that he was crying.

Your breath became faster, anxiety rushing through your veins. “Daisuke, that’s you, right? Baby, I need you to open the door for me right now!” You shouted, banging on the door in hopes he would obey. You heard shuffling inside the room before the click of the door, causing it to automatically open.

The sight in front of you was unbelievable. Curly laid on the medical bed, staring directly at you. Anya sat on the ground beside him, pills scattered around her, making the cause of her death easily visible. Overdosing.

You fought the urge to scream at her to wake up, knowing that if you did, it would only be a waste of time. You then glanced at your feet, seeing your boyfriend with cuts all over him.

You instantly react, lifting his body up by the arms. You drag him out of the room, a light blood trail following. Rough footsteps came from behind you, but you couldn’t bother to turn back, already knowing it was Jimmy.

“What the fuck?” He muttered in shock, causing you to yell at him. “Don’t just stand there, what is wrong with you?! Help me!” You cried, feeling a deep gash on Daisuke’s chest. The older man took him from your arms, carrying him into the lounge.

You stayed close behind, noticing that Daisuke’s blood was all over your arms and hands, and even your jumper. You stared in shock, but you didn’t say anything. You knew panicking wouldn’t do anyone any good.

______

7 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT

After Jimmy used the mouthwash as disinfectant, Daisuke’s wounds didn’t seem to get better. You ended up blowing up at the older man, screaming at him, saying what a shitty job he’s done.

You almost broke skin from your knuckles from smashing the metal floor, trying to let your frustration out.

Swansea was the one who had to comfort you. He didn’t hold you, but he did have his arms loosely wrapped around you, guiding you to sit on the floor as Jimmy kept muttering random words to Daisuke.

He sat you against the wall on the other side of the door, letting you glance over at the wounded brunette whenever you felt like it. You continued sobbing, not caring if you were ugly crying or not. That was the least of everyone’s concerns.

Everything came crashing down on you like a train. You hadn’t registered Anya’s death until now, along with how serious Daisuke’s injuries actually were. You couldn’t believe what was happening. You couldn’t escape this nightmare.

Your body faced Daisuke, your arms wrapping around your own body in attempt to ground yourself from lashing out at Jimmy once again. You hiccuped, feeling Swansea’s hand gently caress your back. He was seated next to you, his body also facing the two men.

“It’s going to be alright.” You heard him mumble. You weren’t sure if he was muttering those words to you or him, but you nodded nonetheless.

You lowered your head into your arms, feeling the dried blood of Daisuke flake off. You snuffled, resting your head against the metal wall.

“I know.” You replied, your voice raspy. It hurt to speak after shouting for a minute straight, but that was the consequence of your own actions. After a few minutes, you felt the tears that fell from your eyes finally dry.

You muffled a sob as Swansea pat your back, giving you one last glance before standing up. He walked back towards Daisuke and Jimmy, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You quickly decided to follow suit, feeling your legs wobble as you stepped towards your boyfriend. It hurt you to stare down at him, knowing the paining backstory as to how he got so injured.

You sat down in front of Swansea and Jimmy, Daisuke lying in between. You held an expression of someone who’s exhausted, yet still fighting for worth. That’s exactly where you were at now.

Except the only person who made you feel like you were finally worth something was bleeding out in front of you. And you can’t do anything about it.

The three of you stayed silent as the brunette continued groaning in pain. You couldn’t help but feel tears sting the corner of your eyes, wishing you could do something to take his pain away.

Letting out a soft sigh, you lean over and wrap your arms around Daisuke before resting his head to your chest, cradling him like you were doing an hour ago.

You felt his fingers loosely grasp around your clothed skin, causing you to let out a soft whine, trying not to break down again. You hid your face from the two men’s view in Daisuke’s hair, your forehead to the top of his head.

You knew his time would be over soon, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it. And so, you cradled him in your arms like a baby, not ready to let go. Suddenly, you heard Jimmy’s harsh tone of voice.

“I can fix this.” He muttered, his expression calm, yet his body language stated otherwise. He was shaky, twitching out of hesitance.

You lifted your head, watching as he let out a deep sigh. His eyes were set on Daisuke’s stomach, seeing blood continue to flow out of his body.

You then turned your attention towards Swansea, who already had his eyes set on you. Your brows upturned, seeing his saddened expression. He knew what you were thinking.

You gave Daisuke a short lived kiss on the top of his head before placing your chin in that exact spot, careful not to put any pressure. You advert your eyes to the side, ignoring the older man’s stare.

“It’s going to be alright.” You whisper to the man in your arms, repeating what Swansea had said earlier. You felt a lump in your throat, feeling the tears continue to sting your eyes.

“I know it hurts, but p-..please, I can’t do this without you.” Your voice was so soft that Daisuke could barely hear you.

He knew he didn’t have much time left, seeing as blood was gushing out of his chest. But he continued fighting, not ready to leave you alone on this space freighter.

______

6 HOURS UNTIL JUDGEMENT.

“The bleeding won’t stop.” Jimmy’s voice rang through the intense air. Daisuke still laid in your arms, his eyes glancing towards you from time to time. He could see your expression and how dead you looked.

“Just try to stay still, Daisuke. I-..I need a second to think. We can fix this.” The man with stubble on his chin whispered, causing your body to tense up.

He always said the words, “I can fix this”. Most of the time, he always screwed it up. Why was this time any different?

Swansea stared down at the wounded man in your arms, wondering how he could help. At least he was actually doing something instead of mumbling that he could fix this mess.

Then you. You. You caressed Daisuke’s cheek, causing him to glance up at you again. You can see the pain in his eyes, his suffering to keep himself alive. It was draining him, and it was obvious to everyone nearby.

You couldn’t bear staring at him any longer. The men beside you were stalling, not knowing what to do. But you did. You slowly lowered him to the ground, careful not to make any sudden movements.

As you did so, Daisuke began coughing. He wrapped his arms around himself, blood seeping out past his lips. This only drove you further to do what was necessary. You glanced back up at the older man in front of you, leaning over and holding out your arm.

“Give me the axe, Swansea.” You uttered, your other arm resting at your side, hand running through Daisuke’s sweaty hair, almost like an attempt to comfort him. To soothe his pain.

Swansea hesitantly set his axe in your hand, not wanting to believe what he was thinking. But in the back of his mind, he knew exactly what you were planning. And so did Jimmy. He instantly shouted at you to stop. To think about what you were doing.

But you couldn’t.

Not when the only person you ever actually cared for was in pain. Not while he’s lying in front of you helplessly, waiting for the suffering to end.

Your hand parted from Daisuke’s hair to help support the weight of the axe. You glanced at the weapon in your hands, then at your wounded boyfriend, then at the men who sat in front of you.

One held a stern look on his face, the other pleading with you to think about what you were doing. But you knew exactly what you were doing. You lowered your head, lips parting from each other as you spoke, staring at the brunette through a pained expression.

“It’ll be okay, Daisuke.” You muttered, ignoring Jimmy’s words that fled your head.

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes I’ve made with keeping myself here. I don’t want to make you suffer with the consequences of something that isn’t your fault, Daisuke.” You somberly shook your head, keeping your eyes locked on him.

“You deserved a better life, not one that requires going to space to make the people you love proud.” Your voice cracked, tears finally breaking free from the tiny glass wall in front of your eyes once again. The liquid fell down your cheeks, planting themselves onto the hard metal ground.

“You should’ve been out there on earth having fun.. but instead, you got stuck with the people who only put you down when you needed them most. And for that, I say sorry. I say sorry for everyone who ever hurt you. And to that, that includes me.”

You held your shoulders high, lifting the axe in your hands and setting the sharp side beside your head.

“Close your eyes, Daisuke.” He obeyed almost instantly, your voice being the last thing he ever heard before you smashed the axe across his face, ending his life.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

authors note

so um.. how do we like this chapter?

(crashing out ASAP as if I didn’t write this entire fic.)

obviously there’s more chapters to come, so be on the look out for that!! chapter eight will be out in a week or two.

like half of this chapter was supposed to be in chapter eight, but I couldn’t stop myself from hitting you all with more angst after each sentence. I got carried away

nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I definitely enjoyed writing it<3

(and crying while doing so)

[luckybunny001]

“It only took a moment…”

(Mouthwashing Daisuke x Mechanic! Reader)

The crew had been stranded in space for what felt like an eternity—food supplies dwindling, hope fading.

Curly, their captain, lay immobile in the medical bay, a constant reminder of their dire circumstances.

Jimmy, the co-captain, ruled with an iron fist, belittling everyone and taking advantage of Curly’s condition.

Anya, the ship’s nurse, fluttered nervously around them, her eyes darting whenever Jimmy came near.

Swansea, the tough-as-nails mechanic, had taken Daisuke under his wing but seemed to grow increasingly frustrated with him.

“Just pull yourself together, Daisuke,” he would say, his gruff voice echoing in Daisuke’s mind.

But now, sitting on the floor, Daisuke felt anything but together. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the swirling thoughts that accompanied his tipsy state.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching.

Panic gripped him, and he quickly wiped at his eyes, hoping to hide the evidence of his inebriation. But as he opened his eyes,

Reader appeared in the dim light, her silhouette framed by the flickering overhead. She looked down at him, concern etching her features.

“Daisuke?” she said softly, kneeling beside him. “What’s wrong? You look… off.”

He forced a smile, trying to mask his feelings. “I’m fine! Just… taking a little break, you know?” His voice was unsteady, betraying the bravado he was trying to project.

Reader frowned, her brow creasing with worry. “You don’t look fine. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He felt the walls closing in around him, the weight of the ship’s uncertainty pressing down on his chest. “Really, I’m—” But before he could finish, the dam broke. Tears, pooling at the corner of his eyes as he quickly squeezed them shut to prevent them to fall but to no avail as he felt the sting grow more as the tears escaped his eyes.

Reader’s expression shifted from concern to immediate empathy. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

Daisuke buried his face in her shoulder, the warmth of her body grounding him as he let the tears flow freely. He felt embarrassed and vulnerable, but there was something about Reader’s presence that made it feel safe to let it all out.

The warmth of her concern was like a beacon in the darkness that surrounded him, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashed down. “I… I’m sorry, Reader,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “I just… I feel like such a loser. I can’t do anything right.”

“Daisuke, you’re not a loser,” Reader said firmly, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “You’re one of the most optimistic people I know. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. We’re all struggling right now.”

“I thought I could handle it,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I thought I could be helpful, but all I’ve done is mess things up. I can’t even—” He choked on his words, the shame washing over him like a tidal wave. “I drank mouthwash! I can’t even do that right.”

Reader pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, her gaze steady and unyielding. “Listen to me. You’re not defined by this moment. None of us are. We’re in a tough spot, and it’s okay to not be okay. You’re trying, and that counts for something. You bring light to this ship, Daisuke. You really do.”

He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “But Curly… and Jimmy… and Swansea… they all think I’m just a burden.”

“Curly is in a bad place, and Jimmy… well, he’s just Jimmy,” she said, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and sympathy. “And Swansea? He’s tough because he cares. He sees potential in you, but it’s hard for him to show it right now. You’re not a burden. You’re part of this crew, just like the rest of us.”

The mention of Curly brought a fresh wave of pain to Daisuke’s heart. The captain had been a beacon of kindness, now reduced to a shadow of his former self. “I just wish things were different,” he murmured as Daisuke took a shaky breath, absorbing her words. “But what if we don’t make it? What if we run out of food and… and…”

Reader’s eyes softened, and she cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “We will make it.” Reader said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “But crying won’t help. We need to be strong for each other, especially now.”

Daisuke leaned against her, the warmth of her body grounding him in a way he desperately needed. “How do you stay so strong?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But I remember why I’m here. I think about the people I care about — like you, Daisuke. You make it worth it. And I know you can be strong too.”

He swallowed hard, her words wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. “I want to be strong. For you. For the crew.”

“Then let’s do it together,” she said, her eyes shining with determination. “We’ll figure this out. One day at a time.”

As the tension began to ease, Daisuke felt the crushing weight of despair lift, if only slightly. “Thanks, Reader. You always know what to say.”

“Just don’t bottle it up next time, okay?” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “You can always talk to me. I’m here for you.”

Daisuke nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. “I will. I promise.”

Before he could think twice, he leaned in and hugged her tightly, grateful for her support. She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

In that moment, surrounded by the uncertainty of space and the weight of their situation, Daisuke felt a sense of belonging that had eluded him for so long.

Maybe it was with her… he didn’t know.

They were lost, yes, but together, they could navigate the abyss.

As the ship drifted silently through the cosmos, two hearts found solace in each other. And for the first time in a long while, Daisuke believed that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way forward.

Unfortunately… that wasn’t possible for one of them at least….

[roventum]

putting him in the cat ear headset