#skull was my fav and I need more

[redrobin-detective]

I was looking for Lockwood and Co FanFiction the last few nights because I’m starved and was disappointed to find it’s mostly Locklyle stuff. I have no problem with the ship but godddd such a rich, complicated world needs non shipping fics.

And my best dude, Skull is only a weird side character and doesn’t get the spotlight he deserves. There’s so much that can be done with his character and I have so many ideas.

Basically I’m quickly reaching the ‘if I don’t fjnd the content I need soon I’m gonna roll up my shirt sleeves and make it myself’

[mars-ipan]

turn your brain off

[blkkizzat]

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙈𝙚𝙣 𝙁𝙖𝙫 𝘼𝙡𝙩 𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠 ♡

₊˚⊹♡

NURU MASSAGE ft. Choso Kamo x Reader m.list

summary: Choso has stamina for days but needs to work on his endurance and you know the perfect way to achieve that.

cw: nuru, edging, dirty talk, cockrings, femdom, slight masochism/sadism a/n: My fav anon, 🪞 anon, requested a list of JJK Men Fav Alt Fuck Kinks (non vag penetration). Love the idea but I'm pretty busy so going to release these one by one when I find the time. I will update the ask as an m.list for it soon. wc: 2.3k slightly black fem coded, no descriptors

Recently devirginized Choso who is still working on his endurance but has plenty of stamina. He cums quickly but recovers just as fast, fucking you and himself into repeated overstimulation until you are both delirious.

By the end of the night you are a sticky fucked out mess. Choso spurts out more buckets of his cum inside you than your poor pussy can hold to the point you are questioning the limits of your birth control, not to mention washing your sheets daily.

However, you know something needs to be done when no amount of aftercare can stop his cum from still oozing out of you at work during the day. You quickly realized you needed to pack an extra change of panties with you as the ones you have on are guaranteed to be completely soiled by lunchtime. 

For the sake of your cunt which had turned into a storage well for Choso’s cum and your overwashed bedding and undies that had begun to fray, Choso needed to build some endurance. You knew the perfect way to accomplish that.

That’s how Choso realizes how much he loves nuru massages.

“Y/N, baby, p-puh-lease! L-Let me cum!”

Choso lay whimpering beneath your naked oil slicked body as you slowly rocked your hips on top of him, yet there was no penetration this time. 

This was his endurance training. 

Choso’s cock was being compressed between his stomach and your cunt as your folds had parted wide to spread over his sizable girth. Your swollen clit drags along the length of him while your tits glisten as they jiggle temptingly in his face like a treat. 

You smile down at him sweetly with half-lidded eyes and shake your head no.

Choso doesn’t hold back his whines and cries of frustration at you denying him.

Perhaps you were enjoying the desperation of your half-curse boyfriend withering under you, painfully hard and vulnerable, a bit too much. 

You reasoned this was for his benefit just as much as yours while you savored the intense heat of his arousal under you that sent tingles all over your body causing your heart to race with excitement. 

Choso on the other hand was biting his inner cheek so hard he almost drew blood. 

Honestly, he had never been this hard before. 

He surely would have long already spilled a load of creamy white fluids all over his taunt abs from just your bare pussy rubbing on him like this. Yet he couldn’t reach the sweet ecstasy of release due to the tight cockring currently around his girth.

If the torture of you grinding on him wasn’t enough, Choso wasn’t even allowed to touch you as you had his arms restrained overhead. The cute skull charms dangling from the fuzzy black cuffs on his wrists clink together every time he strains against his bindings.

You both knew he could break out of them faster than you could blink. But he promised you he would be a good boy. 

However, that still didn’t stop him from begging. 

“S-shit-shit baby– Fuck! Let me touch you Y/N, pleaseee! I’ll make you feel so good princess, wanna make you feel so good on my cock.”

You hum out a moan, the rolling of your hips never faltering, as if you were seriously considering his request before your lip slightly curls up.

“Mmm but Cho baby, your cock is already making me feel really good. Ah there! You’re holding back so well like you promised. This is hard for me too, you know.”

You gave him a small look of frustration but it was obvious to him just how much you were enjoying this. 

Almost reaching your next high, you couldn’t keep up your weak charade long at all. Your eyelids fluttered and you threw your head back as you picked up the pace bouncing on top of him.

You had cum once already from teasing Choso like this and it was torture for him to play such a passive role. Much preferring to shower you with his affections, he really struggled with receiving, especially given these circumstances.

But promising you to be a good boy, Choso can only watch helplessly as you rut your body, that was divinely perfect in his eyes, against him while your hands roam to grasp and knead your tits. 

Something you knew he would quite literally murder to do right now.

Panting rapidly and voice quivering, tremors run through your body as you gush all over on his cock. 

A strained cry comes from Choso as he swears he could have busted a nut right then from the feeling of your slicked sweaty thighs shaking and your warm release flowing over his pelvis. The sight of you cumming so hard from just rubbing against him with that dazed look on your face was so fucking sexy and was pushing him beyond his limits.

Barely a minute goes by though before you resume your grinding causing Choso to hiss and throw his head back in defeat.

You weren’t completely lying before though about this being hard for you. Although this was immensely pleasurable it was nothing compared to the feeling of Choso carving his thick shape into your tight cunt and the more you teased him the more you ached for it. 

“H-Hear it Cho? How much you just made me cum?”

Of course Choso heard it, the messy squelching sounds of your pretty pussy smacking down on his throbbing cock were the only sounds louder than his whines. The lubricant and his precum mixes with your essence still steadily seeping out of you causing your movements to become sloppy as you slither against him, digging your nails into his sides for leverage.

Choso’s resolve was rapidly crumbling as he started bucking his hips up.

You couldn’t have him breaking so soon though. 

You both had decided with his high stamina he should be able to endure you cumming 3 times before he did so he had to last a bit longer.

Even knowing this it didn’t stop the pained sob elicited from your boyfriend when your hips came to a stop. 

God, Choso is so fucking baby girl all cute and needy.

The training purposes of your actions were quickly pushed out of your mind as you only wanted to see his handsome face contort, his nose scrunching ever so slightly as he pleaded you for mercy. 

Choso could use the safe word if it was really too much but you knew he wouldn’t anyway, Choso was a bit of a masochist when he was in this state. 

Your long manicured nails raked red lines along his torso as you sank yourself down flush onto his body. 

The moisture easily allowed you to glide your hardened nipples over his as you settled on his chest, continuing to tease him massaging your nipples over his own.  

Choso didn't know how much more of this he could handle before snapping and just fucking you, especially now that your perky tits joined with your velvety cunt in the assault against his body. 

FUCK!

He definitely wasn’t prepared for you maneuvering yourself a bit higher so his bulbous tip hooked under your clit before sliding back and teasing against your hole. 

You paused to press his angry leaking cockhead ever so slightly over your entrance letting him momentarily feel the way your pussy flexed for him, crying more fluids as your cunt tried to suck him in fully, before you pulled away.  

You gave him no reprieve as you repeated the seductive movements over and over.

Choso’s mouth parted in a half pout, his bottom lip trembling with furrowed brows and glassy eyes that threatened tears as he gripped the cuffs causing the chains to bend almost snapping in two. 

You knew how much you were stressing your poor sweet boyfriend the fuck out. He was a trooper for lasting this long but you knew he couldn’t much longer. 

That didn’t mean you weren’t going to enjoy every second of it until that happened.

“You’re doing so well baby girl, gonna let you cum soon, kay?”

Choso blushed hard at you calling him baby girl. 

He wanted to hate when you called him that, much preferring your moans of ‘Daddy!’ beneath him since it made him feel like he was the one taking care of you. 

Nevertheless, his intense desire to please and obey any request you gave him activated when you so possessively referred to him as your ‘baby girl’. He felt so unworthy of you at times and the fact you even wanted to take care of made him love you so much more, even if he had already made a promise to himself to be the one to take care of you.

“C-cum with me this time Choso, you’ve been so good for me baby girl.”

You praised him again as your own vision became hazy and you pushed past your fatigue as you clung to him. Your bodies so soaked with the cocktail of sweat, oil and fluids has you now digging your nails into his back just to stay on.

Capturing his lips in a kiss and swallowing his moans, you reached down to remove the binding on his cock. Choso had grown even bigger around the ring and you had to give a good tug even with the lubricant from your bodies to get it off of him.

No sooner than finally freeing Choso from the confines of the sillcone cockring did all the tension in him finally explode. 

You felt his cock thrash against you, toppling you into your own delicious orgasm as his entire body and its appendages involuntary twitched and quivered. Moaning loudly Choso violently came, spilling the largest thickest load you’ve seen from him yet between your heaving bodies. 

After a couple minutes you raised your head to look at him. Choso had snapped the chains of his confines in two, yet the cuffs were still around each of his wrists akin to a bracelet. His large hands covered his face and he struggled to steady his still erratic breathing.

When you see fat tears roll down the corner of his eyes a bit of guilt hits you as you wonder if you pushed him a bit too far this time. Wanting to comfort him with some aftercare you will your exhausted body up to retrieve a warm towel. 

However, no sooner had you sat up did Choso’s hand catch your wrist in a vice grip hold stopping you.

You whipped back to see Choso had sat up as well. He still hadn’t fully caught his breath though and a hand was still over his face. 

“Awe baby girl. I’ll be right back to cuddle you Cho, ok? Just going to go get us a towel.”

“No.”

The cold empty reply sent chills through you. 

You quickly realized he wasn’t clinging to you now for comfort.

You swallowed hard as the hand covering his face slowly descended to reveal the expanded barbed vertical blood lines over his eyes that were piercing into you like a starved animal staring down its next meal.

Shit. Choso was a pretty easy-going guy but you always knew he meant business once he had activated Flowing Red Scale. 

Before you could even form the words you felt your back hit the mattress and just as quickly he was on top of you. Gripping the fat of your thighs he slides your ass flush to him as his hands trail up your sore legs to force them back to your ears.

Your eyes rolled back and you choked on a sob when he pushed all 8 thick inches of his dick into you all at once, bottoming out in you with a single thrust despite the tight squeeze. Choso grit his teeth, still hard even after cumming that much didn’t mean he wasn’t still sensitive but he didn’t care as he could only think of fucking into your creamy cunt until you were screaming under him.

Not even giving you a chance to adjust, your breath hitches and falters every time he roughly slammed his hips down on yours. The firm grip on your hips would surely leave marks as he pounded your cunt open wider. Before your mind could even process the shift your ‘baby girl’ had transformed back into ‘daddy’. 

And currently your daddy was treating you like his brand new pocket pussy he had yet to break in.

“P-P-Puhleaseeee Daddy w-wait!”

He looked down on you with the same curl lipped expression you gave him earlier as moisture gathered on your lashes.

“You’ll take this dick as it comes, Y/N. S-Say, it. Fuck! Say you’ll take all of it for daddy, hm doll?”

Choso is rabid. 

He’s growling down at you now and drooling as he fucks you into a stupor. 

You’re babbling incoherent responses before they turn into mere gurgles as your tongue lulls out of your mouth. Seeing the drool leak outside your mouth Choso gives you a dominating opened mouth his sucking on your tongue hard and sending you towards your 4th orgasm of the night. It would not be your last.

Overall, results of his endurance training had been a success. Choso lasted much longer each round. 

However, contrary to your original thoughts, this did not decrease the amount of loads he pumped into you, only extended the length of each round to nearly double of the previous times before.

This puts you right back at square one. 

In fact you might be in the negative, as in the end all this resulted in was him building up larger loads, fucking his cum into you harder for longer and causing even more to spill out on your sheets as your pulverized cunt can’t possibly keep it all in. 

In the morning, Choso pulls your sore and completely exhausted body even closer to him. He takes his time as he peppers your face and neck with kisses while his fingers lightly ghost over your inner thighs, still moist from the remnants of his cum still seeping out.

You’re too tired to do anything but let him touch your body the way he wants to as you fade back into a heavy sleep. You are already back slumbering by the time he lightly coos a request into your ear.

“Let’s do that again tonight babe, okay?”

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: Choso is so bbgyal. 🥹 Love him sm. 💖 reblogs are appreciated 🙏🏽

Edit 1/3 - made some improvements !

Footjobs ft. Suguru is next, it's pretty much done so I'll post it tomorrow. Comment and lmk on the m.list if you want to be tagged.

[clovestreet]

don’t stop- peeta mellark

summary: a heated make out turns into something more🤭

warnings: SMUT (16+)⚠️ heavy making out, dry humping

authors note: first time writing for peeta so please be kind:) this is one of my fav kind of smut prompts to read and there is absolutely no peeta smut anywhere😓😓i hope you guys enjoy:)

Something had come over you.

It was very rare that you felt so incredibly desperate for your boyfriend, but today that overwhelming feeling hit you like a freight train.

You didn’t know what had made you feel this way. It could have been the way his strong arms looked this morning when he was moving furniture for Haymitch, so perfectly toned and sculpted. Or it could have been the way he held you in his arms this morning and kissed you until your lips were flushed and swollen. Or maybe it was the way his towel hung so lowly around his hips when he stepped out of the shower this afternoon with water droplets still clinging to his abs.

That boy had been driving you crazy all day and you simply could not focus on anything. He consumed your every thought and all you wanted to do was touch him. You found your mind drifting toward the dirtiest thoughts and tried to squeeze you legs together to suppress the frustrated ache building between your legs.

But lucky for you, that same boy was now pinned underneath you in nothing but his boxers with his hands up your shirt groaning everytime you moved above him.

What had started as gentle and loving makeout session escalated to something far more needy and passionate.

Peeta looked so beautiful underneath you, his blonde hair still damp from his shower messily laid across his forehead, his tan chest flexing underneath your touch, his lips glistening with your saliva.

You were straddled on his lap, thighs on either side of his with your hands moving back and forth from his shoulders to his hair. He had one hand on your waist, pulling you closer to his chest and one hand under your shirt, toying with the waistband of your underwear.

Neither of you had come up for air. You were both so desperate for eachother and so obsessed with the other you couldn’t stop. Every kiss was so intense it felt like it could be your last.

After being lost in your own thoughts for a moment, you broke the kiss and shifted your focus to Peeta’s neck, which you knew would drive him absolutely insane. You began to gently suck and bite his neck and then swipe over the spot with your toungue.

Peeta was loving every moment of it.

His gasps and hums quickly turned into groans as his hands left your hips and went straight to gripping your ass.

“You’re so good baby” he groaned into your hair.

You wanted more, you wanted to make him a mess underneath you. You needed it. And you knew exactly how to do it.

While still sucking on his neck, you began to grind your hips onto Peeta. You knew exactly how to roll your hips into Peeta's; a way that would make his eyes roll back into his skull and make his jaw fall slack.

"Oh my god babe" he gasped into your ear.

His fingers tugged the messy hair at the nape of your neck and pulled your closer. You thought you couldn't be any more intertwined with Peeta.

You were wrong.

You felt the obvious bulge in his boxers growing underneath you which only made you grind onto him harder. You wanted nothing more than to hear his sweet moans and feel his fingers leave delicious bruises on your hips.

"Baby if you keep going, I'm gonna come." he breathed into your neck.

"Fine by me" you whispered with a cheeky grin pasted on your face.

You moved your leg farther up his body, your kneecap resting against his ribs. You kept grinding on him, the new angle impossibly more intense than before.

Peeta's groans turned throatier and deeper. His eyes were screwed shut as his beautiful sounds were lost in your neck and your collarbone. He wrapped his arm under your leg and pulled you even tighter on him and started to use his hands to grind you onto him even harder. He was getting desperate now.

"It's so good babe, I can-"

His praise was interrupted by a shaky moan. You could tell he was on the edge.

"Come on Peeta, let go babe." you whispered sinfully into his ear.

You started to bounce slightly on him and you could feel him everywhere. You pressed your lips under the base of his ear, making small breathy moans into his ear.

One last roll of your hips and Peeta was coming undone. His groans echoed the room and he came hard. His biceps caged around your and held you on his warm and glistening chest as he grinded his hips into you to ride out his high.

He was so beautiful when he was like this, and the fact that you were the only one who got to see him in this state turned you on more than you could even begin to describe.

After coming back from the heaven you had sent him to, you leaned down to kiss him softly.

"I can't believe you just made me come in my boxers." he laughed into your lips.

"I'm pretty good huh?"

"I think your a little better than good baby."

You smiled back into his mouth and began to roll off of him. But before you had the chance, he was pulling you back and under him.

"Not so fast babe. Gotta make you feel good too." he murmured into your lips.

Before you knew it, he was hovering over you with his knee between your legs and your heart was racing.

Part 2?

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi, I love your writing! Are you still taking requests? What about a villain finding out his fav hero is actually an robot?

The hero went missing briefly and in their reunion his systems start to panic, the villain attempt to help? And finds out there is grey metal under his mask? Not skin?

"Oh," the villain said, soft. "Oh, I see."

"See what?" The hero stayed turned away, head bowed, frantically trying to shield his face. "Don't look at me. Just - what are you doing here?"

"I came to rescue you."

"R-rescue me?"

The villain stepped closer into the hero's cell. Heat radiated off the hero's back and, well. The villain pressed a finger to the back of the hero's neck; where the skin had burnt away, revealing the cold grey of metal and circuitry.

The hero gasped and whirled.

His face was - well, it was fried from the few short days he'd spent missing, captured. Where his enemies had tried to bruise him, bleed him, there were caved in spaces that revealed yet more metal. The hint of a perfect silver skull. Veins which throbbed with electricity instead of blood. Even one of the hero's eyes were gone, replaced by the startling blue of a machine staring back. Well, they were always blue but...so muffled, before, compared to what the villain looked at then.

The two of them stared at each other.

"You can't tell anyone," the hero said.

"I always thought you were too impossibly good to be true," the villain replied. "Too flawless."

"Don't," the hero whispered.

The villain took the hero's jaw, carefully, tenderly, in their hands. "Look what a mess they've made of you. I'll kill them for it."

The hero closed the one eye that he could. He trembled, so exquisitely life-like, so exquisitely alive, in the villain's palms.

"They must have been so angry when they found out what you were," the villain said. He let his finger stroke over the ruined curve of the hero's cheek. "I'm glad I got here before they destroyed you completely."

"Why? What are you going to do with me?"

The hero took a step back.

The villain let him go, for now, studying him with fresh eyes. More and more puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Do with you?"

"I'm not human."

"You're beautiful."

"I'm not - if people know -"

"I've never heard you talk like that before. System overload?"

The hero shook his head. Something sparked. "You're d-dodging the question."

"Well," the villain said, evenly. "I was going to take you out of here. Clean up your wounds at my place. That sort of thing. I could probably makeshift the kind of specialist support you currently need in my lab, but I imagine you have a much better set up at home. So I guess I'm taking you home. If that's okay with you."

"Home," the hero echoed. He stood frozen.

"Home."

"You're not mad? Mad? Mad?" The hero managed to jerk to a halt. He heaved a ragged, shuddering breath.

"No."

"I'm not human. You came to rescue a human. Human." The hero shoved a hand over his mouth. The tremors were more forceful than before.

If the villain touched him again, he would be fever hot, wouldn't he?

The villain shrugged.

"I don't understand," the hero said.

"Unsurprising. You're not running at full capacity right now, are you? So shall we pick this up again when you're out of here? And feeling a bit better? It would be tragic if I came all this way just for you to overheat in front of me."

The hero stared some more. The blue eye contracted and expanded, whirring noiselessly. The villain wished he knew what kind of diagnostics the hero was running. How it all worked. He wanted to know everything.

His brain, such as it was, must surely be the most gorgeous thing.

He'd always wanted to know how the hero ticked but this...oh, this. He held out a hand and smiled.

"It's a relief, actually," the villain said. "I'm not mad. Now. Let's get you back in your mask, shall we?"

By the time the repairs were done, it was impossible to tell. It was extraordinary. Giddying. A love letter to the best that people could be.

And the hero looked shattered by the truth of it.

[heartfullofleeches]

how would rascal be with a reader who isn’t too into the more dominate role? ive always been shy and can never see myself having the upper hand, but i love this little bunny guy sm!! though it feels maybe my choices of persona wouldn’t be his fav 😢😢

would it be like two bottoms in a room? LOL

What Rascal values most in a partner is someone who shows little to no fear in its presence. All they've known from humans is terror and hatred so anyone who feels differently is destined to be his mate in Rascal's eyes. A reader with a more controlling/dominate personality eases worries Rascal himself has over accidently harming his human when he gets too excited around them.

Rascal would be just as happy with a shy darling as he is with creep or any other darling, but it's best if you're verbal with some boundaries you have or bunny man will be all over you twenty-four seven. Something as simple as telling it you need some space will usually get him to sulk in the corner long enough for you to have a couple hours to yourself.

On top of everything, Rascal is more discreet with his aggressive side around a shyer reader. With someone like Creep, Rascal knows they'd probably wouldn't be bothered by what's underneath its mask or if he took the occasional bite out of their neighbors as long as they don't get caught and it's not one of the few creep tolerates. Turning the one person who genuinely cares for them into another who is scared of them is Rascal's biggest fear. They wouldn't know what to do if you hated them too.

-

"That was a really scary movie, Rascal. Specially that mask the killer wore..."

The rabbit's shoulders slump as his eyes flicker from the film's cover to the faint reflection of itself in the television screen. If you glanced at it from afar, the killer's mask - a recreation of an executioner's hood, it almost looked a bit like...

His.

Rascal's head falls to your lap, its long legs perched over the side of the couch as it tries to make itself small as a cute little bunny one would normally have as a pet. He nudges your hand with his cheek, pressing at it till it rests atop his head right where his left ear connects with his skull - one of his favorite places for you to pet him when he's stressed.

"Oh no, Rascal- That wasn't about you. I like your mask! It's cute!- Just like you..."

Hearing those magic words, Rascal's mood flips like a switch. The rabbit springs up, pulling your legs over its own as they cage you against their furry chest with their massive arms, pleased that your fear of bloodthirsty monsters in masks only applied to ones of fiction.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

HELLO!

Thought of asking you bc I ADORE your writing, the way you write the NikPrice ship is by far my fav, I would've wrote it myself but I love your way of writing more heh.

BUT price, having a nightmare or ptsd attack at night, but not waking nik up nor does he wake up. Prob just stirred a bit. But he doesn't end up telling him, cause hes a big strong boy he doesn't want to show nik how vulnerable he really is. But nik notices how tense he is during the day, which ofc worries him. Que the emotional conversation maybe a cry and long hug :3

If you haven't written something like this anyway! Also ty for the follow made me giggle and die a bit inside from happiness <3

Thank you for this prompt and your fic is below, but! Please write. Write your heart out, bud. No one can write like you do and the world is richer for having your art in it. So please. Write this too. Even if just for yourself.

Price spent three years in a Gulag. That leaves a mark.

cw: PTSD, nightmares, mention of torture, dissociation, depersonalisation, shameless canon blending.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-1-2-1-0."

A rib cracked. He spat blood onto the table next to the file. The ropes around his wrists tightened.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-"

He bit through his bottom lip when the fist landed. Someone stepped forward to intervene. You don't break their faces because then they can't talk. Interrogation 101. He coughed. More blood, and they yanked him upright by the hair.

"Svyazat yego."

The chair clattered to the floor as he was pulled from it. The ropes cut only for his hands to be chained above his head. The same knife sliced his shirt off, the rags falling around his shoulders. Metal tools rattled to his left, the embers from the nearby fire stirred by an iron.

"Last chance, prisoner 627," his interrogator held the list of names in front of his face. He recognised five of them. He had attended the wedding of one, "confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Cap--"

His voice broke as pain tore through his back.

Price woke tangled in damp sheets, his body paralysed. The scream couldn't even rip out of his throat because his lungs needed air to make noise. Through sheer force of will, he drew his first shuddering breath, pulling himself back from the precipice.

See: digital clock. 04:30.

Taste: dry mouth. Need a drink.

Feel: hot, no; cold... both? Damp sheets.

Hear: breathing, not mine.

Price sat up slowly, forcing movement through his limbs like he was prying them from manacles. The next breath was easier. Burned less. He dropped his face into his palm and shivered in the cold. Feel: cold, he updated on his mental map.

Breathing, not mine. Price looked over his shoulder to the sleeping face of his lover. Half nuzzled into the pillows, his black hair splashed over crisp white cotton, Nikolai was serene. A small mercy.

All the manuals would tell you about wounded soldiers waking screaming and begging in the night, perhaps wetting themselves in terror at the ghosts haunting the inside of their skull. They warned against storing weapons nearby, of sleeping in the same bed as your loved ones in case you lashed out. There was a laundry list of suggested therapies and interventions too.

Sometimes, Price wished he woke screaming, because at least then he would know he was alive. His throat and lungs would burn as he roared, his hands would flail and he would be left panting, raw, but fighting. Alive. Now, in the numb silence, he wasn't sure.

He touched his cold wrist with cold fingers and just felt... cold. Like an absence of something. Prisoner 627. No name, no identity; a nothingness stored in a castle with hundreds of other voids where people should have been. Everything human about them stolen away until just the cold and the pain remained.

Price stumbled from the bed, his legs barely working as he groped his way out of his bedroom. He had to sleep with the doors open these days, even on base. Even if it was just a crack, a sliver, he still needed to be able to lift his head and see an escape. A beyond the little box room of his quarters. Not imprisoned, not restrained.

His feet registered the change from carpet to tile as he navigated his way down the hall to his flat's little kitchenette. Lit by the full moon streaming in through the balcony door, Price managed to fill the kettle and set it to boil.

There was a small blue light inside - one of those modern glass varieties that showed all the bloody limescale on the inside - and it illuminated Price's face against the black laminate of the back splash behind the hob. Price stared at the phantom image, blue and featureless, and saw nothing of himself.

He remembered being rescued, watching the castle fall to the joint task force attacking it, but when you spent three years bleeding in a place, did all of you really ever get to leave? When they spent those three years chipping away at you, breaking parts off, what was left to bring back at all?

As he stared at the ghostly blue outline of his own face, he felt a disconnect. A hollowness where that familiarity with self should be. Lost in the cold and the dark. Prisoner 627.

The kettle clicked loudly in the silence and he startled. His heart beat hard against his rib cage, felt like a distant echo, and he drew another deep sigh. Numb fingers pawed at the cupboards and he found his Liverpool FC mug, the one his sister had got him for his birthday while he'd still been in training at Sandhurst. There was a chip missing out the rim, dark stains and scrapes in the ceramic at the bottom that would never wash out; evidence of hundreds of cups drunk, a small shard of a life lived. An anchor to himself.

As he poured the water over the tea bag and dumped four teaspoons of sugar in, Price fluttered his fingers through the steam, rubbing his thumb through the dampness it left on the tips and letting the sensation crackle through his nerves. He drew another breath and muttered, "Price, Jonathan, Captain..." Prisoner 627.

He cupped both hands around the mug and carried it slowly, stumbling, towards the balcony window. The sky wasn't quite dark anymore, but a fuzzy, ashen grey. His eyes turned east. And he waited.

Waited...

Unmoving. Frozen in place. Like the cold had taken root and turned him to stone. The only things that kept him anchored were the cooling mug of tea clasped between two hands and the yellow light bleeding over the rooftops of the Clydeside.

The sun chased the dark away across the sky, bleeding an ombre of fire into the midnight black. With the sun came the heat. He couldn't feel it though. One hand left the mug, alive with warmth, and played in the dust motes illuminated by the morning light. They whirled around his fingers in white spirals, untouchable light.

He turned the key in the balcony doors and staggered outside, thrusting his arm into the dappled orange light passing through his neighbours fluttering laundry. "Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-" he leaned over, and--

"John!"

Nikolai's hand wrapped his elbow, pure, scorching heat and strength, and it knocked the breath from Price's lungs. He nearly dropped his mug, but Nik caught that too, scooping beneath it as he drew Price to him in a bear hug.

His ear fell against Nik's chest, listening to his heart thundering on the inside. Ba-dm-ba-dm. Price's hand lifted and buried itself in dark chest hair, feeling it run between his fingers, soft, warm. The sensation rolled through him, cracking away the ice, and he turned his face into it with a shivering gasp.

Alive.

I'm alive.

The mug clattered on the glass surface of the little balcony table they had smoked at only the night before, Price lost in his thoughts while Nikolai had watched him pensively from the other chair. Both big hands now free, one stroked up his back to grasp his neck, and he shuddered again.

Nik looked terrified, his usually calm eyes blown wide, glistening. "You nearly fell," Nik said, so softly, and yet so clear. So real. Price touched his lips, relaxing into his hold.

"Was fine, Nik. Just got a bit carried away with the sunrise."

Nik glanced at the rooftops, his brows knitted together. "It is... pretty, but better viewed from inside, hm?"

"Yeah, s'pretty chilly out here, ain't it?"

Nik hesitated before he let go and Price missed the warmth of his arms immediately. He followed inside, let Nik pull him onto the sofa and drag one of the big fleece blankets over them. The heat of his body as it closed around Price's burned with intensity and a stuttering gasp broke out of his throat. Nik only held him tighter.

Every moment he laid there, wrapped in the bed warm scent, a piece of Jonathan Price thawed. From the tips of his toes to the cheek pressed to Nik's chest, warmth and feeling returned, bringing with it a sense of reality and connection to the world. To himself.

"Why were you on the balcony, John?" Nik asked. Price got a sense that he was afraid of the answer, and wasn't entirely convinced he would be given the truth anyway.

"In Petrovpavlosk, my cell faced east," Price said. "Would watch the sun rise every morning. It was like... No matter what they did, no matter what they broke away, if I could feel the sun on my skin, then I was still alive. Still me. Not just a dead man walkin'."

Nik sighed, burying his face in Price's hair for a few deep breaths. "You thought you were there again?"

"Dunno if I ever really left, Nik."

They held each other in silence as the light continued to creep into the flat, illuminating the empty bottles of beer they had left on the coffee table to clear up. "I sensed these past weeks you have been struggling, I know the anniversary of your escape is soon, and I feared you were..."

"That I was gonna throw myself off an' give Beryl a fright."

"John, do not joke about these things..."

"'m sorry, I... I wasn't gonna do it, Nik. Swear to you. I..." he struggled upright a little and Nik let him go reluctantly, "I struggle in the cold. The winter is... I dunno... it's like the cold makes me think I'm still there. That I never got out. That this," he glanced around the flat, his voice cracking as he spoke, "is just some dream my mind made up to escape to. I... I didn't know whether I was real, whether I was me... or... I didn't... Nik, I didn't know whether I was even alive, I..."

Nik's fingernails raked through his beard and he leaned into it. Felt them graze gently over the soft skin beneath his ear, and then into his hairline to draw him down. He yielded to the kiss, mouth opening desperately to let Nik in; he pawed at Nik's chest, stealing stuttering gasps as their tongues worked together.

He didn't notice the tears until he pulled back and one dripped from his chin to Nik's chest. "You are here, solnyshko. Right here, with me," Nik whispered. "Captain Jonathan Price, serial number 9-0-5-1-2-1-0," Nik took the hand on his chest and placed a kiss to the knuckles, "Bravo Six, you are home."

Price crumpled into Nik's arms and his shoulders shuddered as he sobbed. No longer mute, no longer cold, no longer frozen out of his own fucking body, the raw pain of it sunk its claws in, overwhelming and savage.

Nik's hands stroked down Price's back to the burn scars at the base; an uneven, mottled pattern that stretched over his right hip. The sensation was sporadic, some sensitive, some numb, but the muscles underneath still seized with pain. Nik placed his warm palm over them, chasing away the last shadow of Petrovpavlosk hanging over him.

As the morning ticked over and the rest of the block woke up, Nik dragged Price back to the kitchen and pushed a pan into his hands. He stood behind him, huge body looming as a bulwark, chin on Price's head, hands caressing his belly and chest, as the eggs cooked.

Home, Price's mind offered weakly, battered and bruised from its fight with the cold. Home.

[sebsbarnes]

psychopomp || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: it was that moment, underneath the streetlight, that tangerine knew he had no choice but to love you

warnings: death, dying, anxiety

word count: 1.6k+ ; ANGST

masterlist

a/n; can't lie team this one kinda hurts maybe not as bad as 'the days you meet' but its also a diff kind of hurt??? anyways enjoy? inspo from one of my fav songs

psychopomp: a spiritual guide to a living person's soul

it had been a year. one year since tangerine died on the bullet train. one year of grieving the man you loved harder each day that passed. you woke up each day wishing it was a dream, some sick fucking dream meant to torment you until it drove you mad but you'd still wake up. and when you did, tangerine would be lying next to you in bed, one arm draped lazily around your waist greeting you good morning.

it was only a day before tangerine died that the two of you finally spoke those three words. it wasn't even needed truth be told. you both knew the love you had for the other whether it be your actions or words, it was evident.

"you are my everything," tangerine whispered to you one night. the confession came out of nowhere in the middle of watching an action movie. from his lap you looked up at him, cheeks turning red but thankfully the dull light from the tv masked the blush. reaching up you gently stroked his chin running a thumb across his bottom lip.

"you are my everything and more."

the memory ached. your skull felt tight and you screwed your eyes tight wishing away the painful memory. it felt too real. it felt like that night two years ago was unfolding at the current moment. you could almost smell tangerine's shampoo and feel the fabric of the couch on your legs. it's not real. the air held no fragrance and the bed sheets were a far sensation from the fabric of the couch.

"i don't think i'd ever be able to do life without you," you grinned lovingly at tangerine. he stumbled in his steps, caught off guard by the loving sentiment.

tangerine quirked an eyebrow at you, "why 'cause i picked out some peppers for you?" he joked holding up a plastic bag of peppers he just grabbed from the grocery store shelf.

the laugh you let out echoed off the walls of the grocery store earning some curious eyes. some may think it's silly to profess such a statement for an action that is so mundane but you were smitten by tangerine, and something as simple as grocery shopping was something you wished to never experience without him.

even though you lay there with closed eyes you felt your lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. you could remember the confused yet playful tone in his voice and the way he dangled the bag of peppers. you swore you could feel the tingling on your cheek after he kissed you and then whisked you away to check out. your fingers twitched to caress your cheek but your arm couldn't move.

it was beautiful, that night 366 days ago. the sky had never been so clear. the breeze drifted delicately across your bare arms. the distant sound of a mother urging their child that it was time to leave the park was met with defiance. it made you giggle, understanding the desire to stay out late and continue to play. tangerine was standing behind you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, head tucked into your neck. his breathing tickled your neck ever so slightly raising goosebumps. you weren’t sure if it was intentional but he was rocking the two of you side to side as you both admired the sky. the way the midnight blue encapsulated the fiery orange.

“i love you,” he stated as if it was the easiest thing to say.

and it was. it was so easy the way the vowels and consonants rolled off his tongue to form three simple words. three words used so much on their own yet when put together carried the weight of the world.

you turned in his arms that moved to your waist and brought yours around his neck. he watched as your eyes glossed over and shined back at him as if he was staring at a star.

“i love you, tangerine.”

"do you mean it?" he jested with a lopsided grin, the fingers on your waist pushing you closer to his body.

"more than you could ever possibly know... moron..."

you took a heavy breath through your nose. your chest ached the same way it did that night except this time your heart pounded from anxiety. you swear you can feel tangerine here with you, you can feel the way his fingers pushed into your skin, you can hear the sound of his heart beating.

his heart beating.

it's not possible.

"but it is," you heard a whisper somewhere far in the depths of your mind.

you heaved forward and your eyes darted around. the lights were too bright and you could barely make out the figure in the corner of the room through half-open eyes. you ran a hand across your face in some measly attempt to wake yourself up more. if you weren't tucked underneath the white sheets you would've fallen over at the sight before you.

"tan- tangerine. w-what? i don't understand, what? what are you doing here," your head couldn't figure out what the hell was happening.

tangerine appeared at your bedside, his smile pulled into a line. he sighed, "i think it's me that should be asking what you are doing here?"

you looked at him quizzically. is he serious you thought. before you could yell at the man you thought was dead for the last year, you watched him solemnly gaze around the room, the side of his lips twitching. you seized all motion besides the robotic movement of your head as you took in the room around you.

white walls and floors, a white bed. a large window into a hallway. there were people running back and forth. the door slammed open and in rushed a frantic man adorned in a white coat. you watched him walk past you and in front of tangerine as if he wasn't there. the man in the coat yelled out to someone behind his shoulder and despite being next to him his voice was distant.

"tan, i don't understand what's going on," you whispered with shaking hands.

tangerine attempted to blink away tears. his blue eyes were even more striking in this moment. he looked beautiful standing next to you but you couldn't ignore the grief on his face.

"there was an accident," he said with a cracking voice, "a bad one."

you turned to look over your shoulder but you were face to face with yourself. anxiety crept throughout every vein inside your body and you began to pant. you felt your chest concaving into itself and you felt the swelling of your throat. you watched the doctors and nurses poke and prod at your body, the monitors unleashing their high-pitched songs.

"i don't understand tangerine what is happening. please, what is happening," you pleaded through panicked tears.

"you were in a car accident darlin'," he swallowed back the sob he wanted to let out. he placed his hands on your shoulders forcing you to face him now.

and you could feel it. you could feel the weight on your shoulders. you could feel the warmth on his hands. he was here. you could feel him, you could smell his cologne, you could see the way his eyes were looking at you, you could hear his voice.

"b-but you're dead... how. does that mean...?" you trailed off waiting to hear his answer as the tears brimming in your eyes finally broke.

"no, my love. not yet," he murmured, his hands rubbing down your arms attempting to bring you comfort, though the tears streaming down his beautiful face made you feel worse.

"i can't do life without you," you pleaded tugging at his hands, threading your fingers through his.

tangerine closed his eyes and steadied his breath. he desperately tried to ignore the way your eyes shined just like that night 366 days ago. the way the streetlights and the tears in your eyes shined as you confessed your love for him was a far cry from the reason why your eyes shined right now. but he couldn't help but be transported back to that park. he wished with every fiber of his being that that night never ended. that you two stood swaying back and forth muttering 'i love you' until dawn broke and day turned into night and night turned into day and you stood there on the pavement until your feet wore holes into the ground.

but he couldn't.

so he let your hands drop to your sides and brought his arms behind his neck. you watched as the gold chain lifted from his chest and he enclosed your hand with his pressing a firm kiss to your forehead.

"it's not your time, darlin'," he grieved. you felt the gold chain snake its way into your palm.

you felt a jolt of electricity course through your body. you could feel it in every bone, muscle, and vein and it ripped into your lungs and it tore you awake. you were met with the frantic eyes of doctors and nurses, some of whom sighed in relief.

"almost lost you there!" one of them chucked nervously fidgeting with a monitor and tubes.

unfortunately, that was the least of your concerns. your eyes scanned every inch of the room looking for tangerine. he was here. he was just here. he was real and alive. he had a pulse. his chest fell and rose because he was alive, he was breathing. you felt his hands on you and you felt his lips on your skin. so where was he? why don't you see him?

"excuse me where did that gentleman go?" you asked.

one of the nurses turned to you confused, "i'm sorry?"

"the man that was standing next to me. long hair, mustache, in a suit?" you pried hoping for any form of recollection to grace her face.

"i'm sorry miss but no one has been in here. i've been monitoring you alone for the past two hours until you started to flatline," she stated confusion still riddled in her tone.

all you could do was mutter the quietest of ohs. you looked down at your body that was now re-tucked underneath white sheets, an iv poking your left arm, a cast protecting your right hand. the white walls and floors with the large window in the wall, just like you had seen.

you noticed the nurse hunch down to the ground before standing up and examining something.

"oh this must be yours!" she exclaimed as you brought your eyes to look at her.

"how cute," she giggled, "there's a little tangerine on it."

time moved in slow motion as she placed the gold necklace in your hand.

[a-ikuoliver]

congrats on two years!! what an amazing milestone to hit! 💕 i feel so lucky that i'm here and caught this!

if it's alright with you, i'd like to order one bloody mary (my fav) + one bakugo please. can't wait to see where this drink takes me 🙂‍↕️

bunny!!! thank u so much! n ty for being here my love! i hope you like your cocktail ehehehe birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

a bloody mary, a classic, and the bartenders personal favourite, his speciality, the process second nature to him after years behind the bar; his muscles moving on their own accord to chop the celery, slice a lemon and pour the vodka, juice and sauce. he hardly even measured anymore, the recipe was something he could do in his sleep, he could probably rake in tips doing his pours blindfolded, they were always perfect anyway, he wouldn’t have a thing to worry about.

they’d even started making it a special the nights he worked the bar, but sometimes he needed a break from the monotony of it all, of pouring, of shaking, of measuring, of chopping, of straining. sometimes he just needed a pretty distraction.

“can i get a bloody mary please?” the moment you handed him the token for your free drink, bakugou knew you’d be the perfect choice for his game, so gorgeous, all done up to dance with your friends, your dress a little short and your shoes a little high, you even wobbled a little on your way up to the bar.

“sure you can handle it? we have margarita’s as well,” his eyes rake over you, his tone playful enough, poking fun even as he leans closer, resting his forearms on the dark wood. you stare up at him, distracted momentarily from fiddling with the strap of your shoe, meeting his vermilion eyes, a wicked twinkle shining nearly as much as his pointed canines, his lips pulled back into an easy, confident smirk, “i like bloody mary’s, thank you very much.”

you can’t help the attitude sneaking into your tone; first you wait in line for nearly an hour, your shoes are already hurting your feet, and now the bartender can’t even make you the drink you want? what kind of night did your friends rope you into?

bakugou tries not to let it show how your attitude makes his hips jump, how his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his skull at how you spoke to him, this game was always more fun with brats; getting to watch the attitude melt the wetter he got you, he wouldn’t even have to fuck you to leave your brain blank. nodding, he tried not to let his mind wander too far making your drink, the routine doing nothing to distract him of the thought of you under him, only able to spit out his name.

the chopping, squeezing, measuring and pouring happened before the bass dropped on the song blasting out of the speakers surrounding the bar, the only break in his routine when he got to the tabasco sauce. spinning on his heel to face you once more, he talks again in that infuriatingly seductive voice, “how much can you take, sweetheart?”

if your drink had been ready, you’d have choked on it, the gravelly tone of his voice making your heart spike and your legs wobble, even with the strap of your shoe fixed, “i’m sorry?”

“i’m just askin’ how much heat you can handle, baby,” the expression on his face is anything but innocent, holding the neck of the tabasco bottle between two thick fingers, shaking it gently for emphasis when you stared back at him. with a hot face, your eyes drop to the diamond label, a bloom of embarrassment burning low in your stomach. you were too sober for this kinda flirting.

“oh,” your voice is hardly a squeak, nodding rapidly for him to shake the bottle over the glass again, stirring the glass as he dashed more in,”when.”

“that much? that’s how hot you like it, huh?” he steps closer, impossibly lowering his voice, “c’mon, i know you can take more than that.”

your heart pounds against your chest, your thighs subtly clenching together at the sound of his husky voice, the dirty line making your mind wander further toward the gutter.

“tell me, baby, you want it?” your drink is forgotten underneath the counter, your only focus on the plump of his bottom lip, on the thin chain dangling around his throat, “you want it hot?”

you feel like you need to pinch yourself, surely this is a dream, you didn’t even know this bartenders name—”bakugou! you done with this?”

his eyes don’t falter from yours for a moment, humming deeply in response, “yeah, one second.”

still armed with that lethal smile, he garnishes your cocktail, displaying the neatly chopped celery, two slices of lemon and a couple of leaves of basil beside your straw, the final touches to his speciality. flipping over a napkin, he sits your finished drink atop it, you’re almost certain the drink isn’t as hot as you are right now, your body burning and buzzing without so much as smelling the savoury cocktail. sliding it across the short counter towards you, his dark eyes don’t miss a single one of your movements, eyes sparkling like he could see the daydreams already plaguing you, “enjoy your night, sweetheart.”

[emperor-palpaminty]

HEY MINTY i saw you have added call of duty to your list of writings???? can i please request Ghost and "secret kiss" with a female reader??? <3

Ayeeeee Ghost my bbgorl! I got another Ghost with "You don't understand, I would do anything to protect you" so I will mush em together! I also saw one fic have ghost call the reader "sweetness" and it's my new fav so guess you're sweetness now

TW for typical war talk and discussions of war-related violence, cursing, and kissing (smoochie smoochie)

Reblogs and comments are appreciated and preferred.

In the most briefest of words, and in perhaps the least eloquent phrasing, war sucked ass. You cringed as you hobbled across the hallway, your leg still sore. The stitches still stung and, honestly, you should have been resting- but war brought no rest.

You paused long enough to lean on the wall and gingerly pressed a hand to your thigh. The pain meds were really wearing off, and, sadly, you were still a distance away from your bunk. You hummed to yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling to fight off the pain from the still healing cut.

Something in the air moved, shifted. You closed your eyes tighter and tried to ignore the presence, perhaps praying that he would just ignore you.

"Supposed to be on rest, sweetness." The source of the scolding was gruff and dry, only laced with concern.

A chuckle left your lips and you opened your eyes, looking over at Ghost. His arms were crossed and, even with the glaring skull mask, you could tell that the eyes under it were far angrier. "Past your bedtime too, LT."

Somehow, his gaze narrowed more. Dim sparks flew from his eyes. "Not what I fuckin' meant."

Sighing, your head rolled back. There was a moment of deliberation in your head- if you stayed, and argued, you would lose and be forced back into confinement. If you agreed, you would also go back to bedrest. It was, really, a lose-lose situation. A strangled groan left your throat. It was back to the four walls and the thin cot, the painkillers and the thick blanket of boredom. "Fine. I shall return to my suite, LT."

You turned to leave, hiding the wince with a chuckle (and a pitiful one at that). Reluctant weight found it's way to your injured leg and you stifled a groan again, quickly shifting weight to your other leg, desperate to move.

"That injury bad?"

You stiffened, but took a slower step away. "Nope."

Pause. "You sure?"

"Yep." Now, that came out more like a groan than anything else. You managed a couple more steps, cursing the pain medications, the guy who cut you, and your apartment lack of skills in hand to hand combat. "Mental note: I need you to train me more in close combat."

"Not really a mental note if you say it out lout, sweetness."

You aimed your glare straight ahead- Ghosts's large form was next to you, keeping a languid pace, watching you move. "Thanks, Ghost. You're a real pal."

Ghost leaned down, only slightly, voice dropping. "More than a pal, though."

Your gaze narrowed as you looked up at him. An argument began to surface in your mouth, but then he bent down, grabbing you and hoisting you into the air bridal style. "LT!" You yelped, arms flying around his neck. You felt a chuckle in his thick throat as he walked, paces long and confident. "Put me down."

"Nah."

Your wound ached, but less than it had with your weight on it. "Simon Riley. Put me down this instant."

"Negative, Sweetness." Ghost walked calmly, not swayed by your protests, you smacking his shoulder, or your curses. "Can't have you walking on a bad leg."

"Why not?"

His gaze flickered to you, burning. "You know well why."

"In public?" You hissed. The hairs on the back of your neck bristled as he gave a low rumble that resembled a laugh. "Bold today, aren't we." Ghost ducked under the door, shutting it and setting you on the ground. The hand on your back pressed you in, and his free hand moved up and shoved up his mask far enough to reveal the blonde stubble and a set of gritted teeth.

More alone now, Ghost grabbed your face and pulled you in. His chapped mouth landed on yours, your sigh rounding with a soft hum. Your fingers dug into his vest, tightening in the material. He pressed away, exhaling, and you saw his eyes were closed as he leaned his forehead against you. Simon gave a deep breath, mouth parting, and words no longer muffled.

"Fucked me up when I heard you yell out there." Gloved thumbs traced the round of your cheeks, tone uncharacteristically soft.

You pulled back from him and attempted a chuckle, the situation suffocatingly heavy. "Handled it well, though. Got to my handgun quick enough."

Simon's eyes moved from your mouth to your own eyes, meeting them, holding his gaze steady. He commanded attention, and you were certainly no exception. "I should have been closer." Simon tilted his head, gently leaning your chin up with a finger. "You don't understand, sweetness. I would do anything to protect you. Fucker's lucky you killed him before I got there- would have lost his fingers."

You blinked up at him. Ghost was brutal. Blunt. But sometimes, Simon had slightly rounded edges- not soft, but just more gentle. No less threatening to people who hurt his team mates, especially you. "Doesn't mean you failed, you know." Your lips pulled into a frown. "I hope you don't think that."

Simon's own lips twitched into a very slight smile, tugging you in. "Go rest, Sweetness." He pecked you again, then turned away. "I'll come check in on you after tonight. If I find you out of bed and up again, I'll tell Price."

"Oh no." You said, tone short as you sunk onto your cot. You raised your hands, shaking them theatrically. "Whatever shall I do. Do not tell Price. I am so scared."

His eyes flashed at you again. "You'll get put on mess duty, once that leg is better, then."

You suppressed a smile and eased back, stretching your leg out. "Understood, LT."

"Soon as you get better, I'll give you a proper punishment then." Ghost tugged his mask down, but you swore that you managed to catch a smile as he concealed his face and left you alone to recover and rest.

[weemssapphic]

ohhh, first of all: HIII i adore your writing. The visions fic in particular? easily one of my faves. ("favs, say favs" [i cannot not hear Gwen say that whenever I say/write faves]) Anyway haha, I was wondering if you could maybe write a female potions teacher/ Larissa fic where you borrow the concept of Amortentia and when they brew it in class Reader realises she's utterly and hopelessly in love with Larissa (and maybe Larissa is also there as extra supervision bc it's such a "dangerous" potion?"... and she also smells smth that reminds her of the reader?)

Amortentia: Fated Attraction

aw thank you so much! favs, say favs hehe that made me giggle :D thank you for the request <3 this was so much fun to write and i hope it lives up to your expectations! ao3 link in title, as per usual.

thank you to @afeatherformills for editing and to @sapphicsbeloved for letting me pick your brain (now you have more context hehe) <3

words: ~2.2k

warnings/content: none really, just kind of fluffy / admitting feelings for each other, kissing

“Who can tell me what we’re brewing today?” 

Dozens of arms shot into the air, the students’ curious eyes trained upon the cauldron on your desk. You grinned, knowing the hints you had dropped in last week’s lesson had worked and your students were going to be engaged in today’s little experiment. 

“Yes, Bianca?”

“Amortentia. The world’s most powerful love potion.”

“You are correct.” Your grin grew wider. “Can anyone tell me what Amortentia does? Wednesday?”

“Amortentia causes a powerful infatuation to form for the person who drinks the potion. It smells different to each person, according to what most attracts them,” the raven-haired girl deadpanned.

“Someone clearly did her homework. Thank you, Wednesday. Now-” your lecture was interrupted by a loud knock.

The door to your classroom opened a crack and Larissa popped her head inside. “I’m sorry, my meeting just ended. Am I too late?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the stately blonde. 

“Not at all, we were just getting started. Class, Principal Weems will be joining us today. Bianca was right - Amortentia is the world’s most powerful love potion, which can make it quite dangerous, and we thought it best to have an extra adult to supervise you. Don’t let her presence phase you.”

You shot a teasing wink at your students and waved Larissa into the room. She stalked over to your desk, hips swaying, and somehow you knew it was you who would be phased by her presence, more so than any of the kids.

“Principal Weems,” you leaned back onto the desk, scooting closer to her until you were nearly thigh to thigh, deciding you were going to make the most of the rare occasion of having her in your classroom. “Do you think you could tell the class what ingredients we’ll need for our potion?”

Larissa raised a perfectly sculpted brow, ruby-red lips pursing at the challenge, icy gaze piercing yours. For a moment your pulse quickened, you worried you had overstepped. Then her lips quirked up in a soft smirk and she turned her head to address your students. 

“We will be needing rose petals, peppermint, moonstone and, most importantly, pearl dust.”

You shot her a grateful smile, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered when she returned that smile, and turned to the cauldron sitting on your desk where you had already neatly prepared all the ingredients. Normally you would have your students make their own batch of a potion, but you and Larissa had both agreed when coming up with your lesson plan that giving a bunch of horny teenagers the world’s strongest infatuation potion was a recipe for disaster.

Once you’d gotten a small flame burning under your cauldron, you turned back to your class, hyper-aware of the many pairs of eyes burning holes into your skull. Even Larissa was watching you with interest. 

“Come on guys, you aren’t normally this engaged in class,” you teased with a chuckle. “Now you can come up here - don’t push each other - just fill in the back there… perfect.” 

Once the kids were gathered around your desk and the cauldron was bubbling to your satisfaction, you began to add the ingredients, chatting to the class about the history of love potions. 

Every so often, you caught Larissa’s eye from across your desk and she gave you an encouraging nod, a soft smile. She seemed to be hanging onto your every word and it made your heart beat just a little faster than normal, though you couldn’t quite place why. 

You did have a bit of a crush on your boss but it was harmless, really. The two of you were good friends. You’d been working at Nevermore together for years now and had built up a friendly rapport, knowing you could trust each other with both workplace and personal matters. You frequently met up for coffee at the Weathervane and shared the occasional bottle of wine in her office to let out your frustrations about students and other staff. So what if you sometimes got lost in her cerulean eyes, or imagined what she looked like under her designer dresses? So what if you pictured yourself holding her hand in the hallways or taking her out to dinner? It was just a harmless crush.

The potion began to develop its characteristic mother-of-pearl sheen and your lips curled up in satisfaction. Spirals of steam rose from inside the cauldron and several students began to push forward, entranced, trying to get a whiff of the concoction.

“‘Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what most attracts them’,” you quoted Wednesday’s earlier words. “Anyone care to share what they smell?”

Tentative glances were shared between the students, many suddenly too timid to speak. It was Enid who raised her hand first.

“Yes, Enid?” You nodded at the young blonde, hoping you sounded soft and encouraging.

“I smell lavender... cool night air… and, um, Wednesday’s hand sanitizer.” A blush crept up her neck at the admission and Wednesday elbowed her girlfriend in the ribs, shooting daggers at her with wide eyes.

“Thank you for sharing, Enid,” you smiled reassuringly at the girl, honestly just grateful that someone had participated in your lesson.

“What do you smell, Ms. Y/L/N?” Wednesday looked up at you through dark lashes, her words an open challenge, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she tried to make you squirm. You rolled your eyes - you should have known this would happen.

“Ms. Addams, I hardly think it is appropriate-” Larissa began, but you interjected before she could finish.

“It’s alright, Principal Weems, what’s the harm in answering a simple question.” You shot her a playful wink and ignored her dangerous look.

You leaned over the potion, closing your eyes and letting out a contented sigh as you took a deep breath, allowing the scent of the potion to wash over you.

“Mmm I smell… fresh laundry…” At first you smelled freshly washed sheets, one of your favorite scents, even since childhood. But then you smelled red wine. Cinnamon. Conditioner - but not your own. Your brows knit together in concentration. 

Who was it that you were smelling? You didn’t even really like red wine yourself. The gears in your mind turned as you racked your brain, you were sure the whole class could hear you think. Oh. Your stomach dropped.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” Enid’s voice shook you out of your reverie. Your eyes fluttered open and you swallowed thickly. You realized with a sinking feeling that your students had all borne witness to your internal struggle and were now watching your face flush in real time. The pit in your stomach grew when your eyes made contact with Larissa’s. Sapphire pools stared back at you in concern, brows furrowed in confusion. 

It was her. The smell. The occasional Friday night you shared in her office, strictly as coworkers, sipping red wine by the fire. Sitting close enough to smell her conditioner, her perfume, a sweet scent with notes of cinnamon that sometimes, in your tipsy state, made you wish you could bury your head in her neck and stay there forever. You were in love with Larissa Weems.

“You have a crush on someone.” You couldn’t help but glare at Wednesday, who grinned as if she had won a bet. Knowing her, maybe she had.

For the rest of the lesson, you pointedly avoided the gaze of a certain principal, who was watching you with curious eyes, unable to place your reaction at smelling the Amortentia.

When the bell rang, you were grateful to have a free period to collect your thoughts, and you ushered your students out of the classroom as quickly as you could. You shut the door behind the last one and clicked the lock, closing your eyes and leaning with your back against the door, letting out a frustrated groan.

“The world’s most powerful love potion,” Larissa’s voice made your eyes snap open and your heart drop into your stomach - you’d thought you were alone. The silver-haired woman was leaning over the cauldron, face partially obscured by wispy spirals of shimmering, pearl-colored steam.

“Well, technically, a true love potion doesn’t exist. Love can’t be artificially created. It would only cause a strong infatuation for the drinker.” You stepped forward to meet Larissa at the cauldron. This time, you immediately recognized the scent emanating from it, leaning in involuntarily. How could you not have known?

“That’s what makes it so dangerous,” Larissa’s eyes were focused on the bubbling of the potion as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, she seemed lost in thought. You came around to her side of the desk until the two of you stood shoulder to shoulder. As you stepped closer, you saw the loose wisps of Larissa’s silver curls coming out of her usually perfect updo, sticking to her forehead from the steam rising from the inside of the cauldron. Even so, she was perfect to you.

“What do you smell?” You whispered, nudging her playfully. You were playing with fire…

Larissa stole a glance at you, hesitating for a moment, then closed her eyes and sniffed at the swirls of steam rising from the cauldron. Her nose wrinkled lightly and it took everything in you to suppress the sigh of adoration threatening to bubble forth from your chest as you watched her, her eyelashes fluttering against the rosy apples of her cheeks, brows crinkling at the center in thought.

She hummed as the scent of the potion reached her nostrils. Freshly brewed coffee. Okay, so she was more of a hot chocolate drinker herself… The scent of burning herbs. Kind of reminded her of the potions classroom… A flowery perfume. Why did it smell so familiar? 

Larissa felt a heat rise in her cheeks as her brain connected the dots. She drew back, opening her eyes but refusing to meet your gaze, instead using her hands to steady herself on the desk in front of her. How had she not realized it before?

“Rissa?” You breathed, ducking your head in an attempt to get the taller woman to make eye contact with you. 

Your use of her nickname had the desired effect, but her eyes were filled with uncertainty and fear. 

You hoped this meant she had smelled you, just as you had smelled her. Your palms began to sweat, heat coiling in the pit of your stomach. An electricity buzzed in the air, pulling you almost magnetically towards the woman in front of you. You stepped towards her until you had to crane your neck back to look up at her face, your heart pounding erratically in your chest. 

Larissa’s pupils widened imperceptibly, her lips parted as she straightened to her full height, now towering over you. Her breath ghosted across your face as she leaned closer, stopping just short of your lips, hesitating as she hovered over you. Her tongue darted over her lower lip, eyes glassy and swirling with emotion as they flickered nervously between the both of yours. 

It was you who closed the distance. Your lips met, hesitantly at first. Larissa was still against you and, for a moment, you considered drawing back, now unsure whether the kiss was truly wanted. Just as you were about to pull away, you felt a strong hand grasp your waist, another thread in your hair as Larissa’s lips began to move against yours, soft and wanting.

A soft whimper escaped your throat, causing Larissa to hum in satisfaction and tighten her grip on you, pulling you flush against her. Your hands snaked around Larissa’s neck, raking your fingernails lightly along the skin at the nape of her neck, eliciting a low moan from her. 

When you parted, you were both panting. She dipped her neck down to press her forehead to yours and you enjoyed the feeling of her warm breath on your cheek.

You couldn’t help yourself - you let out a hearty chuckle, and Larissa shot you a quizzical glance, gently and almost instinctively running her thumb along your jaw.

“And to think you almost didn’t approve of brewing the Amortentia,” you grinned lazily, leaning into her touch.

A gorgeous blush bloomed over Larissa’s cheeks. “Yes, well, had I known this would happen, I would have approved it much sooner.”

“Sure,” you murmured, capturing Larissa’s lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Any other dangerous potions you’d like to try out, Ms. Y/L/N?” Larissa teased, backing you into the desk, regaining the upper hand. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Perhaps we could discuss this more, tonight over dinner?” You were hopeful.

Larissa’s smile was genuine when she hummed in delight. “7 pm sharp. Don’t keep me waiting.”

A final, bruising kiss was placed firmly on your lips, Larissa nipping slightly at your bottom lip and soothing it immediately with her tongue before pulling away. There was an extra sway in her hips as she sauntered out of your classroom, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you realized you’d just scored a first date with the woman of your dreams.

[galacticwarpedlense]

Okay so I know there’s a mod about your spouses reacting to your “death” in both the mines and the skull cavern already but does anyone else think that over time if you kept failing, especially in the skull cavern where it’s pretty much confirmed that you nearly die, their responses become more desperate?

Like going from “please be careful” to “must you go back”?

Let’s use Elliott as an example (because he’s my fav) maybe his responses start off pretty performative especially if it’s the regular mines. Along the lines of-

“I trust you, Darling but please do take care of yourself down there.”

But as time goes on and if you like nearly die in the skull caverns a few times, he starts becoming more pleading like-

“Dear, I understand your goals and aspirations but maybe you need to spend some more time resting or training before you go back there.”

And if it still doesn’t stop happening, he drops all the dramatic flare and gets oddly serious like-

“Please…don’t go back there. I can’t look at you in the hospital again… Is there anything I can say to you to make you not go back?”

Idk, I feel like it adds emotional consequences for being careless, hell it could even mess with the friendship meter of the characters as this would probably get to your spouse emotionally over time.

[unlicensed-queer]

Friends to lovers headcanons with Donnie! One of my fav Jake g twinks :D (Donnie is college age)

Warnings/tags: smut. Donnies kind of creepy, but not like uncharacteristically creepy y'know? Femdom Reader, sub Donnie, switch pilot.

Okay so Donnie first

I'm sticking with the childhood friends sort of story like in "study Session", you guys were little hell raisers together.

He tells you about his delusions and you help him figure out what's real and what's not on bad days.

He always thought he was protective and jealous because you'd known each other so long, but he finally gets it through his skull that he's super into you.

He starts coming up with reasons you should come over more often. He got a new CD you should come over and listen to it, he needs help with his homework, how did you make that weird bracelet thing Maggie needs a birthday gift, etc.

When he decides he wants to confess, he trys to orchastrate it in a cute romantic way but things keep going wrong or he can't get the courage. Then one day you guys are hanging out and just talking, and it's normal and it isn't really special but the fact that it feels special is what makes it special (y'know?). And he realizes the reason he loves you is that he doesn't feel like he needs to perform around you, he can make stupid jokes and have his real laugh (he snorts), and he just blurts it out.

He either says "you're so beautiful" or "I think I love you" and then goes really quiet and red bcuz he's a cutie who has a hard time with emotions

NSFW

So I'm obsessed with Donnie being a creepy little horny fuck because it's fun and I won't be accepting criticism.

He steals your clothes. He's stealing your hoodies if you leave them at his house, he grabbed a pair of your underwear when he came over for your birthday.

When he's home alone he like to shove his face into whatever clothes of yours he has, underwear or bras are his favorite but shirts work, and rut on his bed. He would jerk off but he needs his hands to touch and feel the clothes and he needs you so bad

He gets off on the fact that it's kinda gross. He fantasizes about you finding out and making fun of him for it (kinda that's fucking disgusting show me how you do it, type stuff)

Gets sooooo overwhelmed and oversensitive that he cries. He just can't handle it

Goes brain dead when you ride him. It's his favorite position because he can just lay there and get pussy drunk.

Makes this weird little whimper grunt noise before he comes

Noisy as fuck, you always have to tell him to quiet down.

Tell him what to do and be kinda mean to him, he needs it so bad. He feels so directionless that he just wants to follow instructions sometimes. Also he's always up in his head about being a weirdo and it's cathartic to hear it from someone he trusts in a safe place

That's all folks :)

[starilicious]

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 📍 (you are here!) | part +1

click here to read on AO3

》 part 4.5.2 word count: ~1.9k

》 part 4.5.2 warnings: none

》 part 4.5.2 spoilers: bad batch citadel episode

》 a/n: so sorry i disappeared! college took over my life like a storm but the semester is over now which means back to posting! i hope you all enjoyed the last season of our favs... it was such a bittersweet ending and i'm going to miss watching the show. :(( but in other news, here is the original a/n i had of this part of the fic sitting in my drafts: i lied, 4.5.2 is a longer part than i thought it would originally be LOL but enjoy!!! also, instead of fives dying, i had him disappear off the face of the galaxy. he tells anakin and rex about the chips, but he’s able to get out of that warehouse place alive because i truly despise the fact that echo is the only one left of domino squad… it makes me sad ksdfhgksdf

४.५.१ (4.5.2)

Your personal commlink crackles to life. A staticky voice comes through as you struggle to hear the message. You swiftly link it to your monitor, boosting the long-range signal the best you can.

“–stro? It’s Rex. Can you hear me? We… –und him. Come to dock...–bay six at 1600.”

The channel closes, and the static disappears into silence. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you glance at your chronometer. 0900, it reads.

After Fives disappeared, you became especially close with Rex, often accompanying him on missions where your skills as an engineer were needed. Times were getting rough and the GAR needed all the help they could get out in the field. You were first to volunteer.

For the rest of the day, you’re distracted. Even Arjun, one of the newest engineers on your team as a replacement for Prauf and Sonia, notices it. Dropping tools, tripping over supplies, forgetting your train of thought. You’re just so baffled. Rex has never done this before. And what in the galaxy could he possibly need you for right after a mission?

You’re at the hanger ten minutes early, the anxiety of just wanting to know eating away at your sanity. You tap your foot incessantly when you stand still and pace frequently from one side of the bay to another when you’re in motion, still attempting to decipher Rex’s cryptic message.

And finally (right on time, you vaguely register), two ships dock and disembark. One of them you don’t recognize as being a standard GAR ship–rather, it’s an Omicron-class attack shuttle. Is that what Rex wanted you here for? Some starship? A flash of irritation crosses through your mind as you strain to see the people getting off.

You recognize the Generals facing away from you: Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Windu. But they’re blocking your view of anyone else. You drop your gaze and see Rex’s legs in their classic blue armor as well as someone standing next to him, but you can’t tell who.

The Jedi turn to walk away and finally you can see who they were talking to. You make your way to them quickly. You don’t recognize any of the men but Rex, making you even more confused as to why he called you here.

“Rex?” you call tentatively and he turns around from his conversation to acknowledge you.

Your jaw drops as you take in the sight. The cybernetic legs instead of skin and bone, the scomp link as a replacement for a right hand, the red skull on his armor, the implants dotting his head, his face tired and haggard. His face is exactly like the clones you see everyday, but something about the recognition that lights up in his sunken eyes tells you that it’s still him.

“It’s you,” you whisper in shock, staring blatantly at the man you fell in love with during the midst of a galactic war. The man who found you, the man you lost.

The man you couldn’t save.

Echo gapes at you in surprise, clearly not expecting you to have turned up. He glances behind you at Rex in question before meeting your eyes, seemingly finding his answer.

“Hi, Astro,” he murmurs, voice deep and unused as if he just awoke from a restful night of sleep. For a moment, everything is at a standstill. No one dares to even say a word as you stand in front of each other, unsaid conversations hanging in the air. The wind breezes across your face, a gentle caress as if to say it’s okay. He’s real.

“Echo,” you breathe and throw your arms around him tightly, the shellshocked tears finally streaming down your face. You don’t give a damn about who’s watching, too wrapped in the fact that he’s home, Echo’s home, with me, in my arms.

I will never let you go again.

Echo curls his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, burying his face into your neck as he mumbles your name in what sounds like relief. You hear a choking sob, but whether it’s ripped out of you or out of Echo, you don't care.

“I’m back, I’m here. I’m here,” Echo chants it religiously, pressing his quiet promises into your searing skin and engraving it within. Whether he’s reassuring you or himself, you can’t tell. The plastoid armor cuts uncomfortably into your arms as you hug him, but the pain grounds you from cloud nine.

When Echo died, you and Fives became inseparable, always accompanying each other in quiet support. Both of you were your closest connection to Echo. And then when Fives disappeared, you felt like you lost your fragile tether completely, just floating along like broken space debris. No purpose, no happiness. Just existing within a vacuum void with no life, no resolve, no motivation.

You gently push him away then, taking his gaunt face into your hands to examine him. Your fingers hesitantly touch the implants in his head, and you let out a pained sigh at the slight frown his mouth curves into. Echo’s eyes are sullen, exhausted, but you see his determination as clear as day.

“What have they done to you, Echo?”

He doesn’t respond, instead observing you himself, noticing the darkness under your eyes and your slightly unkempt look, very unlike the prim and proper person he left behind. The brightness in your eyes has dulled, and he sees his own fatigue mirrored in your soul. Echo’s heart aches at the thought.

You take a step back from him, and he loosens his hold on you. You look behind him to see four men–clones, you realize in surprise as you peer closer.

“This is Clone Force 99,” Rex introduces you to them as Echo steps to your right to let you see them fully. “They helped rescue Echo.”

You study each one of them in curiosity as they introduce themselves to you. Clearly, there’s something different about them–you can see it in the way they carry themselves. You shake each one of their hands, reiterating your gratitude again and again.

“Thank you, all of you. I wish I could repay you in some way for rescuing him. You really don’t know how much this means to me,” you say, genuine appreciation coloring your voice. Hunter gives you a knowing smile.

“Anytime! Busting those clankers up is our speciality,” he grins and you can’t help but laugh at his happy demeanor. It kind of reminded you of Fives. A shadow of sadness passes over you, but you push it away quickly.

“Actually, there is something you may be able to do for us,” Tech pipes up. Your eyebrows raise and you gesture for him to continue, noticing Crosshair’s smirk that he makes no effort in suppressing. You weren’t exactly expecting a request at this very moment, but you don’t mind fulfilling it. It’s the least I can do. You hear Rex and Echo quietly laugh behind you.

“You’re an engineer, yes?” Tech inquires, adjusting his goggles to study you. You nod in affirmation.

“Good. I am in need of your services. We seem to be having a slight problem with the suspension support system…” he moves towards the Omicron-class attack shuttle and you follow in his footsteps, leaving the rest of Clone Force 99 and Echo and Rex slightly behind to talk amongst themselves.

You examine the blueprints on the datapad he hands you as he talks at what feels like breakneck speed. “When I pilot the Marauder–” ah, so that’s what it’s called. “–the steering feels quite sluggish and is difficult to handle when we’re in the midst of battle. I deduced it’s due to the suspension, but I can’t seem to pinpoint the exact location nor the nature of the problem even after looking over these schematics for a few hours.”

You hum in response as you scan the diagnostics before finding the issue easily in a matter of a few moments.

“Ah! Don’t worry Tech, this is a very simple fix. You need to realign the thrusters and make sure they’re properly connected to the steering shaft. I suggest taking a look at the control arms too–the thruster hinges that connect to the frame look like they’ve been through a lot, so maybe consider replacing them? I think I’ve got a couple of spare ones in my shop if you want,” you advise, handing the datapad back to him. Tech stares at you, mouth agape as he absentmindedly accepts the datapad.

You simply smile and turn around to see everyone else losing it after watching the exchange. Even Crosshair has cracked a smile, something clearly rare based on his aloof attitude. Puzzled, you ask, “What’s so funny?”

Hunter, bless him, takes mercy on you and explains dutifully. “Tech has been trying to fix that for at least two hours and you figured out the problem in thirty seconds. No one has ever been able to beat Tech at something he knows practically everything about.”

You huff out a light laugh of surprise. “Well, it is my job to fix and repair starships. It would be pretty bad if I wasn’t able to diagnose issues as soon as I got them,” you point out. Hunter nods in agreement as the laughter slowly begins to die down.

“So, I’m assuming you all are getting medals, right? I mean you’ve clearly pulled off an amazing and incredibly difficult mission,” you ask, glancing from one clone to the next, your gaze landing on Echo.

“Not… really our thing,” Tech shrugs.

“Accolades,” Crosshair concurs, mouth moving around the toothpick that seems to be permanently present.

"Yeah, we're just in it for the thrill. Yo!" Wrecker grins, pumping his fist into the air.

Hunter turns to Echo. "You sure it's… your thing?"

You steal a glance at Echo as the confusion dances across his face. "What do you mean?"

"Your path is different," Hunter elaborates before letting out a chuckle. "Like ours."

You can practically see the gears turning in Echo's head as he processes Hunter's underlying message. You stay silent.

"If you ever feel like you don't fit in with them, well… find us.” Hunter inclines his head to the team, and Tech, Crosshair, and Wrecker give you all a nod of goodbye. And with that, you watch Clone Force 99 retire back to their ship, leaving you, Echo, and Rex behind to watch.

“Those are some of the finest troopers I’ve ever fought alongside,” Rex states. He pauses for a moment before placing his hand on Echo’s shoulder, shaking him out of his train of thought.

“Echo.”

He turns to look at him.

“You and I go way back. If that’s where you feel your place is… then that’s where you belong,” Rex asserts, eyes roaming Echo’s conflicted face. You can’t fight the sad smile that appears on your lips. Even through all the pain he’s gone through, Rex always puts his friends–his brothers–first.

Rex rotates slightly to face you. “And if you would like to accompany him, Astro… I can make it happen.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, not believing your ears. Is he serious? You and Echo glance at each other then, an instantaneous unspoken agreement settling into the space between you. Rex pats both of your shoulders and departs.

You and Echo follow Clone Force 99’s path, each step of yours carrying you closer and closer to the unknown. You’re about to leave behind everything.

Your right hand brushes against Echo’s left one.

Well, not quite everything.

And when you all turn around to see Rex one last time and salute to him, you know that no matter what, it will be okay because Echo’s beside you. Right where he should be.

---

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 📍 (you are here!) | part +1

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[messydoodles]

Favorite MK character?

They’re are two categories I have for favorites

Ever since playing the game I work best with characters that have close range special moves or teleporting special moves. Ermac and Smoke are fun to troll AI’s in invasions with because I can spam teleport 24/7. While Jacqui is also nice to play because I can do close stuff to give my opponent no air to breath and like mid range stuff if I need to make some distance away to reorganize myself

Li Mei is my ride or die. This woman is just so fun to play with because for me she’s easy. Her special moves are cool and easy (except that lantern one), her fatalities are fun to watch, and she’s got some sick ass brutalities. I saw her IP Man inspired brutality where she caves in the other character’s skull in and I immediately wanted the chance to play her. She is arguably why I wanted to get MK1 and what pulled me into enjoying the gameplay, not just character stuff. Even though now I maxed out her levels and am trying new characters to level up, she will always be my favorite character no matter what.

The second category for favorite is coolness. My definition of coolness is either design or powers. Nightwolf is a cool motherfucker. MK11 this guy is eye catching with his face paint and powers he gets from “The Great Spirit”. And his like end cinematic thing where he howls and it transitions into a wolf howling to the moon is tuff as hell. Like if I got jumped by Nightwolf I would be shitting bricks because this guy has the biggest aura imo

Skarlet I like because of her original MK11 skin. Something about it gives a cool ass bounty hunter vibe or sci fi Star Wars/Dune look to it that makes her look badass. Also she caught my eye because of her blood mage powers. Imagine fighting against someone who can control blood, like blood bending in Avatar. That’s both scary but an awesome power. That’s why I tried playing her when I picked up MK11 (I didn’t like the long range special moves)

Kung Lao. I’m gonna be honest it’s the hat. Like cmon the man is fighting with a razor hat. The only person I can think of off the top of my head that uses a hat in a fight is Mario in Super Mario Odyssey. Imagine you just get beat down by someone with a razor hat. It’s so wild it’s impressive. I saw an edit once of Kung Lao’s actor for the sprites in MK2 or MK3 and he just looked badass, so I drew the MK3 version of him.

Drew a bit of bonus characters too. Sheeva from MK3 is more cool looking than the MK11 version imo. Geras (MK1) gets cool points purely because he’s voiced by Phil Lamar and is a way better fitting design in MK1 in my eyes. And Kabal is cool cause he’s fast and got sharp hooks

And those are the types of favs. Nothing else, nope!

Don’t look at them please

I would not shut up or hold back if I talked about these hotties, so ima just leave it at that 😊

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Chaggie Headcanons🍎🦋

My Charlie and Vaga(I call Vaggie Vaga now. Guess my take could be called Chaga)

Charlie loves to plays love songs for Vaga. Def has her own version of OH Millie.

Vaga’s also done her own share of songs for Charlie. Usually calm, sweet lullaby like songs. Things “you’re ok Centaurworld, Della Ducks lullaby, you’ll be ok etc”.🌌🌙😴

Vaga collects pretty objects for her. Shells, flowers, fireflies, things that glow, shiny rocks etc🐚🌹

Vaga uses her hair to wrap Charlie when she needs comfort or to get closer with her in bed. Will also sing or hum lullabies to her. Calls it Cocooning🦋

Both have def carried each other, usually when the other’s tired to bring them to bed. Charlie’s especially strong(she’s the Princess of Hell afterall).

Would absolute just pick up Vaga to show people “HEY LOOK AT MY AWESOME GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!💖💖💖💖💖” if Vaga let her.

Charlie def has the most pet names between them💖 fav is “Vagababe” and “mothball”. Vaga blushes so much from these ones😳

Vaga’s called Charlie “apple blossom” and lambkins”, def her fav😊🌸🐑

Enjoy dancing together. Vaga always loved dancing but…fell out of it. Being with the music loving Charlie helped Vaga get that love back💃

Vaga once put on a sorta bird plumage dance but with her hair for Charlie. She loved it 😊

Vaga’s does not like people being too close to her or touch her(especially her hair and antennae) feels most comfortable with Charlie. Charlie likes to make fun little faces and whisper sweet nothings to her hair skull in hopes to make it smile☠️😊

Def keep each other from getting themselves killed whenever they’re sick/hurt/NEED TO REST!

Charlie would think Vaga’s human form is equally adorable as her sinner form. Charlie-Your Soul is the most beautiful, in any form💖

Charlie helps Vaga with her social skills, learning to open up and let loose a bit. Def has had to remind Vaga about not pointing her spear right at peoples faces.

Vaga helps Charlie understand the complexities with sinners and the challenges that come with redemption…especially about the reluctance many have about…sharing their past.

Charlie’s as protective of Vaga as she is of her, if perhaps more. As patient as she is and very aware Vaga can take care of herself for the most part…try anything and she WILL MESS YOU UP! Has absolutely had to contain herself from literally blowing up from sinners trying to make a pass at Vaga(with how human she looks, sinners def find her cute…if perhaps also creepy, she’s part moth)

Also has had to keep Vaga from getting zapped by bright bug zappers.

Charlie usually helps Vaga pick out clothes, especially for formal occasions👗👠. Has given her some of her mother’s old stuff to wear aswell as old stuff she herself doesn’t wear anymore. Also enjoys helping with makeup 💄.

Dates:

Charlie. Loves to go all out, do something sweet and special!

Has Def taken Vaga to Uncle Ozzies for a special date! In fact the picture I used above is based on that! Chaggie Go To Ozzie’s🍎🦋

Also has taken her LuluWorld like that Pilot picture showed with OG Chaggie. Def didn't take her to Loo Loo Land.

Going on the rewrite idea that sinners can go to other Rings. When Charlie read how El Salvador's(Vaga’s home country) also known as the “Land of Volcanoes”, takes Vaga to the Wrath Ring to enjoy the sights.🌋 Also enjoyed the music and dancing. It was nostalgic for Vaga…reminded her of happier times.

Charlie, Absolutely has taken Vaga to every musical possible. Some of Vaga’s top favs include, “In The Heights”, “Hamilton” & “Heathers”!

Vaga. Usually more tame compared to Charlie’s ideas but tries her best to make them just as great💖

Dates planned by Vaga. Usually nice little picnics(by the beach under the stars, watching a park community theatre, on the Hotel Roof)

The Movies, either at a theatre or at home. Usually looks for musical ones, knowing they’re Charlie’s fav💖

Vagas Def made some Salvador meals and goodies for Charlie. Has def made her delicious meals for dates, probably asks Husk to prepare nice drinks too!🍸

A lot of Vaga’s dates are in the evening/night. She’s a moth afterall🦋🌌. Def enjoys the night breeze, not too many people out, the stars, moon etc.

Like to take Charlie to calm, secluded places so they can just enjoy the moment between them.

Charlie’s def looked for things such as food, music, nature etc, that could remind Vaga of her old home, even began to take up Spanish herself for Vaga💖.

Def help brush each other's hair. Vaga especially needs the help.

The apple pin Vaga wears was from Charlie for her cloak. And the bow Charlie wears was from Vaga, ripped a bit of her own cloak and made it into a cute bow for her in thanks.

For my Chaggie, it's not that Charlie puts too much pressure on vaga, would never mean to. But it's Mainly Vagas own inner demons making her devoted to Charlie and do everything she can to help her...especially for what she did☠️🪽🗡️

Does her best to encourage Vaga to think for herself, that it’s ok to disagree with her, think differently from her, question her.

Vaga-I would die and kill for you!

Charlie-Please dont!

Both haven’t always been the most open about the past(Charlie’s old flames, Vaga’s…everything).

Warning, this one’s sad💔💔💔💔

When Charlie finds out the truth of Vaga not only being an exorcist but the one who...it destroys them both💔 Vaga moves into the Heaven Embassy(where Charlie and Adam talked) or somewhere else away to give her space, and Charlie...she was a wreck(even took off her bow tie). Had to take some days away from each other. Their reconciliation def took some more time💔

What do u think? Any headcanons you have for Chaggie or any of the other HH ships? I’d love to know💖