#you don’t have to worry about Dust when you pack it up either

[coconutcows]

Lookie here. I have a rubber spider from the dollar store I got when I was a little kid. I decided it was a girl and she was squishy and weird like a stress ball. She would stretch a bit because she’s rubber. I named her Stringy. I would hold her by a leg and swing her around. Some of them broke a bit, I taped them back on with Electrical tape. She’s torn a bit between her abdomen and head so now I know she’s full of teeny tiny beads or something. I got her 15-20 years ago and she’s Still kicking around here somewhere.

Truly, a rubber dollar store rat Can live indefinitely with the right care

pleeeaaaaaaaseeeee stop buying disposable holiday decorations once then tossing them i am begging you. with proper care a dollar store rubber rat can live indefinitely

[foxtrot91]

brave

It’s been six months since Buck and Tommy had their first disastrous date, and it’s not a coincidence that Buck chose Micelli’s for their date tonight. The last week has been rough for them both, and Buck thinks that maybe revisiting where they started could do them both some good. It’s a reminder, if nothing else, that they weathered one storm and they can weather this one too.

It had started with an offhand comment, and before either of them knew it, it had snowballed into their first actual fight. Buck has had arguments with girlfriends before, but something about this one felt different, it felt real, like the stakes were somehow higher than they were in his previous relationships. Eventually, when it was clear that they weren’t getting anywhere, Buck had taken off and found himself at Eddie’s with a pack of beer and a bag of Eddie’s favourite Doritos.

“I just don’t get what his problem is,” Buck says, and then cracks open a bottle. “It’s like he saw the-the lease renewal papers he just – he just…”

“Just?” Eddie prompts, stuffing his face with chips. Buck decides against telling him about the crumbs and Dorito dust stuck in his moustache, figuring he’ll discover it eventually and in the meantime, Buck can quietly laugh about it without Eddie knowing. He deserves some form of entertainment after the night he’s had.

“He asked me to move in with him,” Buck grumbles before grabbing his own handful of chips just to have something to do with his hands. He ignores the way Eddie’s eyes go wide at the admission. “It was out of nowhere a-and I don’t know what to do with that, Eddie. I-I panicked and I said some things I probably shouldn’t have… and then I took off.”

“If you’re not ready to move in with him then just say that,” Eddie says, as if it was that simple. It wasn’t that simple, was the thing, and Buck doesn’t know how to articulate that to his best friend, let alone to Tommy. Buck must take too long to respond because when Eddie continues, he’s looking at Buck with a thoughtful, borderline suspicious expression. “Unless… you’re not-not ready?”

Tapping his knuckles on the wood of Eddie’s table, Buck looks everywhere but Eddie as he gathers his thoughts.

“I-I shouldn’t be ready, right? I mean, we’ve only been together for six months, that’s way too soon.”

“So, it’s not that you’re not ready, but that you think that you shouldn’t be ready?” Buck nods, feeling a little helpless as Eddie looks at him like he’s an idiot, and Buck sighs in frustration. “Okay, I don’t get it. What is this about? Because if you’re ready, and Tommy’s ready, then I’m not sure I see the what the problem is.”

“I just-it just…” Buck pauses, forcing himself to take a breath before continuing. “It came out of nowhere and it just seemed so sudden and I…”

It doesn’t matter that he can’t seem to get the words out, because Eddie has a look of understanding dawning on his face as if he’s suddenly just realized what this is about and Buck lets out a sigh of relief. He can always trust Eddie to understand what’s going on with Buck, if no one else.

“Taylor,” Eddie says, before taking a long draw from his beer.

“Taylor,” Buck repeats in agreement. When Tommy had asked if he’d like to move in, Buck had felt a sudden rush of excitement and he’d almost, almost agreed without thinking. But that excitement had quickly changed into the sharp sting of anxiety as he’d thought about how quickly he and Taylor had jumped into that milestone, and then how quickly it had all fallen apart. Standing there, looking at Tommy, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying that they had an expiration date, and that this move would be the first step towards the end just like it had been with Taylor.

“Listen,” Eddie starts, and Buck knows that tone, it’s the same tone he used when telling Buck not to give up on something before he’d even known what it was before encouraging him to call Tommy. “You and Tommy are not you and Taylor, not even close. And if you’re really not ready for that step then that’s okay, and you need to tell Tommy that. I’m sure he’d understand. But if you are, and you’re just not letting yourself because of a previous bad experience then you need to figure out how to let that go before it hurts something that could be really good for you.”

He’s right, and Buck knows he’s right. He and Tommy have been doing so well together and Buck hates to admit that there’s been this part of him all along that’s just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Tommy to come to the decision that maybe they’re just better off as friends. “You don’t think it’s too soon?” Buck asks quietly into his drink.

“I think that what’s too soon for some people is just right for others, and only you and Tommy get to decide what’s right for the two of you.” He’s speaking from experience, and Buck experiences a sudden pang of guilt at the reminder of Marisol and what led to Eddie blowing up his life.

Agreeing to give it some more thought, Buck decides to change the topic as a bit of sadness creeps over Eddie’s face. Without another word, Buck moves their location to the living room and puts on one of the telenovelas Eddie likes, and they both settle in for the night.

Eventually, Buck and Tommy had spoken, and had agreed to table talks of moving in together for the time being. Tommy hadn’t understood why Buck had reacted the way he had, and Buck wasn’t sure how to explain that thoughts of moving in together exhilarated and terrified him at the same time. He especially didn’t know how to explain that it’s thoughts of his ex-girlfriend that have him feeling so anxious.

But now that some distance has been put between the fight, and Buck’s had some time to think things through, he knows what he wants. And while things still weren’t quite back to normal between them, Tommy having pulled back slightly since the argument, they’re still them and Buck wants to celebrate that.

“Brings back memories,” Tommy quips once they’re settled into their table. When Buck made the reservation, he’d specifically requested this table, wanting to recreate their original date as much as possible. Hopefully with a much different ending this time.

“Yeah, uh, that’s why I chose it, actually.” Buck feels his face heat slightly at the admission as he glances up at Tommy. He hates that Tommy still looks a little guarded around him, hopes that he can erase that look with what he plans to say. “I thought maybe we could, I-I don’t know, paint over the old memories with new ones?”

That gets him a fond smile before Tommy looks down at the menu, shaking his head before he looks back up. “You’re adorable,” he says, voice soft and fond and Evan feels himself relax slightly at the glimpse of warmth there.

“You said that last time.”

“I meant it then, too.” Another smile, and Buck feels himself melt a little more.

The waiter appears then, and they put in their orders. Instead of sharing a pizza this time they order individually; Buck orders himself the gnocchi, and Tommy choosing the Chicken Parmigiana. Conversation is light as they wait for their food, Bobby is finally back in the captain’s seat which means that Buck is happy to talk about the goings on at the 118 and Tommy is always happy to listen. Tommy tells him about his last shift in turn, about the helicopter rescue of the missing hiker that could’ve gone wrong but didn’t thanks to Tommy and Lucy’s quick thinking, and for the first time since their fight, Buck feel sat peace.

This is what he wants, he thinks as their food arrives, him and Tommy. Whether they’re at a fancy restaurant or lazing about on Tommy’s couch, Tommy is where he feels content and happiest. There’s only two other people who’ve ever made him feel truly at ease and one of them is his sister, and the other is Eddie, and that he gets to count Tommy among that group fills him with so much warmth Buck thinks he could burst with it.

Only you and Tommy get to decide what’s right.

Eddie’s words come back to him as silence settles over the table while they dig into their food. He’s right, six months, twelve months, whatever, they’re all just arbitrary numbers and Buck is tired of letting his past dictate what feels right, right now. They’re nearly finished their meals when Buck sets down his fork with a soft clink, deciding it’s now or never.

“Tommy I uh, I wanted to-”

“—Wait, let… let me go first Evan,” Tommy says, cutting Buck off. “Look, last week I put you on the spot and that wasn’t right.”

“No, Tommy, I-”

Tommy raises a hand, as though silently asking Buck to let him finish and Buck’s mouth snaps closed. “It wasn’t fair to you, is what I’m trying to say, and neither was my reaction when you weren’t ready for that conversation.” He lets out a weary sigh and Buck wants nothing more than to reach across the table and pull him in for a tight hug, but he can tell Tommy has more he wants to say and thinks that maybe he wasn’t the only one who has been stewing on the events of last week. “When I saw that your lease renewal was coming up I just – I knew that I didn’t want to have to wait another year for you to move in with me. I got ahead of myself, and when you didn’t seem on board, I let myself get in my head about it, and I took it out on you and I shouldn’t have.” Tommy pauses there and takes a sip of his wine before continuing. “You’re incredible, Evan, and I think I just got so caught up in how quickly we’ve tackled every other stage of this relationship that I assumed this would be the same, but it’s okay if it’s not. I love you, and you needing more time before we consider that step doesn’t change that, okay?”

Once finished, Tommy reaches across the table to cover Buck’s hand in his own and Buck feels himself let out a long, steady breath. There’s so many different things flying through his head that he struggles to grasp onto one coherent thought. Eventually, he’s able to settle on the one that matters most, which is that he loves this man, quickly followed by the fact that he’d almost said yes that night, before he’d let his fear get the better of him.

“I didn’t renew my lease,” Buck blurts out, knowing that he should’ve started with literally anything else but that’s what came out and he can’t exactly take it back now.

“Evan,” Tommy says, eyes wide, and a memory of Tommy saying his name in that exact same tone flashes through Buck’s memory, only that time they’d been outside and Buck had gotten Tommy’s coffee order wrong.

“I um, I wanted to say yes, when you asked,” Buck starts, picking up the fork that he’d previously put down and fiddling with it as nervous energy rushes through him. “I was going to, a-and then, well, I got in my head a little too? The last person I moved in with, it um, it fell apart, and we’d moved in sort of early in the relationship and I just… I got scared.” He’s talking to his plate now, face heating as he feels Tommy’s hand squeeze over his. “I love you,” he says, turning his hand palm up underneath Tommy’s and squeezing back. “I loved her too, o-or I thought I did, at least, and it still fell apart. I just didn’t want that to happen with you.”

“Evan,” Tommy says again, slightly breathy as he looks at Buck with a warmth that Buck sometimes thinks is reserved just for him.

“But I-I realized that I can’t let that stop me from having what I want now, and what I want, Tommy, is to be with you.”

“Evan, are you sure?” Tommy asks, sounding a little disbelieving, and Buck can’t exactly blame him after the abrupt one-eighty he’s done.

“Yes, I am, i-if the offer is still on the table.” He really hopes it is because he wasn’t lying about choosing not to renew his lease. He could probably talk to the landlord if needed, they have a good relationship, and Buck is sure he’d prefer to keep things as is over having to search for a new tenant. But still, he’s really hoping he won’t need to do that.

“Of course it’s still on the table,” Tommy says emphatically, looking a little dazed.

Before Buck can answer they’re interrupted by their waiter checking in on them and offering dessert. Neither of them has to think very long about it before they’re ordering a slice of carrot cake to share. He feels giddy as they exchange excited glances over their shared cake.

“So, about my couch…” Buck says when they’re about halfway through their cake, trailing off as he lets the sentence hang there. They’d been discussing the finer points of Buck moving in with Tommy but had yet to address furniture.

“I seem to recall you making a big deal in the past about my couch being your favourite,” Tommy responds with a grin. “But-” he interrupts Buck before he can retort, holding up a hand, “as you already know, I have been working on finishing the basement. If you bring your set over, then that just means we won’t need to buy new furniture. Win-win.”

“I like the way you think,” Buck agrees. Grinning, Buck takes another bite of cake, not missing the way Tommy eyes his mouth as he slides the spoon out from between his lips.

Tommy takes a bite of his own, and then gives a mournful look to the near empty plate. “We should have ordered two slices,” he says with a mournful sigh.

Laughing, Buck pushes the plate towards Tommy, offering him the last of it. “We could always just order another to go,” he suggests. “There was an apple spice cake that sounded really good.”

Tommy seems to seriously consider it as he savours the last bite of their shared carrot cake before he shakes his head and looks up at Buck. “Mm, no, I think I’m going to be hungry for something else when we get home.”

Buck feels his breath hitch at the low tone coupled with the sudden heat of Tommy’s gaze. And well, Buck can definitely get on board with that, is always up for it the second Tommy so much as looks in his direction. But still- “Tommy Kinard? Turning down cake? It’s like I don’t even know you,” he teases, unable to help himself.

“Baby,” he says, voice husky as he leans forward over the table, “I think you’ve misunderstood. No one said anything about turning down cake. I’ve just decided I want an entirely different variety… one not offered on restaurant menus.” He gives Buck a wink before he sits back and flags down their waiter for their check and Buck… Buck thinks he’s going to have trouble walking out of this restaurant without embarrassing himself. Tommy eyes him as he pays the bill, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smug smirk as he stands from his seat. “You coming, babe?”

Not yet, he thinks, but definitely later. “I um, yeah, yes,” he says before clumsily getting out of his seat, hip knocking into the sharp corner of the table. Tommy’s laugh fills the space between them and Buck wishes he could bottle it because it’s quickly becoming his favourite sound.

As they leave the restaurant he looks over at Tommy, who’s grinning back at him and has the realization that he gets to have this. The laughter and the belonging and the bone deep love that he feels, he gets to have it, it’s his to keep if he’s brave enough to take it.

Standing next to Tommy, it’s easy to feel brave.

Link

[st4rc4t]

hasan piker x weed smoking reader hcs

disclaimer! i do not condone underage marijuana usage!! this is just something silly for ppl who do/have smoked weed before. if ur under 21 in the united states don’t do it !!!

cw: marijuana usage, friends to lovers sorta idk the situation is weird, autistic coded reader ? it kinda just happens, semi pining, gn!reader

wc: 1.1k+

a/n: just me and my 3 weed smoking gfs

most of his friends in the youtube/twitch scene also smoke weed so he doesn’t really care

he smokes occasionally but only at night to help wind down a little bit

he doesnt mind the smell but he really hates when his clothes and hair smell like it

so when he’s around you make sure you’re either outside or blowing it out of a window

you never smoke inside his house

he didn’t ask you not to, you just assumed he wouldn’t like it

he doesnt and it makes him blush a little at ur consideration

whenever you get high and he doesn’t, he never says “omg ur so high” while ur trying to talk

cus like . yeah obviously that was the point ! and its not like ur completely different while high, just a little floatier and it takes you a minute to get thru ur sentences

but you talk about pretty much the same stuff and he loves talking to you

and u laugh a lot he likes that too

dont tell anyone tho

you looove getting high with him its such a special treat

ull be gathering ur paraphernalia to take out on the patio and he wanders out of his stream room looking like the sad hamster

he sees you getting ready, getting a bottle of juice and such and asks if he can join u

gasp of course he can !!!!!

asking how fucked up he wants to get so you know the best method of smoke delivery

he wants to sleep Good tonight so indica in the bong it is !

he’s nervous ab the bong so u bring out a bowl too incase he gets cold feet

he watches you get comfy in your seat outside, a comfortable warmth from the california setting sun

arranging everything ready on the table

“you look like a tweaker”

“im gonna make you a tweaker if ur not careful”

he laughs but he keeps watching you carefully pick out a healthy portion from the large bud you have, pushing it into the prongs of your grinder and twisting the two pieces against each other

he watches you pour the contents of a reusable water bottle into the large glass piece, eyeing the level of water

he watches you stop and put it to your lips, taking a pretend hit and making sure the water level is good

he watches you carefully pack the ground up flower into both bowl pieces, using your fingers to pat it level and dusting the excess back into the grinder with each one

you notice him staring but dont say anything until you’re already done

you make him an offering, bong and bowl in each respective hand. eyebrows raised as if to say, “which are we feeling?” but when he continues staring at the contents of your hands, you actually speak.

“dude are you already high, whats going on?” you laugh cautiously, genuinely a little worried but keeping it light hearted. he seems to snap out of it at your voice.

his eyes dart around for a second as he reenters his surroundings, chuckling when your word’s finally register, “no, yeah- sorry… really long day today,” his words fizzle out as he goes along. you cant help but feel bad, you dont know how he deals with streaming sometimes. you also feel weird about giving him a mind altering substance while he already seems spaced out.

setting the pieces down safely on the table, you look at him seriously before speaking, “are you sure you wanna do this? you’re kinda out of it,” you’re hard trying not to sound condescending, but you doubt he can read your tone that well right now anyway.

he smiles the most minuscule amount and looks away, but you see it. “yeah, im sure,” he sighs out gently before continuing, “i need to empty my brain,” he finishes by looking back to you with already tired eyes. you nod in understanding, relishing in knowing exactly how to fix his problem.

picking up the little glass bowl and a lighter, you hand both to him. they instantly look tiny in his hand and you’re not sure how he’s gonna actually do this. after realising you gave him green hit, you remind him to take a small hit. he just rolls his eyes sarcastically and scoffs, like of course he would, but you both know he would’ve blown a lung.

you watch him fumble with the glass, trying to get a good grip that covers the carb and wont burn his hand when he lights it

he eventually gets it and takes a little corner hit

a bit bigger than he was expecting tho so he does that thing where u cough the smoke out

just awful btw

u give him some water hes fine but boy does he love to complain

u just laugh at him and take ur own hit

breathing in deep, holding it for a second, and letting it go watching it escape into the open air

when he sees other people smoke it usually feels more rushed and energetic, like they were trying to ingest as much thc in as little time as possible

but you take your time. gathering everything and getting comfortable, settling into the ritual of the action. you take your time and let yourself feel it, you take your time and make sure he’s fully prepared before offering him anything

oh no he likes you !

he does end up hitting the bong but like the smallest baby hit so it doesn’t even count

he is sooo silly when hes high loves to laugh

he will def devolve into political rants if you let him, but you’re pretty good at making him laugh and redirecting him when hes like this

bc he smoked an indica this time his eyes are even more droopy than they were before and you can tell he’s getting tired

you clean up and follow him back inside amd he goes completely baby mode at the sight of kaya sleeping on the couch

petting her and pressing his face into her fur, going on and on about how soft she is

you laugh and sit on the other end of the big sectional covered in pillows and blankets

when hes done melting into kaya he sits down next to u with his arm around the back of the couch

real smooth .

it works 1000%

watching smth stupid like family guy (genuinely my fave show while high i will not elaborate)

chilling until he decides to go to bed at like 8:30

he convinces u to sleep on the couch bc ur both too high to drive and he would freak out at the thought of u in an uber rn

okay i have to be done i basically wrote a oneshot in the middle bye bye

[gambleofstars]

Electrician Reader as Vox’s Assistant (Pt. II)

₍ ⌨ ᶻᶻᶻ gambleofstars is typing ... ₎

↳ ❝ [a/n: i’m on a roll, expect a third part also haha, i kind of love this concept to be honest, not to mention i work an office job too so, pretty relatable to me. also minor content warning for smoking, but it's just casual, really] ¡! ��

Part I

⋆♡* In fact, you liked hell, because people were much less judgmental.

⋆♡* In the overworld, your coworkers would judge you for every move. You were polite? You were a suck-up. You were cold? You were rude. You were professional? You were distant. So when you started calculating your every move? You were scheming.

⋆♡* But here? Your scheming qualities were greatly appreciated and utilized.

⋆♡* Your boss would let you stay in the conference room for business holder meetings. He doesn’t want you to know, but Vox definitely observed your reactions during these meetings. Every twitch of your brow and rolling of eyes you thought went unnoticed, were important.

⋆♡* And having a boss who sees your abilities is a sure way of making a loyal employee. Maybe this was also scheming on Vox’s part but hey, who judges who in hell?

⋆♡* If Vox’s honest, the 8am coffee and your faint groan of annoyance at his client was a bit of a highlight of his day, if you will.

⋆♡* He has to listen to either: boring meetings or other vees’ tantrums every day, so your small presence is welcome as a solidarity of someone seeing what he has to deal with.

⋆♡* (Even though his own hissy fits are no less ridiculous and much more dangerous)

⋆♡* You do get bonuses for putting up with them though. Don’t be mistaken, this is a business transaction, after all.

⋆♡* Sometimes though, you wonder who he was on earth? Or if you crossed paths in any way. You get this sentimental feeling at times that you can never explain…

★゜・���。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

“FUCK!” Vox exclaims as he slumps down on his desk (?) chair after raging about the PR management team messing up their work. Yet again. At this point, his bowtie is all messed up and his button-up is half wrinkled.

He’s still seething, but you can see the anger is slowly sizzling out. Good, you were really not in the mood for playing therapist this evening. You already had a long day of sorting out the PR nightmare that is Valentino’s social media (which was partially the reason for Vox’s current exhaustion).

Usually, you’d listen to Vox yap about 99 problems in his vicinity. Let him let it out and then distract him with an upcoming business opportunity - kinda dealing it like you would with a teenager.

For some reason though, this evening the soft breeze coming through the open windows of the office and purple dust color of the hell’s sky, you felt an olive branch form in your heart.

“Would you like a cigarette?”

It always worked for you. After the stress of sorting out numerous affairs for the Vees (primarily your boss), a cigarette felt like a piece of heaven, really. So, why not? Bonding time with your boss or whatever.

He eyes your outstretched hand that’s holding a pack of Malborry Red (delivered straight from the gluttony ring); he seems almost suspicious, which makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry boss, drugs is Mr. V’s style. This is just tobacco”

“Fuck it”

He grabs the cigarette out of the pack and sighs like a single dad of 50 kids. Before you can laugh at this pathetic little man, you get out your lighter and light the cig up as courtesy, seeing as you’re the one who offered it.

There’s a tense moment when he just looks at you. You don’t know what he’s thinking at times and this is one of them. It bothers you a bit, like you can’t read an open book.

Either way, when he takes the first drag, he slowly goes to lean over the balcony railing with his elbows as you light your own stick. You don’t join him though.

Both of you stay silent in the comfort of an otherwise empty wing. The only noise is from the city down below and the quiet whirring of Vox’s fans to filter out the nicotine-filled smoke.

It’s kind of relaxing, in all honesty.

“Maybe I should just jump off here” he says out loud. The casual tone makes you scoff with amusement as you join him on the balcony as well. You stay close to the door though.

“Please think of the company’s integrity sir” you remind him, taking a drag of your own cigarette “Also, you can’t really die here. There are 75 electricians and technicians on standby at all times.”

Vox groans and puts the screen of his head down onto his forearm, his cigarette hanging off the 50 story building with just his two fingers as a safety measurement.

“Then maybe I’ll go out of commission for a week and ignore everything and everyone for once” he concludes with the same casuality.

“You need to be present at the shareholders meeting tomorrow afternoon or it won’t commence” you explain, honestly a bit delighted in deliberately pissing him off.

“You go do it then”

“No thank you”

Another sigh and a comfortable silence. You’d think Vox fell asleep if his fans weren’t still whirring. Even though feeling pity for the rich is a bit ridiculous, you find yourself approaching him and leaning with your back on the railing.

“Tell you what boss, I think you need to present the angelic security plan by tomorrow at 4:45” you suggest, eyeing his reaction.

He looks up at you a bit confused “Right after the meeting?”

You chuckle a bit mean-spirited “What are they gonna do? Leave?”

He picks up at what you’re putting down and a wicked smile crosses his face “So that means I won’t have any meetings until Friday”

You pick up an ashtray on the coffee table next to you and hold it out for him. But seeing as he doesn’t even notice how his cig is burning away as he plans his Thursday, you pluck it out of his hands to put it out for him.

It’s almost laughable how perplexed he looks, but you resist as you put your own stick out too and place the tray back down.

“Do you need me to plan anything for Thursday sir?”

“Do you think on earth we ever crossed paths?”

Well that was out of the blue “I don’t know sir, never thought about it” that’s a lie, you’ve thought about it every time you left the office with a feeling of deja vu.

“Whatever, who gives a shit” he said, aloof and walked back into his office “You’re more useful as my assistant down here anyway”

Maybe. Not like your life was any less stressful on earth, right? (please, do note the sarcasm).

Still, watching your boss blow up like a bomb every other morning was enough entertainment to make this job amusing.

Not to mention, on earth, this fleeting moment of fondness never crossed your heart. How ironic that you find the most vulnerable part of yourself in the flaming pits of hell filled with sinners alike you.

Maybe that’s why. The fact that you found someone who can keep up the pace with your deliberate chess-piece kind of thinking with no guilt, is a bit of a blessing in disguise.

How a string of your heart happily tugs at his victories.

You won’t let him know that though.

i'm really liking writing out my office work frustrations in these small drabbles ahaha >:) anyway, my request box is open if you wanna drop by :) <3

signing off, gambi 💋

[isabel3710]

I've dived headfirst back into my old Trolls hyper fixation with the release of the third movie. So I decided to write a little something for the idea of Branch being adopted by the Country Trolls.

I was inspired by some fan art by crunchy_coookies_ on insta and @rocksibblingsau's AU and a post they've made on this idea.

I would love to turn this into a full fledged fic one day but I'm already working on another trolls fanfic plus I got some (very loose) plans for another for when I'm done. But if I every have the time to write more I'll be sure to let you all know!

-----------

A little gray trolling sat on the edge of a dusty road, a worn looking bag sitting beside him. Branch held his ankle with both hands, it throbbed with pain and he was struggling not to cry. 

A few weeks ago Branch had decided to leave his tribe once and for all, he was tired of being bounced around from foster home to foster home. Full of people who either hated him or tried to turn him into something he wasn’t. So he packed a bag full of his prized possessions and any supplies he might need and snuck out in the middle of the night. 

At first things were great! And then he left the forest and made it to this desert of a wasteland, Branch did okay at first. He was careful to ration his food and slept with a knife in his hand.

Then today Branch had gotten his foot caught in some kind of hole and now his ankle really hurt. He had tried to stand up and power through but couldn’t without pain getting to an overwhelming degree.

He sniffed and whipped at his eyes, Branch didn’t know what he was going to do. He was stuck here with a hurt leg and he had run out of food last night. 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some strange clip-clop sound. Branch reached into his bag and pulled out his little knife. He was alone out here and who knew how many things out in this strange land liked to eat trolls. 

Dust had suddenly risen up into the air and got into Branch’s eyes, he tried to blink it away as the strange sound got closer and closer. When his vision had cleared he saw the figure that matched the clopping sound.

And….

It was a troll?

The troll looked like one he had never seen before, she had orange skin and red hair which did remind him of the trolls back home. But that was where the similarities ended, for she had four legs with hooves and a fluffy looking teal tail. Her clothes weren't neon or pastel colored or covered in glitter, but fairly plain looking; with a few dirt stains and patches.

The woman seemed to notice him too for she started to walk over to him, the clopping sound following her. “Hey sugar” she said, her voice sounded strange. Nothing like Branch had ever heard before. “Why’re you out here all alone?”

Branch sniffled and tried to scoot away on his bottom, dragging his injured leg along the ground. The hand holding his knife shook a bit. 

“Hey, hey” the woman said, her voice gentle. “I’m not going ta’ hurt you.” She knelt in front of him “what happened ta’ your leg?”

Something about this woman felt calming, Branch hadn’t met anyone who made him feel this way since his Grandma died. “I tripped,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “It hurts really bad.”

“I’m sure it does” the woman said “mind if I take a look?”

Branch hesitated before nodding, the woman carefully took his ankle in her hands. He winced a bit in pain but stayed still. The woman tutted softly “looks like you sprained it honey.” 

“Oh…”

She pulled out a piece of dark green cloth and tied it around his ankle. “We'll have to put some ice on it.”

“I don’t have any ice,” Branch said.

“Not to worry,” she smiled at him, “town’s not too far from here.” 

There was a town out here… “how?” He asked, “it hurts to walk.”

“Climb on my back” she said “and I’ll carry ya.” 

“Won’t that hurt you?”

She chuckled “you’re sweet, sugar, but not to worry. I’ll be fine.” The women helped Branch sit on her back before slowly standing “hold on darlin’.” 

Branch held his bag in one hand and to the women’s shirt with the other. And she began to walk, the clopping sound following them. It was then Branch realized he had no idea what this lady’s name was.

“Ms” he said “I’m sorry but… What’s your name?”

She chuckled “no need to apologize hon. I’m Ms Delta Dawn. What’s your name?”

“Branch.” He said “my name is Branch."

[magpiepills]

Kill Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x f reader

Word count: 10k

Summary: Alone on the green, you’re ambushed by a stranger. Defenseless, you have no choice but to put your trust in him.

I’m combining three parts into one. Sort of. It’s long. Take a break if you need to. This was originally posted 11/22/23. I’m rebuilding my masterlist, so feel free to skip this if you already saw it the first time.

Warnings: Smut, porn with plot, bit of angst? Oral (f receiving) fingering, weapons, minor violence, dubious consent, masturbation, pet names, homemade sex toy, butt stuff, unprotected PIV, oral, fingering, spitting, dirty talk, bondage, doubled penetration, misuse of valuable root pesrls, teasing, thigh riding, masturbation, etc., etc., so on and so forth. No use of y/n, I’ve tried to make sure the reader is not racially coded, and that physical descriptions are limited to the type of genitals the reader has.

A word from the author: well it’s here! My baby! The story I’ve wanted to write for months and worried over and dreamed of and wouldn’t be quiet about is done. I know tomorrow I’ll think of things I should have put in that I didn’t, that I’ll go back and find typos, that people may not like it, but this has made me happy. This is my birthday present to myself and this fic has been a very useful distraction from some pretty heavy things. I’ve got a soft spot for this fic. I have a soft spot for Ezra. I love him. I love Prospect. I loved getting to spend time there as I wrote. Many thanks to all my magic sluts for the love and encouragement and for reading this shit. I love you.

ACT I: Fool’s Gold

Maybe you should have taken your grandmother's advice. “Nothing out there for a girl on her own. Just trouble. Won’t be worth it.” She had said, shaking her head. You could hear the weariness in her voice even as she sat wringing her hands on another planet. You knew she was right. Nothing could stop you though, not when your mind was made up. You’re a stubborn woman in a long line of stubborn women, and both of you knew that no amount of good sense would keep you from sinking all of your savings into a second hand environmental suit, a new laser scalpel, and a deposit on a parcel class drop pod that looked like it may not make it past Central in the first place. You scavenged for the rest of the equipment, building a small cache of slurry packs, a few refreshers, enough chem to extract several cases worth of the rare gems you sought, and borrowed a thrower. It was folly at best, elaborate suicide at worst and most likely. But what was the saying? “No guts, no glory?” Maybe it was best not to think of your guts right now. Maybe “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” was more apt. It didn’t really matter now, anyway. Nothing mattered after his first words pierced the peaceful bubble of your harvest.

“Don’t move.”

You froze, knelt on the soft, damp earth. Your knees grew cold and wet, elbow deep in the shallow cavern where the aurelac spread below the surface. The raspy voice crackled through your ear piece, stilling your heart, slowing your blood.

You didn’t need to see the weapon to know what was pressed against the back of your neck. The weight of the metal held you in place. You closed your eyes, and resigned yourself to your fate, readying yourself to meet Kevva much more readily than you thought possible. You’d like to have fought back, but you couldn��t reach your own side arm, it lay uselessly next to your scalpel and the bottle of fazer that, tipped into the cavern below, would surely kill you both. “Don’t even think about going for that thrower, either.” The voice was so casual, threatening your life like he was reading the weather report. You did as he said, accepting defeat, hoping your life and your harvest was all he wanted. There are worse ways to die than choking on the dust. “Gooooood,” he purred, “Now lay on your belly. Don’t try anything.”

Again you obeyed, but before you were settled on the ground, his boot connected with your hip, sending you rolling to your back with a yelp. Before you could get your bearings, his boot was on your chest, enough weight behind it to hold you down, compressing your sternum uncomfortably. From this angle, you could appreciate how beautiful the green moon was, soft pinkish-blueish clouds diffusing across the sky where Bakhroma was setting. Dust floated up and for a while you could forget that it was poisonous. You stared up at the sky and the canopy of green until the sunlight on his rail gun caught your eye. You stared down the engraved barrel, waiting for him to shoot you, or worse. Whatever he was going to do, you wished he’d just do it.

You grabbed feebly at him, hoping that if you put up more of a fight he would do something or say something, but he didn’t. What was he waiting for? It was infuriating and terrifying to wait while a stranger decided what to do with your life. You wanted to yell, to tell him off, to beg, but when you finally looked at him, all the words escaped. His visor was scratched and pitted, his suit was ill fitting and dirty, but his eyes were big and sad and desperate. His lips were parted, as if he were as speechless as you were.

His aim faltered almost imperceptibly, and he furrowed his brow. “Looks like I’ve got a rabbit in my garden.” Your anger boiled back up and you dug your nails into his calf as best you could through his insulating layers. Your efforts were in vain and he chuckled. “Not a rabbit. A pussycat.” You wanted to scream. Finally he shifted his weight and moved his foot so that he was standing above you, straddling your hips, his grip in the thrower more relaxed. “What’s in the case, pussycat? Show me.” He tilted his head toward your aurelac case, only half filled with your spoils. “Go on. Let’s see what you’ve got. Easy.” He stepped back, giving you room to get up. You took your first full breath since his shadow first fell on you, then unlocked the case and shoved it toward him.

Eyes sparkling, he silently tabulated the value of your pull. You hoped he would just take the case and run, that would be the best case scenario. You could still get home, prove your grandmother right, lick your wounds, and find an honest job back on the Pug. Forget this disaster ever happened. Try to find another way to pay off the debt of the wrecked and destroyed pod.

“You harvest all this yourself?” He asked, and you weren’t able to determine what answer might be safest. Do you tell him you’re alone? Pretend you’ve got a whole crew waiting for you on the other side of the ridge? Before you could decide which tack to take, he continued. “Haven’t seen anyone in this sector in some time now. No landers, either. You’re alone, I reckon. You got a camp?” Resigned to whatever fate awaited you, you shook your head. You didn’t have a camp. You had a tent that you put up every night and took down every morning, counting on your impermanence to offer some safety. Fat lot of good that did. You chest was suddenly tight and tears welled in your eyes faster than you could blink them back. “It’s not safe out here for a girl on her own.” The irony of his warning did nothing to stem your crying. He looked away, out of disgust or pity or embarrassment for you, you didn’t know. You wished you could wipe your face.

After a humiliating moment, he spoke again. “Alright.” He gestured around at your meager equipment with the barrel of his thrower, “Get your kit. You’ll come with me.”

“No.” You said, not sounding half as sure of yourself as you’d hoped you would.

He raised his eyebrows at you and lifted the thrower again, careful not to point it right at you this time. “I wasn’t askin’, pussycat. You’re alone, you can harvest, and now you’re coming with me. This is the best case scenario for you. Move.”

The image of your scattered bones, covered in moss and ferns, little yellow flowers sprouting between your ribs flashed in your mind as you packed your things. All the things but the aurelac, which the man with the gun held onto.

He gestured toward an opening in the woods, “Ladies, first.” Chivalry is alive. You trudged in silence, following a path so lightly treaded you could barely see it.

The air was thicker, heavier with motes of poison dust than it seemed to be when you were alone. It gave you a sense of hopelessness and dread. A heaviness in your chest that you hadn’t known even when you found yourself lost in the dense forest. Your captor never fell out of step, always right behind you with his rail gun trained at your side, your case of aurelac banging against his leg as he picked carefully through the woods. He talked as he walked, introducing himself simply as “Ezra” and lamenting the dust, cursing his equipment, pointing out things in the landscape that were supposed to be of interest, but failed to pull you away from your singular focus of trying to remember your path. Your eyes darted around, looking for any anomaly in your surroundings, anything you could use to find your way back somehow. “Back when these hills were full of raiders…” his voice droned on, “There was a fella that went by Alam that used to…” on and on for what felt like hours while your skin itched under your wet clothes. “Here it is. Home, sweet home. Doesn’t look like much, but it is adequate for the savvy returner.”

Ezra stood before a tattered and faded tent, obscured by vegetation and dust that had collected along the seams. You would have walked right past it if he hadn’t guided you here. He unzipped and quickly ushered you inside with a hand on your back. Zipped back in, he turned on a space filter, it popped and whirred for a moment before Ezra began tossing aside his helmet and undoing the snaps and fasteners of his suit. He must have seen the panic on your face as he undressed. “You can take the cot on the right.” His voice was careful, and he turned away from you as he shrugged out of his suit, leaving him in a long sleeved white shirt and gray thermal pants that fit snugly to his legs. “There’s a refresher in the back if you want to clean up, and whatever you want for supper as long as it’s Pastors Henry.” Ezra smiled warmly and you nodded, acknowledging his hospitality without a word.

You sat on the creaking cot and removed your helmet, then rummaged through your pack for clean underclothes before closing the refresher curtain around yourself to finish undressing. You felt more naked than ever before, more vulnerable with only the curtain between you and your unwanted companion, but it did feel good to wash off the sweat and grime from your body and hair. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to bathe without needing to hold your helmet and filter tube while you swabbed at yourself with a damp cloth.

When you emerged, fresh and dressed, you found Ezra sitting on his own cot with your aurelac case on his knee, admiring your haul with a small loupe.

He looked up and allowed himself only the quickest glance over your body before settling on your eyes. “This is excellent work. Near master level harvesting. Look. Nary an imperfection. Did you really do all this yourself?”

Without his helmet on, standing this close to him, you could hear him wheezing as he breathed. You could see the delicate curve of his nose and the silvery scar on his cheek, the shock of white in his uncombed hair above his temple that made him look right at home on the untamable moon.

“I did. Taught myself, wasn’t always so good.”

He passed you a pouch of slurry, bumping his own against yours before taking a hearty swig.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“Same as you, I imagine. Trying to make my fortune before the BG line shuts down for good. Thought it was worth the risk. Thought I could make enough to spend the rest of my life on Lao. Thought wrong.” Your voice dropped and you studied your hands in your lap at the last sentence, embarrassed at the accusation against the man who was feeding you dinner and giving you a bed to sleep on, even if you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“It’s dangerous out there.” He said, not for the first time. “There are still raiders, kips, only desperate men left now that the rush is past. And that’s only the men, Pussycat. Do you understand? I think we could help each other. I’ve got the equipment, the chem, and the weaponry. I just need your steady hand. I can keep you safe, girl. You’d be top hand. We could be rich.” You met his gaze, but didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue. “I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either, but I want you to consider my offer. An equal partnership for a limited engagement.”

It sounded too good to be true. If Ezra was willing to help you harvest, take care of the details so you could make the extractions and offer some protection, it might not be so bad to take one more risk.

The soothing cadence of his voice let you imagine the possibilities he was presenting. It lulled you, gave you time to study the thick vein on the side of his neck, the wide expanse of his shoulders, the strength of his thighs, and the thickness of his paddle-like hands. You didn't doubt he could protect you, but for a fraction of a second, you thought of other ways he might help a girl who was all alone. As quick as the thought came, you chided yourself. This man had just held you at gunpoint, he may yet kill you in your sleep. This was no time to think of meeting any needs but survival. Even if it had been a stand or two since you knew the comfort and pleasure of that particular human touch.

“Let me sleep on it. We can’t do anything tonight anyway.”

He nodded and hummed. Your lingering gaze hadn’t gotten past him. He knew the look well. He ran his hands slowly from his thighs to his knees, a casual thing, but he hoped to tap into whatever you’d seen when you’d let your eyes rove over him.

“A judicious measure. We will let it simmer and come back to it in daylight. I’m going to hit the refresher myself, I can’t be good company filthy as I am.”

•••••

In the narrow refresher stall, Ezra stripped off his clothes, eager to wash away the sticky layer of sweat that clung to him, anxious to run his hands over his body under the tepid stream of recycled water. He thought of you, how close he was to dispatching you, a lone prospector, until you were on your back and he was close enough to see a much bigger picture. His ship, his gems, a way off this forsaken moon. It seemed too easy, too perfect. And now? The unmistakable gleam in your eye added an extra layer to the whole scheme, an auspicious twist in his designs.

Following the trail of water running down his chest and belly, his hand found his cock half hard. He tipped his head back with a heavy sigh, and stroked himself. He thought of the fear in your eyes, thought of how easily you obeyed him, how your thin tank top did nothing to hide your pebbled nipples. He imagined you on your knees, or under him, the sounds you’d make for him when he filled you with his cock. Close to release, he squeezed the base of his cock hard, staving off his orgasm, letting the moment slip away. For so long he believed he might never see another woman. The green is all but abandoned, but even when the rush was at its peak women were scarce. The green moon is harsh and unforgiving, the poisonous atmosphere seemed suited only to the foolish, the reckless, and the criminal. Here you are through, not just on the moon, but in his tent, on his cot, and ripe for the taking.

•••••

While Ezra freshened up, you sat on the little cot, repacking your harvesting kit, making sure nothing was broken when you hastily packed. He hasn’t been unkind. Not really. You knew that prime territories on the green moon used to be fought over, and that people died when they harvested in someone else’s dig. You’d assumed that since the green was mostly abandoned now that would be a thing of the past, but maybe you’d been wrong. Could you really blame him for defending his claim? Maybe you’d have done the same thing if you were him. Your shoulders relaxed a bit. This could work, you thought. You hadn’t planned on having a partner, but if you were both lonesome out here and you could team up for mutual benefit, why not? And it didn’t hurt that he was handsome. You’d keep your guard up, of course, but what harm could come from an alliance?

If your mind wasn’t made up to accept his offer, it would have been when he stood at the end of the tent, bathed in the orange light of the singular lantern illuminating the small space. Wearing only a pair of snug black undershorts, he was a vision. In his suit he looked scrappy, but like this he looked more virile. Broad at his shoulders and narrow at his hips, he cut a fine figure. You didn’t mean to stare, but it was as if he had his own magnetic field drawing you in. Sheepishly he sat on his own cot. “I’ve only got the one set of clothes. Never bunked with a woman in the crew like this before, I hope you don’t mind.”

You shook your head and he leaned back on both hands, smiling. “I’ve got to wash my clothes,” he explained, “you might as well throw yours in too.”

You only had one spare set of clothes, the thin tank top and leggings you wore and the warmer set that you had under your suit. It could all use a wash. Before you could list the pros and cons of your actions, before you could consider the outcome if this didn’t go like you thought it might, you stood up. You fetched the first set of clothes, then hesitated only a second before taking off what you had on. “Might as well start with everything fresh.” You smiled at your new partner.

Ezra exhaled roughly, not hiding the way his eyes wandered over your naked body. You bundled all your clothes together, crossed the short distance to the other side of the tent. He watched you in silence, chest rising and falling, breath catching on every inhale, cock responding instantaneously. “Might as well.” He agreed. One pointed downward flick of your eyes had him stripping off his final layer of modesty as well.

The snap might have been audible. You couldn’t tell. It could have been his patience, or it could have been the saturation sensor on the air filter. Once his lips were on yours it didn’t really matter. His kiss was suffocating and urgent. He held you tight, right arm banded around your waist, trapping his hard cock between your bodies, wetting your stomach with the sticky fluid he wept. His left hand cradled the back of your head, holding you just how he wanted you, you were dizzy with his kiss.

You melted into his embrace, his scent, his sounds, his radiating heat. You let him guide you onto his cot, onto the blanket that smelled like him. “Ezra” you whined, needing him to give you something to meet an intangible need that was thrumming in your core.

“Mm.” He mouthed against your neck and ear, across your collarbone, scratching your skin, leaving a tender path where his lips had been. “What are the odds, little pussycat? What are the odds that I found you here? Maybe the last two people on this moon. All of time and space, and I’m here with you, pretty girl.”

His words made your face feel warm and your heart pound harder. They hung heavy in the air around you as he shifted down the little bed, propping himself on his elbows to cup your breasts, gently squeezing them in his warm palms. He licked and sucked at your nipples, marveling at how they hardened, shiny with his spit, he blew across them, sending a chill up your spine that made you arch up into him.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be here.” His words were whispered against your stomach as he sank down further, “need to be looked after.” He kissed and licked the tender skin below your belly button. “Need me to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice was so soft and hypnotic. Your eyes met and he didn’t drop your gaze as he kissed your mound, your thighs, making your breath hitch when his tongue dipped into your slit. Ezra groaned at the taste of you, at how wet you were, how pliant to his will.

“Ezra” was the only language you spoke, slurring it as you threaded your hand through his hair, stroking the little patch of white with your thumb while his own was slipping up and down through your folds, spreading your slick over every velvet ripple. You rolled your nipple between your fingers and felt as if you were being taken up a mountain, up and up and up he pushed you, each lick, each kiss a step closer to the peak, every breath and coo, every word of praise and pity brought you higher. His fingers found your entrance and pushed inside, making you cry out into the dim light of the stuffy tent.

Ezra watched with his cheek on your thigh as you rocked your hips against his hand, searching for release. He could do this thing all night, making you a boneless little mess, making you cry just for him, he liked the power. He wasn’t a cruel man, though, and he showed you how merciful he was when he returned the flat of his tongue to your clit then sucked the swollen bud between his lips and he curled his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge of unmatched pleasure.

Cum dripped over Ezra’s knuckles as he watched you ride out your orgasm, and he considered bringing his hand to your mouth to see if you’d lick it clean, but he thought better of it, wiping it on his blanket instead. Another time, he thought. How he would love to see your pretty face painted up with his seed.

•••••

“Do you think this was meant to happen, Ezra?” You asked him, nipping at his chin as he held you, tucked against his chest on your cot. “Were we destined to find each other out here?”

You felt his warm breath against your hair as he thought. “I think the stars aligned in our favor, and fortune is all but assured.”

Sleep came easily in Ezra’s strong arms, safe and secure, knowing tomorrow would be a new start.

ACT II: Wild and Woolly

Daylight didn’t look much different from night in Ezra’s tent. Light filtered in through the leaves of the trees and the accumulated dust just enough to let you know that the sun had risen. The soft orange glow isn’t what woke you, though.

It was the heavy weight on your back, hot and crushing, it wrapped around you as you slept half on your stomach. As your groggy mind filled in the details of the last day, you felt the weight shift and wheeze. Ezra. He wasn’t a dream. He was real and he was here and he was nearly on top of you. With every movement his grip around you tightened. One arm was under your neck, with a hand anchored to your shoulder, the other was around your waist, fingers tucked posessively into the front of your panties. You couldn’t tell if he was awake yet, so you stayed still, hoping he would stay just like this a while longer.

You grew wetter while you tried not to move, savoring the tension, feeling the firm length of him on your thigh, listening to his ragged breathing. It would take so little to just shift over a bit and let it rest between your thighs. Your mind wandered to distant times and places, places where the two of you had pulled every bit of aurelac from this miserable place, socked away a fortune beyond your wildest dreams, and lived together forever, indulging in every possible pleasure. You thought of how he might look with the juice of some exotic fruit dripping down his chin as you sat astride him, jewels even rarer than the ones you’d found all hung about your neck, his cock inside you, deep as he could get, drawing orgasm after shaking orgasm from each other on the plushest bed money could buy. Two hedonists, drunk on their spoils.

You imagined what his cock might look like. It felt heavy against you now, but was it thick? Was he uncut? What did he look like when he took it in his own hand? Would he look into your eyes while he worked his length with familiar strokes until he made himself come? Would he bite his lip or would he moan? The image you crafted of him with cum dribbling over his knuckles, onto the drab green of his environmental suit made you clench. Suddenly, seeing how he looked when he came was the most important thing you could think of. Damn the aurelac.

“What are you dreaming about?” He murmured against your neck, snapping you suddenly from your daydream. “It must be good, the way you’re twitching.” When you didn’t answer he rocked his hips into you. “Want to know what I dreamed about? Hm? I dreamed about a lake. It was dark and deep and I could feel it callin’ to me until I walked into it. I couldn’t swim though, and I was about to drown until I felt you bucking into me.” That hand that was slipped into your underwear was cupping your mound now, fingers flat against your slit, giving you enough pressure to let you know he knew exactly what he was doing to you, that devil. His lips brushed against your ear as he dropped his voice even lower, “What do you think it means?”

The tent was stifling. Too hot to think, too close to him. You stammered, unable to formulate any logical response. The question forgotten, Ezra pushed into you, grinding his cock harder against the plush of your ass as his hand slipped lower, dipping into your wet folds to spread your slick messily over your pussy, making circles with his flattened fingers. Twice he circled your entrance before returning to your throbbing clit, teasing you with the promise of more, making you whine and cant your hips into his touch before he pulled his hand back, sucking his wet fingers into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of satisfaction and smack of his lips. Obscenity was second nature to him, it seemed.

“Guess we will have to think on it. Get suited up. Time to go find our paydirt.” With a gentle smack to your ass with his wet hand, he stood and went about his routine, packing his kit, scrubbing filters, cleaning his rail gun, and fastening his helmet on. You watched as he busied himself, not daring to finish what he had started, even if you could feel your heart beating in your core.

Trudging back through the thick vegetation, you listened to Ezra breathe and murmur his promises to you. You walked a few paces ahead of him and he covered you from behind, admiring the way the curves of your ass and hips filled out your suit. They weren’t made for figures like yours, and he was grateful to get to watch how you strained against the thick material. He dreamed of peeling it back off you and memorizing your shape with his hands, that he might be able to remember how you felt one day after you’re gone, when he’s alone in the tent, fucking his hand and dreaming of the lost girl of the green.

For what felt like hours you trekked through the forest, dispassionately studying the moss, the ferns, the vines, the flora and fauna of this strange place with the poison dust that glittered all around you. You ambled along as Ezra prattled on about his crew, his ship, his trials and tribulations, exaggerated for dramatic effect you were sure. It didn’t matter, because you liked his voice. It was so rich and thick, and his inflection and cadence made everything so much more exciting. His foreign drawl was a viscous thing that washed over you, warmed you, disarmed you. It was an elixir he administered with practiced precision for maximum effect. He knew exactly the dose to put you under his spell.

When you make it to a small clearing, you see the telltale signs of an aurelac deposit, the earth just slightly raised in small clusters. Anyone with an untrained eye would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but you and Ezra spotted it immediately. Excitement hummed between you when your eyes met his, dark and shining.

“Look At this. Look at this!” He dragged out the last syllable, rocking back on his heels, he had to stop himself from diving in, extirpating the first heavy node on his own. He took a breath. You’d been cautious, moving slowly and quietly, checking your channels and covering your tracks as you hunted a nest of the fabled root pearls. It was easier to work with a partner, you had to admit. Alone you always had one eye out for danger, and both hands in the ground. Clearly your system wasn’t foolproof, as Ezra had managed to catch you unawares. It still stung to remember your failure. It hurt to know you really couldn’t do it on your own. How few cycles had it taken for this man to find you and take you for his own, to decide for you that you needed him? There was no time to rehash your mistakes, though. You’d wear them with pride.

Ezra paced, checking vantage points around you as you set up. He reminded you of a panther, with his eyes focused and his movements smooth and sure. Your body responded to him, breath quickening and pussy clenching around nothing. You watched and admired how easily he commanded this place that to you seemed untamable, unknowable, so liable to chew you up if it just had the chance. Ezra just made himself at home here. Determination took hold in your chest. Letting your hips sway more than was absolutely necessary, you went about your own unsophisticated routine for setting up your dig. Your laser scalpel, fazer, forceps, diffuser,and tray were arranged on the ground and you were ready.

At Ezra’s assurance that the way was clear, you began the intensive process of harvesting aurelac. First reaching into the ground and locating a node, then clicking on your scalpel to open its fibrous husk. Carefully, you dissolve the membrane inside, and feeling the weight of Ezra’s stare, you barely breathe as you excise the carrom blister- the trickiest part. These things never come away easily, necessitating a firm hand and a decisive slash. One slip of the hand here could compromise the pull. You can’t afford to waste precious time or ruin even the smallest Aurelac pearl. You didn’t need to be reminded that your ability here was the linchpin in the whole operation. Dousing the gem in fazer solution to finalize the process, holding up your bounty for Ezra to see. It was a beautiful specimen. Roughly the size of an egg, and glowing with amber flecks from within. A low whistle came over the radio. “That’s a decent pull, Pussycat. Very nice indeed. I think you better stow that one away for yourself. A little reward.”

Riding high on your first triumph, you tuck the gem in a small case and stash it on the arm pouch of your suit. Ezra’s praise stayed with you as you worked, not bothering to mute yourself so he could hear your panting and groaning as you worked. You knew he could hear you even if he couldn’t see you, and you could hear as he breathed. He was relatively silent for a while as you worked, quickly filling the first collection case and the second, and almost all of a third. The fertile nest had proven itself to be deep and generous. You tried hard to not add up what it all might be worth. It was a lot. A voice inside your head urged you to snap it all up and run. Take it all for yourself. Figure out your own way home. You could buy a space in steerage on any working ship. If you just had Ezra’s rail gun. If he didn’t see your trophy cases, if you could hide them out of sight until he was asleep, if you could get his gun…the plan wasn’t to be.

When he did speak, it nearly caught you by surprise. You were reaching deep into the ground, fingers stretching and fumbling for a bulb when he came across.

“I’m watching you, pussycat. Don’t think about runnin’. I’ll chase you and I’ll catch you every time. I know you haven’t forgotten our deal. I bet you haven’t forgotten how good I can treat you, either. How I’m going to take care of you. I bet you’re still wet from this morning.”

How could you not be? You’d been wet since before he was even awake, wetter when you could feel him watching the sway of your hips as you walked through the forest, and wetter still when your mind swam with dirty thoughts of him taking you right here on the ground.

“Of course.” You answered breathily, looking around to find him a little ways up the ridge to the west of you, his rail gun in one hand, and palming his cock through his suit.

“You tasted so good last night, I can still feel you on my lips, got me aching for more of you.” Your soft whimper in his earpiece egged him on. “Are you going to be good for me? Let me touch you again? You want to feel how hard you’ve got me? What a desperate man you’ve made of me?”

You could hear the way he was fighting to maintain composure and it ate away at your own ability to focus on your delicate work, the reason you were here in the first place. “I want to be good, Ezra.”

Had you been closer you could have seen the way his lip curled into a half smile, just this side of sinister. “Pack up. We’re done.”

By the time you’d gathered and hastily packed everything, Ezra was at your side, shouldering your pack and one of the cases while you took the others. You’d only started to walk back toward the tent when he stopped and turned toward you, tapping his visor against yours, finding your eyes in the dim light. “Follow me and stay close.” Your heart picked up at the change of plans. The twisted path he picked wound up and back down into a hollow in the hills. There, looking battered and abandoned, sat a small ship. It was an early model, a Testin Screamer that was popular back at the beginning of the rush. It looked like it belonged here in the verdant landscape.

The interior was cleaner than you expected, bright and tidy, with the cabin lights and filter in proper order, humming along like it could lift off with the flip of a switch and get you as far as the outer reaches of Spiria if you wanted, maybe further. Awe and confusion collided, giving way to your anxiety again. “Ezra what is this?” You were afraid to ask anything else, not wanting to hear any answers that didn’t suit you.

He didn’t answer at all, though. He just pulled off his helmet and the cumbersome filter rig he wore, dropping them on the floor, eager to get to you and divest you of the same. Your helmet first, then the zippers and snaps, heavy handed and without finesse he stripped you down, leaving you in your panties, suit crumpled around your ankles.

“Ezra” you tried again as he tugged his own zipper down, grunting into your neck as he kissed, hungry and wet from your shoulder to your ear, pinching softly at the side of your breast. He stopped only to free his arms, “My ship.” He finally explained as he stepped on your suit and pulled your legs free in turn before kicking his own aside. “Just needs a starter. All the works are in order, if we can trade some of our aurelac for the right part, we will be creamy. You and I.” He spoke tenderly and earnestly, smoothing your hair, leaving you no space to question, only to trust and abide.

Your partnership with Ezra, enigma that he was, seemed to be ordained. Your cooperation was irrelevant to Kevva’s designs. Ezra is here, you’ve got enough aurelac to give you a life of ease, and now, it seemed, you even had the ship that would take you to that life. It was intoxicating. His scent, the warmth of the air in the hull, the way his grip on your waist tightened as he sucked your stiff nipple into his mouth. It could be so easy to give in when he eased into a seat next to the beeping, humming control panel, pulling you against his chest, sticky with sweat. So easy when his cock was against your belly to just give yourself to him. Let him take what he wanted and sate himself. Something told you though, that he needed the chase. He’s a hunter. Too long without a challenge and he might grow restless and unpredictable. He needs a little fight to keep him sharp. The glimmer in his eyes, when you tried to twist out of his grasp was the confirmation.

“Don’t fight me, kitten.” He warned, pulling you tighter against him, squeezing and lifting to grind your mound against his length. “I can make this wholly enjoyable for you. Let me.” Clearly unsatisfied with your soft eyed silence, he brought his hand down on your ass, making you cry out, more from surprise than pain. Before the sting subsided he repositioned you so your slick cunt was against his thigh. “You want to come? Let me see you take it.”

You started with a timid roll of your hips, watching him watch you as you moved against him, spreading your arousal over his thick muscle. “That’s it. Make a mess. Filthy.” His fingertips dug into your hips as he guided you faster, harder against him. Ezra panted along with you, sweat dampening his hair and running down his neck. “Don’t stop. I know you just want to come. Come for me and I’ll give you what you really want.” He watched your face with parted lips and furrowed brow as you inched closer, rutting against him, desperate, grinding your clit with every backward motion. His hand moved to your breasts, plucked at your nipples, splayed over your chest, felt the pounding of your heart, moved to your neck, your jaw, where his thumb rested on your bottom lip, swiping over it until you opened and let him press it in against your tongue. As you sucked his thumb, the coil that had been winding low in your belly finally snapped. His thumb muffled your cry and his fingers tapped against your cheek.

Without a chance to catch your breath, he held out his hand to you. “Spit.” He looked at you expectantly. “Look at me, pussycat. Look how hard I am. This is because of you. Now, what are you going to do about it?” You let a pool of saliva drip onto his palm, and he spread it over his cock. It was every bit as big as you’d imagined, and beautiful, heavy and thick, foreskin sliding as he stroked himself, revealing a fat and leaking tip. “You’re going to be good and you’re going to get on your knees and help me get it good and wet. The wetter it is, the better it’s gonna feel in that tight cunt. Go on.”

Settled between his knees you couldn’t help but question how you’d gotten here. You felt as if you had been funneled straight to this wild, woolly, articulate man, still a mystery to you but joined now it seemed, the aurelac a contract between you, your alliance more than business. Here now, his throbbing turgid member in your hand, and him, smiling or smirking down at you as you licked lewdly, eyes half lidded, following the hard ridge onto the head where you swirled your tongue. When you worked him into your mouth you felt him jerk, whining softly. His taste was salty and mild, smooth on your tongue and nice. It felt right and good to suck his cock. You lost yourself in his pleasure, varying the speed and depth that you took him, cradling his balls in your palm. You didn’t look to see his face, you didn’t see him bare his teeth. You only felt him tensing and squirming, then his hand in your hair as he pulled you off of him and covered your mouth with his own, kissing you hungrily.

“Don’t get carried away. I’m going to fill you up,” he looked from your eyes to your swollen lips, “but not here.” The implication in the low rumble of his words silenced your mind. There was nothing there but him.

“Ezra.”

“I wanted to bide my time, be a gentleman for you.” Ezra laid you down on the floor, caging you in with his broad, silver scarred shoulders and his strong arms. “The instant I saw you I knew I had to have you, gentle girl. Knew you’d be what I needed.” He dragged the wide head of his cock over your folds, smearing your wetness over your puffy lips and teasing your clit before he lined himself up, but left you in agony as he refused to go any further. No, instead he shifted his knee up under your thigh so he could hold himself up and thumb slow circles over your clit. “I tried to be a good man.” It wasn’t enough. He was so close. He pressed into you a fraction of an inch and then retreated, giving you a delicious pressure but nothing to clench on. You cried and writhed, lifting your hips uselessly, trying to will him into you. Ezra just chuckled. “If you want mercy, you better beg.”

“Ezra!! Ezra, please! Fuck. Fuuuck! Please Ezra, just fuck me!”

“Shhhh.” He hushed you sympathetically, “You can have it.” In one smooth motion he was fully seated, pushing the air from your lungs with all his weight seemingly focused on spearing you. As deep as he could get, Ezra pulsed his hips, making sure you felt every bit of him before he drew back like a bow and plunged forward again, loving the sound you made as he filled you again. He set a slow pace, and you moaned softly at the stretch and fullness of him inside you. The way he dragged against your clit with every being of his hips. Your hands were restless, moving from his shoulder to his neck, up the back to grasp his short, tender curls. Impulsively, you pulled them and were rewarded with a much harder snap of his hips. The force of his movements pushed you up, a problem he remedied by dropping to his elbows, closing you in, holding you close to kiss your neck and breathe into your ear all that he had been consuming him. “Needed you.” He panted. “So good. Taking everything I give, let me do anything. Let me make you use you up…” He trailed off as his thrusts grew sloppy, his tempo uneven. All you could do under his heavy weight was hold on, his neck, his arms, whatever you could reach and your legs around his waist. You gave him one more fluttering orgasm around his cock before the wet sounds of your bodies and the moaning and panting slowly faded as he spilled inside you, filling you with his spend.

All was hazy as you drifted back to yourself. Ezra had stayed inside you, nuzzling you’d neck and jaw, kissing the side of your face. Getting off made him docile and sentimental.

“You don’t belong out here.” He reminded you again. “What if I hadn’t found you? Do you know what could happen to a woman in the green? One sweet like you? As pretty?” He shook his head in disgust.

“You did find me though, Ezra. You’re taking care of me. You found me and we found aurelac and now we just have to get off this moon. We can do what we like now. We never have to put on another helmet again. We never have to leave Lao if we don’t want to. We can swim,” you kissed his bottom lip, “we can eat.” You kissed his nose, “and we can fuck.”

Ezra nodded, sighing and releasing the tension from his shoulders.

That night you tucked yourselves into a bunk on the ship. The filter was better here, and the bed was a better fit for you both, though he still curled around you, tucking your body into his, letting you sleep soundly in his arms.

•••••

Morning on the ship was bright and clear, the sunlight streaming in from a large window above the control panel. You slept better than you had in ages, yawning and stretching and smiling to yourself. It took several blissful moments to register that you were alone.

You called softly for Ezra, hoping he would come if he heard the needy lilt in your voice. Hoped he would remember that you were warm and sleepy and naked in his bed. Hoped he’d come and show you how he thought you ought to be treated.

But he didn’t come.

And he wasn’t in the ship. Not in the cockpit, not in the small hold below.

Panic gripped you as you put on your suit, realizing his was gone and so was the rail gun. You realized that you hadn’t seen which compartment he had

Locked your aurelac in and that you didn’t have a key to open them anyway. Where had he stowed your kit?

Cursing him, you dashed out of the ship, eyes fixed on the swirling dust so you wouldn’t cry. The tent, you decided, was the first place to go. Your tent was there, you could take it maybe you could find Ezra and get your thrower back. Maybe he would be stupid enough to give it to you so you could shoot him. Your heart ached at the thought.

ACT III: Gut The Fencer

Blood rushed through your ears, pounding with your heart as you darted back up the little hill, not caring to cover your tracks. Let them find him! you thought. If you got to him first it wouldn’t matter. Your anger and rage gave way to humiliation and despair. You’d trusted him and you’d been had. What chance did you have now of ever getting back home? Ezra was gone. Gone the aurelac, gone your kit, soon you’d be gone too, one way or another.

You felt sorry for yourself. You thought of something else your grandmother used to say. “Broken hearts want broken necks.” It ached to think of her. You cried, unable to wipe away your tears, they dripped down your cheeks. Your pace slowed as you tried to follow the almost imperceptible desire path that had been made back toward Ezra’s tent. You had to watch your step, ever vigilant of the spore producers that could overwhelm your filter, the rocks and vines, the biting insects, the animals in the trees. So many threats lurked.

You were glad the BG line was shutting down. This Kevva forsaken moon was cursed. Everyone who came here was cursed. Nothing good was here. You kicked and shoved at the branches in your path and as if on cue, you snagged your boot on a vine and fell forward until you were abruptly snatched back up by your arm.

“What are you doing out here?” That familiar voice hissed. “Where are you going, pussycat? Where are you running with no thrower?” His voice was low, angry with a top note of suspicion. Jerking from his grip, your spun to face him, hurt and seething. “YOU left ME, Ezra! I don’t have a thrower because YOU took it. YOU took MY aurelac!” There was more to scream at him, but your voice was cracking so you charged at him instead. You could take out his knees, knock him down, disarm him, and dispatch him. That was the best plan. It was your only plan until your shoulder met his chest and he barely wavered. He just put an arm around you and dared to laugh. “Pussycat. I met with the Sater. They are early risers and I didn’t want to disturb you. I should have told you I was leaving. I apologize for the oversight.”

You softened against him, trying to work out if you should believe him or not.

“Why’d you meet the Sater?” It came out more accusatory than you meant. Ezra smiled at you, wide and boyish. “Let’s discuss this back on the ship. While we walk you can tell me where you were going to so fast that you nearly rolled down this ravine?” He took your hand and led you, looking back every few steps to watch with a sympathetic scowl as you told him how you were frightened when you woke up alone, how you thought he’d used you, abandoned you, left you to die.

By the time you made it back to the ship, apologies were made and re-made, vows to never leave you again sworn, and looks of devotion and care and desire exchanged.

nside the ship, your suits were stripped, his hands cupped your face and yours twisted in his soft undershirt.

Your back met the paneled wall as Ezra’s forehead fell

against yours, he lifted you and held you in place against him. “I’ve got to tell you. I wanted to wait until

It was all finished, but I can’t wait. I went to finalize an entente with the Sater. Our smallest gem for a starter that I can hot wire to this derelict ship. It won’t be long.” You were speechless. It was too good to be true. “Ezra…” you started, but he stopped you with a kiss. “You need to understand me now, Pussycat. I found you for a reason. I’m not keen to give you up. The aurelac is yours, this ship is yours, and you are mine.” He punctuated the last word with a firm push against your wet pussy, making you whine and rock your hips. “This pussy is mine. These tits are mine. Your hands, your mouth, all mine.” His cock swelled against your mound, more precum beading at the swollen head.

“You’re going to let me have you however I want, and I’m going to give you a little present.” You nodded, servile and soft for him.

He moved you back into the bunk where you woke up alone, and called you his sweet girl, his good girl, his only one. He kissed you and squeezed you, made you putty in his rough hands. Arousal dampening your panties so that they stuck to you, translucent, making you throb just to this side of discomfort. He sat up and pulled you across his lap, ass up, legs splayed. He murmured something unintelligible and loving caressed the back of your thighs, up over the swell of your ass, tugging your panties to wedge between your cheeks and pull taut against your aching pussy. Back down, he massaged you, everywhere but where you needed him most. Down your inner thighs, nudging against your puffy lips. As one hand made it’s way up your calf, the other kneaded your ass and inched down to tease at the wet fabric over your entrance.

Circling your ankle in his hand, he pulled your foot toward him, bringing your toes to his mouth and sucking two at a time, making you jump in surprise at the strange sensation. No one had ever done such a thing. It felt dirtier than anything else he had done. While he sucked and hummed around the little digits, his other hand played lazily with your pussy, smacking it gently through the wet fabric, pressing the saturated cotton into your folds to show every detail of your center. He finally turned loose of your foot, but returned his attention ten-fold back to your cunt. Both hands were on you, rubbing, pressing, massaging, smearing slick as he praised your obsequiousness.

You tried hard to keep your breathing steady, so worked up but with no relief, you pinched, pulled, rolled your nipples and keened, rolling your hips looking for more anything. Ezra answered your prayers with one more loud, stinging smack to your pussy.

“Are you ready for your present now? I think you are, if the way you’re soaking my leg is any indication.” You thought he might leave you, go get your gift, but he pulled a small case from under the pillow. An aurelac case. An odd gift considering the amount of aurelac you had struck, but you watched with curiosity as he slid the case in front of you, leaving you across his lap, adjusting his cock.

As expected, inside you found a small aurelac pearl. It was shiny, as if it had been polished and refined, making the reticulation of the amber inside sparkle. It was lovely. “Thank you, Ezra. It’s beautiful.” You twisted back to kiss him, but his eyes had darkened and he had begun running your through again. “Take it out.” He instructed. You carefully plucked the litttle gem from

The case and saw it had been carved. It looked like a spade, an objet d’art. You turned it in your hand, appreciating the fine detail of the shaping and the way the small stand at the bottom was shaped into a perfectly flat circle. It would be perfect on your desk. “Do you recognize it? That’s the first gem you harvested. The Sater are deeply religious, but they do undertake art as well. When you agreed to be mine, well, I couldn’t resist. And now you’ll have a little memento from this dig and from me. Wear it in good health, Pussycat.”

“Wear it?” Was it jewelry? “Ezra, I don’t understood. It’s very pretty though, very sweet of you. Thank you.” You reached for the box to tuck the gem away for safe keeping, but Ezra took it from your hand. “I’ll show you how you’re going to wear it for me. He closed the little sculpture in his hand, warming it as he resumed his ministrations. Sliding his fingers through your folds, brushing over your clit, teasing your entrance, he completed that circuit a few times while you rocked your hips slightly. On the last pass, he dragged a slick finger over your tighter hole. For the second time tonight he made you squirm. “Have you done this before?” He teased, and you shook your head. He dragged his middle finger through your folds and brought it up to join the first, pressing against your tight ring of muscle, you felt him move again, the rustle of fabric, and the snap of a lid. Unable to see what he was doing you could only guess what he was doing.

Soon enough the answer came in the form of a drip of cool liquid. It dripped down, mixing with your own arousal. Ezra spread it around and slowly, determinedly pressed the tip of his finger into your ass. You whined, he soothed you with his soft voice, his free hand rubbing your back gently as he worked. You weren’t aware of the effect it was having on him to be the first one to explore you this way, to have you so wrapped around his finger that you didn’t protest at all as he readied you for the next step. Adding more of the liquid and twisting his finger before joining it with another, the stretch was foreign and new, not exactly uncomfortable, your body seemed to adjust to each new thing he introduced, something you pondered on as he pressed further, sliding the two fingers in and out gently, shallowly, as he thumbed your clit. Your pussy ached for attention.

When Ezra decided you were ready, he positioned the aurelac where his fingers had been inside you, gave a few testing presses, added more liquid, and set to work, pressing, twisting, easing the gem into your asshole as you whined and whimpered, until it was settled, just the wide base remaining. Ezra admired his handiwork. “You’re a marvel. How’s it feel? Big?” You nod, “Yeah, Ez. Big. Full.” Ezra pressed on the little toy, watching with glee as it sank in.

He rolled you carefully to your back, soaking in your naked body, spread out and open for him, and him alone. He bent to kiss and suck at your nipples, up your chest, and licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply, with more passion than you’d ever experienced. The kind you thought existed only in movies. But here he was, so giving and tender, so mad for you and your body, so eager to give and take. You were breathless, both of you when he pulled away, searching your face, staring at your lips. “Open up.” You obeyed. “Stick out your tongue.” You were unsure, but you obeyed. Grinning, he spit onto your tongue. Your eyes went wide as it dripped to the back of your tongue. “Don’t swallow it. Leave it right there while I take more of what’s mine.” You could only nod, breathing hard through your nose as he dragged his cock through your folds, smacking the head against your clit for good measure before easing into your pussy, aware of how much tighter you were, how sensitive you were with your aurelac in place. He moaned, feeling his cock rub against that defiled gem while he fucked your cunt. Slow and easy, gentle, he rocked back and forth, listening to your cries and moans, knowing you couldn’t make the noise you wanted to with his spit in your mouth. “Swallow it.”

Watching you follow his every instruction without question, a toy for him made him hard like never before. He fucked into you faster, spurred on by your uninhibited sounds. He slid his hand between your bodies to tend to your clit, giving you the last little push you needed to come. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, bucking your hips, squeezing your tits, reaching the highest height you could imagine. You were hot and cold, boneless and rigid, you were nothing until he was inside you. Ezra hadn’t stopped his own pursuit, just slowed until you settled, but now he was on the hunt again, bouncing your ties with every thrust, making wet, sticky sounds fill the air with his sneer. Remembering last night, you reached up and took a handful of his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, never letting go until he was coming with a strangled shout, leaving you dripping his cum. It was exhausting to love Ezra. Terrifying to admit that you loved him. Such a short time in the grand scheme, a tiny tick on the timeline of what would be the rest of your lives together.

You tangled your limbs together, holding each other, whispering sweet things, kissing for a long while until he sat up. “I’ve got one more thing for you, pussycat. Do you trust me?” You promised that you did and he left, rummaged a minute before returning, holding a short length of rope. He climbed in above you and kissed you again, the sort of kiss you wanted to feel forever on your lips. “I want to tie you up. Are you going to let me?” Happy to please him, you held out your wrists. He kissed each one, and crossed one over the other, thing an intricate knot that looked like a bow. You liked being a little gift for him. “One more thing.” He whispered, and ducked out while you waited for his return, eager to see what he had in store, wiggling to feel his gift inside you. You heard movement, and opened your eyes, expecting Ezra, but seeing a figure in black, a Sater. You screamed for Ezra to come save you, but he stepped into view with his hand on the sater’s shoulder, starter in his hand. “You really shouldn’t trust anyone out here, Pussycat.

[skeletorrito]

first part of my new satosugu plasma vessel arc fic 😁

it's a rough draft, but i like where it's going so far !!! pls provide feedback 💕 thanks! ☺️

Okinawa

“Let’s just fly out tomorrow morning, Suguru!” Satoru Gojo called out to his friend as he splashed in the clear ocean waves of Okinawa. 

Riko Amanai’s eyes sparkled at this idea. She peered up at Satoru, who was initially tormenting her with a creepy-looking sea cucumber. 

Suguru Geto frowned, hand coming up to his brow to block the sun. “You know we can’t…” He called back, standing and dusting sand off of himself. He padded over to a shady spot. 

Satoru, bone-dry from head to toe, met him on the shore. “C’mon, Sugu, the weather will hold up, and there’s not as many curse users around. What’s one more day to go sightseeing?” He challenged with a pout. “We’ll just let the bounty expire while we’re in the air.”

Suguru’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. He leaned in and murmured, “You haven’t released your technique since yesterday, have you?” 

Satoru’s eyes grew wide. He remained silent, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You haven’t slept, either, and I know you don’t plan on sleeping tonight,” he looked Satoru up and down, taking note of the heavy bags under his eyes. “I’m worried about you, Satoru. You sure we don’t need to go back?”

He gave Suguru a playful punch and reassured him, “I’m fine, really, stop worrying. I’ve stayed up longer playing Stardew Valley.” He leaned in closer, grinning as he added, “Plus, you’re here too.” 

Suguru softened at this comment. 

Satoru smirked as he continued in a suggestive whisper near Suguru’s ear, “And you’re going to keep me up tonight, right?”  

Suguru flushed beet red, muttering, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt..."

“Hey, Riko, we’re staying!” 

Riko cheered at this. 

So, unsurprisingly, the group ended up sightseeing for the rest of the day. 

Satoru packed the day with fun activities: tandem kayaking, shopping for souvenirs, visiting botanical gardens, eating ramen, and finally, the best part, visiting Okinawa’s aquarium. 

If Suguru had any idea of what a “perfect date” was, this would have to be it. 

He gazed at Satoru lovingly, admiring how the glowing aquarium tanks reflected in his equally beautiful ocean eyes. Satoru, in his own impulsive way of course, planned this whole amazing day for everyone even while sleep-deprived and anxious. Suguru glanced over at Riko and Kuroi, both of whom looked on in wonder and excitement at the exhibits. He noticed Satoru’s attention also shifted to them, smiling to himself. 

He’s being so thoughtful today... 

Suddenly, Suguru filled with emotion. He reflected on how precious Satoru was to him and it almost hurt how intensely he wanted to cherish him. His fingers nudged at Satoru’s, and Satoru responded by lacing them tightly, uncaring of curious onlookers. Everyone else faded into the background, as they often did when he was with Suguru. They stood in comfortable silence as they watched sea creatures dart and weave around them. 

“It’s like we’re on vacation…” Suguru thought aloud, smiling softly to himself.

Satoru peeked at him through the corner of his sunglasses and matched his smile. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Satoru replied, fixing his gaze on the giant, majestic whale passing over them.

Suguru squeezed his hand gently. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

They rented a quaint, two-bedroom beach house for the night. Misato Kuroi, the only true adult present (because let’s be honest, two eighteen-year-old high-school students barely make up a single, functional adult), helped organize this with Suguru. He managed to smooth-talk his way into the last beach house vacancy in Okinawa for the night under her supervision.  

“It’s only two bedrooms…” Kuroi commented as they all settled in. “Is that okay for you both? There might be a spare futon…”

“It’s fine,” they both replied in unison, side-eyeing each other and giggling quietly as they shuffled inside with their bags. 

Kuroi looked surprised at first, then her face softened and she smiled. “You two must be very close.” 

“Yeah, we’re boy-” Satoru started. 

“Best friends. We’re best friends.” Suguru finished. He shot a warning look at Satoru. 

Satoru clenched his teeth into an awkward, apologetic smile and escaped into the bedroom. Kuroi’s eyebrows rose as she studied Suguru’s face curiously. They exchanged uncomfortable, polite smiles and farewells, then scurried to their respective bedrooms. 

He frowned as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Can you try to be a little more subtle? We’re still on a mission, after all…” He muttered in a low volume, dropping his backpack on the floor next to the bed. 

Satoru flopped onto the bed with a relieved sigh, spreading out his stuff wherever he felt like it. His sunglasses were the only thing folded neatly on the bedside table. “Oh, whatever, stop being so uptight. Let’s just enjoy this little vacation together while we can.” He patted at the spot next to him, wiggling his finger in a “come hither” motion.

Suguru conceded, pulling the elastic from his bun as he joined Satoru on the mattress. “I’m glad we stayed. You planned a really nice day, Satoru.” He settled into a plush pile of pillows, his long, dark hair splaying in beautiful contrast to the white pillows. 

“I know. You’re welcome.” Satoru took this opportunity to wriggle closer, slipping under Suguru’s arm and resting his head on his chest. He snaked his long arms around Suguru’s waist, sighing happily as he squeezed tightly.

“Take a nap, you need it,” Suguru suggested, hooking his arm around Satoru’s shoulders and reaching up to thread his fingers into fluffy white hair. He pulled out his phone to set an alarm. 

Satoru yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open in Suguru’s warm embrace. “I can’t… Gotta protect her…” Despite his arguments, he nuzzled his face further into Suguru’s shoulder. 

“I’ll stay up and wake you in a couple of hours. I’ve already got curses patrolling outside. You don’t have to do this alone, y’know.”

Satoru forced his eyes to open as best as he could so he looked up at Suguru appreciatively. Then, he smiled deviously with another brilliant idea written across his face. “I’ll sleep… if you jump in the ocean with me later tonight.”

Suguru snorted as he scrolled through his phone, “Satoru, that’s a terrible idea.” 

“My ideas are never terrible,” Satoru mumbled, eyelids growing heavy again. He finally closed them as he mumbled, sadly and quietly, “You didn’t even get in today… I wanted to swim with you.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Suguru smiled, kissing the top of Satoru’s head. His hair smelled like sweet citrus. “Now get some rest.” 

Satoru hummed sleepily before he drifted off, “I know you’ll say yes.” 

Suguru laughed quietly to himself. 

I probably will.

Satoru woke in a panic two hours later, gasping and attempting to sit up. He was still firmly tucked against Suguru, who jolted at Satoru’s sudden movements. Satoru lifted his head, eyes wide with anxiety. “Wha- What time is it?! Where’s Riko!?”

Suguru patted him, coaxing his head back down. “Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Riko’s sleeping, everything’s fine. It’s only 11pm.”

Satoru relaxed into the touch, sighing. “Good, I’m glad.” He sat up and stretched with a yawn. “Only 11? That’s perfect. Let’s go for a dip.” He grinned widely and stood. Clearly, an extra few hours of sleep did the job. “C’mon, we’re already in swimsuits.”

Suguru rolled his eyes, groaning, “Ugh I was really hoping you’d forget about that. It’s going to be freezing, Satoru.” He stretched out across the mattress, shaking the numb arm Satoru was sleeping on. 

“Exactly,” Satoru replied and booped Suguru on the nose with his finger. “It’ll keep us awake.” 

Suguru took a silent moment to consider. He hated (loved) that Satoru could convince him into these shenanigans so easily. He finally agreed, but on one condition, “I’m only going in if you promise not to use Infinity.” He squinted at him, a serious look on his face. “This is your idea, so you have to commit. Otherwise, I’m staying here.”

Satoru’s face fell. He pouted, “But-”

“We can take a shower together after.” 

Satoru immediately agreed, blushing wildly, “Okay fine. No Infinity.”

[pupyr0arz]

Amab!gn!reader x stalker!soap. Dubcon/nc (sexual harassment), stalking, etc. soap is an awful ex. Mentions of murderous intent, guns, assault and abusive behavior.

you’re still working on the timing. You can’t bring it up too early, it’s a date killer and you refuse to let him win. It’s what he wants, to send any prospective other scrambling for the door, and even if spite is the only thing keeping you in the scene it’s a damn good motivator. You’re going to be happy with someone goddamnit, and it’s not going to be his toxic ass. It’s not like you’re asking much, just a casual relationship. You’re not one for commitment, marriage isn’t something you’re willing to consider, and honestly these days who is?

Aside from him, at least. You’re not sure if that counted. The ring he bought seemed more of a collar, the creep.

Never doesn’t work either, he makes sure of that. You’re not sure how he finds you, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to assume he can pick your shitty locks. You don’t move, you don’t have the cash for that out of the blue and you’re seventy five percent sure he’d track you down in a week. He was always the type. The other twenty five percent was him finding you after two weeks. You really should be smarter about who you date, an army man is one thing but one with ties to intelligence? Awful stuff to separate yourself from. You’re smart enough not to thrash, he’d only pull you down tighter. The trick to quicksand is floating away slowly, calm and measured.

The third date, if it’s going well, seems to be a nice time to bring it up. Wind the conversation into personal topics, troubles, issues, soothe them and give whoever you’ve brought back a shortened version of events. The best version of this conversation you had was at four pm, high off your ass on a hot girl’s couch where the two of you ate canned sardines and crackers and you put your head in her lap. It’s just an annoying ex who kept sniffing around the area, you know how it is. Girls pat your arm sympathetically, guys tell you they’ll send him packing. It’s all self defense tips and reminiscing on psycho exes. Guys don’t get stalked as often, or they don’t talk to you about it as much, but you hear a lot of horror stories. One time a girl lifts her shirt and presses your hand to a scar where her ex stabbed her with a knife.

You take some solace in that he’s never been violent with you. He has a temper, sure, but compared to the many, many opportunities he’s had, he’s only sent maybe one person to the hospital. He’s more than intimidating in person, built like a brick shithouse and he gets that look in his eyes that tells anything with a pulse and anything registering on a brain scan to get the hell out. Sometimes you dream of him handling bombs with that look in his eyes. You don’t know if you find that crazy, suicidal hate is more unsettling, or the warmth he still has when he looks at you.

he’s a ‘chivalrous’ stalker. Follows you around at night when he’s in the country. Burner phones leaving messages and texting constantly, he still sends you money. You use it, of course, you’re in no position to deny yourself the nest egg, but you hate how he acts about it. Every glance to him, acknowledgement of his existence or not, hell the way you pour your coffee seems to be some coded invitation to him. He leaves long voicemails of him, hand on his dick as he alternates between obsessing over your body, your dick, the time you had together, and with how worried he is about you. It’s pathological, some fucked up fetish of his to imagine you like that, an object he keeps locked away and dusts ever so gently to avoid bruising. It makes you want to punch him until his stupid, pretty face is unrecognizable and bury him in the woods. Your face burns as you try to look back the disgusting, annoying fucking babbling for the sounds of his moaning.

Like clockwork, he stops by. Jiggling your locks open and fucking around with your things. He doesn’t steal anything, but you’re pretty sure that’s just because you left your stuff when you broke up and hit the road. You used to buy shitty dollar store cameras, but he’d break them and leave thumb drives of him jacking off in your room, so you stopped the habit. He’s never had an ounce of shame in his life, and it doesn’t seem to have changed when it comes to you. He’s more brazen, if anything, when you’re dating. You play hard to get and all he wants to do is chase the bone more, stupid dog with his eye on a moving car.

You never say his name to your new flings, he babbles yours in the calls and messages. Once he mails a notebook, full sized, where he’s spent every page but one with nothing but your name. You called him a schoolgirl, and your boyfriend at the time had given you a wide eyed look of general horror. Admittedly, he’d been spooked by too many run ins with an aggressive stranger, but it was a stupid reason to break up in your eyes.

Maybe it was more than a little impulsive, but the number you’ve memorized still works. Still, you’re more than a little tired of the whole mouse and cat game. And you’re a bit drunk. Whatever, it’s not like you’re much better sober these days. You’re never rational when it comes to him, otherwise you would’ve tried to kill him by now.

It rings.

You know you’ve timed it right when he doesn’t pick up, off killing and fighting and being the scariest thing in the dark. You don’t say much, but you don’t need to. He was always sensitive when you two dated, and he’s gone above and beyond to prove the desperation of the depths he’s sunk to. You’re not trained to read people, and your only experience with fighting was kung fu at thirteen. But this fight is going to be on your own goddamn terms from now on.

You’ve gone to the range without him, a week before. He lamented about it like you shot his dog instead of some paper targets. You’re no gun nut, but you’ve learned a couple things.

Load. Aim.

“Johnny.”

Click.

[ada7201]

Can you do Sae x female reader x Rin from Blue Lock? The Itoshi brothers falls in love with the same person and they are fighting for her love.

hii anon!! this is my first ever request and i just had a little happy moment. thank you!! this is actually such a cute idea too! here you gooo ☆

also, i had no idea how to write this - i didn’t know whether i should make us get with one of the brothers or not - i apologise if this wasn’t written the way you wanted!

pick me, choose me, love me!

with … Itoshi Ron, Itoshi Sae, and y/n 🤍

Rin doesn’t even know how it got to this… maybe it was the way you comforted him, and the way you pat his back ever so gently whenever he cries… maybe it was your sweet words. but, he somehow had fallen in love with you.

Sae doesn’t understand either, he didn’t mean to see so much good in you. but he couldn’t help it, your pretty eyes that would watch him play soccer so well, and your sweet giggle that you’d let him hear whenever he made a snarky comment about someone.

the three of you had grown up together, so why did they never realise just how cute you were until now? until they can barely look at each other without starting a fight.

and to make matters worse- you, like the angel you are, were trying to help the two of them!

nothing can be helped, when they both love you.

so, instead of listenting to your advice and “talking it out” or whatever, they both wordlessly agreed to fight each other and see who would be the winner of your gentle heart.

You and Rin would be walking together, with you happily rambling about your newest interest- when he would stop.

“And then- Rin?” You’d pause. Stopping aswell, to see what he was doing. just as your head turned, you were met face to face with your favorite flower.

“Here.” he said simply, a soft pink blush dusting his cheeks as he looked away from you. he just could not handle watching you be so happy- he thinks he would just explode right then and there if he even caught a glimpse of your pretty smile.

“Thank you!” You smiled at him, taking the flower from his grasp before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

rest in peace Rin, you will be missed!

However, the next day- a bouquet of beautiful roses of your favorite colour were delivered to your front doorstep with a note saying:

pretty flowers for a pretty girl.

from, Sae.

You smiled so hard that day - and as much as Rin loved seeing you happy, he wanted to burn every f/c rose on the earth so bad.

So, he brought you to an arcade, where the two of you played games and giggled about. he even smiled at you a few times, which made you really happy, of course.

why were you just realising how cute Rin was?

When you got back home, you were exhausted. you almost didn’t notice Sae FaceTiming you!

you answered quickly, a happy, yet tired smile on your pretty face as you waved to the camera, keeping your eyes on Sae’s face through the screen.

“Hi, y/n - why do you seem so tired? Is everything alright?” he’d ask, and you watched as he sat up in his bed. his bright teal eyes seemed to darken as he thought of the worst - what did Rin make you do?

“I’m alright, Sae! You don’t have to worry! I just had a very exciting day, that’s all. With Rin! Do you wanna hear about it?” You’d respond quickly, holding onto your phone with two hands.

“As much as i love you, I do not want to hear about what you and him were doing.” Sae sighed, suddenly feeling annoyed at the fact you had so much fun with his fool of a brother - until he had an idea.

“Do you want to come over?” He asked, smirking softly at the way you smiled happily at his suggestion. Cute.

you ended the call, and ran to change into your pyjamas and pack your bag before rushing back outside - nearly tripping over your slippers on the way. the Uber that Sae had ordered for you was parked outside, the driver glaring at you for taking so long.

you apologised over and over as you sat yourself into the back of the car, and shut up once you clicked your seatbelt in.

unbeknownst to you, Sae had paid the driver to be patient with you.

when you finally arrived at Sae’s place, you were even more tired than before!

“I’m sorry for suggesting such a thing at this time, y/n.” He’d apologise, though he didn’t seem very sorry with the grin on his face.

he couldn’t help it! he was just so excited to have you over - at his place! you, the cutest girl ever! you were going to be where he lived - it took a LOT for him to hide the excitement radiating off of him before you arrived.

“Would you like me to run you a bath? Or do you want to just go to sleep right now - maybe watch a movie?” Sae offered giddily, his real eyes sparkling as he picked up your bag like the gentleman he is.

“I just wanna sleep - wait, a movie!?” you exclaimed, a smile on your face as you looked up at him.

he just nodded in response, guiding you towards the front door.

when you arrived in his room, he was almost as red as a cherry - you are so cute when you’re tired!

he picked you up and playfully threw you on his bed, giggling at the way you squealed - before reaching out and picking the remote to his tv up.

he got himself comfortable next to you, “unknowingly” cuddling up to you before pulling the warm blanket over the two of you.

was Sae always this warm?

and in the morning, Sae found himself victim to your strange sleeping positions - today, you are laying diagonally on his stomach, snoring softly.

you’re so cute.

Sae and Rin continued to “fight” each other - both aiming for your love, without you knowing.

you’d get a cupcake from Rin, but a cake from Sae - it was like a never ending, secret, war.

but, if it meant that one of them would be able to have your love and affection - it was all worth it.

(my first ever postttt (•̀ᴗ•́)و

[hazeracha]

• // kcon la // •

pairing // chan x reader

warning // fluff, chan’s kcon la outfit ( yes that is a warning! )

wc: 1.5k

A/N I am also going to include text messages in this story just for my own enjoyment because I enjoy reading them so much, and will probably be using them as additional parts to chapters like this one > texts with chan < or chan’s room episodes that don’t have enough content to write to write about.

The flight from Seoul to LA was a long one, meaning you had time to wait until you got any updates from Chan. You hoped he would take this opportunity to catch up on some sleep but the chances of that were slim.

As you waited for an update you decided to catch up on some work and also tidy up around the dorm. You didn’t move anything just tidied, you hated it when people moved your stuff around so you left everything as it was like always. You just dusted and hoovered a little whilst also doing some of their laundry and leaving it in their rooms. It’s not that their dorm was dirty it just needed a little clean up and you knew they would appreciate it when they got back, it’s something you often did when you spent any time in the dorms alone.

You heard the sound of your phone buzzing from beside you as you worked on your laptop, which you had been doing for the last couple of hours. You reached for your phone the first thing you noticed was Chan’s contact lighting up your screen. It was a screenshot of Chan you had taken during one of your many FaceTime calls. Your eyes were also drawn to the top left of your phone screen, it was currently 8:57 and you hadn’t had dinner yet. Quickly answering your phone you propped your phone up and left it sitting on Chan’s desk that you were currently sitting at.

“Hey,” you heard Chan’s voice from the other side of the phone. He sounded tired.

“Hey, babe. Are you at the hotel?”

“Yeah, we just arrived so I thought I would give you a call to let you know we all arrived safely. Sorry for not messaging you, the airport was just really stressful. There were so many people waiting on us arriving and the staff were struggling, just too much was happening.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. You don’t need to apologise. Okay?” You interrupted him from his rant, you could see Chan, sitting somewhere in his hotel room and running a hand through his hair and rubbing his thighs.

“Wait! Have you still not left the dorm?”

“No. I left just after you to go and get some food. I don’t think I would have been able to survive with what you had in here,” You joked.

“Come on it's not that bad.” You laughed and Chan followed as you watched him throw his head back but it was short-lived, when his face dropped once again. It’s almost as if you could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that everything that happened at the airport is stressing me out. There were so many people and the staff were struggling, I know it’s not my problem to deal with but I always do my best to help and today I just feel like everything was a little out of hand. I know it’s not the first time it’s happened either and it’s definitely not the last I just wish there was something more I could do to help. But most importantly just make everyone safe.”

Chan always gave straightforward answers and told the truth when you asked him this question because he knew you could see right through him and would immediately know if he was lying. Of course, sometimes he didn’t want to talk about it, which you also understood and knew he would tell you when he was ready or sometimes not at all.

“Plus Lee Know is travelling alone tomorrow which is also stressing me out more, and honestly I think all I need is a hug.” He laughed and you felt your heart shatter at his last words but quickly remembered something you had packed in his case the night before.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you the thing you need most right now. But maybe I can give you the next best thing, go and check your case.” You watched as Chan rushed over to his case, sitting his phone on the floor so you could see him unzipping the case and throwing everything out. He looked at you with a confused expression as his case lay empty in front of him and he still couldn’t find the item you were talking about.

“It’s literally right there in your hand silly.”

He looked at the hoodie he was holding in his hands still with confusion before he finally realised what hoodie it was. Chan gave you this a couple of months ago when you were staying over and you just never gave it back. This wasn’t unusual between the two of you so he easily forgot about the many things he gave you and knew it would show up again eventually.

That or one of the other members stole the item he was missing.

“I was wondering where this went. I’m not going to take it off. Ever!”

“Your disgusting, you're going to need to take it off to perform. There is no way the staff are letting you perform in that.”

“I can be very persuasive”

“Oh, I’m sure you can. But I already planned for this soo... I put one of my perfumes in your toiletries bag so you can wash the hoodie”

He disappears from the phone screen and you can hear the sounds of objects falling on the bathroom floor as he empties yet another bag. He appears back in your view with the biggest smile on his face, well it’s certainly the biggest you have seen since he arrived in LA. Sometimes it was the smallest things that made him the happiest and not big grand gestures, just small things that reminded him you still cared and were always thinking about him.

You continued to talk to Chan for another couple of hours, both of you getting food and talking about his schedule for the next couple of days before deciding it was time to call it a night and get some rest.

But before you went to bed you had one more thing to do.

> Y/N - Felix are you busy rn?

Felix > No, is everything alright?

> Y/N - Yeah everything’s fine but can you do me a favour?

Felix > Of course, anything for you noona…

> Y/N - Can you go and give Chan a BIG HUG from me before going to bed please??

Felix > Give me 5 minutes!!!

Felix > Mission complete 🫡

> Y/N - Thank you lix!!, I’m going to bed now. Have a good day/night. Love you 💙

Felix > Goodnight noona, Love you too 💙

Before falling asleep your phone lights up and you see a message from Chan

Channie > I LOVE YOU!!!!

> Y/N - I LOVE YOU TOOO!!!

You were waiting for Chan to phone you after his performance at KCON, and of course, as you were waiting you scrolled through social media to see any updates that were posted about the boys, and it’s safe to say you were shocked. You had gotten so used to Chan wearing crop tops for his stage performances and wearing baggy clothes at home, that you had forgotten what he looked like with tight-fitted clothing. Even though you see him shirtless most of the time there is just something so attractive about seeing his muscles tense underneath the tight clothing. It’s safe to say Chan would definitely have a few strong-worded messages to read when he gets off stage.

You continue scrolling for another couple of minutes before your phone started to ring and chan's contact appeared on the screen.

"I Hate you," Chan said the second you answered the phone.

"Woah, what a way to greet your girlfriend," you replied placing a hand on your chest. You knew he was joking but you played along. "Do you want me to hang up? Is this a bad time or... "

"No, don't hang up. I'm just embarrassed and the boys keep asking me why I was smiling and laughing at my phone."

"Aww, I didn't know it was that bad. You started your nervous giggling just from my messages. I didn't know I had such an effect on you."

"Ya!!! Stop it. Your gonna make it so much worse if any of them hear you.”

"I'm sorry. You just make it too easy."

"See Chan hyung. Noona gets it, you are such an easy person to fluster and wind up. Which is why you're our favourite person to tease and are always our first target" Seungmin appears from behind Chan putting both hands on his shoulders and shaking him.

"Hey Seungmin, how are you?" You asked and watched as he took Chan's phone and sat on one of the couches in the waiting room.

You and Seungmin plus another couple of the members spoke for a while before they had to leave and go to the hotel for the night. Chan phoned you again before going to bed and told you some news that quite possibly made your night. Just before hanging up the phone and saying your goodbyes, Chan flipped the camera showing his stage outfit hanging up. You were already excited about chan coming home but now you were ecstatic.

© byeguyshiladies04 2023

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Sultan's Shore (Kalim x GN!Reader)

Kalim’s sparkling white smile was almost blinding. His ruby eyes twinkled with happiness, his sun-kissed skin speckled with seawater. The young man was having the time of his life. He turned to you as he filled his bucket with yet another pound of wet sand. “[Y/n]! How’s the moat coming along?” 

“It’s going great!” You continued to pat down sand with your little shovel as Kalim trotted over. “I just need a bit more wet sand to pack in the walls around the moment, and then it’ll be finished!”

“Awesome!” Kalim knelt next to you and set his bucket of soppy sand between you. “I think this should be enough for that.” 

You nodded in agreement. You dug your shovel into the bucket and fished out some of the makeshift cement and brought it to the moat. You put a clump at its edge before you patted it down, securing it in place. You glanced up at the rest of you and Kalim’s sandcastle. It wasn’t the most glamorous, but it was coming along quite nicely. You honestly never expected Kalim to be so good at making sandcastles, but the man had some surprises in him yet. You chuckled as you eyed the little seashell Kalim had placed atop the tallest tower of the structure: the crown jewel of the palace. 

“I love making sandcastles,” Kalim said as he began constructing yet another small tower. “My siblings and I love going down to the beach; we often have contests on who can make the best sandcastle.” His eyes suddenly lit up - you could practically see the lightbulb atop his head. “We should have one here! Tomorrow!” 

You smiled at his enthusiasm. “That sounds like fun! I know many would enjoy it - but it might be best if we separated people into teams. There’d be more space that way, and it’d allow for us to make even bigger sandcastles.” 

“Yeah!” Kalim’s grin was as bright as the sun. “That’s such a good idea. You’re amazing, [Y/n]!” 

You let out a chuckle, your cheeks now dusted a bit pink. “Well, it’s not the most unique idea. I just thought it’d be fun.” To try and save yourself from further flustering, you moved the conversation along. “Should we separate teams by dorm or by randomly chosen groups?” 

“I think random groups would be cool.” Kalim gave a small pout as his small tower grumbled soon after he lifted the bucket. “How do we do that though?” 

“We could have people draw straws,” you suggested. You helped Kalim reconstruct his failed tower as you continued. “Or we could draw colored strips from a hat. Either way, the ones with the same things drawn would be on the same team.” 

Kalim’s smile quickly returned - both by your ideas and by how this tower did not grumble. “I’ll get it set up then! I hope Jamil and I will be on the same team…wait, I should try to aim to be on an opposite team.” 

“Why?” 

“So I don’t rely on him as much.” Kalim began to decorate the sandy structure with more shells. “He does so much for me already, and we’re almost always on the same team since we’re both in Scarabia. I need to show Jamil I can be independent; he needs to see that he can do other things without having to worry about me.” 

Your heart softened in that instant. You knew why Kalim felt that way; even if it was months ago, Jamil’s overblot was still on his mind. When he realized just how little Jamil had gotten to live because of him, Kalim felt genuine remorse. He still wished to be friends with Jamil - but, above all else, he cared for his well-being and feelings. There were many people at the college who didn’t have the same heart as Kalim…he really was a kind, sweet man. Your smile softened as you patted Kalim’s hand. 

“I’m sure Jamil would appreciate that, Kalim.” Then, for a moment, you exchanged your smile for a frown. “But will you be okay? I know how much you love to spend time with Jamil.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Kalim reassured you with another bright smile, eyes shining with determination. “Besides, I have other friends I can be on a team with. There’s Cater, Lilia, Silver; I’d really love to be on a team with you, too, [Y/n]!” 

You let out a small laugh. “I’m not very good at making sandcastles, Kalim. I’m surprised this moat turned out as well as it did. I don’t know how much helped I’d be.” 

“It doesn’t matter to me whether or not you’re good.” Kalim scoot a little closer to you, eyes fixated on yours. Your foreheads almost touched…you felt your heart flutter. “All that matters is if you’re there having fun with me.” 

Had Kalim always been this pretty? You knew he was sweet, he always was, but…something about the look in his eyes, the way he spoke to you now, was different. Before you could discern it further, a voice from across the beach caught both of your attentions. 

“Kaliiiimm!” You both turned your heads to see Lilia further up the beach. One hand held his parasol, while the other held two glasses of…something. Likely some tropical drink - non-alcoholic, of course. If it weren’t for the thin stems at the bottom of the glasses, you’d wonder how Lilia could carry them in one hand. “You have to try this drink - it’s delectable!” As the third year drew near, he tucked the parasol under his chin and offered the glasses to the two of you. 

“Oh, thanks Lilia!” Kalim stretched out his hand and took one of the glasses. He glanced over his shoulder at you as he sat back on his heels, “Here, [Y/n], I’ll share it with you.”

“Actually,” Lilia offered the other glass to you, parasol back in his other hand, “this is for you, [Y/n]. I couldn’t leave you without a refreshment.” The fae’s eyes narrowed, a mischievous glint in his red orbs as he smirked. “As cute as it would be for the two of you to share, I can’t have you exchanging saliva just yet.” 

Neither of you said a word as Lilia walked away - as if he hadn’t left you two red in the face. After a moment of stunned, embarrassed silence, you and Kalim finally met each other’s eye. He gave you an awkward smile and laugh as he raised his glass. “W-Well, let’s drink! If Lilia says they’re good, they must be!” 

You returned his awkward smile, though yours was a tad shy. “Y-Yeah…”

So, the two of you sipped your drinks and continued to build your sandcastle. Lilia was right, they were good…but his words haunted your mind. They lingered too much, apparently. You could have sworn Kalim kept glancing in your direction when you weren’t looking. You two ended up naming your sandcastle ‘Sultan’s Shore’ - and Kalim did not hesitate to make clear he would always love to share that shore with you. 

[goldnskyart]

Skateboards and jam 3/?

This is probably my favourite thing I’ve ever written, especially the last few paragraphs, so I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do😭

ao3 | <- Previous | First | Next ->

Instinctively Roman put his arms out to catch himself, and this time it worked. His hands and knees hit the ground hard. Virgil was too caught up in his own thoughts to realize what was going on before he was on the ground, flat on his back with Roman’s hands on either side of him. His face started to flush again, accidentally locking eyes with the other, who was awkwardly leaning over him on shaky hands and knees. Those eyes truly were something special with how they kept making his heart race. Roman froze for a moment, his body screaming in pain. And on top of that this was undoubtedly the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done. ”I’m sorry.” He almost whispered, before quickly trying to get on his feet using his right hand, putting more weight on it he softly winced before smoothly switching to using the left one instead. Trying his very best to keep face and pretend nothing hurt.

Virgil's eyes widened noticing his pained expression, damn he really hurt himself this time. Worried he quickly followed him up, brushing the dirt off the back of his black jeans. But Roman got there before him, “Are you alright??” He asked, looking at him with big worried eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright, don’t worry about it.” He replied, still trying to get the stubborn dust off his pants. “Turns out this really isn’t my thing, huh?” Roman chuckled, his face burning red. He couldn’t believe he just did that, just falling was bad on its own but this, mortifying, by now he had for sure blown any shot he might have had. Maybe he should just leave now before embarrassing himself further he thought and slowly started to back away. Suddenly he felt a soft hand around his wrist. “Hey wait, come with me.” Virgil said gently but still firmly, it wasn’t a question. He had turned around to pick his board up and when he turned back Roman already started to back away from him, visibly in pain. He didn’t like to admit he was worried about him but it just wasn’t something he could allow, he couldn’t just let him leave like that when he knew he could help. He gave him a gentle smile “I think you need to sit down for a bit”, his hand still firmly locked around the other's wrist. Romans eyes slowly widened, but he followed him without protest. “Sure,” he murmured, too flustered to look directly at him. It wasn’t like he wanted to leave anyway, and as long as Virgil didn’t want him to, he'd be more than happy to stay. And they were basically holding hands, what could be better than that?

Virgil had a specific spot in mind. Most of the benches in the park were placed in the center, always used by the other skaters' bags and jackets and in the middle of the big crowd, not where they wanted to be right now. But a little hidden on the opposite side of the park there was a small concrete wall. Most used it for spray painting but it was also the perfect height for sitting, he had done so often while waiting for his friends. Virgil stopped, gently letting go of the other. “Here, have a seat.” He gestured vaguely towards the wall. Roman plopped down with a big sigh. “I guess you were right,” he chuckled, not able to keep his eyes off the skater’s nervous expression. He truly has no business being that cute.

For a moment Virgil just zoned out, staring blankly at nothing, mindlessly spinning a wheel on his skateboard. He shook his head a little, trying to snap out of it before putting the board down next to Roman’s feet. The guy really wasn’t in great shape at this point, apart from his hands the knees and forearms were covered in bleeding scrapes. He knew from experience it probably looked way worse than it was, but that didn’t mean it was good. And it certainly didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. Virgil sighed as he sat down on the ground right in front of him, getting not one but two packs of bandaids out of one pocket and a bandage from the other one. It felt a bit embarrassing to admit he was always carrying those around, but he had needed them enough times that it started to feel justified. Roman tilted his head in confusion as he realized that he was sitting down on the ground instead of next to him on the wall, eyes widened seeing Virgil get a bunch of bandaids out. “You really don’t have to-“ he began but was swiftly interrupted by the other looking up at him. “No, I do.” He said and gave him a gentle smile before continuing, “I have the time and the stuff and you clearly need it so why wouldn’t I?” He pointed out while opening the first pack of bandaids. “Unless you need to go soon of course-“ he quickly added, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Roman aggressively shook his head at that, “No no no, I don’t, I can stay all night if I wanna.” He let out a little laugh, “I just didn’t expect you to want to do that- there’s gotta be more fun things you could do.” Virgil shrugged, “nah not really- besides this is kinda calming..” He felt his face heating up but he didn’t quite understand why, it was true, nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Well if you say so” Roman chuckled. He didn’t like admitting that he needed help but he probably did, and the fact that Virgil wanted to take care of him made his heart flutter a little. Gently Virgil started to place some bandaids, trying to be light on the hand to avoid any unnecessary pain. “How come you just have all this with you?” Roman asked, genuinely curious, he had never met anyone who carried anything more than a couple stray bandaids for emergencies. Virgil tensed up a bit at the question “I just like being prepared, you never know when you’ll need them” he replied, trying hard to avoid looking at the other. And he seemed to accept that answer, they sat there in silence for a while, Virgil slowly working his way up from knees to arms. Using up every last band aid. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the sight of him, not unlike a toddler who just fell off a bike for the first time. Hurting himself that much was almost skillful.

“So, which hand?” Virgil asked, bluntly but not harsh, finally looking up towards him again. Roman chuckled nervously, “I don’t know what you’re talking-“ he was interrupted by a stern stare, accompanied by a hand reaching out towards him, telling him to just quit his bullshit. He sighed, “alright,” giving him his right hand, for some reason he was more embarrassed about this than the scrapes covering most of his legs. And the thought of him gently holding his hand made him blush furiously. “You can move it right?” Virgil carefully took his hand “Mhm.” Roman nodded, it did hurt but it absolutely wasn’t that bad. “Good.” He smiled a little and gently started to put the bandage on, for some reason holding his hand like this made him feel weird. For a moment he stayed quiet before he let out a sigh “I feel like I should probably tell you this..“ Stopping for a moment, eyes fixed on the ground beside him. “You do know I can’t actually skate very well, right? Better than you, but like I’m still very much a beginner.” He laughed a little to himself, glancing up at the other. Roman stared up at him with wide eyes, the thought hadn’t ever crossed his mind. But thinking about it, he hadn’t actually ever seen Virgil on his board, he was always carrying it around or sitting on it, but never actually using it.

Virgil swallowed hard, he couldn’t read that expression at all, maybe he should’ve just stayed silent. Not that he cared about what this guy thought of him, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of him. “Well that explains the band aids then.” Roman laughed softly and gave him a gentle smile, the skater couldn’t help but also laugh a little at that. “It’s true, I do usually need them myself.. but never quite that many.” He chuckled, a weight lifted from his chest. Roman laughed with him and briefly Virgil stopped and turned to look at him, immediately regretting it. His laugh was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing, and the sun perfectly hit his golden brown hair and soft cheekbones to make him look absolutely radiant. And his eyes, oh god his eyes, a soft honey color gently sparkling in the sun, he’d never seen anything like it. Quickly he looked away again, face flushed Finally he had realized what was going on. Putting the rest of the bandage on wasn’t easy, suddenly he was hyper aware of everything he did, and holding the other’s hand in his made him almost nauseous from the rush of feelings. He absolutely did care what this boy thought of him.

Thankfully for him, Roman had gotten started talking and was barely stopping for him to respond. So he could comfortably just sit and admire him for a while as the golden light danced across his face, his soft hand gently resting in Virgil’s, trying to come to terms with his new feelings. He knew he was a little out of touch with his emotions, but missing this massive crush was strange even for him. He really thought the nerd was just getting on his nerves. Maybe it was for the best though, if he had felt like this he never would’ve approached him, ever. Now he at least got a chance.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Rough Stuff: Wrecker x Sick!Reader

Warnings & Info/Notice: She/Her pronouns for Reader as this is based on a dream I had when I was sick a year ago (writer's block is a mother…) so there's some fever-influence to the shenanigans and plot before "Bounty Lost" of Season 1; first time I've ever written something about our beloved Clone Force 99 crew (minus Crosshair in this fic) so be gentle with me. 👉👈 

No real need for an age warning for a comfort+fluff piece, mentions of medical paraphernalia, great chance for inaccuracies: some are purposeful to reflect Reader's sickly state, some are likely genuine writer error because I am long overdue for a series re-watch of TCW so references and characterizations might be result of misremembering. Star Wars swearing present. Dialogue heavy.

Word-count: 5,813

Blastdoors hissed once, twice. Off to the left, weary feet and stiff shoulders were freed of mud-caked footwear and heavy supply pack before venturing further into the modified housing space. There was a comfortable and easy silence painted over the place for once, no immediate indication anyone else would be here to the unfamiliar passer-by. 

"Did you hear that?! She's back!" 

Something stopped beeping in the distance momentarily. "Hear what?" 

"Hah! Course Tech wouldn't have been able to hear anything other than his little toys!" 

"They are not toys, Wrecker; it's important to make sure all my diagnostic equipment are in proper working order on a regular basis to avoid delays during critical moments. Like on Bracca."

One could be almost entirely sure the others would be glancing at one another by now with the silent look of Oh Maker, please make it stop between whoever had been lucky, or unlucky, enough to catch another's eyes.

"Guh, I don't want to go back to Bracca any time soon, once was enough for me… But, uh, h-how do you know it's her, Omega?" Light and speedy footsteps lead up the stairs as at least three of the Clone Force 99 members come to welcome a friend back home. "Hunter said she almost always steps to the left of the blastdoors to take care of dirty footwear and her gear when she gets back if she doesn't have to talk to Cid first. Right Hunter?" 

Right Hunter? was just a rhetorical question, one Tech hadn't quite yet caught onto before Omega was already excitedly hugging the young woman before he would've had the chance to express his concern had the young Clone been wrong. "Ome-! Oh, nevermind, I see that you're right. Welcome back, [_____]. Good to see you safe." 

Responding with a drained smile for the moment, she released Omega and scooched the pack across the floor as more of the modified Clone unit joined her and the others upstairs. "Certainly glad to be safe, Lotho Minor and its acid rain was not something I prepared for… And uh, whatever that other planet was that I went to on a hunch looking for whatever it is Cid wanted didn't pan out either. Uh… Bogano! That's the one. Need a couple of nights of solid sleep before I try again. She's not going to like it if I told her any of that. Did find something else, at least." Bending at the waist to lift the pack off the floor and up to the table there was a sharp, short little crackling sort of sound when she inhaled that most picked up on.

Hunter's frown deepened when this provoked a cough she was fighting to stifle. "Y'alright, kid? Sounds like you've got the wind knocked out of you." Unsuccessfully hoping to put his concerns to rest with a dismissive wave of her hand and another stifled cough, she put on the best smile she could with a short chuckle. "I'm fine, Hunter. I just kicked up a lot of dust on Lotho Minor, I'm sure whatever settled into my lungs is just working it's way loose over time. Don't worry about me." Hunter certainly wasn't convinced, but he would let it go for now. After the brief hell they went through on Bracca with another one of their own succumbing to the inhibitor chips (fortunately for a short period of time, thank the Maker) and the scare that gave everyone, he wasn't exactly ready to put his men through another potential stressor so soon after all that. Ciddarin "Cid" Scaleback's other "employees" had their own set of stressors. Clone Force 99 largely kept to themselves as they navigated this changing galaxy for safety, and others did the same. Times like these you'd be smart to avoid rubbing into too many shoulders… but the young female scavenger was a little different.

Hunter trusted her well enough, scrappy and capable of holding her own, but she really didn't sound or look well presently. But there was no sense dwelling on it now when Omega and Wrecker were buzzing with excitement about her return. "Well, if ya say so." 

"Well, Hunter, I do," she teased, swatting the back of Wrecker's hand as he reached into her pack with a gentle laugh, "and leave that alone, silly. There's some delicate stuff in there. I was going to pull it out in a moment, don't go snooping." He gave a sheepish smile, stroking the back of his head a few times to soothe his guilt over touching her belongings without asking first once again. "Let's seeeee… found a few old components and scomp links that Tech or Echo or both may find useful for something or just mess around with. A surprising find you might like Hunter: a perfectly good blowtorch-zapper-drill-thing I don't know the proper name for; practically brand new! Think it's called an All-Kit? And, uh…" she came to an awkward pause in the middle of pulling something out once more, face falling from the bright smile she'd previously had. "I know it's… not something you all like to talk about much regarding what happened to your teammate, someone who felt like a brother to you guys; but if he ever does come back around and everyone reconciles, I found a nice scope that I hope Crosshair would like… b-based on what little I've heard." 

Omega laid her hand over the squeezing fist the resourceful scavenger was pushing into the table to stop herself from getting too emotional in front of everyone, so young and only able to do so much realistically. "That was awfully thoughtful and nice of you, [____]. I think he'd appreciate it. Be happy to know that you saw something and it made you think of him even when you haven't met him. Makes you a good person, in my opinion…" 

"Heh… Thanks Omega," she was pulled into a side-hug for a moment while [_____] brushed away tears with the back of her other hand to compose herself, "o-oh, and this is for you. I found a little droid I'm sure you'll have some fun with to get him up and running in no time. And noooow, I think the little guy got smooshed down to the bottom of the pack because it was the first thing I found; so sorry about that Wrecker. But I think he'll be okay! I thought your Lula could use a little friend." Freed from the pack, she passed over the souvenir to the final Clone who hadn't been given something yet.

It was a soft toy, roughly the size of a young Bogano Bogling, fashioned to look like a Loth-cat. That is, if a Loth-cat had floppy ears and were a little chubby; it was clearly a toy meant for and once loved dearly by a little child somewhere in the vast galaxy. One button eye was loose and there was a small split in one of the seams on the tail, but they were in decent shape otherwise. 

"Awwwh, thanks kid. That's real nice of ya. Like 'im already!" 

Smiling warmly after being swept into a vice-like hug, the young woman started to reply before her voice became a little faltered and scratchy. "I'm glad, I thought you might! I'll be happy to give him a little bit of TLC in the morning when I've had some sleep, and a chance to c-clear my lungs a- a bit more-!" Her shoulders jerked violently with each cough that had taken her by surprise, quickly found and given a chair to sit in with the wind knocked out of her just like that. 

Hunter hadn't let it go since the crackling sound even after she insisted she was fine a few times once she caught her breath (and Wrecker repeatedly apologized for another one of his crushing hugs not for the first time). Something definitely had settled into her lungs, but not on Lotho Minor since this hadn't started since arriving on Bogano. 

"Tech, we should run a health scan."

"Right. I'll have to sanitize and pre-"

"Less talking, more doing, Tech." 

"R-right, sorry." 

-x-

"She's contracted a bacterial infection."

The young woman blinks rapidly, eyes jerking over the room before she looks back to Tech. "What's that mean? You saying I got sick from something out there on Bogano?" 

"Well it didn't start until a few days after getting to the planet, so it is the most likely place for you to have gotten sick with some sort of respiratory infection based on what you told me before your health scan."

Wrecker grunted in confusion from the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest nervously. "Now wait just a sec, I thought you said this was a bacterial thing! Now it's a respi-something infection? Which is it?! I'm all confused!" 

Sighing sharply with a few wags of his head, Tech adjusted his eyewear before explaining things to Wrecker, pecking away at his datapad. "What I meant is it's a respiratory illness caused by a bacterial infection. Maybe even fungal, or from certain types of spores, depending on what plant life [____] came across during the trip she made to Bogano, on a hunch. But since we don't want to stress her respiratory system further, I can't ask her a lot of questions at this time; I'm trying to find flora, other environmental occurrences or elements that could have caused this or explain it for now. Fortunately for her, it doesn't look to be life-threatening. For the time being." 

Omega jumped down from Wrecker's knees and scoffed, "Well that's a cheerful thought, Tech…" scooping Lula off the floor, Omega laid her down on one of the flat surfaces near to [____] before she began tugging at the dusty sleeves of the woman's clothes, "you should wash up and get some rest. You haven't been sleeping well." Eyebrows jumped just a fraction, a tell of a nonverbal question. "You've got lines under your eyes, here and here, and you're a bit unfocused. Easily distracted or staring off in the distance. Drooping posture. You need a nap." 

"Oh do I," The scavenger laughed, lovingly threading her fingers through Omega's short crop of hair the way she often did, "is that an order?" Wagging her head and laughing with her, Omega tugged her sleeves again and pulled [____] behind her. "Nooo. But I can tell you over and over again like it was an order!" 

-x-

Koff! Koff! 

These coughs were getting worse. It was now plainly evident that [____] had gotten more than just a "little ill" like Omega had hoped when she noticed that it had been several hours since she'd gone to lay down "just for a bit" and planned for waking up around lunch. She had slept several hours past lunch, when she did wake up [____] looked somehow even more exhausted. And sicker. 

So much sicker. 

"By the Maker, you don't look so good, kid. I wouldn't-!"

"Echo, shh!" Omega hissed urgently, "Cid might hear you!" The Bad Batch were trying to keep Cid from finding out about her scavenger's health status before Tech could determine the contagion level, but now after Echo had called out to [____] to keep her from leaving her bunk it was unlikely the Trandoshan woman hadn't heard anything from the temporary quarters. 

The Trandoshans were known for their thrills in the hunt, so what could be said for Cid? Perhaps she had excellent hearing, or Echo was really loud. It was everyone's best guess to say it was both. Cid wasted little time getting down to the blast doors, but was unable to open them. "What's going on in there?! And why is this locked?!" Hunter gave Echo a silent oh, you've really done it now sort of look before he stepped up to the blastdoor and hovered his hand over it's control panel in case the Trandoshan was working on opening up what might be a necessary barrier in the event Cid's scavenger picked up something particularly contagious and severe.

"Afraid we can't let you come in, Cid," Hunter starts, "[____] got back earlier and she's not feeling well. Tech is trying to see if it's serious, so we're keeping everyone in until we know." 

"Sick!" Cid spat from the other side, "Why wasn't I told sooner?!" 

Echo nudged [____] deeper into the borrowed bunk (Wrecker's), short of using a disciplinary tone of voice with her for leaving it in the first place across the living quarters while their leader dealt with their employer. "Apologies," Hunter offered in a measured voice, "we had hoped to get the work-up completed so we could present everything at once, but it's taking longer than Tech anticipated." Hunter could practically see Cid heave the frustrated sigh he heard. "Can't Goggles hurry it up?"  

Tech was bowed over his datapad in a separate corner of the quarters, scowling and squinting at at least three different screens he'd been cycling through. He hadn't spoken to or even seemed to hear anything his brothers asked in at least the last hour and a half since lunch while he scrutinized current findings. "He's doing the best he can," Hunter promised, having faith his brother was doing everything and more to get that work-up sorted, "he'll get it done." 

"I'm not worried about him not getting it done, dark and broody, I'm worried about having at least… HunterTechEchoWreckerOmega[____] - SIX people not in any fit state to do jobs for me! I'm not running a quaint little hotel on some Outer Rim planet, here!" Hunter was uncertain if Cid meant to sound so callous, but he had the feeling it was Cid's way of worrying for them. If six people couldn't work one of her jobs for them, they couldn't receive pay. Though… Cid might be more upset about the interruption to her cash flow. "The moment Goggles figures out what's wrong with her, you better be snappy about contacting me." 

As expected. "Yes ma'am," Hunter grumbled with a note of bitter annoyance. "I'll be certain to." 

-x-

Whatever it was Tech said she had was past the most contagious period, thank the Maker, but she felt awful. Breathe too deeply and her lungs would give a sharp crackling before the prolonged coughing fits began. A hot wash in the showers again would make her too dizzy to be safely unattended, worried she'd faint. She felt submerged in Mustafar's lava fields one minute, and spelunking in Hoth's ice caverns in another. Her kriffing bones hurt. She couldn't sleep. But if she left the bunk, she was worried she'd wake up one of the men in the room; born and bred for war, they likely weren't deep sleepers (at least that's what she figured). She'd undoubtedly wake up their leader, Hunter, or perhaps Echo, who dealt with the chronic and residual pain of the cybernetics and phantom limb syndrome after his… experience on Skako-something… that usually made it difficult to fall or stay asleep some nights. 

She didn't want to get another concerned but well-meant lecture from either of them, and Tech… Well: If she woke him, he'd probably turn a voice of concern into a scolding tone without meaning to or being entirely aware he was doing so. She wanted to avoid that. Omega was going to be concerned about her and wake one of her brothers to help if [____] disturbed the young lady's sleep. 

And here, [____] wondered while stifling another cough what the snarky sharp-eyed sniper might do if he was woken… she'd heard so little about him. Crosshair. Skilled marksman. Sided with the Empire. An inhibitor chip. What was an inhibitor chip? She didn't know. She didn't feel like grabbing a datapad next to her to find whatever she could. She was just so tired, and she didn't know how much longer she could lay here with her entire skeletal system feeling heavy with pain. Would getting up to take something for the pain even help? Could a painkiller even touch this kind of pain? It'd be worth a shot, at least. 

She tried slowly swinging one leg out into the room to slip out from the low bunk, but the careful movement to avoid waking anyone was surprisingly painful. "Ah, kriff!" She hissed in a sharp whisper, unable to sit up without the feeling of a thin blade violently jabbing every one of her joints. 

"Y'alright, ad'ika?" 

Who said that? [____] looked out into the dimly lit room in surprise, trying to figure out who she had accidentally woken up. Wrecker. But he looked like he'd been awake for a while, sneaking back into the room from the kitchen unit perhaps. Mm… there had been a lack of soft snoring when she thought about it. "Ad'ika?" Wrecker asked again, stepping closer with a look of concern etched in his face. 

Ad'ika… had a number of meanings, none of which [____] could remember right now. It was hard to think about multiple things right now, it almost hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, sighing, trying to recall what she just heard him say. Maker, everything hurts, make it stop, make it stop… "Wh-what…?"

"I asked if you're alright," his voice rumbled above her now, then she could hear him settle down on one of his knees so he wasn't looming above her or speaking right in Omega's ear where she lay in the bunk above [____]'s, "I mean, I know you're not because you're sick an' all, but- y'know what I mean." She didn't, and her silence spoke for her, so Wrecker tried elaborating. "Erm, trying to check on you, I mean. You really don't look so good right now. Are you having trouble breathing again?" 

"No," the woman sighed carefully, feeling the ache in her lungs starting when she caught herself taking a deep breath by reflex, fighting the need to cough, "not really. My whole body hurts. Even my bones. I was gonna try to sneak out of my bunk without waking anyone to find something for the pain, or just something to make me sleep so I could ignore the pain, but it hurts to move." 

"Not the usual pain after one of your jobs for Cid?" Wrecker hazarded a guess. "Is it because of the virus Tech said you have?" 

Khoff-KOFF! "Think so…" 

Wrecker just frowned upon the reply, voice dripping with sympathy when he next spoke. "Awh, poor ad'ika. There something I can get ya?" She wasn't certain what to ask for; something to dull the pain, or something to make her sleep? Would it be safe to take both? Just what did ad'ika mean? She's heard Wrecker call Omega that once, right?

Too many questions, too little focus. Too many aches and pains and symptoms to be dealing with so late into the night. Her brain was too frayed and raw after the unsuccessful scavenge where she was prepared to face Cid's furious disappointment if she'd been caught home empty-handed and now this virus and… at least one awake Clone, kneeling near the edge of the bunk in quiet worry while [____] stared at him in a dumbfounded haze. 

"Would you get me something to help me sleep if you answer something for me first, Wrecker?" 

He blinked, puzzled by the request. "Ah, sure."

"What do you keep calling me?" 

"Ad'ika can translate to "kid". An' a coupl'a other things like ‘sweetie’ too that I'm sure I'll remember later… It's Mando'a. I-I can stop callin' you that if you want." She shook her head, Wrecker just looked at her with uncertainty for a moment before he got off his knee and went to find something in some stash of medical supplies Echo had been hoarding for the Batch in a corner of the living quarters. "If you say so, kid."

"Ad'ika."

He couldn't be sure why it sounded like a request, rather than reassurance, coming from her in a timid, breathy whisper. Maybe he was imagining things because she looked so miserable and sick. Humoring her wouldn't hurt anything. "If you say so, ad'ika." Wrecker tried to sort through Echo's box of supplies as it was, but ended up dumping it out on the table so he wasn't wasting time getting something to help [____] get to sleep by digging around every little box when he could just lay it all out and go from there. He'd put it all back in the morning. "Here, this looks like the righ' stuff!" Wrecker whispered back to her triumphantly, giving the little foil packet a wiggle back and forth in victory. "Alright ad'ika, should be asleep soon with one of these. Can I get ya anythin' else? More water?" 

She just shook her head, taking her tablet with a careful swallow of water, both of them hoping she doesn't cough in the process. It wouldn't take long at all before she would hopefully be asleep. "That's okay, Wrecker. I think I'm just going to try getting some sleep now… so tired." 

Wrecker just chuckled softly, saying nothing as he tucked the blanket over the scavenger once she was laying in the bunk. Heh, yeah I bet... Echo threatens to use them on Tech when he's not sleeping mildly reasonable hours. "Sleep well, [____]." 

-x-

Omega dropped out of her bunk in lieu of using the ladder some mornings, a habit some of her brothers weren't keen on her developing in case of situations where one of them unwittingly became her crash-pad. Yeah right, like it'll ever happen… Omega had said on more than one occasion.

Omega fell into Wrecker's lap, waking him suddenly and pouring further salt in the wound by trodding on his hand while she scrambled to get off him. "Ouch! Omega!" She could feel her blood ice over with guilt for hurting one brother and waking the others, Hunter out of his bunk before she could blink. "I-I'm sorry, Wrecker! I didn't know you were down on the floor, I didn't mean to!" 

"Omega-"

"Awh, I'm fine! Just scared me awake is all." Wrecker interrupted Hunter's see: this is why I keep telling you lecture with a laugh, not looking upset in the least. "Takes more than tha’ to hurt me!" 

A finger went up across the room after eyewear was situated and adjusted. "Except you clearly said "ouch", Wrecker. And if Omega didn't wake [____], you certainly would have." Wrecker groaned, knowing Tech was right that he probably just woke their friend who was feeling poorly. "Whoops… sorry about tha- oh." Incredibly, she was still asleep when Wrecker turned to apologize, unbothered and unaware of the startling sibling drop-in just an arm's reach away minutes ago. This virus was clearly pretty rough on her, she looked so pale and feverish under the single blanket even in the dim light before any additional overheads were activated. Echo hobbled stiffly from his bunk to flip on a few of the overhead lights, oblivious to the mess of medical packets and boxes on their one and only large table on his way past. 

Oh right. Wrecker was on his feet in a flash, accidentally bumping past Omega. "Oh sorry! I need to-!" 

"What happened to my med box?" Echo asked the general room almost sternly, looking both annoyed and confused at the sight of the medical paraphernalia in an unholy mess after all the trouble he went through organizing it just recently. "…did [____] have trouble digging through it for something last night while we were all sleeping? Oh I knew I should have found a crate with compartments and labels!" 

Echo was waved off, shooed away from his pet project before he had a chance to begin clustering everything by type. "N-no, it was me, I'm the one who made the mess, Echo." Wrecker confessed, giving his brother a sheepish, timid look as he sorted the supplies. He was afraid Echo would be mad at him, feeling bad that he'd made a mess of everything when he should have just switched on a light or something in order to locate something to help the ailing woman who couldn't muster the energy to shuffle into her own lodgings. "She looked in pretty rough shape when I came back from getting a snack and some other stuff and I wanted to do something to help and I-I made a mess trying to find something to help get her to sleep, I'm sorry. I'll take care of it." he continued, tenderly lying boxes on their narrow ends along the sides of the container the way he vaguely recalled them being in. 

Echo sighed in good humor, flicking his hand dismissively in the direction of the table. "Oh honestly, just leave it for the time being. M'not mad. And we'll probably be using a good deal of these supplies while she's sick, anyways… just dump everything back into the box so we have a clear surface for breakfast for everyone." 

"Even [____]?" Omega piped up softly, wondering if they should wake the scavenger. Hunter gave the proposed question some thought. Should they? Or just let her sleep and get her something to eat later? What did they even have for food within their living quarters at Cid's Parlor? It'd been some time since he remembered making a supply run that didn't involve Echo collecting medical paraphernalia and included food. They had to be low, just between the five of them, but now with [____], who they were taking care of... He couldn't guarantee that breakfast would be filling this morning without hoping some shops were open early. "Wrecker, how much food do we have?" Hunter knew that since Wrecker admitted to getting a snack, he'd have a better idea. 

"Ah," Wrecker mumbled, his expression making Hunter nervous, or disappointed, that Wrecker had had more than just a 'little snack' when they were low on food, "I forget… think I gathered at least a crate's worth from one of the late night shops for us. Got lots of soups that she likes, since I thought they might help while she recovers, too. No one feels like cookin' when they're going through some rough stuff." 

"I hope you didn't have perishables." Tech spoke up with a grimace, seeing the crate on the counter looking largely untouched.

"Oh Maker, let it go already." Echo grumbled, tweaking his scomp link and leg the way he normally did to ease the typical morning pains in his residual limbs. "That was one time. Do you really have to keep bringing that up? You wouldn't like me bringing up the last time you made a mistake. Like the time you played the mating call rather than the territorial call for that mission with Senator Binks on-" 

With the authoritative voice of a commanding officer, Hunter was quick to put an end to senseless posturing and provocation. "Enough. Both of you. We all have made mistakes on this team and it does us no good to badger our brothers about it like petty, personal grudges. This squad… needs to be sure we have each other's backs without questioning loyalty or our headspace all the time." Seeing the look on Omega's face, Hunter realized his words were perhaps harsher than he meant them, betraying inner feelings by indirectly bringing up their wayward brother. Questioning loyalty. Nobody had been questioning loyalty. He shouldn't have suggested that. 

Omega shuffled on her feet with a great deal of discomfort, blink-rate speeding up as she looked close to tears. "Hunter… That was too far."

He shouldn't have suggested that at all. "I'm sorry, ad'ika. You're right..." It was a meager apology, but it'd have to suffice for now. [____] was starting to stir behind Omega's back, a sharp and raspy crackle in her inhale. A warning: her lungs' irritation was probably stronger due to dehydration. "Omega get her some water, quickly." Maker, please don't be getting worse. "Easy, ad'ika, sit up slowly now. Take a slow, deep breath, Omega's getting you some water." The scavenger looked parched for certain, but she was also having trouble sitting up unassisted, her skin hot under Hunter's touch. Was her temperature spiking? "Maker, she's burning up." 

"Oh dear." Tech could be heard mumbling, hastily exiting his bunk with datapad in hand at Hunter's beckoning. "This does not look good. When was the last time her temperature was taken, Tech?" 

"My records say before dinner. It was elevated, but fevers generally rise later in the day so that is nothing unusual. Did you notice any increase in severity when you were awake with her last night, Wrecker?" 

Wrecker shook his head slowly, trying his best to think back before he himself had fallen asleep in front of his bunk for the night while [____] had slept in it. "I don't think so, Tech… she just looked like she was in more pain than anything an' couldn't sleep, didn't really think it was the fever." He wasn't comforted by the look that crossed Tech and Hunter's faces, unsure how those expressions meant anything other than worry as Tech brusquely stalked across the room to locate a temp-reader in Echo's medical crate. "Awh man… Did I screw up?" Did I make her worse?

Tech was careful to say nothing while he assessed both skin and oral temperatures with the reader and made a note of it in a data log, considering the weight and tone of his words while seeking answers. "Her temperature has climbed quite high now… You, hmm, were just making the best judgment call at the time, Wrecker. Based on what you said, I suspect that the pain was a result of rising fever. I was not awake to observe anything, so I can't speak with complete certainty other than assure you you did not "screw up"... and had only tried to help as you were asked. She will be fine." 

That was the most important thing. She would be fine, he hadn't done anything to make her worse that couldn't be taken care of easily enough here at Cid's Parlor. "Good… tha's good." Wrecker mumbled softly, feeling unfettered relief in those words from his brother while the scavenger was coached to take a careful swallow of water from a hydropack by Hunter. 

"Aw, don't look so w-worried, Wreck… I'll- khoff! - be okay." [____] remarked softly, cautious of the dry wheeze in her lungs when she spoke. "Jus' have to uh… t-take it pretty easy for a while, probably. Oh. Cid's not gonna be happy about that…" 

"Heh!" Wrecker scoffed, trading places with Hunter so he could get up and sort out breakfast for the six of them, "Don't you worry about Cid. You just leave her to me and focus on gettin' better again, ad'ika. Which, uh, hopefully won't take long if you're past the contagious period... right?" He nudged Tech with the edge of his elbow carefully, asking in a roundabout way if he had any idea. 

Adjusting his eyewear, Tech lifted the datapad to his face and puzzled over some numbers for a moment.

"She is past the most contagious period, correct. I would estimate… another five days of current symptoms without running additional tests. Perhaps after we've all had something to eat, I can do the additional health scans and find out what this infection is," he paused for just a moment, chewing half of his bottom lip in thought. "If that's what [____] wants." Tech added with some hesitation, making efforts to be careful of his words since Hunter had given everyone one of his many flavors of knock it off speeches. "There's time to think about it. If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll go help Hunter prepare things for breakfast. Echo, you haven't hidden any medical paraphernalia in the shelving by the cold-unit again, have you?" 

"Don't think so, but I oughta check." Tech and Echo exited the sleeping quarters, leaving just Wrecker and Omega to keep the sick scavenger company until the morning meal had been completed, whether it was a rare morning something was cooked, or everyone just had a portion of a ready-made meal from one of the shops parceled out to them. (There's only so much nutrient paste a sentient being can stomach before they long for real, identifiable foods.) The last time to [____]'s memory the Batch tried to do a little cooking, it'd been something typical of the foodstuffs they'd grown up on on Kamino, and Cid was, puzzlingly, none too pleased about the smell. Everything smelled fine to the scavenger at the time with the foodstuffs, so the situation pitted employee and employer against each other, one of the few times that the members of the Batch had seen their friend they'd hardly known long at that point very angry. 

Hoo boy, had that been a sight to see: the generally quiet and kind scavenger drawn up to her full height in all her fury, lashing back at Cid for unfairly critiquing the cuisine these Clones had been raised on when the Trandoshan herself hated remarks about the kinds of lunches she often ate from the Kashyyyk system and her home planet. It wasn't often that Cid's employees stood up to her, but at least when they did, Cid was likely to give them a couple of days of space (and maybe some degree of love-bombing) to let the troubled waters settle again. 

That didn't sound too bad, actually. Maybe get everyone on board to pretend her condition was a little worse than it actually was, give Cid a little pushback about needing to, y'know, really make sure everyone stayed healthy, and relent to the idea proposed yesterday that her friends would help take care of her while she was fighting this "rough" virus in the meantime. 

Noting the growing smile, Wrecker just chuckled softly with some degree of confusion, curiosity getting the best of the gentle giant. "Whatcha smiling about, kid?" 

"Oh… I think there's a way I can make sure it's more than just me who's getting time off for being sick." [____] mused idly, a second smile lazily blooming across her face as she made a casual lean into Wrecker's well-muscled chest after he'd put an arm around her and Omega once she sat down on his bunk on his other side at his offering. "I'll leave Cid to you, don't worry Wreck, but I've got a good idea of what to say that will get her to listen… I've known Cid long enough. Enough to make her nervous." 

It was all she had to suggest. 

And not long after breakfast, suddenly that rare component for an N-1 Starfighter the scavenger had been tasked with finding for a pushy client with deep pockets could almost miraculously wait just a little longer.

[likeshipsonthesea]

want

coda fic for 6x07 Cursed a.k.a. the episode where we all heard way too much about buck’s baby batter (blame @somaybeamystery for that one). i had a lot of feelings about that episode and the way they handled it--mostly it being for comic relief--so here’s a more serious, introspective look at buck’s donation arc, and what i hope happened after 6x07

warnings for infertility references and references to the buckleys/daniel

“What’s with the sand?” Buck sweeps a hand toward the light dusting of sand Eddie’s created by taking off his shoes on Buck’s welcome mat. 

“Ah, shit, sorry.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “I own a vacuum cleaner, don’t worry.”

Eddie elects to ignore their usual argument over Buck’s stupid-smart vacuum cleaner and answer the question anyway. “I just dropped Chris at Andrew’s house for a sleepover and didn’t have time to change after his surfing lesson.”

“Is Andrew the one with the ridiculous video game set-up?”

Eddie smiles but shakes his head. “No, that’s Ricky. Andrew’s the one with the gerbils.”

“Ricky gerbils, got it.” Buck nods slowly and goes silent, continuing to nod at nothing slower and slower until Eddie’s nearly forgotten why he’s nodding at all. He puts the six pack he brought down on the counter and the sound makes Buck snap his head back up, eyes refocusing on Eddie rather than somewhere in the distance.

Eddie lifts his eyebrows. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, belated. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

Eddie can tell by the way Buck’s jaw twitches that he’s worrying the inside of his lip. He’s been doing it so often lately that he even refused Eddie’s tomatoes over lunch during their last shift—he didn’t say it, but Eddie knows it’s because he’s broken the skin and the acidity of the tomatoes would sting.

“What do I do about it?” Eddie asked Frank, during their last session.

“What do you want to do about it?” Frank replied, infuriating as always.

“Ask him what’s wrong.” Eddie shook his head. “But if he wanted to talk about it, he would.”

“Then you have to choose,” Frank said sensibly. “Either don’t ask and stop worrying about it until he brings it up, or ask and deal with the consequences.”

Eddie hates when Frank doesn’t give him an easy answer. Not that Frank’s ever given him an easy answer. Honestly, Eddie hates almost everything about therapy, except the getting better part.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “You tell me to shut up, I’ll shut up and we’ll drink and watch the game and I won’t say another word about it,” Eddie says, and almost doesn’t continue when Buck looks at him with his big dumb eyes, so lost Eddie wants to do something stupid like invite him home or kiss his freaking forehead. “But I know there’s something wrong, and if you want to talk about it, I want to listen.”

Buck stares at him for several long seconds. Yeah, Eddie’s surprised with himself, too.

“I, uh.” Buck ducks his chin, looking down at his kitchen counter. He has both hands curled around the edge of it, his fingers spread wide, the skin going stark white with the pressure he puts on them. “I had my donation appointment today.”

Eddie’s face does something drastic at that, but he has an extra second before Buck looks up to school his expression into something neutral and open. 

“Oh?” Eddie says, because he’s not sure what else to fucking say and it works well enough for Frank when he’s trying to get Eddie to keep talking.

But Eddie must not have done it right because Buck looks back down at the counter and nods again, just saying, “Yeah. Yeah.”

“So.” Eddie tries to think of the appropriate thing to say when your best friend (and the guy that several therapy sessions would indicate you’re stupidly in love with) tells you he’s donated his sperm to a couple you’ve never met. “So, uh. It’s all done, then?”

Buck’s shoulders tense as he presses even more weight into his hands. Fuck. Eddie probably should’ve just gone with “congrats.”

“It’s not,” Buck says without looking up. Eddie winces. He didn’t know about this whole thing until yesterday, but if he did, he might’ve seen this coming. It would be hard for anyone to father a child and then just not be involved in the kid’s life, let alone Buck, who clings to everything in his life like it’s going to be taken away if he loosens his grip. Eddie’s pretty sure that’s why he eats the way he does—like someone will take away the plate if he doesn’t finish fast enough. Knowing there’s a kid out there with a part of him in them but not being allowed to see them, raise them, love them—Eddie could’ve guessed that would kill Buck.

But it’s not Buck’s kid.

“It is over,” Eddie says as gently as he can manage. “You did your part, and now it’s over.”

“No, I didn’t—” Buck’s jaw clenches and releases. “I rescheduled.”

“Second thoughts?” Eddie asks, trying not to sound hopeful. If he knew the couple, he might feel a pang of sympathy for their situation, but he only cares about Buck, so he can’t manage anything but relief.

Buck shakes his head abruptly and Eddie’s relief fizzles in his chest. “No, no—not—not like that.”

“The moon wasn’t in the right position, then?” Eddie tries for a smile and grins when he gets one, accompanied by a soft huff of laughter and the slight loosening of Buck’s shoulders.

“No.” Buck glances up, smile still playing at his lips. “Not anything like that.”

“Then why reschedule?”

Buck sighs deeply, his shoulders falling further. “When Connor and Camryn asked me, I did all this research.” He gestures aimlessly with one hand as he speaks. “What to eat, how much to exercise, how involved people tend to be, how donor-born people feel about the whole thing. I wanted to do it right, you know?”

Eddie nods, smiling faintly. He’d expect nothing less from Buck.

“Well, uh.” Buck rubs at the back of his neck with his gesturing hand. “One thing they recommended was to abstain from, uh. Giving your own sample. Before the appointment.”

Eddie nods in a totally casual and not incredibly controlled way because he’s a normal friend that’s not going to be weird about his best friend’s ejaculations. Mhmm.

“Well. I was supposed to have my appointment a month ago. But stuff kept getting in the way. The tech fainted, the power went out.” Buck gestures dismissively. “All this stuff.”

“So it’s been a month since…?”

Buck smiles tightly. “Yup.”

“So you’re…”

“Pretty pent-up, yeah.”

“Ah.” Eddie imagines a small box with a lid and puts the thoughts and feelings he has about this information into that box, then puts that box into another box, and repeats that process until he can take a deep breath without wheezing. It’s a neat little trick he learned when he was a kid. He calls it the box method. Frank calls it repression. “So, how does rescheduling help with that?”

Buck doesn’t answer for long enough that Eddie considers just offering to turn on the game, but the little wrinkle between Buck’s eyebrows keeps Eddie from speaking. Finally, he says quietly, “My Jeep broke down on the way to the appointment. Between the pressure of doing it for Connor and Camryn and the whole thing at the station yesterday, and the frustration of saving up for so long, I just. Wanted to get it over with. So I ran. I ran through the streets, almost knocking people over, got there with four minutes to spare, and the nurse gave me a cup and a magazine and left me alone in the room and I just.”

Buck screws his mouth to the side.

“I was sitting there. Sweaty, breathing hard, looking at this cup. And it just—didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel—I wasn’t—I forgot. With all the secrecy and special diets and whatever, I forgot why I was doing it in the first place.”

“Why are you doing it?” If Eddie were Frank, he wouldn’t have asked. But Eddie’s not an impartial party, he’s half in love with his best friend and he has no fucking clue why he’s agreed to this whole thing, and he just really wants to know.

The tension in Buck’s face releases slowly until he’s got a faint smile sitting on his lips, eyes firmly on his kitchen counter. “It’s awkward, unbelievably awkward, to ask someone for their sperm. The whole thing—wine and dining me, explaining to someone you haven’t seen in years this seriously intimate thing, talking about sperm count and donation appointments. Most people, you get pregnant, it’s easy. No awkward conversations, no third parties. This whole thing is awkward and stressful and takes five times as much work.” Buck looks up, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Even if I wasn’t sure they’d be awesome parents, and even though I don’t know if I’m going to deal with the whole “having a kid without being a parent” thing well, I’d still do it. Because I know without a doubt that they want this kid more than anything in the world, and this kid is going to grow up knowing that.”

Just like that, Eddie gets it. This is probably the furthest thing you can get from having a kid for spare parts. That comprehension must be evident in his face because Buck looks away again. Clears his throat.

“I know it’s dumb,” he says, self-deprecating and minimizing, and Eddie could just shake him and yell you matter, you asshole, but he doesn’t. He thinks Frank would be proud, though, both for having the thought and restraining himself. “But I was sitting there in that room and I knew that if I donated in that moment, it wouldn’t be because I wanted this kid for Connor and Camryn, it would be because I was frustrated and stressed. So I rescheduled.” Buck worries at the inside of his lip for a long moment before adding, “Every part of this kid’s existence should be because they’re wanted.”

Eddie loves him. It surges in him at random moments, overwhelming and sweet. It’s happened more and more often since he’s been working with Frank. He’s never said it aloud, but he thinks dealing with all his other shit has left more room in him for love. Different flavors of it—pride and joy when Christopher talks about his newest science project, contentment and warmth when he’s squished between Hen and Chim on the firehouse couch, delight and surprise when he listens to his dad’s misadventures in retirement. Buck’s somehow all of those flavors in one bite, bursting across Eddie’s tongue like a well-executed recipe.

“I didn’t think I could feel like that anymore,” Eddie told Frank once, stilted and embarrassed and probably too honest, but pleased anyway.

Sometimes it hurts. Hurts with how big it feels, hurts with how much it is, hurts because this person he loves so much it’s stupid doesn’t see how much he’s loved—or how he should be loved. All the shit Buck’s been through with his parents and his near-deaths and his unlucky love life and he’s still so fucking kind. Reckless and impulsive and self-destructive to the point that he blows up everything within the blast radius, sure. But still so unrelentingly kind.

“It’s not dumb,” Eddie finally manages to say through all the cresting emotions in his chest. Buck looks at him, surprised, wide-eyed. “I don’t think it’s dumb at all.”

Buck cracks a smile, the one Christopher pilfered from him, the one Eddie gets when he relents to “five more minutes” of video games. A smile of victory and surprise. A smile of gratitude.

“Thanks, Eddie.”

Too honest, Eddie says, “Anytime.”

Eddie only lets Christopher have another five minutes half of the time he asks for it, but Buck? Eddie would choose that smile on Buck’s face over almost anything else.

[depressed-sock]

Mirror Image

Alright I’ve got no plans to actually do anything with this so I decided to just throw it out into the wild rather then let it gather dust.

Puppet and Sidestep au story. Puppet pov

...

The first time you see Nova without a shirt, it's to stitch up a wound on his back. It looks worse than it actually is but it still leaves you worried.

It's not often Nova gets sloppy but it's been known to happen in these last few years you've been with him. In those few times, he's never had you help him with his injuries. Has never needed your help. Or maybe he's never been comfortable showing his skin to you.

Even though you've known exactly what's been under his clothes since the first day his mind touched yours. (Before that even. When skeletal hands had touched your face and made everything hurt. You saw him. Your almost perfect copy. A doppelganger who was older and jaded and marked as other.) It would be impossible for you not to know either way. Not with the shared nightmares and memories you've inherited with him sometimes riding around in your head.

It means something that he trusts you with this. Your brother in revenge is leaning on you because he finally realized he needs to. It's worrying for a lot of reasons. The main one you're focusing on is how vulnerable he is.

How, in a visceral way, you know exactly why he waited this long to ask for help.

"What happened?" You ask to distract yourself. Force yourself to focus on the injuries and not the rancid orange you wish you could dig out with your own hands. It's weird sometimes. Feeling this strongly for someone who is not you. You both have had only yourselves to count on for all your life…and now? Now you have this strange companionship that neither of you can untangle from. You don't think either of you really wants to anyway.

Not with the way Nova leans into your touch rather than flinching. As he trusts you in a way he never would with anyone else. He looks back at you with an exhausted smile and only the explanation of, "Got in over my head doing something stupid."

Stupid and risky and… Another Regen? You can feel the shape of what happened, his mind so very open with yours. "Did you kill them?"

He winces. Guilt tasting rancid at the back of your throat. The biggest difference between the two of you. He feels guilty about a lot of things. You have nothing to feel guilty for. (That's what you keep telling yourself at least.)

Fuck, that sucks though. You know he doesn’t like to kill. "That's not going to draw their attention right?"

"No. It shouldn't. Not with it dead."

You wince because you can feel what he’s trying to do. Distance himself. Make himself and the other Regen objects rather than people. "Don't do that. None of you are objects."

"Not all of us prefer human pronouns," he snorts and you just roll your eyes. Classic diversion. Doesn’t really work on someone who shares a mind space with you in close proximity.

"I know, I've got memories of that place from you, remember asshole?" You very gently smack his shoulder. Making sure to avoid anywhere near the injury. You've both been hurt too often to willingly inflict more on each other. "I also know when you're being shit to yourself and other Regens."

He frowns as you finish the final stitch. Turning to face you. Too intimate, too close, too much at risk with this discussion. (Your eyes go to the barcode. You wonder how much he’s worth.) “We are not going to a grocery store to use a barcode scanner.” A twitch of his lips, fighting off a smile but you can see the laughter in your brother's eyes.

“You gotta admit, it would be a little funny if you were the same price as a box of Oreos.”

“Sunny.” His tone is serious. “We both know I’d cost the same as a pack of gum.”

The giggle that hits you is maybe a bit too hysterical. Bubbling up from your gut and being held back by a hand to your mouth. “Oh my god. I bet you’d cost the same as the one stupid movie. What was it? Sidestep and Charge? No, it was something else…”

“Please stop,” he groans, head in his hands now.

“Oh wait, I remember. Charged love! Where they made you a woman.”

“Oh Hell no. That can go burn in a trash fire.”

“See that makes it the perfect price!” you somehow say with a straight face. “Because your life is a trash fire!”

That does it. Finally breaks the smile free and the absolute joy of talking about stupid shit feels amazing. The worry is gone.

After a few breaths of laughter, Nova shakes his head, looking at you with narrowed eyes. "You're becoming more empath than fortune teller at this rate."

"Well asshole, that's your own damn fault.” You throw his shirt at him. Pausing a second before nervously handing over his jacket too. “Secondly, do me a favor and try to avoid cars for the foreseeable future."

He pulls the shirt on, scrunching his nose a bit and doing his best to hide the wince. "You saw something?"

"Not the full thing. Just a taste of it. It's still far off enough I can't get a clear read."

He hums in thought, slipping the jacket on next. "Anything about Shroud?"

It's hard to hold back the snarl that wants to twist your lips at her name. "Nothing prediction-wise. I have some feelers out though. There's something going on and we should be expecting Lord Ember to pay a visit to the city in the near future."

"We can work him into our plans if we need to. Especially if he’s bringing her along."

You nod your head. "Focus on building our organization first. Once we’re established it’ll be easier to fry the bigger fish."

He nods back. Moving to sit next to you, his weight leaning into yours. "Any news on Dr. Mortum?"

"Everything is going as planned. Armour is on schedule and the nanovores will be neutered. I’m guessing you're going to need me to deliver them next?" You turn to look at the container on the nightstand. Not exactly able to feel them, but you get the impression of them from Nova’s proximity. Excited little rat brains.

They’ll look out for Nova. You know it with absolute certainty.

"Yes. Be gentle with them.” Nova stares at them with a quiet fondness that has you rolling your eyes.

Honestly, you need to get him out more if his best friend is going to end up being a bunch of rat brains in a jar.

“I thought you were my best friend?” He nudges you with a smirk.

“No. I’m family.”

“Oh?” You pretend he’s not getting choked up by that admission.

”Yeah and you need someone that’s not telepathically tied to you. So they can tell you when you’re being stupid with absolute certainty.” (And zero influence. You don’t say that, barely trying to even think it. You’ve got your worries and you don’t want to give them away just yet. Not when there’s something lurking around the corner in both of your minds.)

“Well since that’s not happening guess I’ll just have to stick with the Ratking.”

You sigh, knowing better. “Yeah. Guess so.” You don’t mention the diner. Some things are just meant to happen.

…

The door slams hard enough to shake on its hinges, making you want to wince. You don’t though. You keep your eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you. Online gambling. Some habits are harder to break than others. Except this time you’re actually being careful. Making sure to lose often enough that no one can accuse you of cheating.

Nova storms into the living room. Pacing back and forth as panic fills your mind enough that you finally look up at him. “What happened?” (You know what happened. The alcohol spills as Nova’s name is said with reverence and disbelief. Older face, a mustache that makes him stand out. Charge was always meant to find him.)

“Ortega.” His voice is rough and panicked. There are going to be nightmares tonight. “I can’t fucking believe this.” Nova sits on the couch beside you. Head in his shaking hands.

“Do we need to worry about him?”

“I don’t know,” comes the muffled reply. “Fuck!”

“Ok. Well does he suspect anything?”

“No,” he shakes his head, dropping his hands to look you in the eye. “He asked me to help Lady Argent. Go into her head and figure out who fucked with her mind.”

“Oh.” You can feel the look of horror on your face. “That’s so fucked up.” It had been a necessary evil. You both agreed on that after debating it to hell and back. But this? Going back into his victim's mind with the intention of ‘helping’? That leaves a sour taste on your tongue. You would have been horrified if that had happened with Shroud.

Nova knows it too. He doesn’t feel guilty about taking over her body. That was just what needed to be done to get the nanovores out without any extra damage. But this? This isn’t necessary. It was supposed to be a one-and-done. Now it’s not.

God. They make shit villains don’t they?

“Will she be able to tell it was you?”

He shakes his head, “No, I’ll change up how I feel. The problem is I’m going to need a scapegoat.”

“I can make a list.”

“They need to be a hero or related to hero stuff.” He rubs a hand over his shaved head.

You look at him for a second before drawing out the word, “Why?”

He closes his eyes, back hitting the cushions, “Apparently it felt like a ‘hero’ did it.”

You stare at him. He closes his eyes harder.

A bark of laughter escapes you and he just puts his hands over his face with a groan. Turns out you’re not the only with hard habits to break.

[ofbrokenfaith]

you’re on your own, kid II FALCIEN

I waited ages to see you there. I search the party of better bodies just to learn that you never cared. You're on your own, kid. You always have been. 

“Dude, you cannot just summon me whenever the fuck you want, you know that, right?” Fallon asked as she walked into Lucien’s apartment. She threw her bag on the ground, hands on her hips as she looked at him expectantly. “I have done literally so much magic for you over the past few days, I don’t know what else you could possibly need.” 

Lucien gave her an amused look, shaking his head. “Your mother would have your tongue if you spoke to her that way, you are aware of that, yes?” 

It was Fallon’s turn to chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “My mother also wouldn’t fuck you and I can only guess that it’s because you’re packing less than a roll of pennies below the waist, but don’t worry, I hear that penis pump technology gets better by the day.” Lucien is already opening his mouth to speak again when Fallon holds up a hand to stop him. “Let’s leave mother dearest out of it, okay, pumpkin?”

Annoyed and defeated, he relents, waving her further into the apartment. She follows, arms crossed as she takes in the surroundings. Fallon had been the one to spell Lucien’s apartment for him, making it safe from anyone that wasn’t invited in, vampire or not. The hot guy that was either asleep or dead on the couch was definitely new. “Who’s the hunk?” she asked, taking a seat. 

“His name is Devin. People have names and feelings, Fallon,” Lucien answered, bringing her a glass of wine. She made a face, wishing it was whiskey, but accepted it anyhow. 

“That’s kind of rich coming from you. Are you not the same guy that only refers to Aunt Caroline as ‘that annoyingly persistent blonde’ or some variation?” 

Lucien scowls, hating that she constantly made sense and poked holes in every single thing he said. She truly was a De Martel. It was frustrating and enthralling all at the same time. “Do I not pay you to be nice?” he asked, eyes narrow. 

“No,” Fallon answers, downing her wine, standing up and rubbing her hands together. “Now, enough, chit chat. I gotta go meet a man about some molly after this and if you keep yammering you’re gonna make me late. I need money, you need magic. Now what’s the hunk here for?” 

Right on time, the aforementioned man woke up with a start and Lucien brought him a glass that could have been wine, but Fallon’s heightened senses told her was actually blood. “Ew, you turned him?” she asked, her nose wrinkling as Lucien forced the very confused Devin to drink. 

As soon as he had downed his fill and the fangs had grown in to prove it, Lucien snapped the man’s neck again, dusting off his suit before looking at Fallon. “I need you to put me inside him.” 

“You want me to be your fluffer?” she asked, obviously disgusted and starting to head for the door. 

“No, Fallon. Jesus Christ. I need you to put my essence, inside of him. I don’t want anyone to recognize me the next time that I leave the house, or for the immediate future.” 

“Oh.” That was a lot less gross for her, if she was being honest. “That’s fine. Kinda annoying to do since I have to keep your stupid regular body safe too. You give me a thousand bucks and we’ve got a deal.” 

Lucien rolled his eyes, pulling out his wallet and passing Fallon over the amount she asked for. He knew that she extorting him, over charging like hell, but he couldn’t say no to her. She was Aurora’s child, after all. 

“Thanks,” she said with a small smile, genuine for once. “Alright, let’s do this, you fucking freak. Lay down. I’ll do the hard part and you just relax.” 

Lucien did as she said. It was painless, for him at least. When he woke, his body felt unfamiliar and he grinned, knowing it must have worked. Fallon was already gone, and his body was nowhere in sight. A note from her stated that she had spelled his coffin to be invisible and he couldn’t help but feel proud. She was a good kid. 

And him? Well, Lucien Castle was a new man.