#I say they should put more meats on a stick you know?

[rabbitcruiser]

National Something On a Stick Day 

Skewer your cravings with delicious foods impaled on a stick! From corn dogs to kebabs, food on a stick is a portable and fun way to snack and dine.

No, this day is not talking about mops or brooms (although it’s certainly good to be very thankful for them, of course!) but National Something On a Stick Day is all about celebrating foods that people love to eat – and this amazing food just happens to come on a stick!

Because, who doesn’t love relaxed finger food that can be picked up by the stick and eaten? Whether it’s a toffee apple, camp-fire sausage, cheese cubes on a toothpick, an ice cream bar, lollipop or other lovely treats, feel free to indulge in them in celebration of National Something on a Stick Day! Or why not try the favorite American food on a stick if it’s possible – the famous corn dog?

History of National Something on a Stick Day

For thousands of years, people have been using skewers and sticks as a useful tool for cooking food, before forks were even thought of. In fact, single sticks were used in Ancient China as a predecessor to the use of chopsticks.

The concept of being able to use a stick to hold food over a fire is a clever one, resulting in the ability to cook without the need for pots and pans. From skewers for making kebabs to rotisseries that would slow roast meat on a spit over a fire, sticks have been an important part of food delivery for many years.

In modern times, the idea of not only cooking but also eating food that is presented on a stick is more about convenience. It’s just a simple and easy way to serve something without the need for a plate or utensils.

So forget the fork, because National Something on a Stick Day offers the perfect opportunity to serve and eat foods that work naturally on a stick!

How to Celebrate National Something on a Stick Day

Take advantage of National Something on a Stick Day to round up all sorts of food options to see how well they fit on a stick! Consider some of these ideas for observing the day:

Host a National Something on a Stick Day Party

What about planning an entire meal that includes an appetizer, main course and dessert, all of which are served on sticks? This concept for hosting a dinner party couldn’t be more easy, informal, and fun. And an added bonus is that there is very little cleaning up to do afterwards! What a great theme for a dinner party to have on National Something on a Stick Day!

Although it is certainly fun to revolve the day around the food, there are also some games that might be fun to try out during the party. Adults and kids of all ages can participate by playing games that include “something” on a stick, like pick-up sticks, kick the stick, or three sticks (aka capture the flag).

Get Creative with Food on a Stick

Take the opportunity to celebrate National Something on a Stick Day by thinking outside the box. Sure, it’s possible to serve corn dogs and shish kebabs. But what about some more interesting foods that can be eaten on a stick? Try out some of these ideas:

Fruit Kebabs. Great when served as an appetizer, side dish or dessert, fruit kebabs can be made by stacking strawberries, grapes, watermelon chunks, pineapple pieces and many other varieties of delicious fruit onto a stick.

Waffle Pops. Eating waffles just got a little more fun! Make waffles ahead of time in a round waffle maker, with a stick baked into each quarter. Drizzle with melted chocolate and top with sprinkles.

Chocolate Bacon Skewers. The sweet and savory blend of bacon with chocolate is an amazing combination!

Prosecco Pops. While popsicles are a delicious treat, making them for the adults-only crowd is even more delightful. These are especially tasty when paired with slices of fruit.

Source

[patriwoso]

Mami and Old Mama • Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso

Alexia’s daughter reunites with Jenni at the World Cup, and reminds everyone of how much she loves her.

When Mami and Jenni broke up, you were very upset.

Jenni spent all her time at yours and mami's apartment. The change of routine didn't sit well with you.

No longer did you come home to Jenni cuddles on the couch. She didn't put you to bed or give you a bubble bath at night.

You didn't like this.

"Mami" You whine, one particular night a few days before you were set to leave for the world cup.

"Sí, bebita." She turns around and sits beside you on her bed.

"I see Jenni in the plane?"

Mami sighed, pulling your small body into her lap. "Sí" She told you for the hundredth time.

"Jenni will be on the plane, she'll be with us all the time in New Zealand."

"Good. I love Jenni." You tell her, leaning into the warmth of her body.

"I know you do."

When the world cup came around, you were beyond happy to see Jenni everyday again. And she was more than happy to have her little sidekick back.

After Mami got you dressed every morning, you'd head down for team breakfast.

"Jenni!" You gasp, running to stand beside her in the food line. "Look" You lift up your kangaroo stuffed animal you got in the airport.

"Wow! Have you given it a name?"

You think hard, looking at the small brown animal and wondering what you should name it.

"Bounce"

"Bounce?" She chuckles.

"Kangaroo bounce" You grin, holding her hand and leaning your head onto her thigh as you wait for breakfast.

"C'mon y/n" Mami taps your shoulder, not wanting to cause Jenni any hassle with your presence.

"No, I don't mind having her for a while. It's alright, Ale." The taller woman smiles, looking down at you and grinning.

"Only if you're sure."

"More than sure."

Jenni helps you to get your chosen breakfast foods onto your plate, as well as getting herself something to eat.

You chose a slice of toast, fruits and a sausage. Not a fan of breakfast so early in the day.

As Jenni carries your plate over to the table where Laia, Misa and Mariona sat, you put your hand on the back of her leg as she had no free hand to hold.

She makes you put your kangaroo down, Misa tells you that she can keep it safe on the window ledge beside her so it doesn't get dirty whilst you eat.

The goalkeeper takes it from you and props it up so it overlooks the table as you start your morning meal.

"Jenni please help" You hold up your sausage, wanting her to cut it up for you.

"Of course, princesa." She takes the meat and puts it back on your plate, using her knife to split it into smaller pieces.

"Gracias Ma-" You stop yourself from calling Jenni Mama, the name you were so used to saying in the years she lived in your home.

You don't look up at anyway, knowing they're sending glances your way, then to Alexia, then back to you.

More piece of fruit get shoved into your mouth to take the attention away, Mami Alexia having to remind you from the other side of the table to eat nicely.

After breakfast, the team were allowed a free morning, no team gym session until later in the day.

Mariona suggests a walk through a forest. Mami debates whether to take you or not but you beg and beg and beg and tell her you’ll be on your best behaviour and will be a good girl. She lets you go with them.

At first you have fun, dragging sticks with Laia and showing Misa flowers you find.

Jenni helps you do up your coat when it gets a bit cold, you hold her hand for a while as you walk.

“MAMI!” You cry, letting go of Jenni and running over to Mami Alexia.

“Tired” You put your arms up, hands doing grabby motions so she picks you up.

Mami picks you up and puts you on her hip.

You lay your head on her shoulder and grasp her collar in your hand as your eyes flutter closed.

The walk carries on a while, your swapped around between Mami and Jenni’s arms, Misa taking a turn too at one point when you weren’t awake enough to complain about it not being Mami or Mama’s arms.

The group decide to stop at some picnic tables close back to the car.

Mami cradles you against her chest. You’re pretty much dead to the world, suckling on your thumb to keep your soothed and calm.

They let you nap for a while as they drink coffee and try New Zealand snacks.

When you wake, your back in Jenni’s arms, giving Mami a rest.

You eyes open and you push your face into her chest, the light hurting your head.

“Sleepy girl, are you awake?” Jenni coos stroking your cheek with the back of her finger.

“Sí” You whisper, holding two of her fingers in your hand. “I sleep.”

“You can sleep again on the way back to the hotel pretty. C’mon.”

You refuse to walk, staying on Jenni’s hip as she carries you back to the parking lot.

Mami peppers your face with kisses and tries to take you from Jenni’s arms.

“No I stay.” You ask.

“You’re only going back in the car, mi bebita.” Mami promises.

“Stay with Mama, miss old mama lots” You look at Jenni with big eyes. She has a tear form in the corner of one of her own.

“Old mama can sit with you in the car.” Mami giggles softly.

You watch as she looks at Jenni, smiling softly and mouthing something which you can’t figure out.

“I love my mami and mama.” You speak up, putting a hand on each of their cheek and giggling.

“We love you too.” Mami kisses you, Mama dropping a few on your cheek also.

[nohoney]

Bakugou would listen to you rant all about work. Even though he’s the one out on the streets with more exciting stories to tell, one of his favorite things is to hear you talk about your own work. He follows and nods along with whatever work story you have for him for the day, always attentive but never telling you what you should do to handle it (as he had learned from a prior relationship).

“I can tell he fuckin’ hates me, you know?” You continue on about your current work events as you sit on the countertop and watch Bakugou cut vegetables, “He keeps on bringing up my old manager as if she has anything to do with it now. Like, no motherfucker! You answer to me now and I’m saying pay your stupid invoice!”

The vegetables for dinner are set aside while the oven is still preheating. Two pieces of pork chop are taken from the fridge and is set aside on a clean plate as Bakugou looks for spices to rub into the meat. “So what happened baby? Did he pay? Y’said you were dealing with this for almost two weeks.” He asks you, genuinely curious if your annoying client is actually complying with you. The thought in his head is wondering how you handled it.

“I have to read you this email that I wrote. I gotta say the professional ways of dissing someone in email is something I finally understand now.” You laugh as you pull up your work email on your phone. Word for word you read out your well thought out response to your difficult client, not backing down and upholding work policy as you are expected to. Bakugou had never really bothered with any type of skill of being professional through communication in his job; it’s what his team is for while he gets the really privilege to cuss as he pleases and have his team handle it for the public. “Here is how I signed off, I think it’s probably my most eloquent and business-like ‘fuck you’ I’ve written so far.”

You clear your throat first before reading aloud, “‘I hope that the explanations of how to navigate your account has cleared up any confusion you may have and that you are able to move forward in compliance with our company policy, if you have any further questions then please let me know.’ God I know he’s going to hate me as soon as he reads it!”

He chuckles, happy that you know how to stand your ground in such a manner that Bakugou knows he struggles in. “You tell him, baby.”

“I fucking did Katsuki!” You boast with a proud little smile as you hop off the countertop and go to his side as he heats oil in a pan. “Sorry, I’ve been going on about this annoying client for a while. I wanna hear about your work today Tsuki.”

Bakugou shakes his head though and urges you to talk about what else happened at your work. The meat sizzles as he presses it into the pan, crackling and sizzling in a way that’s reminiscent of his quirk but to a much lower degree. The oven beeps to indicate that preheating is finished and you move to put all the vegetables into the glass pan and stick it in for him, already setting a timer before he can even ask. “What about that other guy? The one who keeps on saying that he’s getting investors so he wants to make you wait a little longer?” He asks you when he recalls another client you complained of a few days ago.

You excitedly pop off about your work again, unknowing how you calm Bakugou down with your own work stories. Your series of responsibilities that he wouldn’t know the first clue how to handle are interesting to him to hear how you handle yourself. It’s simple compared to what he does but in no way is it easy either. To see you struggle sometimes with your own career wasn’t easy for him but you were also strong enough to handle it all the same.

And he liked to think that he made it easy for you to handle because he wanted to hear anything and everything about your job that’s so different from his. “Tell me about the parking permits, did that get solved yet?” He asks as he starts to set food on the plates.

“No! I’m on week three of dealing with it and it’s ridiculous! I sent everything in so early and they deal with it so late!!”

Bakugou listens with a happy heart to hear you talk, never wanting you to apologize over the things that frustrate you. And by the end of your rants, even he feels a little lighter as he readies to get in bed with you.

And the next day as he’s just about to enter a meeting in his agency, Bakugou gets a text from you.

[1:57 pm] omg i need to tell you what this mofo emailed me when we’re home

He looks forward to it, letting a little smile come onto his face. He can see you all cute and puffed up and mad, and he can’t wait to hear about it.

[1:58 pm] can’t wait baby. love you.

You text him back within seconds.

[1:58 pm] love you!!!

Bakugou can’t wait to be home and listen to you.

[sofipitch]

Thinking about body horror in The Locked Tomb, specifically how the bodies of the dead are treated. Wake's skeleton tilling the fields, using her to feed an empire she hates even in death. Abigail's death not having anything to do with her but more just the inconvenience that she was there, evidenced by Cyth stashing the key in her as if she were a box. Protesilous is particularly good because you meet him as a person after you have seen his corpse used against his consent in the first book. After Cyth tells Palamedes she tossed his girlfriend and her bodyguard in the garbage she says "Don't look at me like I'm a monster". How ppl's remains are treated matter, when Crux threatened Gideon he threatened her with just that, being treated as parts.

I just have specific feelings about dead bodies and how they should be treated. I could never do anything involving cutting them without thinking this was someone's grandmother, or lover, or best friend. I distinctly remember what did this was going to see The Bodies Exhibit where you get to see a lot of preserved organs and such. I thought I would be fine, I was even super excited, I liked anatomy and physiology. But I remember looking at a sagittal cut of a head and torso meant to show off the brain and spinal cord and Idk why but I turned my head side ways and got level with the display and there was the man's face. That horrified me more than anything, his face mostly hidden so you don't remember this was a person. The ppl in this exhibit never consented to be a part of it, they are unidentified persons, no one came to get their body so it meant anyone could do what they wanted with it. Even worse popular myth for a while was that these were the bodies of prisoners, as if that made it okay to treat them with disrespect. There was writing on the wall as we left saying the bodies had been handled with respect but I would never want to be put on display in a museum, so how could we know they didn't feel the same? I also wouldn't want my index finger on display at the Vatican museum. I understand it's meant for worship but there also seems to be something rude in the piecemeal display of saints.

I feel strongly about respect for remains and idk how Muir does but there's something particularly good about Gideon being aware of her remains after death. The argument for a lot of bad treatment of corpses is "the person isn't going to know". So Muir created a character that becomes BOE's body farm experiment, until finally she has to go back into and haunt her corpse, embarrassed at her wounds and the way others can see her meat. Her first interaction is objecting to someone sticking her corpse with a needle, even though she can't feel

[gh0stlyfixation]

5 reasons you’ve cried while pregnant

Johnny “Soap” McTavish

Simon “Ghost” Riley addition here

John Price addition here

Tagging: @birthofvcnus

1. Poor johnny got the shot end of the stick when you became pregnant, you were mean. Pickles were something you craved and sheathed you liked them before or not, you sure as hell did now. But to make Johnny's life a little harder, it had to be the McDonald’s pickles.

“I just need a lot of pickles, like a lot.” Johnny says to the women at the register.

“Sir, I can’t give just pickles.” She tells him.

Johnny takes a deep breath, “I cannot and will not go home without the pickles, my wife is pregnant and mean. Please, I need the pickles I'll pay for a whole meal, please.” Johnny says, begging the poor woman. She walks away for a few trying to see what she should do.

She comes back, a very large jar of pickles, “on the house. Good luck.” She tells him.

You nearly cry at the sight of pickles and to the generous lady at McDonald’s. Full on sobbing

2. It’s month 5 and you’ve been on a silent hunt for a puppy. Simon's wife had put her mind on adopting a puppy after she adopted a cat. It’s all you wanted now but to no avail, you couldn’t find the right one.

You sit on the couch sobbing. Wet tears drip onto your laptop that laid on your lap. Johnny comes in rushing to your side asking what was wrong.

“I can’t find the perfect puppy. All of them are perfect!” You cry. He’s confused, he never talked about adopting a dog.

“Since when we’re we getting a dog?” He asked, nope, wrong thing to say.

You sob even harder, “I knew you wouldn’t say yes so I wasn’t gonna say anything! Now I can’t even get a puppy.” You wail loudly.

Johnny is confused about what to do or say, he remembers Simon telling him about his wife’s random outbursts but he never understood until now, just gotta agree and deal with it, and be nice! Simon told him one day.

3. This sandwich you ate was stellar, everything about it was perfect, but as it got smaller and smaller your face frowned more. Johnny notices your face scrunching up. “What’s wrong lass?” He asks you.

Tears form in your eyes, “it’s just so good, I don’t want it to end.” You sniffle. At least you weren’t having a break down.

“I can make you another one?” Johnny asked softly rubbing your lower back.

“Just like this one? The same amount of meat, cheese and pickles, do not forget the pickles!” You exclaim, pointing a finger at him as Johnny gets up. As long as you weren’t incolsable, he’d make twenty more.

4. You were angrier this last term. You were miserable carrying the weight of your already 10-pound baby, “fucking hell.” You yell as the baby kicks.

“I swear to fucking god Johnny, I’m going to hit you if you ever put a baby in me again!” You randomly snap at him on the couch.

By now he’s used to it, he just nods and lays a hand on your thigh. He hears the familiar sniffle from next to him and he sees you have tears running down your cheeks, “Sorry Johnny.” You whisper now feeling guilty for snapping at him.

“It’s okay sweets, I know you don’t mean anything.” He says pulling you to his side, placing a hand on your belly and rubbing soothing circles.

5. Johnny sits in a debriefing meeting with Simon and Price when his phone starts to vibrate, the screen facing down. By the second vibrating sound going off Johnny turns his phone over and sees your pretty face light up the screen, “hold on, sorry.” He says Walking outside the door.

“Hi baby,” he cheerfully says.

“Well, I’m glad you having a grand time while I’m fucking not.” You yell through the phone, obviously crying. Johnny pulls the phone away from his ears and the boys laugh after hearing you scream.

“What’s wrong honey?” He asked, being very careful on how he sounds.

“I’m hitting every single red light on this 20-mile road and I’m so upset.” You sob into the phone, “like why can’t I just get a green light so I can get home quicker!” You whine with a broken sob.

“Honey, sometimes we can’t control the lights. Why don’t we do the breathing exercises together to calm you down, yeah lass?” He asked.

After finally calming you down and getting you through three more red lights, you were almost home. He walks back into the meeting when price speaks, “Our wives, they are crazy.”

“Yeah, mine is pregnant again, so we have a hamster now.” Simon scoffs, “mine is worse.” He finishes.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Could I request for Zevlor to be persuaded by gn reader to go on a picnic & they accidentally confessed their feelings to him as they were trying to reassure him that they're happy to spend time with him?

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Zevlor is a busy man - there's no doubt about that. From the moment he wakes up until he falls asleep, the only thing on his mind are the lives dependent on him. Which isn't exactly bad, although it might get a little, well, overwhelming for everyone involved.

A wise person once said that "duty is given by others, responsibility taken by yourself". But Zevlor seems to have misunderstood that rather questionable quote and so he treats most things around him as his responsibility. It's not that he wishes to be in control, he just cares a little too much for his own good, never wanting to leave things up to fate if he can help it. And if there's someone who knows how fickle fate can be, it's Zevlor.

He's been looking progressively worse these past few weeks. His red skin began to look sickly ashy, bright eyes lost their twinkle. Once strong hands tended to lose their grip from time to time. Zevlor painted a picture of a man not only exhausted but tormented by his own mind and the awful thoughts that lie within.

Which is precisely why you've decided to take matters into your own hands. If Zevlor doesn't want to take care of himself, always saying that there's no time for such unimportant things, you will do it for him. At first, the idea elicited a rather juvenile embarrassment inside you but then you found it to be motivating. The things we do for the ones we love...

Zevlor is forced away from the scattered manuscripts in front of him as the heavy basket filled with fruit, meats, cheeses and fresh bread is set on the table with a loud thud. He lifts his gaze, only to give you a questioning, confused look.

"You look to be in dire need of unwinding," you state. Whether your plan works or not is now up to your rhetoric.

The tiefling's expression softens. A small, hesitant smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps I do," Zevlor answers with reluctance. "But there's still much I should tend to. I can not lie back while so many have entrusted their lives to me. It's too dangerous."

You cross your arms on your chest. "Last night, when you were peacefully sleeping, no calamity has befallen your people. I think they can manage on their own for a few hours."

"We surely can!" yelled a tiefling who was just passing by.

Zevlor steps away from his desk, no longer hanging over things that probably ruin the aforementioned peaceful sleep. The turmoil inside his head is easily visible - part of him wants to stick with the worries that keep him up at night, while the other side of him yearns to lose the anxieties for one afternoon.

The tiefling look away for moment, fiery irises staring off into the distance. Then Zevlor's eyes come back to you but their softness has turned into something sombre. One way or another, there's immense doubt inside the man in front of you.

Zevlor offers you a kind, albeit awkward smile. "Still, a figure of your sort ought to have their company sought out by many more important people. Do not waste your precious time on an old man like me."

But he's going to have to try harder than that to dissuade you:

"Alright, you do have a couple years on me," you give his statement a half-hearted nod, "but that's hardly the most important thing about you, Zevlor. Why, dear Gods below," you dramatically put a hand on your chest, "wouldn't I want to spend my free time with a man whose patience, loyalty and virtue make me want to be a better person?" Your statement elicits a nervous chuckle from Zevlor. He'd be embarrassingly flustered and red in the face if it wasn't for his already fire-like shade of skin, "A man, for whom I began to feel lo-" You hang your voice the moment you realize what word almost left your mouth. Zevlor looks at you with raised eyebrows, disbelief written all over his face. Shame and embarrassment creep up on you as you feel your face heat up. Unable to look the man in the eye anymore, your gaze drops to the floor. "I didn't mean to just drop it on you like that. Can we pretend I didn't say it?"

Then, you feel a warm anxiously brush your cheek. It hangs against your skin for a moment, as though its owner is pondering his next move, before quickly retreating. "I'd rather we don't," Zevlor answers softly.

[nanivinsmoke]

Sneaking Around.

Geto x blackF!Reader

please this is such an odd scenario but yet i sorta like it

summary ~ things that aren’t yours are so much fun to use.

warnings ~ secret sex, revenge sex, ass eating, pussy eating, cream pies, etc…

ah, the day everyone loves. be it the food or being around family, everyone loved this holiday. but, she didn’t. she loved her family like no other, but she hated her family when her sister was around. her sister would tease her and would one up her whenever she got the chance, and this holiday would not end up like that. and to top it off, her family would treat her older sister like a queen, catering to her every needs and praising her like one. and whenever y/n was around, the treated her like a maid; also making her cater to her sister’s every need.

however, that all changed when she got older and moved out. she matured and began to stick up for herself, rarely visiting her parents when her sister was in town; only seeing her on holidays. y/n was in her parent’s bedroom, checking herself out in the mirror; taking pictures, when she heard he sister’s annoying voice echo throughout the house. with the sigh and one last look at her outfit, before heading downstairs to greet her sister.

“you look like you’re about to pop! i can’t wait to meet my grandchild. y/n come greet your sister” their mother spoke, moving out the way so her pregnant sister could be in view. sucking in her breath and pushing away her emotions, she spoke “hello sister. you look beautiful.” her older sister smiled and rubbed her belly, “thank you. you look a little plump there. don’t tell me you’re pregnant too?” her parents chuckled and y/n fake smiled, but before she could say something in response, her sister’s fiancé walked into the house.

“it’s so good to see you again geto! you look as handsome as ever. it’s nice to see one of our children with someone” their mother took another jab at y/n, which resulted in an eye roll from her. “im gonna finish the food. wouldn’t want you burning it like last time” y/n faked another smile, walking away without a response. from the corner of her eye she could see geto looking at her, before she looked away.

once she entered the huge kitchen she quickly turned on their oven, warming up the meats, the mac and cheese and the yams. as she turned on the stove to heat up the collard greens, she felt a pair of hands around her waist and the smell of his cologne entered her nostrils. “geto, someone could walk in and see you—oh I’ve missed you too~” she felt his boner poking her butt and she smiled. the two have been sneaking around her sister’s back, fooling around with each other whenever she wasn’t around. they never fucked, only giving each other head, but this time y/n had something else in mind.

“you know what, let them catch us. i don’t mind, just fuck me” y/n pressed her ass against him, rotating her hips to tease his boner. she didn’t care about ruining her relationship with her sister, she hardly liked her anyway’s. in reality she really wanted to be fucked, hard, and she knew he was going to do that. geto wasted no time and hiked up her orange knit dress, revealing her plump ass to his face. her black thong was being swallowed by her cheeks and the sight made his dick harden even more. sliding the thin fabric aside, geto grabbed her hips and pushed his face in between her cheeks; slobbering down on her wet cunt, earning a moan from her lips.

to stop the moans from her lips becoming too loud, she bit her lips and continued to heat up her greens. “A shame you aren’t married yet, your cooking is amazing. One of your redeeming qualities” Her mother’s voice startled her, causing her to look from the pot and her over to the older woman standing behind the island. Her eyes widened and she tried to push Geto away, but he stayed in between her legs; not caring if they get caught. “Th-thanks m-mom…I’m going to put the cornbread in the oven, dinner should be ready soon” As she tried her best to speak to her mom, Geto swirled his tongue around her clit, sending her in a frenzy.

before y/n’s mother got the chance to ask any questions, her husband’s voice gained her attention; something about their grandbaby kicking. once the coast was clear, y/n bent down slightly and let out as moan and creamed all over his fingers and lips; which geto was happy to lick up. “stick it in, hurry up!” she begged him, no longer interested in foreplay; she wanted the real deal.

he stood up and pulled his cock through his zipper hole, his thickness standing at attention before he pushed his mushroom tip at her slick entrance. using one hand to brace her self and the other to muffle her moans. he bit his bottom lip and furrowed his brows as the sensation, she was nothing like his fiancé.

he wanted nothing to do with y/n’s sister. he only stayed with her because of their unborn child, in reality the woman he wanted was the one whom he was inside right now. “shit, you’re so tight for me ma” he had been around y/n so much he was evening picking up her vocab, some might say he was in love with her. but did she feel the same?

he was so deep into a trance that he didn’t even notice his soon to be mother-standing a few feet away from the kitchen’s island, until her voice startled him. “geto? what are you doing there? did that good for nothing y/n leave you here to finish this dinner?” her mother started to move towards the entrance, but he quickly stopped her while slowing down his strokes. “she went to the restroom for a bit, she asked me to watch the food while she was gone” his infamous smile was very convincing towards the older woman and she smiled right back at him. ‘such a handsome young man’ she thought before waving goodbye to him and heading back to her pregnant daughter.

looking back down at what he was doing, his dick got harder at the sight of her fat ass smothering his dick. “shit~! this wet ass pussy gonna get us in trouble ma’. let’s wrap this up before they catch on” geto grabbed one of her cheeks and put his other hand on her waist and proceeded to give her some long and deep strokes; which she hoped they didn’t hear.

her wetness creating friction against his pelvis was like music to his ears, which cause him to go deeper inside of her wet cunt. his tip was kissing her cervix with each stroke and y/n couldn’t take it anymore, she needed him to fill her up. “fuck geto~ cum inside me please. I want to be full of your cum!” he smirked and licked his lips, he planned on doing that from the beginning. as the two of them climaxed, y/n’s mother voice rang throughout their ears.

“oh my god! her water broke! im going to be a grandma! geto and y/n meet us at the hospital.” her voice trailed out as the door slammed behind them, which signified they all had left. when the coast was clear, he pulled out of her, his thick load pooling out of her cunt.

“go see your baby be born and when thats finished, stop by my place so we can finish what we started” she reached around and dipped her fingers into her slippery cunt, before pulling them out and licking her cream coated fingers.

who knew sneaking around would be so much fun?

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 6

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink @ajmiila02 @liquidsmoothdomme @shady-the-simp @that-one-persons-posts

TW: Self Harm, Blood

Y/n knew that tonight was Mayhem's first show and as much as she wanted to be there for support, she knew she had to work. She had tried to call and wish him good luck but she got the voicemail. Since he lived with the band, she decided against leaving a message and just hoped he would come by and tell her how it went.

When they all piled into the restaurant, face paint half smudged off and louder than normal, Hammed started taking orders as quickly as he could. Y/n couldn't really interact at the moment as she was working the line instead of tables. The amount of drinks she had to uncap hurt her hands but she made sure to stack them all on a tray to be dropped off to them. Once Hammed got tired of taking orders, he switched onto grill and Y/n was able to greet Oystein.

"How did it go?" She asked brightly seeing little bits of his makeup still on the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"It went really well. Wish you could have seen it." He smiled back taking his food.

"Maybe someday." She knew it wasn't her scene but she would tough it out to see Oystein play.

"You didn't stick around for the party. I looked for you but they said you took off pretty early." He looked disappointed.

"I was still on the clock so I couldn't really stick around. I figured you wouldn't even have noticed surrounded by groupies." Y/n tried to keep it light but Oystein screwed up his face.

"Hardly. I don't give a shit about groupies." Y/n felt a slight uptick in her heart but she didn't want him to know it. She took a napkin and leaned over the counter to rub some of the smeared makeup away from his eye.

"I'm definitely going to need a shower at some point." Oystein laughed.

"I'd say so. I can't believe you brought your stench in here with that crew of misfits." Y/n finally noticed Pelle sitting in a chair with his head down.

"Ey he might need some more tape." One of the guys shouted to Oystein.

"Hey do you have any duct tape?" Y/n cocked an eyebrow.

"Um we should. Let me check the back." Oystein nodded and went to sit his food down on the table. When Y/n found the tape, she walked of the door and immediately say Oystein trying to help Pelle pull tape from his bloody wrists.

"Fuck!" Y/n's eyes went wide pushing the swinging bathroom door and seeing what they were doing.

"What the fuck happened and why are you putting fucking duct tape on it?!" Y/n looked at Pelle who was paler than normal.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Oystein said stupidly. Pelle made eye contact with Y/n and she walked back out of the bathroom towards the office. She grabbed the first aid kit and her purse from her locker. When she returned they had gotten all the tape off and she was staring at how scarred his arms were.

"Grab me a chair from the table please." Oystein ran out to grab the chair and Pelle was shaking.

"You don't have to-" Pelle started.

"Listen, I'm not here to judge you. If you want to die or feel or whatever, its your life to have or end but you can't come here and expect me to serve meat sandwiches when you're bleeding out in a booth." Y/n wasn't trying to scold him. She had a brother who battled terrible mental illness so she knew the anguish someone must feel to do this to themselves but she knew Hammed would lose his shit.

Oystein sat the chair down and she pushed Pelle into it. She knelt in front of him and Oystein watched her clean his wounds up, disinfect them and attempt to put bandages on them.

"These are only butterfly band aids but you need fucking stitches, Pelle." Y/n was about to open her second box of band aids.

"Dead....my name is Dead." She clicked her tongue against her teeth annoyed.

"You know, these stage names are starting to piss me off." Y/n looked at Oystein in the mirror. She put a long gauze pad on his wounds before getting up from the floor.

"Take him to get stitches as soon as you can." Y/n said as Pelle walked past her as if she didn't just stitch up his gapping wounds.

"He'll be okay. I'll make sure to get him stitched up." Oystein assure Y/n as she cleaned up the bloody gauze and bandage wrappers. She felt a hand on her back and she tensed.

"Hey...it's fine. He's done much worse than that." Oystein's words made her turn around.

"I can see that but that doesn't mean he's fine. If anything he's furthest from fine Oystein." She felt a weight on her chest like she wanted to cry and he could tell she was upset. He pulled her to his chest and she dodged it as the door swung open again.

It was the guy who was lurking around at the party the other night.

"Hey I wanted to say you guys were very good tonight...at your gig. My name is Christian-"

"Do you see I'm a little busy here?" Oystein snapped. The way he spoke to Oystein gave off much different vibes than she would have thought. She assumed it was a friend but he came off more as a fanboy. He backed out of the bathroom leaving them both standing alone. Y/n quickly scrubbed her hands in the sink wanting to be out of that confined space.

"Y/n.." Oystein reached out again.

"I've got to get back to work." Y/n wiped her face and pushing past him. They continued to cut up and eat for another 20 minutes before they finally left. Y/n felt so tense and uneasy, all she wanted to do was scream.

[jiminiecrickets]

Seven days a week couple drabble where oc is out with jk and they see jk's ex boyfriend and oc make out with jk to make his ex jealous ?

sfw. kinda abrupt ending sorry lol

jungkook crashes into your chest with a squeak and a massive sigh of relief. he grabs you by the shoulders – his can of coca cola seems to have vanished.

"ah, baby, i've been looking for you everywhere! come, come."

you let yourself be dragged after him, away from the club's bar. you'd been using it as a central landmark to find jungkook. "o-okay."

he pauses just by the neon-lit dance floor, turning to you. he places his hands on your chest and nibbles on his lower lip. the heavy electric music pounds in your bones. "i should probably tell you what i'm thinking."

"that'd be nice, yes. you disappeared quite suddenly."

"okay, well, you know my ex? the american boy?"

"uh, yeah...? where are you going with this?"

"he's here. tonight."

oh.

you blink down at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. he gnaws on his lower lip, fidgeting with the edge of his jacket and watching you anxiously for a response.

eventually, you find your voice. "well, okay, that puts a damper on things. would you like to leave?"

"no, no. i don't wanna ruin our night just 'cause of one guy. instead, i was thinking we could maybe say hi... or hi."

you get what he's hinting at immediately. your eyes narrow and you place your hands on your hips. "i'm seriously just a piece of meat to you? i'm only your trophy boyfriend and eye-candy when you want to make someone jealous, but to all your friends, you're constantly greeting them with the most embarrassing stories about me?"

jungkook's eyes widen to the size of saucers and he waves his hands frantically. "what? no! they're not the most embarrassing ones. a-anyway, my love language is actually bullying people, so you should be grateful that i'm mean to you. it just means i love you a lot."

"oh, thank you so dearly for not using the worst ones. much appreciated." you can't keep up the drama any longer and the act drops with a soft huff of laughter. "so, you're feeling petty, huh?"

"yeah." he hides his grin by nibbling on his thumbnail, placed between his front teeth. gently, you pull his hand down, and he hums, swinging your hands together and pressing closer. "please? for me? i'll do something real nice for you if you do..."

"this is bribery," you murmur against his lips. "mmh..."

"is it?" he ghosts his lips over your jawline, sucking gently over your pulse. it makes your breath hitch. slowly, he guides you in his ex's direction, pulling on your hands and sticking close to the walls. you don't actually know what the guy looks like, but you trust jungkook to know where he's going.

"red shirt, black jeans," he whispers into your ear. "to your left."

you spot the guy he's referencing facing your direction, chatting with a couple of friends with a drink in his hand. you tuck your face into jungkook's neck as he positions the both of you just perfectly in his line of sight, tugging you in by your collar until his back hits the wall.

he moans softly as your lips trail over his neck and collar. "oh, he's already looking. lift me up."

you comply, hooking your hands beneath his perfect thighs and hoisting him against the wall with ease. he makes it easy, knowing where to shift his weight towards yours and how to cling to you without looking like he's trying too hard.

"hey, this is nice," you chuckle, hefting him even higher so that your face is level with his chest, rising and falling rapidly. "why don't we do this more often?"

he scoffs and blushes, glad that it's dark. "my eyes are up here."

he tightens his legs around you and lowers his lips to yours, humming as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. it's hot, electric, your breaths hot and sweet with fruity alcohol.

"he's looking. oh, god, he's looking," he whispers, hungrily moulding your lips together once again. you don't know how much of it is an act anymore. "this is so much more fun than i thought it would be. kiss me harder, hyung."

"as you wish," you reply with a grin, and kiss him until he's so full of love that bitterness has no more space to breathe.

[seth-burroughs]

Hot take incoming but Makoto is one of the characters where everybody focuses on only one of his crimes, which is arguably actually the most justified out of all his actions, while ignoring pretty much. Everything else.

Like sorry but I don't think turning people into food was That Bad considering homunculi need human meat in order to live, they literally die if they don't eat it - it's either A. no humans get killed, and in turn all of Kanai Ward dies, or B. humans die and get turned into meatbuns, and Kanai Ward gets to exist. You could argue that the defective homunculi weren't really supposed to exist anyway but like, they do now so what. Makoto is also a homunculus, of course he probably sympathizes more with the other homunculi instead of the humans (that put them there in the first place) of course he's gonna choose KW over approx. a million humans.

If that was me in that situation I'll do the same thing fuck them bun filling lmao sorry I'm not saying it would be the best choice but it's one literally most people would choose anyway because like. What can you do, it sucks, moving on.

Substitutes for human flesh are possible to create (thank you ramen guy) but it'd require him to seek help from others which would require him to tell them the truth which fuck no. Like in that regard I believe he should be allowed to kill whoever he wants actually!

What actually makes me go 🤨 about him is everything else he's doing. Or not doing - aside from providing food and rain clouds, aka only a portion the bare necessities, he's doing absolutely nothing for Kanai Ward, especially Dohya District. He lives in the most expensive looking penthouse I ever laid my eyes upon, there is so much he could do with all of his billions, like, I don't know, at least unflood the Dohya District do you remember the Dohya District it appeared once in chapter 3 I believe.

Also your city has a poverty crisis the population's like 10% rich bitch working for ✨Amaterasu✨ 90% i live in a sewer i have like 8 shien. Please stop saying you love KW like every othet sentence and actually do something I'm begging you I'm poking you with a stick right now.

Say what you want about Yomi but he was so real for telling Makoto he's not doing shit, only ever instance in rc where the guy is like.... somewhat correct. I was about to say something else but I stopped myself because I have a healthy amount of Fear.

Apparently Makoto's love for all homunculi doesn't extend to Kurumi though, a teenage girl, after he just dumps her along with Yuma in the restricted area for no reason whatsoever, endangering her severely. He also risked her finding out she was eating human flesh for three years straight, the only reason she didn't go into the freezer was because Yuma was there to tell her there was nothing there. There was no reason for Makoto to drag her along to be the audience to his epic showdown with his DNA donor.

I'm not mad at him for that though, that was so fucking hilarious, the fuck?? What is wrong with him <3333

Since I know somebody is going to say that Yomi existing severely limits what Makoto can actually do, which is fair to some extent, but like... Was Yomi holding a gun to his head and telling him he's gonna execute the hostages if he tries to unflood Dohya? Was he? Yomi controls the peacekeepers, he doesn't control where Amaterasu money gets donated. Yomi (and by extension, the peacekeepers - Yomi is, as I see it, the personification of everything wrong with the Amaterasu Corporation cops peacekeepers anyway) can be blamed for a large portion of everything wrong with Kanai Ward, but not the entirety of it; and Makoto can't be, either. Blaming everything on Yomi is not only just wrong, but also the most boring answer possible.

Speaking of -- Makoto didn't even care about all the abuse of power Yomi was commiting the entire time. According to him, "If all Yomi did was throw his weight around, that would have been fine, but [forgot the exact phrasing, but he says him trying to leak homunculus information was where he had to step in]", so you can't even give him points for being a Yomi hater! Sad. Anyway here's how makoyomi worsties can still win

Do I dislike Makoto? No not really. I don't really care about him as much as other people tend to, but he's fun when you let him be his silly (ominous) self. The atrocities are a part of him and I decided they're funny. Actually wait I changed my mind I love him now.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#309

“I really didn’t think you would show up.  Here you are.  You must really need this money.  I really don’t care what you plan on doing with it.  For the next two and a half days you belong to us.  That’s all that matters.  Once you lock that collar on, you will no longer have any say in what happens.  You will become our fag meat to use however we want.  And don’t even try to use the fact that I am your dad’s best friend for fifteen years to get leniency.  I’m the one that is putting up the vast majority of that money, and I am fucking going to use you the way that I have been wanting to for years....

“There are five of us here.  You will address the others as Sir followed by their names.  There’s Sir Mark, Sir Reg, Sir Gabe, and Sir David.  I will be simply Sir to you.  I plan on calling you every disgusting name I can think of.  You will follow every single order they give you without hesitation.  But my orders take priority. 

“The very first thing that will happen is I will be smashing your cherry.  You still are a virgin?...  I’m not talking about with women.  Don’t give a shit about that.  You ever have a cock in your mouth or your ass?  Good.  You would have lost about three quarters of the money we promised if you had.

“This is the moment, lock that collar on or drive back home….  Good fag!  That collar will not be coming off until Sunday night.  Get out of the truck and strip completely naked.  Leave everything in the truck.  Shoes too.  You are going to deal with walking around barefoot, like a faggot should.  Damn, that’s one nice ass.  I can’t wait to we get back to the cabin so I can cunt you.

“That collar is an active electrified collar, you are restricted to a radius of no more than 100 feet from the cabin, or 50 feet from me.  All of the men have a remote to do this….

“…Fuck!  You fell to the ground in no time.  A boy six foot two, and what, two hundred fifty pounds? is transformed into a crying heap of fag meat in less than a second.  Keep in mind that is only at the lowest setting.  Now get your cunt up.  It takes the wind out of you, but you have to learn to recover quickly.

“Walk in front of me, I want to see that beefy cunt of yours in motion.  And as you do that, pay attention to what I am about to say.  When we discussed limits last week, you said that you didn’t want anything physically permanent.  If you recall, I specifically asked you to repeat that.  You did.  I asked you if you had anything else, and you said no.  I have all that on camera, you know. 

“I will be filming you this weekend.  What?  Don’t you dare say a fucking word to me.  It wasn’t on your list of limits.  It’s fair game.  Look, I’m going to be raping your cunt in a few minutes.  Pissing me off before hand is not advised.

“Speaking of which, get on your knees.  I need to take a piss.  This is the first time you will see the cock that is going to fuck up your world this weekend.  Fucking huge isn’t it?  Open your toilet mouth.  Normally, you will drink my piss with my cock on your tongue, but I’m saving sticking my cock into that hole until later.  Besides, I want you dripping with my piss when I bring you to the other guys.  There!  That feels good.  Keep your mouth open.  When it fills up, go ahead and swallow.

“Don’t look so sad.  You said that I could do whatever I wanted.  This is what I fucking want faggot.  I have no problem with installing a funnel in your mouth as needed.  There you go.  Swallow.  You’ll get used to it pretty quick.  You may even like it.  If not, don’t care.

“After the guys and I cunt you, you will spend some time under one of my rimseats licking my shithole—more like tongue fucking it.  Oh yeah faggot.  Ass cleaning duties wasn’t on your list of limits either.  And faggot, that is one of my favorite things done.  Depending on how compliant a fag cunt is, or rather not compliant, that might turn into full toilet duty.  So keep that in mind in addition to your collar.

“Well here we are.  Faggot, these are the men you will be serving during this weekend.  Left to right Sir Reg, Sir Gabe, Sir Mark, and Sir David.

“Faggot, see that stump over there.  Go ahead and lay over it.  Keep in mind, we each have a remote to your collar.  Lay over it so that your cunt is up in the air.  Good.  Good.  Guy’s secure its limbs. 

“You ain’t going anywhere until you have our five loads in that cunt.  There are cameras everywhere to record this.  Are we ready?  Good let’s do this.  Fag, I’m going to use that one gob of spit and my leak as lube.  I’m going to make you an offer.  If you feel you need more spit, scream out ‘Fuck me harder’ or ‘Oh Sir, please deeper.’  Again, compliance will get you relief.  “Look they all are stroking their meat.  You will be taking care of each and every one of them.  Now try to relax and look ahead.  I want a recording of the moment I smash your cherry.  I plan on showing your dad the first thing on Monday."

[crazyk-imagine]

Fresh Meat

Pairing: Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe (Henry “Wolfman” Ruth) x Civilian!Reader

Characters: Civilian!Reader, Charlotte “Charlie” Blackwood, Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe (Henry “Wolfman” Ruth), Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, Nick “Goose” Bradshaw, Ron “Slider” Kerner, Rick “Hollywood” Neven, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (briefly mentioned), Jake the ex-boyfriend (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: Wolfman is adorable (and horny), but so is the reader, the reader and Charlie as besties are a great and terrifying duo, Goose is a little shit, Iceman and Slider are a chaotic duo with a great psychic link, Hollywood and Wolfman bringing back their classic quote, honestly this is crazy but in a good way

Word Count: 2,882

A/N:  Reader’s “Name” is darlin’ and reader says Charls as sh-are-els

... Last night during my Top Gun searchin’ adventure, I’ve found some information that leads me to believe I’ve been duped. Apparently, Wolfman’s name in the movie was Henry Ruth but everywhere else you look you find Leonard Wolfe. I don’t know what to believe but I’m putting both names for the pairing but using Leonard for fics and we’re moving on

*Also, y’all are so sweet! We just went from 581 to 700 yesterday, I feel like it might be a glitch, but it doesn’t seem like it so we’re celebrating!  

                                * 700+ follower celebratory post *

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

You turn the tv off. 

“We should go out.” 

You look over at Charlotte with furrowed brows at the outlandish idea. “Out where? Anywhere we go you’ll be hit on and I just- I don’t want to go out.” 

She sticks her bottom lip out making you feel bad. “Please?” 

“No, Charls.” You look down at your outfit (if you could even call it that. Pajamas and a baggy shirt don’t normally do well for a night of drinking), “plus I’m not even ready and it’s too late.” 

She lifts your watch, pulling it close to dramatize. “We have plenty of time to get ready and have a girl’s night. No guys. No talking or spending the night with anyone. Just us two.” She sees the hesitation spreading across your face. “Please? Darlin, we haven’t been out together in so long. I miss it.” 

“I miss it too, babes but it’s- I-” You stupidly look back at her and throw your head back, sliding off the couch, letting out a quiet whine. “I hate you.” 

She lets out a victory laugh. “Oh, you have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” she practically crawls across the couch, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, pulling you back. 

A slow chuckle escapes you. “Yeah, yeah. I’m amazing. I know.” 

“Are you sure you haven’t been to base? You’re starting to sound an awful lot like them.” 

“Oh,” you shove her off you. “Bite me, Charls.” You push yourself off the floor and walk down the hallway, entering your room. 

“You even have their lame retorts too!” 

“Suck a dick!” 

“That’s better. They definitely wouldn’t say that.” She exits the living room, wandering towards the “guest” room even though you consider it her room since she uses it more than you do. She’s claimed the closet and dresser as hers, the math adds up, but she doesn’t want to hear it. 

The two of you laugh as you work on getting ready for your girls’ night. 

-

“Are you done yet, Darlin’?” 

You put the cap back into your lipstick, “could you give me a minute? Geez, you’re worse than Jake.” 

Your bedroom door opens, the clacking of her heels against the hardwood floor tells you she’s getting closer. 

“How are you doing today? I wanted to ask earlier but I didn’t want to make you sad.” 

You shrug, chucking your lipstick into your purse before checking your teeth making sure there are no marks. “I mean, it’s whatever. We weren’t going anywhere, it’s better to break it off now than wait until we were married or something.” 

She nods, “that’s true but it doesn’t mean you’re going to be magically healed. You still have to grieve even if you aren’t affected by it.” 

You rest your hands against the countertop, closing your eyes. “You’re right but,” a heavy sigh slips through your parted lips. “I just- I don’t want it to seem like I’m moving on to fast.” You turn around, leaning against the sink, “I don’t want it to seem like I’m moving on too soon.” 

“It’s been six months since the breakup,” she points out. “Plus, he has a new girlfriend.” 

“That’s true.” 

“Come on. You deserve to have fun and let loose.” She stands beside you, nudging your arm with her elbow. “It’s time you leave this place and make some friends. Maybe even wake up in some stranger’s bed.” 

You scoff, pushing yourself off the counter. “Oh my God. Charlotte Blackwood.” 

She cackles, “don’t use my full name. I didn’t do nothing wrong.” 

“You’re using your other head and you know it.” 

Charlotte gasps, “how dare you! I’m doing no such thing.” 

You hum, “and if that was the case you wouldn’t have slept with one of your students.” 

“Sometimes I regret telling you everything.” 

“But if you didn’t, life would be boring.” 

“If that’s what you think.” The smile slips from your lips. 

“No, no. Don’t start thinking now. We’re gonna finished getting you dolled up and then we’re gonna have a couple of drinks before we go to the nearest fast-food place and order too much so the employees can judge use at two in the morning.” 

You shake your head and arms, getting rid of your nerves. “Okay,” you grab your purse. “We gotta leave now before I lose my cool.” 

“They won’t know what hit them when we get there.” 

“Sure. Yeah.” 

“Oh no,” she shakes her head, pulling your arm. “We’re leaving and we’re leaving now.”

 -

Charlotte walks through the doors and turns her head with a smile on her face, expecting to see you there only to see the bar. She sighs, turning around to grab you and haul you inside. “We’re having a girl’s night which means more than one female or else it’d be a sad night.” 

“You’d find someone else to be your bed buddy.” 

“If you continue to imply that I’m a whore...” 

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth, “you’ll do what?” 

She doesn’t respond and rushes towards the bar. 

You follow after her with a little pep in your step. 

Neither of you say anything after ordering your drinks. 

-

Ron taps Tom’s shoulder, pointing over towards the two of you. “Hey, isn’t that Charlie?” 

The man turns and a smirk slowly appears across his lips. “Why, Ron, I do believe it is.” 

“Should we?” 

“You mean, should we talk to the instructor that hothead Maverick decides to sleep with and break it off before things could get serious?” 

“We are, aren’t we.” 

“This is why you’re my RIO.” Tom walks ahead while Ron shakes his head, slightly wishing he never said anything but then thinks about what Pete’s reaction would be and all sensible thinking is thrown out the window. 

He grabs Leonard and Rick by the back of their necks which intrigues Nick causing him to follow. 

-

“Hello,” the one with frosted tips starts. 

“If we knew all the instructors were this pretty, we would have tried harder to get in,” the one with the cowboy hat says. 

You glance over to Charlie, who lowers her head. You want to ask her what’s wrong until you realize who they are. “Oh.” 

She turns her head, forehead still resting on her arm. “You see what I’m dealing with.” 

You chuckle, “oh, yeah.” 

The one with the mustache busts through the line of guys. “Charles. Charlie. The Charmer. The C-dog beneath Mave’s wings, how are you?” 

You cover your mouth to hide your snickers. 

He turns towards you, “you like that, huh?” 

“God, no.” You shake your head, “that was terrible, but you were so confident while doing it.” 

He rubs the back of his neck, “uh- thanks. I think?” 

“You have a wife, Mother Goose. Move it,” the tall one next to frosted tips sneers at him. 

Mother Goose puffs out his chest, “don’t you talk about her, Slippery Slide.” 

You stare at the two with your jaw close to the ground. “You’re married?” Your head snaps towards Charlotte’s. “He’s married.” 

She nods, “I’m afraid so. Oh, and they have a child.” 

“Well, bless their hearts.” 

“We’ve never met before, but I find that to be very rude.” 

“If you heard the way you talked out loud, you’d be thinking the same as me.” 

The others chuckle. 

“But,” you draw out. “You pull it off well so, I can see why you’re lucky to call yourself a married man.” 

A boyish grins tugs at his lips, “thank you, miss.”

You pull Charlotte along with you towards a table, wanting to get away from the guys before they try to see either of you without any clothes on. 

If only the drinking gods were listening. 

-

Mother Goose shoves the one in the hat, who then trips over people’s feet; his arms flailing in the air as he tries to balance himself only to fail and fall at your feet. 

He reaches up making sure his hats still on his head (it is). His eyes stop on a pair of decently worn-out sneakers, his eyes keep moving up until he spots your tilted head. 

He swears you’re an angel sent to him and it’s only because of his lucky (and only) hat. 

There’s a pretty smile dancing across your lips as you put your hand out to help him up. 

The dopey expression on his face makes the others shake their heads. 

“I told you to watch your step.” 

You turn to look at him. “Mother Goose, was it?” 

He shakes his head, “just Goose.” 

He smiles, acting like he didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Got it,” you nod, pretending to that correction into consideration. “Listen here, shit head Goose-” 

He stares at you offended at your “nickname” for him with one hand on his chest, mouth agape. 

“You should learn to not be mean and trip your fellow classmates. These guys here are the ones that watch your back. Pilot, RIO, WSO, whatever your title and/ or occupation may be because one day you’re gonna prank the wrong person and then you’ll be screwed.” 

“Rude,” he mutters. 

“Am I wrong?” 

He hesitates to answer. “No.” 

“Exactly.” 

-

Leonard leans over to Rick, “I think I’m getting a hard-on.” 

His buddy scoffs, jerk his arm with his elbow, “don’t tease me.” 

-

“I have to go make a call.” 

“Bye bye, Goose!” You shout, waving your arm erratically like an insane person. Nick smiles and returns the wave. 

“Bye, mean, crazy lady!” 

Charlotte bumps your arm, staring at you with a raised brow. 

You give her a smile in return. 

She shakes her head. This is exactly why she never brought you to base. 

-

“What now?” Rick asks Leonard with an annoyed tone. 

“I will give you a crinkly, crisp ten-dollar bill, if you get the slippery combo out of here.” 

“Sixty and we’ll leave the bar.” 

“Why are you ruining my chances at finding love? Be honest with me. What did I do to you?” 

His buddy rolls his eyes, “if I’m taking muscles and frosted tips with me, I’m gonna need something to pay off the tab you created.” 

He sighs, “alright, fine.” He slaps the cash into Rick’s hand. 

“Run along now.” 

The man with the cash walks behind the two, pulling them over to the side. “Follow me if you want to save yourself.” 

Tom and Ron give each other a questioning look; they look back to see Wolfman trying to use his classic go to moves, they follow Hollywood without any more convincing. 

-

“So,” he starts off. “Would you like to have babies sometime?” 

Yours and Charlotte’s widen, she snorts her drink out her nose and leaves to clean herself up in the restroom while you pat your chest and cough. 

Your throats a little scratchy from the saliva and spontaneous coughing fit. You take a sip of your drink. “What?” 

He winces, lowering his hat. “Sorry, I was uh- I was trying to say something nice but then I- well, I said that. If you want to leave, I wouldn’t blame you.” 

Once you manage to catch your breath, the corner of your lips tugs upwards. “I think I’d rather stay here and talk to you. You can certainly keep a girl on her toes.” 

He lifts his hat off his brow, staring at you through his lashes. “Well, if that’s what you want, I’d be happy to make that happen.” 

You lean closer, “let’s get a booth.” 

He nods, “okay.” 

You two spend the rest of the night talking, sadly leaving Charlotte alone but luckily, she was able to talk to the other guys who made their way to you two earlier. 

-

She glances over at you, happy to see you finally enjoying yourself even if it is with one of her students. 

She may not approve of his language at times, more so one specific comment but still happy that you’ve found yourself someone who can make you smile and give you more Jake ever did. 

She realizes now you have a legit excuse to come to base. This isn’t going to be good for her. 

Tom chuckles, seemingly realizing what’s going on in the instructor’s head. 

“Don’t say anything.” 

“I won’t,” he says in between his breathless chuckles. “You can count on that.” 

“Oh God,” Rick adds. 

Ron furrows his brows, “what’s wrong with you?” 

“That horny knuckle head just got himself a girl. I’m never gonna hear the end of it.” 

The two friends chuckle at the twos expense. 

“Ah, but just think Hollywood,” Ron starts. “If he annoys you, you can send him to her so she can deal with it.” 

“Unless she’s not home,” Charlotte adds. “I’ve been trying to get her out of the house for the past few months and today was success.” 

“Break up?” asks Tom. 

The instructor narrows her eyes at him, confused at his sudden interest in potential gossip. “Why do you want to know?” 

He shrugs, pretending to be innocent. “I- he’s- I gotta know what’s going on with my fellow classmates when we’re in the air,” he sputters to say, being quick on his feet. 

“Mm-hmm. It was a mutual break up, if you must know.”

 -

“What made you want to come out here tonight… you know now that I think about it. I still haven’t asked you for your name.” 

He opens his mouth to respond when you place your finger over his lips, shutting him up for a second. 

“And don’t say your call sign. I want to know your real name first at least.” 

He nods, removing your hand. “Leonard, the name’s Leonard Wolfe and you better remember it, darlin’. My call sign’s Wolfman.” 

“How’d you know my nickname?” 

“What?” 

“My nickname. You- did you seriously not know?” You ask with a giggle. 

“You’re joking.” 

“No, it’s practically my name at this point but that’s my nickname. I’ve had it since I was a little girl.” 

He sets his arm on the back of the booth behind you, scooting closer. “Well then, I’d say it’s a good thing that I met you.” 

“Someone’s cocky.” 

“It’s all part of my charm.” 

You fix his crooked collar. “I see and,” your look into his eyes, distracting him. “If either one of us, no one in particular, wants to continue this. Does that mean this… so called charm is code for your cocky all the time?” 

“I am offended at that-” 

It’s a blur. 

Once his vision clears and he sees what you’ve done. He raises a brow, “you realize what that means right?” 

You lean in, staring at his lips for a little too long (and a little too obviously). “Do you realize what this means?” 

His brows knit together in confusion, “now I’m confused.” 

“Well, let me clear this up for you. I’m wearing your hat.” 

He nods. 

“I plan on seeing you again. We’ll go back to your place because- well, I’m not talking to Charls about this tonight. And I wanted to see how cute I’d look in this.” 

He focuses on that for a moment, the hand on the back of the booth cups your cheek, his breath fans against your ear. “You’d look better if you had nothing on except for my hat.” 

Before you can respond he’s on you faster than a surfer trying to catch a wave. 

A muffled surprised yelp escapes you until you two slowly get in the groove with kissing one another. 

The whistling and hollering breaks you two out of it. 

He sighs, glancing over his shoulder at the assholes who’ve ruined his night. 

Charlotte shakes her head at you. 

He throws his head back, resting against the seat of the booth. 

“Did you drive here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You want to head out and grab something to eat?” 

“You really are an angel, Darlin’.” 

“You’re just saying that.” 

He shakes his head, “believe me when I say it. You are an angel and I’m taking you out tonight and the next night then the night after that.” 

“So, you’ll be keeping me out past my bedtime.” 

“You won’t be getting much sleep in the first place.” He slips out of the booth, yanking you with him. 

“Woah! Slow down there, Dogboy.” 

“We’ve got places to go and beds to not sleep in. There is no rest!” 

You throw your head back and laugh. “Oh, wait- wait!” 

“What?” 

“Just give me one second.” You turn and wave your arm like a crazy woman, “bye, Charls!” 

-

She scrunches her neck, not looking up from the table. 

“You should say by to your friend before she gets the whole bar involved,” Tom advises. 

“Shut up.” 

Nick takes the initiative and waves with the same enthusiasm. “Bye, mean lady!” 

“Bye Mother Goose!” 

“Damn,” he mumbles. 

“Bye, She wolf!” Ron, Rick, and Tim wave at you. 

-

That happy smile doesn’t slip from your lips as you two exit the bar. 

“Aw.” 

“What’s wrong?” Leonard asks you. 

“I was expecting your ride to be a horse,” you joke. 

He growls, pulling you closer by your waist. “You keep joking like that and I’ll give you something ride.” 

You peck his lips with a happy smile dancing across your lips, “keep that promise for later. I’m famished.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”  

[tripleglitchwriting]

You mentioned Ultra Magnus trying to cope with the world of One Piece and the Strawhat Pirates and I. Am. Here. For. It.

UM is a very ernest stressed out lawful good character. and the Strawhats are a chaotic good force. More Chaos than all the Wreckers and the Lost Light put together.

So in honor of that post If you don't mind me asking for two requests in one request box open run I'd like to request a One Piece/Lost Lighters crossover.

The Strawhats are helping The Lost Light crew because Luffy and Rodimus vibe. Roddy has a grand fleet flag and Luffy has a Rodimus star.

Either, Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus in a lull in the action asks Robin why she's a Strawhat Pirate. She's the only sane one here.

Or, if your in the mood for something lighter, Franky and Brainstorm Share The Brain-cell^TM while Usop and Perceptor attempt damage control.

YOU UNDERSTAND. YOU GET IT. I will be happy to write this!! I’m sorry it took me so long, I’ve been going through a rough patch when it comes to motivation.

The lost light characters may be a bit ooc because I’ve been having a hard time gauging their personalities. A lot of what I have for them in my head is from other fanfictions.

Also, this is just the start of the story, it’s just how they meet. I’ve yet to write specific interactions between characters, but I wholeheartedly plan to write more!

A little side note for clarification on One Piece in case anyone needs it:

- This takes place sometime after Jinbei gets on the ship

- I watch the dub so I’m going to use all of the names and such they use there (ex. Black foot Sanji -> Black leg Sanji)

- Sanji and Brook will be normal to women. I just don’t want to write them being weird.

Without further ado, I present…

Ten Idiots Meet A Ship Full Of Other Significantly Bigger Idiots

Synopsis:

After an experiment gone bad on the Lost Light (again), a portal is temporarily opened up to another dimension. Before it could be closed, however, a group of strange individuals manage to slip through.

After a long day at sea, The Strawhats always look forward to a first-class home cooked meal by Sanji himself. It was a beautiful evening- the crew opted to stay out on the deck of the Sunny to watch the sunset.

“SANJI! I’M HUNGRY! FOOD! NOW!” Not that much peace could be had with a captain like Luffy.

“I’m coming! Not every cook can whip up something like this every night you know. I swear, you guys eat more than a whole island every day.”

“Hey, that’s just Luffy. Don’t include the rest of us in this!” Nami shouted from the stairs leading to where the rest of the crew sat.

“I’M YOUR CAPTAIN AND I SAY FEED ME! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” Luffy pumped his arms as he chanted, sticking his tongue out as he watched Sanji cart out a giant platter of cartoonishly large meat.

“Smells as delicious as ever, Sanji.” Brook commented.

“Thank you, Brook. At least someone appreciates my food around here.” He glared at his captain, who was completely oblivious to everything else around him and solely focused on his food. Everyone else chatted away. Laughing, eating, looking up at the beautiful swirling vortex that had just appeared in the sky.

Wait.

Luffy had to stretch his arms up as his food began to be sucked into the portal above them, but it was in vain as he began to float too. The Sunny creaked as gravity shifted around them, everything but the ship itself beginning a startling ascent upwards.

“MY MEAT! NAMI, WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

“How should I know?!” She clung to an uprooting tangerine tree, “This is NOT normal! I haven’t read anything about whatever this is!”

“Everybody hang on to something!” Jinbei ordered, staring to float himself. Brook didn’t seem to get the message, as he was the first to loose his grip.

“SOMEBODYHELPMEIMBEINGPULLEDIN—”vwoop! And then he was gone.

“BROOK!” Luffy, having already eaten everything on his plate, launched himself into the portal.

“Damnit Luffy!” Zoro did the same soon after.

“What? Are we seriously going in that thing?” Chopper squealed, Usopp and Nami seemed to agree.

“Maybe we’ll all be immediately killed once we enter. It would be a painless death at least.” Robin said calmly, affixing herself to the ground with her devil fruit powers.

“YOU ARE NOT HELPING!” Usopp, Nami, and Chopper all screamed in unison.

“I suppose this is our next adventure!” Jinbei leapt through the portal. Sanji sighed and followed after him.

“Well, Sunny’s too big to go through that thing, so I guess we’re goin’ in without her.” Franky detached himself from the mast.

“Okay everyone, come on.” Robin peeled Usopp, Nami, and Chopper from their death grips on the ship and took all of them with her as she joined the rest of the crew.

“ROBIN WHY-“ Vwoop! And just like that, the Thousand Sunny was left empty.

————————————

Brainstorm was in big trouble. And possibly the entire Lost Light. And maybe the universe. The good news is his portal machine worked! The bad news is it was now pulling in random things from a random space in the multiverse. This would be a great opportunity to study it, unfortunately the stability of the thing was questionable. That is to say the portal was currently beginning to implode.

“Brainstorm, what are you doing!?” Preceptor skidded into the room right as he heard the snapping and crackling of something that probably shouldn’t be making that sound.

“Oh, nothing. It’s fine! It’s fine. I just need to- oh that’s not good. Actually do you mind helping me shut this down before it destroys the entire ship?”

“You’re going to be the death of all of us-” right as he began to walk toward the vortex, a screaming clatter of something came speeding out of it. On closer inspection, it seemed to be the corpse of a human.

“Oh, well, that’s new.” Brainstorm oh so helpfully commented. Just after another being came from the portal, also screaming but not quite as dead. Another followed, this one with a complete and utter look of annoyance on his face.

“What in the- Brainstorm, what did you do?” Ratchet entered, as did Ultra Magnus.

Soon there was an array of things entering the room. Aside from the array of random objects, there was a large blue organic followed by an another human wearing a black suit, then large possibly techno organic. Four other small people shot out shortly after.

“CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT NOW!” Ratchet ordered.

“Oh why didn’t I think of that- oh wait, I did, and I COULD USE SOME HELP!” Together they pulled on a comically large mad scientist like lever affixed to the portals control panel. As quick as it had arrived the portal was gone, though what- or who- it had just pulled in were gaining their bearings.

“Hahahaha! That was fun!” One of the humans, one wearing a yellow hat with a red line across it, put his hand on his head and looked around. It took him a second to notice, but when he finally realized where he was the man yelled, “WOAH! Cool! This place is huge!”

“It seems to be some sort of… metal building. A giant workstation perhaps.” The blue man said thoughtfully.

“Well I say we get out of here! I don’t want to be around when we find out why this place needs to be so big!” A long-nosed human whisper shouted.

“What, like those freaky statues?” The very annoyed man gestured at Brainstorm, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, and Preceptor, who were all standing completely still. That is, until Rodimus showed up.

“Brainstorm, I heard yelling, is there a fight? Without me?” He strolled in casually, not looking at the floor, and instead focusing on his crew who were all staring at him. “What? What did I do?”

“That. Is. AWESOME!” Something from the floor shot up at Rodimus’s face. “Are you a robot? Can you shoot lasers? Do you eat metal?!” Somehow, someway, there was an ecstatic human right in front of his optics.

“Luffy! Get down from there!”

“Woah. So, care to explain? Anyone?”

“We are not robots, we are Cybertronian.” Ultra Magnus automatically stated.

“Cool!” ‘Luffy’, as his friend called him, somehow managed to launch himself on top of Rodimus’s helm. “Is there any food here?”

“Luffy! Damnit-” Another of the humans, the one in the suit, jumped. Accept when one would normally begin to succumb to gravity and fall back down, he took another step in the air and kept going. “You are so reckless!” The man tackled Luffy off Rodimus and they both began to plummet down to the ground- a height deadly to something so small.

“Sanji, let me down! I want to talk to the robot!”

“How about you shut up and come up with a plan before you get us all killed!” The moment they jumped off, Ratchet was already in motion. He was able to dive behind Rodimus to catch the two, but as he slid on the ground to save them ‘Sanji’ jumped off the air again and landed perfectly safe.

“I… I can’t even begin to explain this.” He admitted in a completely defeated tone, now chassis down on the floor.

“Do they all move?” A small voice whispered from the group still standing where the portal once was.

“I hope not.” Another replied.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.” Brainstorm said calmly.

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted this.” Ultra Magnus put his servo on his helm. The two that had just survived a deadly landing like it was nothing walked back to their group- one much more unhappy than the other.

“Sorry about him. He does this a lot.” The annoyed green haired man glared at both of them.

“Oh, like you’re any better moss head.”

“Oh yeah? At least I didn’t jump in the face of a giant robot!”

“Yeah, cause you’d get lost on the way there!”

“You take that back-“

“STOP IT!” Half of the new arrivals shouted at the same time. One orange haired girl stepped up to comfort the bickering duo.

“This is not the time to argue! We’re kind of… we- look!” She gestured at, well, everything. Everyone else seemed to silently agree.

“Greetings visitors from another world! Welcome aboard the Lost Light!” Brainstorm announced with a flashy arm movement.

“Hey, I’m the captain, I get to welcome people into the ship!”

“You’re a captain?! Is this a pirate ship? Are you giant robot pirates?!” Luffy shouted in awe, though still in the arms of Sanji, who promptly dropped him.

“He said he was ‘Cybertronian’ bro. Not a robot.” The probably techno organic chastised.

“Psh, whatever.” Luffy got himself to his feet.

“We are not pirates.” Ultra Magnus said very sternly. “We are on a perfectly legal exploratory expedition.”

“Oh, bummer.” He glanced around once again. Apparently deciding now was a good time, he introduced himself. “My name is Monkey D. Luffy and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy smiled brightly and giggled, either ignoring or disregarding his friends facepalms.

“Well, I’d say this was a great success!” Brainstorm cheered to himself. “Who knew that was possible! I really am a genius.”

“And who are you?” ‘Moss head’ sneered at him. “Who are any of you? This is weird.”

“Well, if I’m allowed to introduce my own ship this time, my name is Rodimus Prime, captain of the Lost Light!”

“Hang on, this is your ship? How did you build something like this, it looks like it’s straight outta Vegapunk’s lab! What part of the world are we in anyway?” The blue hair techno organic asked, putting his oversized hand on his strangely shaped chin.

“Space, my friend. We’re in space. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if anything living would make it through that portal. Looks like it’s got about a 9 out of 10 survival rate which is better than most multidimensional portals I’ve seen. That is to say I’ve never seen one before, because I built the first one. Just now. No need to congratulate me.” Ignoring Brainstorm’s blatant narcissism, the of new arrivals looked absolutely flabbergasted by this information.

“We’re in space? Like, space space? Outer space?” Luffy asked with eyes wider than any moon, a big bright burning ball of excitement building in his chest.

“I assume you’ve never been off your planet before?” Perceptor asked. Luffy didn’t respond this time. He looked like he was about to burst with excitement, though his crew mates didn’t seem to pay much mind. One or two of them shook their heads in response to the question. “Well, Brainstorm, care to explain what you’ve done here?”

“What I’ve done- well, if you have the mental capacity to understand- I can give you a basic rundown. I’ve designed this portal to reach into alternate dimensions, which have hardly been confirmed to exist other than the dead universe. I’ve been worked steadily on it for a while now, and today I tested it out. It brought these ten organics here as well as some other junk.”

“Brainstorm.”

“Yes?”

“You mean to tell me, you turned on an untested and extremely dangerous machine that could obliterate our entire existence within nanokliks for no reason other than bragging rights? And when it miraculously did work, you pulled in ten random people from an unknown possibly incredibly dangerous world that could have also imploded our entire existence?”

“Yes that about sums it up.” Perceptor’s optic twitched, but as it seemed time was moving a bit too fast for him to start lecturing. The corpse on the floor began to move, slowly at first, and then in a sharp practiced motion it popped up on its feet.

“Yohohoho! I think I passed out for a second there!” The skeleton looked around. “Oh. I definitely passed out. No bones about it!” The apparently not corse laughed to himself.

“Cool! I didn’t think those human stories about corpses coming back to life were real!” Rodimus said with a childlike playfulness.

“They’re not.” Ultra Magnus argued bluntly.

“Oh, I am a skeleton. It’s a long story. Say, Luffy, what is going on?”

“We got sucked through a portal and now we’re talking to giant robot guys.”

“Oh okay.” The skeleton nodded, and then quickly scurried to where three of the other humans (and animal thing?) were huddled.

“Well, remind me to change that to a 10 out of 10 survival rate!”

“I feel like introductions are in order here…” Perceptor stated, “I’ll go first. My name is Perceptor. I’m a scientist. Now, you.” He gestured at Brainstorm.

“Well, if you insist. I am Brainstrom. Genius inventor of the machine that brought you all here.”

“I am the duly enfor- ah, I mean Ultra Magnus. I try to keep the peace around here.”

“You know me, I’m Rodimus.” He nudged Ratchet. “It’s your turn, doc.”

“Fine. I’m Ratchet. Retired head medical officer.“

“Cool names!” Luffy, having sprung back up, was jumping up and down. “This is my crew, the Strawhat Pirates!”

“Roronoa Zoro. Soon to be greatest swordsman and second hand man.” ‘Moss head’ introduced himself. The orange hair girl stepped out of the group.

“I’m Nami, the navigator.” The long nose man shakily emerged after her.

“I am commander Usopp! Best sniper in the world! I’m also the leader of one thousa-“

“Don’t even start.” The suit wearing man stepped up. “Sanji. I’m the crew’s chef.” The animal like thing approached from behind another crew member.

“Um, my name’s Chopper. I’m the doctor.” He tapped his hooves together nervously. A woman, one who hasn’t said much until now, patted the hat on his head in a compassionate manner.

“I’m Nico Robin, an archeologist.” She smiled sweetly and quickly got out of the way of the blue haired inhuman human man rushing to the front.

“Name’s Franky!” He struck a strange pose. “A SUPER good shipwright!” The skeleton stepped up beside him and did a short bow.

“My name is Brook. I am lucky to be the musician of this crew. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” When he stood up the large blue man stood beside him.

“I am Jinbe, the helmsman. It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” He bowed deeply.

“Now that we did that, do you guys have any food?” Luffy asked immediately and without hesitation.

The fifteen of them stood in Brainstorm’s mildly disfigured lab space, each with very different thoughts running through their heads. A new world, a new people, things most on the Lost Light never even imagined possible. From then on, the world got a little more chaotic.

[slowlyhardgoatee]

Now, I bet you’re wondering why I brought you over here to my house today, right?

Well, there’s a couple of reasons, Smith. Let’s just say I’ve got a proposition for you.

Firstly, there’s the work situation. You’ve worked for me at my construction business for a long time now, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand why you stick around despite the low pay. Hell, everyone knows you like nothing more than jacking off over a pair of dirty construction overalls and boots in the back workroom. We’ve all seen you doing it. But I’ve noticed that, nine times out of ten, you specifically pick MY overalls and boots. Am I your type, Smith? ‘Yes Boss’, was that? Good. Keep that subservient attitude up, faggot. Oh, that’s your name from now on, by the way. Faggot.

The second reason you’re here is actually to do with my wife. As you probably know, I’m a married man. Been with my wife for just about 30 years, and let me tell you she is a classy lady. Very proper. Now, me, I’m the opposite of her. I’m ex-police, ex-military, hell, even did a stint as a prison guard for a while. Tough work, done by tough men. Thing is, all that testosterone flying around turned me into a 24/7 horn dog. My wife puts out once a month for the most missionary sex possible, and that’s nothing like enough for me. I need my dick sucked several times a day - and she does not suck dick. She said to me, ‘Find someone else if you want that shit’ - so faggot, I’m finding you.

I’m shutting down the construction company. But don’t worry, I’m keeping you on. Your new job is as my personal cocksucker. It’s a full-time, live-in and entirely unpaid position starting immediately. I know you live alone and have no family, so you should have no problem getting started right away. What do you say, faggot?

Atta boy - ‘Yes, Boss’, and dropped straight to your knees. Good faggot. Go ahead and get my cock out. Look at that. Look at the piece of meat that’s gonna be running your fucking life from now on. You want to nurse on it, faggot? Go right ahead.

Fuck yeah, right down the back of your fucking throat. Fuck, that’s a sweet and talented mouth. I’ll be putting it to near-constant use.

Ah - what do you think you’re doing? No no no - hands well away from your cock, faggot. In fact, give ‘em here. There. That’s where your hands belong when you’re sucking your Boss’s cock, faggot - tugging on my fucking nipples. I’ll be locking your cock up in a cock cage first thing in the morning - and you’ll beg me to throw away the key.

Oh, fuck yeah. Oh, you’re gonna be at my beck and call whenever I want. I think to start with, I’ll keep you down here in the basement. But every so often, on special occasions, I’ll take you upstairs and let you suck me in the actual house. Y’know, on my birthday, or our wedding anniversary, or my wife’s birthday, days like that. I’ll always make sure she’s in the house when I take you up there, as well, so she can see first-hand how you satisfy the demands she wouldn’t meet. If my wife won’t give me what I want, I’m happy to make a cuckold out of her in her own living room.

Last thing, faggot - you don’t smoke, do you? No? Good. Nor does my wife. She hates it when I smoke. So - I promise that every time I fuck your mouth up in the house, I’m gonna light up the biggest cigar I can find, and I’m gonna smoke it nice and slowly while you’re servicing my meat. Then, because we can’t have you taking too much pleasure out of your new life of servitude, once you’ve swallowed my cum in front of my cuckold wife, you’re gonna beg me to put my cigar out on your faggot balls. And believe me, faggot, the sound of you screaming and whimpering like a pathetic little bitch is only gonna get me hard all over again.

Now, hold still. I’m gonna blow my load all over your face, bitch. Here it comes, here it… fuuuuucking comes, you CUNT. FUCK. Look at that, dripping all over your face. That’s the first of many, believe me.

What do you have to say to me, faggot?

Yeah, ‘Thank you, Boss’. Good fag. Now clean my cock off for me, and then let’s go upstairs into the house. The wife’s due back from work in about fifteen minutes, and the first thing I want her to see is you begging for my cock in your mouth while I’m smoking. If you’re a good faggot, I might rape you in front of her, too. You like the thought of that, eh? Your Boss’s married seed up your faggot cunt? Yeah, thought you would. Well, you just concentrate on being a good cocksucker, and we’ll see what happens. Now, come on. Up we go. Time for you to get a good feel for your new job.

[dapandapod]

burlesque seems so vague. you can't just say that.

But I want to 🥰

Alright, yes fine. Here is some more on the subject.

It is not really what it sounds like, but all you need to remember is how the band is dressed in these kinds of shows. Fuckin' hot, is what it is, and Geralt behind the bar with eyeliner and bare arms and yes, I am fine. Loooosely based on the Christina Agiulera Burlesque? Yes? Yes.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Aiden, and it really isn’t me you need to impress, but them.” Aiden points over his shoulder to the other members of the band. Right. “What is your role, then?” He asks, pulling the strap of the case down his shoulder to take out his guitar. “Me? Oh, a bit of everything. You’ll find me wiping tables after being on stage, spanking a lovely bottom, before being sent backstage to fix a zipper. Today?” Aiden looks Jaskier up and down before shrugging. “I’m here to see if you are more than a pretty face.” “Aiden, stop flirting with the new meat.” Someone says loudly from the bar, and when Jaskier turns to look, he feels his poor little bi heart tremble in fear. There are a few men at the bar, but the one calling out is standing out like a sore thumb. His hair is white, pulled up in a ponytail to show off his undercut. The tanktop is also white, showing off some really fucking nice shoulders and arms, who are currently liftin two chairs off the counter. Fuck. “Get that stick out your ass, Geralt, if he sticks around he will get worse than that. Also look at him!” Aiden gestures at Jaskier, who waves awkwardly. He is starting to feel he should have dressed up more. “Don’t tell me you don’t think he’s cute!” The man at the bar, Geralt, only grunts and puts down the chairs. “The boss-man, that.” Aiden says cheerily, guiding Jaskier over to the band. “Don’t let him fool you, we only listen to the She-boss around here.” The girls on the stage stop, adjusting positions, starting again. Ah, the glamorous life of showbiz.  “Your resume says you are quite the musician?” Aiden asks as Jaskier gets ready on the chair. 

I think I'm hilarious. Also, turns out, if you write flirty characters, you gotta know how to flirt. I suppose this is why I struggle 🤣

[promptsinpanem]

Every Part of You

Summary: Peeta, as his life falls apart and gets pieced back together

Prompt: Round 1, Day 4 - The Victory Tour

__________________________

The spread of food before us is sumptuous, the tables piled high with glistening meats, frothy soups and delectable looking cakes. Purple banners drape elegantly from the ceiling, trimmed in gold and shining with the twinkling lights that have been threaded around them. The room is filled with lively music, and the constant chatter of conversation. All anyone wants to do is talk to us, while I want to do anything but. I’m not in the mood for conversation right now, and Katniss never is.

But of course, we’re here to put on a show. And right now, it’s more important than ever.

We smile, and talk, and weave our way through the crowded room with our arms tightly linked. I see Effie, her mouth stretched in a clownish smile as she speaks to the Mayor, likely conveying her displeasure in her earlier treatment. I spy Haymitch snatching a small, clear bottle from the beverage table, pocketing it for later. Both mine and Katniss’ prep teams are chatting away gaily, clearly loving being the centre of attention, even if it is just from little old District Eleven.

“How are you?” I mutter under my breath when we finally get a moment alone, and I see Katniss shrug out of the corner of my eye. Her shoulders are bare, her dress pale pink and strapless, her hair a tumble of ringlets cascading down her back. The expanse of exposed skin makes me want to trace my fingers along her delicate collarbone, even though I’m still angry at her, at Haymitch. Keeping me in the dark for so long, treating me like a child. Excluding me, from everything.

“As good as I can be, I suppose,” she eventually replies, turning to face me. “You?”

“I can’t really say I’m in the best of moods,” I reply honestly. “Hasn’t been a great day.”

She has the decency to grimace, then quickly replaces it with a false smile for those around us. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I realise now we should have-”

I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. “No more apologies, Katniss. Just remember to keep me in the loop next time, please. Then I won’t inadvertently risk someone else’s life.”

Katniss bites her lip. “You did the right thing out there today, Peeta. I…it was perfect, what you said. You have to know that.”

“Was it perfect, though? Really?” My tone is filled with disbelief. I remember when the thought first came to me, in the middle of writing my speech. Wondering how I could show the Capitol that I wasn’t just a piece in their Games, how I could use their Games to my own advantage, even in the smallest way possible. How I could repay the two people who had helped to keep Katniss alive in the Arena when I couldn’t. How I’d thought it was the perfect solution. “The outcome might not be great for Thresh’s sister, Rue’s parents. Wasn’t great for that old man.”

“Oh Peeta,” she murmurs. “Don’t blame yourself for him. That was - that was me. All me. That’s my fault.”

I go to correct her, to remind her that I was the one who started to go off script. But I can see the grief on her face and acknowledge that we’re both carrying our own worries from this afternoon. I might be hurting, but so is she. “Let’s not talk about this now,” I reply instead, reaching out and tucking an invisible piece of hair behind her ear. I feel her briefly lean into my hand as I do so, watch as her eyes flutter closed for a moment before I drop my hand away. “There’s nothing we can change about any of that. All we can do is make sure we get through tonight, and the next, and the next, and prove to President Snow that we’re madly in love. Right?” The words stick in my throat, because, really, what do I need to prove? There’s nothing I need to pretend about there.

“Right,” Katniss agrees softly. “But-” She pauses, glances towards Effie across the room, the poor Mayor still bailed up with her. “But we need to make sure your promise is kept.”

“We will. I’ll speak to Effie, she’ll know what to do.”

“Is it even legal, do you think?”

I look at her wryly. “You’re worried about doing things by the right side of the law now?” Katniss flushes, knowing as well as I do she’s been on the wrong side of following the Capitol’s rules for a long time. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. If I know Effie, she’ll tell me something like You’re a Victor, and if a Victor can’t get what they want, who can?” I mimic Effie’s Capitol accent in the hope that I can tease a smile onto Katniss’s face, and it works. “Of course I’ll have to make sure she’s well over the Peacekeeper incident from earlier before I bring it up. Wouldn’t want to stress her out even more.”

Katniss purses her lips then, and we fall into silence. We watch the room revolve around us, the reality once again sinking in that everything we do, everything we say, impacts every single person in our lives. I grimly wonder what chain of events we've kicked off with what's happened today.

“Let’s dance,” I say suddenly, wanting to be rid of the conversation - and my thoughts - for the night, and draw her onto the small dance floor. Others immediately follow, as though they’ve simply been waiting for our lead, and soon the room is filled with couples twirling and spinning. We don’t twirl or spin though, instead dutifully following the steps Effie has so painstakingly drilled into us, Katniss’ hand on my shoulder, mine resting upon her waist. But the more we dance, the closer we draw into each other, until my entire arm is around her slim waist, and her head is upon my chest. Breathing in together, breathing out together. Comfort, in the only place we can find it in this room. Maybe in the only place we can find anywhere.

I close my eyes, and surrender to the fact that no matter what Katniss Everdeen does or doesn’t do, whatever she says or doesn’t say, I’ll never be able to let her go.

__________________________

We sit on the roof, lazily sipping on tart orange juice and munching on long, sugary twists of dough that Katniss keeps dipping in liquid chocolate. We stare up at the sky, and she points out a cloud that she insists looks just like the plant that is her namesake. I show her one that I say reminds me of Buttercup, but she vehemently disagrees. The cloud is far too pretty to look like that bag of bones, she tells me, and I laugh.

We’ve spent our day doing nothing of importance, possibly for the first time in our lives. No food to hunt, no bread to bake, no Arena to fight in. Zero responsibilities. Instead we’ve spent the hours playing silly games, weaving nets that we pretend to wear like Finnick, stuffing our faces with sweet Capitol treats that both of us know we’ll never get the chance to have again. It’s like our last stand, the last moments we’ll ever have before the end begins. 

I regret all the time that I’ve wasted, moments like these that I could have had with Katniss but will never get. The time I wasted by not speaking to her before we were reaped. The time I wasted by being so bitter after the Games, just because she did whatever she needed to do to live. The nights I wasted not wrapping her in my arms on the train because I was too angry, then upset, then miserable, about everything that happened in Eleven. The sessions where I pushed her to the edge while we were training for these Games, instead of trying to enjoy what little time we had left.

But there’s nothing I can do about any of that. I can only appreciate the time I have right now.

I twist my fingers in her hair, the strands silky and shiny and free from their usual braid. I attempt a lover’s knot with one of the long locks, then give up knowing I would have never lasted a day on a fishing boat in Four. Katniss weaves together flowers she plucked from the beds around us that are in full bloom, petals in shades of lilac and peach and vermillion. The sun is warm and the breeze is surprisingly gentle considering how high up we are. The windchimes dance, and block out the cacophony of the Capitol below us. Birds flying overhead call out musically, and I bet if they landed on the roof and Katniss sang to them, they’d stop to listen too. I pop a strawberry into my mouth, bite into its sweetness, and smile.

With a start, I realise that tomorrow we head into the deadliest place in the country, and yet I’ve never felt more sated, more at peace, more alive. Because no matter what tomorrow brings, today has been, quite literally, the most perfect day of my life.

My fingers still as that knowledge sinks in.

“What?”

I know Katniss isn’t going to like what I want to say, but I have to say it anyway. This type of opportunity will never come to me again - there will never be another moment where Katniss is lying in my arms, bathed in the afternoon sun, her face relaxed and unworried. It’s how she should always be; she should never have to worry, should be able to live her life without the fear of the Games. But for her to be able to have that, it means I cannot. Which reiterates the absolute necessity of what I need to say next, and I hope against hope that she’s okay with it.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” I murmur, my heart thundering in my chest, and I wait for her to push away, to put up the wall I’m so used to her putting up whenever I say anything that makes her feel uncomfortable. But she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even stiffen. She doesn’t look at me, just continues to twist the flowers together, creating herself a crown. And then she simply says 

"Okay."

__________________________

My hand shakes slightly as I carefully lower the silver backed card onto its final resting place, covering a hole the size of my thumb. A jittery finger, the slightest shudder of breath; anything could tumble the house of cards in front of me, laying waste to what is possibly hours of work.

Hours? Maybe even days. Who knows?

After a few nervous heartbeats, it’s clear that the structure is going to hold, and I slide back in my seat with relief, settling into its plush cushioning. The tension in my body - held there while I'd painstakingly modelled my prison with pack upon pack of silver and gold playing cards - slowly releases, and I feel my shoulders slump, feel the ache flood into my arms from the constant building, placing, constructing that I've been focusing on. With the strain finally gone, a wave of exhaustion washes over me and I close my eyes for relief, but I immediately wish I hadn't. Because against the dark I see the sky explode, see Katniss thrown to the ground, see the world around me crumble.

I've lost count how many days it's been since everything happened, can't even tell if it's morning or night with the windowless quarters I'm being kept in. I sleep when I'm tired, I build another house when I'm not. The meals I'm delivered - the Avox who silently delivers it the only soul I've seen since my interview with Caesar - provides no discernable mealtime association. No warmed grains for breakfast, no sandwich for lunch. Just Katniss's favourite lamb stew over and over and over again.  If Snow's intention is to slowly drive me insane by making my days a never ending cycle of sameness, he's well on his way to succeeding.

I’d expected torture, I’d expected a bullet to the head. Instead, I got a full body polish and a life of monotony. I have nothing but time on my hands, nothing but hours to build and try not to constantly worry, to not let my brain go where it always wants to go.

Katniss.

It's the longest I've ever gone without seeing her, and it feels strange, like something is missing, like part of me is gone. Even when we didn't talk between Games I still saw her every day - in the square, in her garden with Prim, reluctantly tending to Haymitch's liquor needs, sneaking away to the Meadow. It feels like my days and years have been measured by Katniss, and without her, I'm at a loss.

I worry about how she is, where she is, who she’s with. They tell me she's in Thirteen, but I still can't comprehend that it even exists anymore, let alone that she's there. They tell me they extracted her, and Finnick, and a handful of others. Rebels inside the Capitol, they say, rebels in the Districts - Haymitch being one of them.

I still can't correlate my drunken mentor with a rebel planning to overthrow the country, but everything they're telling me and showing to me points to it as being the truth. Except for Katniss. I can't believe for a second that she'd be a part of any rebel plot, not if it meant endangering Prim in any way. Being thousands of miles away from her sister while plans to overthrow the country were rolled out into play?

No, not in a million years. I stand by every single rebuttal I shouted at Caesar.

The knock on the door pulls me out of my reverie; I open my eyes and don't even have the chance to give a cursory 'come in' before the two Peacekeepers are already barging through the heavy doors. One roughly gestures to me to stand, his mouth curling with a snarl.

"On your feet, Mr Mellark," he demands. "It's time to go."

I look down at my nails, bitten to the quick over my nervous house building. "To see the Prep Team? I'll probably need it if I'm meeting with Caesar again." I hold up my hand to show the damage, hoping for a bit of levity, but neither crack a smile.

"It's not another interview, Mr Mellark," the second Peacekeeper replies. "You're not seeing Mr Flickerman today."

His tone makes my stomach drop, and I swallow heavily, lowering my hand back to my lap. "President Snow, then?" I still haven't seen him, and realise I've been anticipating this from the moment I was brought from the Arena.

"No more questions," the first says curtly, then steps forward and bats my knee with his gun. Not gently either; if it was still flesh and bone, I’d probably end up with a bruise tomorrow. "We're going to your new quarters."

New quarters? I look around the sparsely furnished room, likely the least opulent room in the mansion. No windows. A simple bed that my mother would clip me over the ear for not being made. A single table and chair. Something tells me it's not going to be an upgrade.

It's now that the fear starts to spread through me, but I try not to let it show as I rise and fall in line between them. I've felt plenty of fear over the last few years - telling the entire country on national television that I was in love with Katniss, being dumped into two Arenas knowing there was little chance I was coming out, the realisation that I might have caused more harm than good with my promise to Rue and Thresh's families. It's nothing new. But this is different.

The blindfold slips over my eyes, and I dutifully go wherever they're leading me. The walk feels endless. Hallway upon hallway, a twisting maze of corners until we stop, and I hear the faint swish of electronic doors sliding open and closed. The ground beneath me begins to drop, and I wonder how far down this elevator goes. It's deep; all I know is that my ears have long popped by the time we stop.

The doors open again and the Peacekeepers push me through them, ripping off the blindfold as I stumble forward. I blink to adjust to the bright lights, and I wish I had the blindfold back on.

White walls. White floors. White bars. All white, everywhere white.

Except for the people.

They stand out in stark contrast to their surroundings, some I know, some I don’t. My eyes are drawn to them involuntarily as the Peacekeepers march me down the aisle between the row of cells, my heart dropping the further we go along. A man in a long jacket that would be the height of fashion in the Capitol were it not for the smears of harsh red and sickly yellow that can only be blood and bile. A Victor from long ago whose name escapes me, but their broken limb doesn’t. The red-headed Avoxes who were assigned to us during our stay in the training centre, the girl whose name I still don’t know and Darius, whose bruised face reminds me of the risk he took to save Gale. Annie, the mad girl from Four who Finnick loves huddled in a corner, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes vacant. Johanna, her head shaven to an uneven stubble, her shoulder oozing blood from a nasty wound. Her eyes meet mine, and while they're full of disgust, they're also tinged with fear. Fear, from a woman who had the guts to shout out against Snow in front of the entire country. 

“In here,” Peacekeeper One suddenly tells me, gesturing to the open cell door beside Johanna’s. I step inside the empty room, hear the clank of metal as the door slides closed behind me. I don’t turn around to watch them go.

It’s quiet, quiet enough for me to hear the stomp of their boots as they walk away, the sound of the elevator doors opening and sliding shut again. It’s only once they’ve left that I hear the occasional shuffle, a slight moan, the cry of someone obviously in pain. My throat constricts as my new reality sinks in, and I know that my days of building card houses are over. The only thing that I’m grateful for right now is that Katniss isn’t in one of these cells. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if I'd seen her broken body in one of them as I’d passed.

“Figured you were dead.”

The words filter through to my cell, and even though I can’t see their owner, I’d recognise Johanna’s blunt tone anywhere. I go over to the wall that separates us, slide down so I’m sitting with my back against it and draw my knees up to my chest.

“Not yet.”

Johanna snorts. “Might be better if you were.” She coughs, and it’s chesty and full of phlegm. "Where's Katniss?"

"You don't know?"

"They're not very forthcoming on details down here," she replies wryly. "A fair bit of taking, not a lot of giving."

I reach out a finger, draw patterns on the floor like I drew on the morphling before she died. "Apparently she's in Thirteen." 

"Huh." She's quiet for another moment. "Is Finnick with her?"

Her response makes me realise that while she may not have known where Katniss was, she still knows more than me. The mention of Thirteen hadn't shocked her one bit. "Yes. And Beetee, apparently."

She snorts. "Good old Volts gets picked up, but I get left behind. Figures."

"You knew about it," I say, and try not to let my feelings cloud my tone, especially after seeing what they've done to her. But I can't help it. There's a bit of anger in there, a dash of betrayal, a side of accusation. How long is the list of those who knew?

"Some," she admits, and I wait for her to finish, but she clearly doesn’t want to tell me any more. That, or she knows someone else is listening. Probably the latter.

Our silence is loaded with questions that will never be asked, never be answered, and it's another few minutes before Johanna speaks again. “Well I hope you enjoyed whatever stay of execution you had prior to joining us, Peeta, because welcome to your new Arena.” She cackles maniacally, until it gradually peters out into a sob. “You’re gonna hate it.”

_____________________________

The lights beating down on me are hot, and sweat pops out on my lower lip, along my hairline. I feel sticky and sweaty in my suit, and the bruises underneath ache from the stiffness of the material pressing against them. My foot taps an erratic and unsteady beat along the footrest of my stool. A Capitol attendant carefully blots at my face again, their face blank but their eyes saying more than I need to know.

I’m definitely not camera ready.

The days have not been kind to me. My cell mates have grown fewer, my ‘sessions’, as they so kindly call them, have increased. Some I remember, some I don’t. Some I come out of feeling like I’ve been sent to hell and back, others I feel nothing but emptiness. Sometimes, when they’re over, a darkness slowly creeps over me, and I beat my clenched fists against a wall that will never beat me back. Johanna tries to talk to me, but most times all I ever do is hear her scream. 

I don’t even know if Annie is alive anymore.

The attendant gives my cheek a final sweep of blush and steps away, leaving me alone under the studio lights. There are people out behind the lights where it’s dark, but I can’t see them, can only hear the hurried instructions called out in their affected accents. The only person I can see is President Snow as he crosses the room towards me, confident and steady, his signature white rose adorning his lapel.

“Mr Mellark, how lovely to see you,” he greets, as though we’re old friends. I suppose we are; we’ve seen a lot of each other recently. Much more than we ever had when Katniss was around.

“President Snow,” I reply stiffly. There’s really no other way for me to speak. Every breath is an effort, every word feels like it could be my undoing. The pain in my body, in my mind, makes everything feel like it’s too much to handle.

Snow tuts disapprovingly, his hands held in front of him as if in supplication. “Oh Mr Mellark, I do hope you’ll be able to perform better than that for our little broadcast. I would hate to have to…expand on our sessions.”

I swallow heavily and think of everything I’ve witnessed, everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve felt. What more can they do to me? I’m not sure I want to find out. “Of course,” I reply, forcing myself to sit up straighter. I’d put a smile on my face, but I don’t think it’s going to help.

“Good. And you understand the assignment?”

I nod. “I just have to read from the teleprompter. No ad-libbing. Just the script.”

“Correct. I wouldn’t want you to say anything that hasn’t already been prepared for you. It didn’t end so well on a previous occasion,” he says, and walks away without another word. I swallow heavily, remembering the last time when I added my own inclusion to a speech. What happened afterwards.

I grip my hands together to steady them as I watch a technician deftly mic up President Snow. It’s a smooth operation, something they’ve all clearly done a thousand times before. A countdown starts, the Capitol anthem plays, and then President Snow greets the country, a condescending smile on his puffy lips. I’m not really listening to what he says, but eventually I hear him mention my name, suggesting to the audience that I have something to share.

So I do.

I read the words streaming across the prompter, my tone agitated and frustrated as I narrate the acts of war playing out across the country. I don’t know if this is the performance that Snow is looking for, but it’s all he’s going to get from me right now. I gesture to the images that flash across the map of Panem projected beside me, the words seeming to grow with importance and clarity the more I read them aloud. The rebels…the rebels…the rebels…

And then suddenly I can no longer see myself on the monitor.

It’s Katniss. In front of the bakery.

My bakery.

A shell, nothing but the misshapen remains of our oven left behind.

Where is the bakery? Where is my family?!

Katniss?

The monitor flickers, and I'm back again; I can see the confusion on my own face. Did I imagine that? Was it real? I look around blindly, but I can’t even see President Snow anymore, just white dots dancing in front of my eyes.

And Katniss. Katniss.

I don’t know what else to do, so I keep speaking, picking up the speech where I left off. I’m tumbling over my words, not eloquent in the slightest, but I stop mid-sentence when the District Thirteen symbol flashes up on the screen, and then suddenly there’s Finnick, talking about Rue. He looks broken, nothing like the confident man who strutted around the Capitol in an outfit made of nothing but rope and - 

BAM!

I’m back again. And then I’m not, and then I am, and I simply give up on speaking, watching dumbfounded as the Capitol technicians fight to control whatever is happening to their broadcast. Katniss, Finnick, Rue. The bakery. Thirteen is doing something. I don’t know what, I don’t know how. But I do know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. Katniss is with them. 

And I am not.

Whatever the technicians do finally manages to stop the broadcast fighting, and the Capitol seal is displayed on the monitor while demands continue to be yelled from the control booth. The screen flickers, and suddenly our set appears again. I can see my wild eyes staring back at me, Snow attempting to speak over the chaos as he informs the Capitol that we will resume when we have security under control. And then he asks me, after the demonstration that I just witnessed from the unrepentant rebels, if I have anything to say to Katniss Everdeen.

I feel my chest constrict, feel my mouth twist in frustration. Without the teleprompter, I don’t know what Snow wants me to say. I don’t even know what I want to say. Is she with me? Is she against me? Is she my friend? Is she my enemy?

I don’t know.

Eventually, the words burst forth, spewing out in a rush. “Katniss…how do you think this will end?” I barely understand what I'm saying, only that I have to get the words out before my head explodes. It’s pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, and I struggle to breathe. My thoughts whirl and battle with each other, snapping and snarling like the mutts from the first Arena. I only have one that's coherent, a conversation I’d heard when the Peacekeepers were done after a session, and they’d assumed I was unconscious. I push through, knowing that this is my last chance, my only chance, to say it. "And you…in Thirteen…” Do it, Peeta, do it! “Dead by morning!" 

It's chaos. Snow rises to his feet, his face the very picture of fury. People are running, barking orders.  Cameras tumble to the ground while I rise to my feet and continue to yell. Scream. Can anybody hear me?!

I feel the crack against my head and I cry out, tumbling forwards onto the ground. My prosthetic leg twists up awkwardly beneath me, and the pain it causes in my thigh fights with the burning in my skull. My fingers slip wetly on the red streaked tiles and I realise with horror that it’s my own blood.

The whistling sound of a Peacekeepers baton swings through the air, closer and closer until - 

_____________________________

“Good luck, Soldier Mellark. Make me proud.”

The words echo in my ears long after I’ve left Thirteen, over and over again. Make me proud. Make me proud. Make me proud. I know only one thing that will make her proud.

Kill Katniss Everdeen.

Oh, President Coin will never admit it, but I know that’s what she wants. I know, because like recognizes like. I know, because I know how much I want to. How much I need to. To feel the warmth leech from her skin as my fingers tighten, tighten, tighten around her throat. The delicate, olive skin of her throat…of her shoulders…of her hands…encased in mine. Gripped together. Holding on for dear life. Her lips on mine, her tongue tangled with mine. My heart beating wildly with the love that it’s filled with, for her.

Love?

I close my eyes and clench my fists tightly, press against the metal encircling my wrists until it breaks the skin. Focus on the sound of the train as it runs along the tracks, the steady bom-bom-bom-bom of the turning wheels. Trying to pull myself to where I need to be, not to this stupid place the head doctors in Thirteen insist on attempting to get me back to. The place where Katniss is my friend. The person I love. 

Hate.

They keep trying to tell me she isn’t evil, she isn’t my enemy, but nothing they ever tell me makes sense. Delly tells me things that don’t match the images in my head. Footage is replayed over and over again, and jars with my memories. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbour. Hunter. Tribute. The words jumble in my head until nothing seems straight and I have to fight my way back to where I want to be, to where I feel triumphant, free.

Standing over her dead mutt body.

I stare out the small window and feel the rage flood through me again; I welcome it like one would an old lover. I watch as the crops of Eleven come into view, the orchards in the far distance. Remember the last time I travelled through here, a lifetime ago, when we all got people killed just because we lived. Because of what we said, what we did, who we trusted.

We won’t all live any more. No, not when I finally get to Two, and join Plutarch’s precious Star Squad.

I’m not going to kill her because it will make President Coin proud; I couldn’t care less about her. I’m going to do it because I want to. Because I have to. Because I need to.

I need you.

_____________________________

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

I lift my head and look into her grey eyes in the dim light. My fingers rub along my wrists, unused to feeling them unshackled. 

“No,” I tell her when it’s clear she needs an answer. “It’s last resort stuff. Completely.”

Katniss pauses, then leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t know what to do at first, the feeling of her wrapped around me tied up in a million different complicated emotions. But then I reciprocate and bring my own around her waist, the familiarity to our embrace almost welcoming. I close my eyes and breathe her in, finding that the brutal urges I’ve become accustomed to have made way for something else. Something I used to know. Something sweeter, hungrier.

“All right, then,” she finally says, and pulls away. I feel cold and hot all at the same time at the loss of her, and there’s something on the tip of my tongue that I want to say, but I don’t know what it is. Instead, I remain mute and simply watch as she steals out the door, Gale at her heels.

A few minutes later Tigris sends me on my way with a gentle pat on the cheek, as though she feels sorry for me.

At first I’m cautious not to get too close to Katniss and Gale as we make our way down the alley and onto the avenue with the Capitol refugees, but it’s almost impossible to keep track of them around the fighting breaking out, the pods activating, the people dying. Hysteria is rife, eyes are looking around wildly in fear, and I secure my scarf back over my nose and mouth as tight as I can. Every so often I see a flash of Katniss’ red cloak and it helps me to reset, to remind myself of what I’m doing, where I’m going. What I’ve promised to do if it looks like they’re going to get caught.

But it’s chaotic, and it’s obvious that any plan we may have had is pointless now. Shopfronts around me shatter and people fall to the ground, I have to crawl my way across pavements slick with blood. Screams drown out every other sound as a new pod detonates. I look into eyes that are staring, lifeless, and feel the pressure inside me building and building and building, and I bite my lip until my mouth fills with copper and salt. The pain brings me back.

When the road ahead of me cracks open, swallowing people into its depths, I stare in horror and wonder if Katniss has gone down with them. I press myself against the wall of a perfumery, its sweet scents warring with the putrid stench wafting from the street, and scan ahead, frantically trying to see her. Instead I see Gale, barely clinging to some decorative ironwork, his feet kicking out into space. And then - and then I see her. Katniss, dragging herself up over the far edge of the abyss. Alive. But far away and completely inaccessible to me.

I have no choice but to double back to an alleyway I’d noticed earlier; it connects to a cross street where I’m able to blend into yet another crowd. Whether it’s luck or simple Capitol snobbery, no one pays any attention to the limping stranger swaddled in a purple fedora and pale gray coat. 

The screams go on and gunfire pops as the rebels continue to break through. Every shot I hear takes me back to that day in Eleven, and the bullet in the old man’s head. Would we still have ended up here if I hadn't made that pledge in honour of Rue and Thresh, when I helped to fan flames I didn’t even know were being tended?

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around me. There’s no point in wondering.

Eventually, I stumble into the City Circle behind a family huddled together, their lime green coats the same stricken shade as their terrified faces. It’s a mass of bodies, bracketed by President Snow's mansion on the right and the avenue's grand dame edifices to my left. Giant barricades before the mansion are a dam holding a lake of children.

The ultimate in defence, I think in disgust.

I suddenly catch sight of Katniss hoisting herself up a flagpole ahead of me, the hood of her cloak falling back across her shoulders. She surveys everything around her, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then she looks up in surprise, and I follow her line of sight.

It’s a hovercraft.

Everything about it looks as it should; the gleaming paint, the Capitol seal, the shiny silver parachutes that start to fall from its belly. But it doesn’t feel right, nothing about it feels right. My gut is warning me, telling me that something is wrong. President Snow is evil. He is sadistic. He uses his own Capitol children as a shield. But this…this does not feel right. If he had a hovercraft at his disposal, he’d have already been on it, away to whatever secret bunker he would have built for himself long ago. He wouldn’t be offering gifts to his citizens with no strings attached.

I sprint forward, leap over a raised flower bed, ram a fist into the face of a Peacekeeper who shows a hint of recognition when he sees me. I have one focus, and one focus only, and that’s to get Katniss away from whatever this is. I keep running, and I’m almost there when everything explodes.

I stumble back, and in my head I see the Arena raining down upon me. In reality, it’s blood and gore and bone, and I have to stop myself from throwing up. I need to get to Katniss.

People have pushed towards the barricaded area, making my path to Katniss all the easier. I’m so intent on her that it takes me a moment to realise who else I see, the other braid that streaks past me right into the horrors.

Prim.

Her hand clutches a medical kit, her medic jacket still slightly too big for her petite frame. I open my mouth to call out to her, but I’m too winded from running, and she’s too far away now for her to hear me. She’s just gone past Katniss anyway, is kneeling down to help someone, and Katniss will call out to her and-

She doesn’t.

Even from here, I can see small, shivering hands still clutching onto the precious parachutes that didn't explode before. Can practically see the moment they light up, shattering into a million fiery pieces.

Taking Prim with them.

My heart stops, my brain shuts down. Flames steal across my forehead, but I barely feel them. Prim is dead.

Prim is dead.

Finnick is dead. Mitchell is dead. Boggs is dead. Mags is dead. Rue is dead. My family is dead. Everybody is dead.

No. Katniss isn’t.

I run towards the flagpole, shoving others out of my path in my haste to get to her. She’s waving her arms around wildly in an attempt to put out the flames that billow around her, but it does nothing but enrage them. I don’t even think when I finally reach her side - I push her to the ground, roll her over the snow until the flames engulfing her back finally dissipate. The coat she wears feels like a furnace, and I try to pull it off her, tearing the black lining. The delicate fabric burns my fingers and palms even more, but I keep going, tugging and tugging until she’s free of it, and I toss it aside. I draw in a deep breath, but immediately start to cough; the smoke and flames around us are too strong, too out of control, and we can’t stay here. 

Prim is gone. I don’t know where Gale is, or Cressida, or Pollux. It’s only me and Katniss. And the only thing I’ve ever wanted is for her to live.

It’s the surest thing I’ve ever known.

I position my arms underneath her back to lift her up, my prosthetic buckling as I straighten. I look around, no idea where to go other than as far away from the mansion and the City Circle as possible. So I move, and keep moving, further and further away, around the sobs, cries, moans, screams. I chance a look down at Katniss’ face - it’s contorted in pain, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth twisted in a grimace. The only word that crosses her lips is Prim, and each time she says it, it’s accompanied by a guttural moan. 

The exposed skin I can see on her is a mess, and she emanates a heat that is painful where she rests against my own injured arms. I don’t even want to imagine what her back looks like, what damage has been done to her. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on literal fire.

I finally reach a point where I can’t take it anymore, and slump to the ground beside a building with a brightly coloured sign that proudly proclaims that it’s Winter Sale Time! I cradle Katniss against me, staring dumbly at the damage I can still see in the City Circle, even from here. Broken bodies, scarlet covered snow, wailing parents. Rebels wandering around in shock, Peacekeepers not knowing what the hell to do.

All the fighting to overthrow the Capitol. All the battles in the Arena. All the appearances to appease a President who was never going to be appeased. After all of that, this is what it’s come down to. Even more innocent children lost because of a Game that should never have been played.

I look down at Katniss again, feel the warring in my head begin. I don’t have the pain of cuffs around my wrist to tether me to, so I say the only thing that makes sense to me right now.

I whisper to her that she needs to stay with me.

_____________________________

The air wafting through the open bedroom window is sweet and carries the promise of a warm day ahead. I inhale deeply, enjoying the scent; spring is here, and there’s something about this season that’s always made it a favourite of mine. I know it’s Katniss’ as well - she told me once with a melancholy smile on her face, though she never explained why.

I rise from the bed, twitch the curtain slightly to look across at her house. The windows are closed, but the chimney is smoking, meaning Sae has already beaten me there. My stomach grumbles at the thought of bacon, and I hope I haven’t missed breakfast. It’s become part of our routine since I finally returned from the Capitol - sharing breakfast in the morning, spending time tending the overgrown gardens of all the Village houses, working on the memory book that Katniss has started. There are days where Katniss goes into the woods alone, or I take long walks around the edge of town furthest from the bakery when I know I need to be on my own, but for the most part we spend our days together.

If anyone had told me this when I first arrived in Thirteen, I would have laughed. Then tried to kill them.

I’ve come a long way.

I grab the pants I flung across the foot of the bed the night before and slip them on, snag a soft blue t-shirt from the bureau drawer. I jog downstairs, grab the freshest loaf of bread from the bread bin and jam my feet into shoes that I know were hand-picked by Portia, acknowledging the pang the thought of her brings. There really isn’t much in my life that doesn’t remind me of someone or something I’ve lost; it’s something I’m still learning to live with. But Dr Aurelius tells me I can’t ignore it, or things will never get better. And I really, really want things to get better.

I head outside and cross the expanse between our homes, letting myself in without knocking. I follow the scent of food through to the kitchen, pleased to see the high pile of bacon beside a platter of eggs on the table. 

“Morning,” I greet, sending a small smile to Sae and her granddaughter Sadie, before glancing across to Katniss in the rocking chair. It’s still her preferred spot, and she’s sitting in it silently, biting into a piece of bacon. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s nothing out of the norm.

“You’re late,” Sae admonishes, but it’s said with no heat, more playful than serious. 

“I slept well,” I say simply, and she just nods, knowing as well as I do that those nights are rare. I drop the loaf on an empty plate, picking up the knife I know was left there for me for this very purpose. Another piece of evidence for my progress - a knife, in the same room as Katniss, with not a single inclination to kill.

No, the feeling of wanting to kill Katniss is long gone.

The bread is sliced thickly, shared out between the four of us as we pile our plates high with food. Sae offers a little conversation, Sadie sings a tune that I vaguely remember from my childhood. Buttercup hisses and whines until someone slips him some bacon. Katniss remains silent, and I wonder if today is going to be one of the days she leaves me for the woods.

Eventually, the front door shuts behind Sae and Sadie, and I turn to Katniss questioningly.

“You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods.

“Yeah,” she finally says. “I had a dream last night.”

“Oh.” This, I understand.

“No, it was a good dream,” she tells me. She shifts uncomfortably in the chair, and I suddenly realise her feet are bare but for a thin pair of socks. No boots. No boots means no woods. This is good. “I…I dreamt of Prim, and Rue. And it was…it was nice.”

Nice dreams are a rarity for me, almost unknown for Katniss. “Do you want to tell me about it?” 

Katniss licks her lips, glances down at the hands folded in her lap. “I don’t think so. But I think…I think I’d like to draw Rue today. Is that okay?”

I stand and cross to her, then crouch in front of her chair and wait until she catches my eye before I speak. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you want.”

We set up in the front parlour, where the light is best in the mornings. The low slung coffee table is our work space, side by side with our legs crossed. I sketch on loose pieces of paper, Katniss ruminates on what she wants to write. It’s not our first entry about Rue, and it likely won’t be our last.

We settle on Katniss’ memory of Rue sharing her love of singing. I begin to draw her sitting in the Arena woods, light dappling across her face and a slight smile on her lips, and I think of the siblings she left behind, the ones who stared at us so solemnly on the Victory Tour. The ones who’ll never get to hear Rue sing again. I test out a dozen different shades of green before I land on the right ones for the leaves, and take far too long trying to get a curl of her hair the way I want it to fall. It’s when I’m halfway through that another memory jags at me, and I drop my pencil like it's on fire. I can feel the panic rising in my chest and fight to steady my breathing, fight to tamp down the multitude of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. My head pounds, behind my eyes, behind my ears, at the base of my neck. I push away from the table, my fingers digging frantically into the loomed wool of the rug beneath me.

“Peeta? Are you alright?” I can vaguely hear Katniss over the roaring in my ears, and I stare at her blankly, willing it all to go away, go away, go away, GO AWAY. Then her hand rests tentatively on mine, and slowly everything recedes, until I’m hollow, spent, and all I can feel is her touch.

“Sorry,” I mutter when I finally feel settled. I pull myself to my feet and drag my hands over my eyes. "I'm alright. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" I nod and place my hands on my hips, drawing in a deep breath. "What was it?"

It takes me a few minutes to muster up the courage to speak. "They just…in the Capitol. When they used the venom…” I trail off, trying to align my thoughts. “They used it while showing me footage of you and Rue. When she died. The memories are shiny. And they’re, um…they’re not very favourable to you.”

“Oh.” Katniss' eyebrows draw together in concern, and I can see the worry at what they might have shown me. What conversations we might have to have later. “We don’t have to draw her, Peeta, not if it’s going to affect you like this.” 

I wonder why this has never surfaced before now, even though we've talked about Rue plenty of times. Why this twisted ‘memory’ has decided to claw its way free today, when the morning has been such a good one. Why my brain works the way it does these days, flipping between normal and madness at the flick of an invisible switch.

"It's okay. I just…I just don't like being around you when I'm like this. You shouldn't have to see me like this. I should go."

Katniss shakes her head and rises to her feet, reaches out to touch my hand again. I allow it, and our fingers tangle together tightly.  It took us a long time to feel comfortable with each other’s touch again, before a hand would reach out and be welcomed, an embrace easily returned. Now Katniss is the only person who can make me feel anchored when everything feels like it’s turning upside down. The only one who can reach me, who can help me to hang on, who can help to bring me back.

"Peeta, you know you don't need to hide from me."

I look down at her sadly. "What if I hurt you? You don’t know what these other…parts of me are capable of."

"You won't hurt me," she says firmly. "And I know you, all of you. Every part of you is Peeta. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Her words undo me, and I lower my head until my forehead rests against hers. Our eyes bore into each other, unblinking. Every day I wish… I hope…I wonder. If she feels the way I do, the way I always have, the way Snow could never take away from me. And after what she’s just said…right now I have to do more than just wish and hope and wonder. I need to know.

I reach up, gently brush the back of my fingers across her cheek. I can hear her breath hitch, feel my own heart thud. But it doesn’t thud like it did only moments ago; it thuds in a good way, and the feeling spreads out into my stomach, out to my limbs, to the tips of my toes. I turn my hand over and cup her cheek with my palm, then dip my head slightly as I feel her hand gently rest on my chest.

The thud turns into a frantic drumbeat, and I don’t waste another second. My lips find hers, and hers find mine, and it feels so good, so damn good, that I never want it to end. It’s gentle and searching, and it’s a promise of things to come. 

Eventually, we pull away, and we smile at each other shyly, as though we’ve never kissed before. We both look down at the unfinished entry on the coffee table, and with unspoken agreement, lower back to our positions, cross-legged, side by side. I finish my sketch, Katniss closes out the accompanying text. And when we’re finally done, she closes the book and turns to me.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks hesitantly. I watch as her gaze flits, ever so briefly, to my lips, and my heart soars. “It won’t be much, probably just some leftover venison, some greens-”

“I’d love to,” I tell her. “I can bake us some cheese buns to go with it.” 

The delight is clear in her eyes. “Deal.”

And with that, we have a new addition to our daily routine.

__________________________

Today our kisses are lazy and sweet, our movements slow and languid. Sometimes we’re frantic in our need for each other, limbs tangled, hands gripping forcefully, with no time for finesse.  Other times we’re as gentle as a whisper, as though we’re worried that if we go too hard we’ll break before we reach our peak. But this is our middle ground, where we’re almost playful, where a laugh could just as easily be followed by a moan as it could a whimper. Where we’re not afraid to try something new, exploring each other in all the ways I never dreamed we’d get to.

After, Katniss lies in my arms, her naked skin bathed in the afternoon sun. A strand of her hair tickles my cheek, but I don’t move to brush it aside. In all honesty, I could lie here forever - the woods are my favourite place to make love to Katniss, any inhibitions that she might still have disappearing beneath the broad limbs, the rustling leaves and the gentle lap of the lake nearby the only sounds other than the ones we make ourselves. But the sun will set soon, and making my way through the woods back home in the dark with my leg is not ideal.

We dress slowly and leave the lake, our feet crunching over the golden leaves of fall. We walk back through the centre of town, our hands linked, and say hello to Thom and Delly outside their store, wave to Dalton as he passes us on his way home to his farm on the outskirts of town. We reach the edge of Victor’s Village, and laugh as we settle in on the steps of our front porch, watch as Haymitch runs after a goose that’s gotten loose from his garden.

“Laugh all you want,” he grunts loudly once he has the goose back in his arms, before none too gently dumping it on the other side of his front fence. “I’ll laugh at the two of you when you’re chasing your own two legged thing around a yard.” He comes over to us, jerks his head towards Katniss’ gently swelling belly. Katniss blushes, the faintest flush creeping across her cheeks.

“I’m sure you will, Grandpa,” I reply with a smirk, and he grimaces. I know it’s all for show; for all his crotchety and rude ways, I know he’s just as amazed and excited and terrified as Katniss and I are for the change that’s coming our way.

“You heard the news?” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the disgusting beef jerky he’s taken to munching on as an alternative to drinking 24/7. Katniss and I look at each other, shake our heads. “Eleven has a new District representative to the President.”

“Oh?” Katniss’ response is wary, and her fingers tighten around mine. 

Haymitch’s voice is soft when he responds, as gentle as his gravelly tone will ever allow. “Rue’s sister,” he tells us, and pauses a moment to gauge our reaction before continuing. “Heard her interview on the radio. Said she’d been inspired to represent their District because of the courage of her big sister. That she’d been given a gift, long ago, and had been able to get a better education because of it. Wanted to use it so she could keep making their District a better place to live. She’s young, but young blood can be a positive thing.” He reaches over and touches Katniss briefly on the shoulder, gives me an approving nod. “You kids always remember you did good, okay?” He clears his throat of all the sentimentality, then walks back to his house. He turns at his front door, tossing a final comment out over his shoulder before going inside. “Oh, and I’ll be back for dinner. Make sure it’s none of that meatloaf shit.”

We’re quiet for a few moments before Katniss tips her head to rest on my shoulder. “Things are good, aren’t they?” she finally says, and I smile gently, even though I know she can’t see my face. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her even closer. We both know that it’s not always going to be like this, that not every day is going to be easy. But she’s right - right now, things are good. We are free to live as we want. We’re growing our own family. And a young woman from a poor fruit farming family is representing a District to a beloved President, something that would have been laughable 15 years ago.

I realise with perfect clarity that the impacts of our actions - mine, Katniss’, Haymitch’s, Rue’s, countless others - will be endless. But so, too, will the opportunities.

And that indeed makes everything good.