#they are not leaving their captain alone he’ll fucking die

[britcision]

I have been possessed by dark visions at 3AM for two nights in a row again so y’all enjoy this I guess

Why can’t these demons invade Ryoko Kui’s mind she can draw

Anyway Mithrun and Fleki both deserve to bite people way more and fuck psychic types Mithrun’s entire pokemon team is different Woopers and a single Clodsire it is his destiny

Warnings: mild physical violence, blatant attempts at emotional manipulation, the Canaries are not letting their captain go if they can help it

AO3 link for the full series:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54634867

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After Dinner Mints - The Plan

It was Fleki’s plan, which was never a good sign. Otta was the first to call it a fucking stupid plan, but had to admit that she didn’t actually have a better one.

(This being the main reason Cithis wasn’t the first to denounce the plan. Well, that and the backup being “set Cithis on the Queen or at least some high ranking official”.

Which was an even worse plan, because even though Canary convicts couldn’t do magic without permission, Cithis specifically wasn’t even allowed her staff within the capital’s city limits. She’d beaten the supposed restrictions far too many times.)

The good news was that they had six weeks at sea to lay the groundwork, and see if they could come up with a better plan. Or bail, if the current plan seemed unlikely to work, and come clean.

No one wanted to bail and come clean.

Luckily, the groundwork was simple, and they could get started right away. Once they were far enough from port that the squad could safely be on the deck without being in a sailor’s way, the four convicts gathered to a spot conveniently near where Pattadol was standing at the railing.

It didn’t really matter what the warden was doing; they all had a grand total of one job until the ship landed: keep out of the way. And Cithis had Mithrun duties.

Otta picked the spot, settling nonchalantly to lean against a stack of well secured crates where she could pretend not to have known Pattadol was even there. They had to be a little louder over the creaks and groans of a sailing ship, but that just made it easier to be “accidentally” overheard.

“So Fleki, why did you ask the Captain not to talk to the Queen after all?” She called. Lycion, leaning just far enough to see their “hidden” warden, gave the rest a discrete thumbs up.

Fleki sighed dramatically and threw herself to the deck, top of her head poking just past the stack.

“Oh, come on. You heard what he said, he wants to stay in Melini hunting monsters forever! That’s a worse sentence than prison! And he wouldn’t even pay me, at least I get something doing this shit.”

“And the chance to fly,” Lycion cut in, nudging her with a foot until she shifted to the left a couple of inches, “that’ll be in short supply in prison.”

“Hey, you heard Captain Flamela. We’re all looking at reduced sentences, especially dying in the final fight. I’m gonna be out in like, a hundred years tops and then I’ll be free and clear,” Fleki retorted, casually sending her familiar to sit at the top of the stack.

She couldn’t fully go into the bird, not and keep up a full conversation, but she could borrow its eyes if she didn’t need hers.

Cithis was pretending to ignore the lot of them, like she couldn’t have done that literally anywhere else on the ship. When Otta and Lycion began mugging furiously at her she rolled her eyes and sighed, examining her nails.

“Yes, being confined to some backwater country is far worse than whatever a reduced life sentence would be,” she said dryly, not bothering to sound anything but bored.

Otta flipped her off with both hands, but Fleki actually laughed, flailing in her general direction.

“Fuck off Cithis, you’re gonna be in prison for what, five minutes? Captain Mithrun’s the only person who’s ever kept you from doing exactly what you want,” she pointed out loudly, and Lycion hesitated.

Snuck another glance towards Pattadol and gave the ladies another thumbs up. Cithis shot him a withering look that he completely missed, then kicked at Fleki’s hand equally half heartedly.

“Oh, I’m sure our ever so wise wardens will notice that and they’ll have an incredibly well thought out plan,” she said flatly, raising her voice a little when Lycion made some frantic upwards gestures. “After all, our good captain is a war hero and has chosen his retirement; they can’t tie him to a prison simply to keep a single prisoner contained.”

“So you’ll be out of there or running the place in five minutes, maybe fifteen?” Otta asked sweetly, and Cithis chuckled. Tried to do it again, louder, when Lycion made another vague gesture.

“Twenty at the outside. I certainly won’t be wasting my time touring a backwater like Melini,” she declared archly, making an incredulous face at Lycion as his gestures suddenly became faster and more frantic, and much less discernible.

Abruptly he held up both hands and the group fell silent, Fleki focusing more of her attention into her familiar. Then Lycion sighed and relaxed.

“She’s wandered off. Possibly to go narc on us to some of the older wardens,” he added thoughtfully, head cocking to one side.

Cithis shrugged.

“What she does on the ship matters very little. And it’ll save us from having to re perform the pantomime for them too,” she pointed out with a sigh, flicking her hair back off her face.

Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side and examining Cithis thoughtfully.

“For real though, why are you in on this plan? I mean, you probably could get out of any prison they put you in, I heard how many times you were sentenced to the Canaries.”

Lycion looked over, equally curious, but before Cithis could compose some kind of dignified answer Fleki had snickered, reaching over to catch at the bottom of her skirt and yank.

“Because then she could never go see Captain Flamela again, she’d always be a wanted fugitive,” she teased in a sing song voice.

This kick was not half hearted. Nor did it make Fleki regret a single word, more’s the pity.

***

After some heavy debate they decided that once a day was probably often enough, if not a little too often to make an attempt. By the second week Otta had declared that to be far too suspicious; Pattadol no longer looked surprised to be coming across them “coincidentally” in weird corners.

Once every other day, for sure. And time to try a new tactic. There were only so many ways they could loudly declare accompanying the captain to be far worse than a prison sentence.

Which was why Cithis moved them on to pointedly discussing the captain, which they could at least do at regular mealtimes without seeming suspicious. Captain Mithrun never ate with any of the squads, but someone had to bring him his food every time, so it was a natural topic of conversation.

Most of the squad were seated by the time Pattadol arrived at the mess, clutching her bowl and looking uncertainly for a place to sit. The Canaries didn’t tend to eat with the ship’s crew, there just wasn’t enough space in a single room, which with their larger complement meant the room was both full, and entirely Canaries.

The ship usually carried at least three squads; they’d been loaded with four to tackle the Island’s dungeon, and on the way back Cithis had managed to persuade Flamela to switch her squad onto their ship (by asking. Once. And threatening a fate worse than death on anyone who commented).

Which meant that of the six “tables” made of well secured crates (the mess being a storeroom that the Canaries and off duty crew got access to to, once again, keep them out of the way), there should have been plenty of space for all eight wardens on board to sit together without having to associate with their convicts if they didn’t want to.

But Flamela didn’t like the other wardens. Or all five of her current squad’s convicts, to be fair. Flamela didn’t like many people, but she liked her convicts more than the other wardens, so she insisted the squads sit together. For “team cohesion”.

(None of which explained why Flamela would sit next to Cithis if they happened to be the first to eat, or why Cithis could eat wherever the hell she pleased, but it worked for their purposes.)

Which meant that if Flamela was at dinner, Pattadol could sit with her squad’s four convicts, or risk the captain’s temper if she noticed. It wasn’t like she was all that comfortable sat with the other wardens anyway, so her indecision didn’t last long.

Cithis raised a pointed eyebrow at Otta, who rolled her eyes and skulled the last of her thick stew, then stood and grabbed Captain Mithrun’s bowl. She tapped Pattadol’s elbow on the way out, pointed her to the other three, and waved the captain’s stew as an excuse not to actually talk.

Pattadol hurried to join them, darting a quick last scan to clock Flamela and the other captains. She still didn’t actually greet them, because even her first dungeon run hadn’t fully knocked her head from her ass, but Fleki deigned to give her a quick wave.

And then kept going like they’d actually been talking before she arrived.

“That’s a thought though, who’s gonna feed the captain when we’re all in prison?” She asked Cithis, still mostly ignoring Pattadol.

Cithis arched a brow at her, taking a delicate bite of the hard tack accompanying the meal.

“That’s not going to be my problem, is it? Besides, he does well enough between missions,” she pointed out coolly.

Lycion snickered, pointing his spoon at her.

“He does well enough when he’s somewhere stable, with a routine. Running around chasing monsters is gonna be more like dungeon busting than that, he’s going to need someone to remind him to eat.”

Both he and Cithis turned back to Fleki, who raised her hands quickly.

“Hey he’s rich, he can totally hire like, a chef or something. He’ll probably need a whole party anyway, it’s not like just me on my own would be enough!”

“Not like you’d be staying sober,” Cithis sniped with a sly smile, and Fleki stuck her tongue out at her.

“Oh like you’re a teetotaller. Besides, I can’t cook for shit. Lycion, you did better with that whole noodle making thing, you should talk to him if you’re that concerned,” she added quickly, kicking him under the table.

Lycion pretended to consider it, then shrugged.

“Sorry Fleki, demons or no demons, I’m still on a life sentence. It’s not like I can stop having an illegally modified body,” he said with a decidedly smug gesture to the tattoos on his bare chest.

Fleki stuck her tongue out at him too.

“Hey, being released on parole to the captain’s gotta count. It’s not like you can’t take care of him, at least you actually know what he needs! Some stranger’s only gonna fuck it up!”

“What do you mean?” Pattadol finally cut in, her curiosity getting the better of her. The three convicts shared a significant glance, then Fleki sighed, tossing an arm around Pattadol’s shoulders.

(Pattadol immediately shrank away.)

“Right, I forgot, you’ve only been with us since we got Cithis. Still, you know what it’s like taking care of the captain, right?” She poked, releasing the younger elf to grab her hard tack and submerge it in the stew.

Pattadol frowned into her own bowl, then up at the others.

“Well, yes. It’s not that hard, he needs to be reminded to do things more, but…”

Fleki started snickering into her bowl and Pattadol’s cheeks flushed, her grip tightening on her spoon. Lycion cut her off with a gentle smile, shaking his head.

“It’s not too hard when he’s on leave, or on the ship with a routine; remember, Fleki, we had Kabru in the dungeon too, Pattadol’s never seen how bad the captain can get.”

“We were in there all of two days before it was all over anyway,” Cithis added with a roll of her eyes, then turned a sweet smile on Pattadol. “Even I underestimated quite how bad it would be. We were very lucky to have Kabru with us; it’s usually much more of a struggle even to persuade him to eat.”

It was probably a mark of how quickly Pattadol was learning that she didn’t noticeably relax at Cithis’ smile, which Fleki and Lycion had to grudgingly respect. She did calm down a little more though, looking cautiously between the other two.

“How bad could it really be? He won’t be in a dungeon in Melini, just tracking the monsters…” she hesitated when Fleki suddenly groaned, dragging both hands down her face dramatically.

“Oh fuck, that’s a good point! They probably won’t even think to make him take breaks, he’s just going to ride into town to restock and go straight back out. If he remembers to restock at all!”

“They’ll make him restock, Fleck, unless he gets that dwarf cook to go with him whoever he hires is going to need to eat,” Lycion pointed out, then smiled at Pattadol again. “You know how we have to use the sleeping spells or potions to help the captain sleep?” He asked innocently.

Pattadol looked between them, visibly more concerned although not necessarily at them. Which was what they wanted.

“Yes…” she said hesitantly, and Lycion nodded.

“He doesn’t just lie down for them in a dungeon. You have to combat-cast to get him to sleep if he thinks there’s a demon nearby,” Cithis cut in, sighing with expertly performed delicacy. “What? There’s no point sugar coating it; you did see him when we had to stop for rations, teleporting every few feet. He gets… tetchy.”

“He gets pissy,” Fleki said bluntly, waving her spoon, “and if he thinks there’s half a chance he can order you to let him go until he passes out he’ll try it. He can’t even tell when his mana’s low, we all saw him carving the dragon.”

Pattadol actually winced at that, frowning down into her bowl. The convicts exchanged another meaningful look.

Then Fleki sighed and dropped her spoon into her empty bowl.

“Whatever poor bastard he hires is gonna be completely screwed.”

“Kabru will be in Melini, perhaps he’ll help again?” Pattadol asked half-hopefully, and the convicts exchanged looks again. Then Lycion shook his head.

“Kabru’s not going to be leaving the capital if he can help it; he’s finally got a chance to never see another monster again, and after Utaya…”

Pattadol blanched and stared back into her bowl, shoulders hunching.

“Right…”

Fleki gave her a cheerful pat on the shoulder, rising and grabbing her bowl.

“Hey, aren’t you heading back that way too? Maybe you can get a pixie and call in to check if the captain’s still alive like, once a week or something,” she said cheerfully, leaving before Pattadol even turned.

Cithis rolled her eyes, finishing the last of her own food.

“Well, he won’t be your problem either, warden. I’m sure you’ll be busy with diplomatic relations,” she added with a sly smile, and Pattadol’s pale cheeks flushed again.

“Y-yeah… right…” she didn’t seem interested in looking up from her bowl. Lycion and Cithis exchanged thoughtful looks, then both shrugged and left her to it.

Best to let her mull that over. They still had plenty of time before they landed, anyway.

***

As the fifth week came to an end, they were beginning to run out of angles to try. And no one had any better plans.

Well, Cithis was up to something with Flamela, but she refused to say what and Fleki insisted it was an illicit affair, not anything actually useful.

Flamela set Fleki to scrubbing every deck on the ship, so she was also less available for planning, which Cithis refused to pretend to be sympathetic about. Or even not to be smug.

They had one last idea, and not long to put it into action; if coming clean was their only option, they needed time to talk to an increasingly morose Captain Mithrun, maybe Pattadol, and at least one more warden willing to vouch for one of them.

Given that every single warden on the ship had two to three convicts already contemplating them as options to avoid prison, it wasn’t an attractive concept. So it was time to pull out the big guns.

(Flamela was probably Cithis’ backup plan; none of the captain’s three assigned convicts were unwise enough to so much as frown her, but it was pretty much assumed among the entire ship that Cithis wasn’t going to prison. One way or another.)

Fleki and Lycion took charge on this one, “casually” wandering into Pattadol above decks while Cithis took Captain Mithrun for his daily airing.

(That was getting harder too; usually the captain was compliant as a doll outside of a dungeon, but the closer they got to land the more sullen and argumentative he became. He didn’t even want them to talk at him, glaring at anyone who came near him and telling them all to leave him alone.

None of the squad paid him any mind; no one else dared look in his general direction. Which didn’t matter, since he only left his room when he was dragged out.)

As usual, they pretended not to notice her at first, watching Cithis gently guiding the captain around and between the other Canaries.

“I’m going to miss him,” Lycion suddenly said, resting his chin in his hands and propping his elbows on the railing. It actually sounded like he meant it, and Fleki hesitated for a moment before she caught sight of Pattadol further down the railing.

Setting her familiar into the rigging above them to signal Otta, she nodded and leaned up against Lycion.

“I know what you mean… I’m kinda worried about him. He’s tough, you know, but that just means people who don’t know him don’t realise that he needs help.”

“You could always ask him to talk to the Queen again,” Lycion pointed out, flicking a finger at her without looking her way.

Fleki sighed and shook her head, running her gloved hand through her hair.

“I mean, I could, but it’s not like I can do all that much on my own? He doesn’t listen to me like he does you or Cithis, and you guys both have the life sentences thing,” she said loudly, watching Pattadol from the corner of her eye.

Otta sidled up, giving them both a nod.

“What are you talking about?” She asked as if she didn’t know.

Lycion nodded onto the lower deck, where Captain Mithrun had tripped into a coil of rope. Cithis hadn’t helped him up yet, so he was just sat in it glaring at everyone around him.

“Our fearless leader. Until we land, I guess. Then he’ll just be… Mithrun.”

It felt wrong even to hear the name, Fleki and Otta shared an entirely involuntary shudder.

“He’s not gonna do well on his own,” Otta said bluntly, and Fleki and Lycion exchanged startled looks. That was a little more direct than they were thinking.

True though. Fleki huffed and ran her hand through her hair again, crushing a little actual guilt.

“Yeah… for all that he’s got a damn stupid life plan.” Which technically meant that they all did, now.

Life or the next hundred and fifty odd years, depending on how Fleki and Otta’s sentences were commuted.

Lycion chuckled softly and stood, stretching his arms back above his head.

“You know, when you think about it, what he’s planning to do is technically no different than what we did as Canaries,” he pointed out.

All three glanced at Pattadol.

Who twitched, maybe from their joint gazes or just from a breeze.

Down on the lower deck, Captain Mithrun was now refusing to be helped out of the coil of rope. Like he knew how much they needed him to be a really tragic visual aid.

“It’s technically a little safer, almost,” Fleki said “reluctantly”, pretending to be talked around.

Otta snorted and folded her arms.

“Running around some backwater country for the rest of his life following monsters around? Still sounds like a punishment detail to me.”

“That’s kinda my point,” Lycion pointed out with a snicker, turning now to lean his back against the railing instead. If he kept watching the captain he was either going to laugh or cry (possibly both), which wouldn’t be conducive to their mission.

Fleki sighed and tossed both hands into the air.

“Yeah, but keeping the captain alive on a mission was never a one person job! If the Queen’s gonna take this mission of his seriously, he needs a proper squad who can handle the monsters and his needs!”

All three glanced at Pattadol again.

She seemed to be ignoring them.

“Casually” sidling in her general direction, Otta came to lean against the railing too.

“I mean yeah, but it can’t be just anyone. It has to be someone who knows-”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Pattadol threw up her hands, turning to glare at the lot of them. “One of you, right now, I don’t care who but one of you tell me you don’t actually think I’m this fucking stupid!”

All three convicts were stunned into silence, staring at her for a long moment. Then Lycion leaned into Fleki, talking from the corner of his mouth.

“I did not know Pattadol could swear.”

About to agree, Fleki caught the look in Pattadol’s eyes and raised her hands in unequivocal surrender.

“We don’t think you’re stupid! Just… we… we weren’t being subtle, were we?” She asked mostly rhetorically, and Pattadol glared at her specifically before redirecting it to the group as a whole again.

“Not. Remotely. I was waiting to see if you’d actually come out and just ask me, but since you seem to think I’m some kind of credulous child I guess that wasn’t going to happen!” She folded her arms, scowling at them all.

Otta leaned in towards Fleki too.

“Somehow I’m more scared now that she’s not swearing,” she said from the corner of her mouth, and Lycion nodded sagely. Fleki nudged the pair of them.

“So… what do you think though? About talking to the Queen about…” Fleki waved a hand vaguely over her shoulder at the Cithis and Mithrun Rope Cabaret currently entertaining the ship.

Pattadol glared at them all for a while longer, then sighed and leaned back against the railing.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. You four are the logical choice to go with him and keep taking care of him; it’s not that different from what you’d be doing otherwise, and you deserve a reward for your service. And it’d be a more useful way to finish your sentences than just in a cell.” She shot them all another glare, raising a finger sharply. “But! I also think you’re going to need another warden to accompany you. I don’t think you’d hurt the captain or try anything, but no one else is going to believe that you won’t just run the second you get a chance.”

The three convicts exchanged thoughtful looks this time.

“You could…” Otta began, but Pattadol shook her head firmly.

“The Queen has already asked me to return to Melini as her ambassador. I can’t do that and keep an eye on all of you. So you need another warden in on this plan…”

“I guess that’s my cue.”

All four jumped as Flamela approached the railing, her coal-black skin reflecting almost gold in the sun. She rolled her eyes at the lot of them.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not going back to the fucking capital to play political games, and I’m keeping a career where I can fucking stab something if I can. Cithis asked me before we boarded,” she snapped, glaring at the lot of them.

This time Otta leaned in towards Pattadol.

“Okay but did you also catch that because we thought-”

“Shut up,” Flamela snapped, shooting her another glare, “it’s your own faults for gossiping and playing stupid games instead of just asking.”

“But you don’t like Captain Mithrun,” Fleki butted in, talking over Otta’s protest.

Flamela shrugged.

“I don’t like any of you.”

“Except Cithis?” Lycion asked sweetly, unphased by her glare, “Or why would you agree?”

It was fascinating to watch Flamela blush, mostly for the sheer novelty. Usually all anyone really saw from her was anger. Which, to be fair, was definitely still present.

“There are so many worse things I can find for you to scrub than the decks,” she snarled, definitely not covering the sudden flush and fluster.

Surprisingly, Pattadol came to their rescue.

“I also think you need to let Captain Flamela and I present the idea to the Queen, and you four need to shut up about it from this point on,” she said firmly, as if there hadn’t been an interruption.

Even Flamela looked surprised, and a little impressed. Pattadol gave all three convicts a sharp look.

“You do also need to tell Captain Mithrun about your plan first. Now. Somewhere private,” she added sharply.

The three convicts now shared a bewildered look. This time it was Otta who asked.

“I mean… we can? But why? If you guys are gonna present the idea, shouldn’t you tell him?” She asked cautiously.

Pattadol gave her a look like she’d asked if water was wet.

“Because for the past five weeks you’ve let Captain Mithrun think you’d rather have your legs cut off than go with him, and he’s upset about it! He’s not going to believe this was your ridiculous master plan unless you’re the ones who tell him about it, he’ll just think we’re forcing you to go!”

There was a long, slow moment, and then Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side.

“That doesn’t really sound like him…”

“He has been in a weird mood though,” Lycion mused, glancing over his shoulder.

Cithis, who never started an argument she wasn’t certain she’d win, had sat down next to the captain. He was still glaring at her.

Pattadol groaned loudly, drawing all of their attention back to her.

“Of course he’s in a bad mood! As far as he knows he’s going to lose everything familiar in his life when we get back, and every bit of stability he’s had for twelve years!”

“He’s been a Canary again for-“ Fleki began, only to be cut off by Otta.

“Wait how do you know how long I’ve been in his squad for?”

Fleki shut her mouth, cheeks pink. Flamela sighed heavily, her hands on her hips.

“There’s records on all of you, and every change in personnel,” she said flatly, entirely unimpressed. “Honestly, you’re not selling me on this stupid plan.”

“I’ll tell you Cithis’ real favourite food?” Lycion offered innocently, grinning when Flamela glared at him. “She likes telling different people different things to see what’s the most difficult or expensive thing they can get her, but she loves shrimp.”

Otta and Fleki turned to stare at him along with the wardens.

“How the hell do you know that?” Otta demanded, already thinking back over half a dozen conversations with their squad-mate that suddenly all made much more sense.

Lycion shrugged.

“I can smell when people lie.”

“You can fucking WHAT?!” Fleki shrieked, over any and all other reactions to that fuck of a sentence.

Lycion blinked, mildly confused at best.

“What? I mean, not everyone. But people I know, sure, I can pick up the patterns, especially in my real body. And Cithis lies a lot.”

Even Flamela looked impressed (and not a little thoughtful), but once again it was on Pattadol to come to the rescue as Fleki tackled Lycion, catching the smaller elf by the waist and yanking her back before she could take them both over the railing.

“You NEVER TOLD ME you piece of shit! Mmmmmmmph!”

Clamping a hand firmly over Fleki’s mouth, Pattadol levelled a stern glare at the other two.

“You need to go and tell Captain Mithrun that you want to go back to Melini with him, now. Before lunch. And tell him that you’ve been working on a plan all month, and that Captain Flamela and I are going to help you. And tell him you’re sorry you didn’t let him know! Fleki I’m not going to let you go just because you keep licking me, promise you’re not going to just attack Lycion again first.”

Still glaring mutinously, Fleki instead grumbled something that might have been agreement behind Pattadol’s hand and sagged. Pattadol cautiously released her, ready to grab at any second, but she just sulked back to the other two convicts, arms folded.

Once she was satisfied that attempted murder was no longer imminent, the young warden nodded firmly.

“Go on then! Get him now and take him to his cabin, no one’s inside on a day like today,” she flapped her hands at them and the convicts turned together, Lycion tossing an arm around Fleki’s shoulders that she promptly bit, but otherwise didn’t object to.

As they walked away, Flamela frowned thoughtfully after them.

“Pattadol, you’re a middle child, right?” She asked, not actually looking over at her fellow warden. Pattadol jumped, startled to be addressed despite everything they’d just agreed on, and looked over nervously.

“Uh… yes?”

Flamela hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward and folding her arms on the railing.

“Your parents made a good choice. You would have been a very good Canary.” Then she sighed and shook her head, straightening almost immediately to stretch out her back. “Or a kindergarten teacher.”

Utterly lost now, Pattadol stared at her for a long moment, then back to the convicts who’d now reached the lower deck, heading to where one beleaguered deckhand was trying to get Mithrun and Cithis away from the rope. It didn’t look urgent, exactly, but it probably wasn’t good.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Pattadol’s mouth.

“Thanks… I think?” She said quietly, glancing back to Flamela out of the corner of her eye. Flamela gave her a brusque pat on the shoulder.

“You’re gonna need all those skills if you’re staying on as a diplomat,” she added bluntly, then turned and walked away in the opposite direction of the lower deck.

Once again cursing her own pale complexion that showed even the faintest hints of pink, Pattadol looked for her squad-mates among the bustling heads on the lower deck again, her hand drifting ever so slowly up to the place Flamela had touched.

**

Glancing back over her shoulder, Otta considered the two wardens.

“So did we miss something or has Pattadol always been the smart one?” She asked bluntly.

Lycion hummed thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“Well we definitely missed something, but it might be that she’s smart,” he offered. Fleki huffed and rolled her eyes, still not sure she was willing to forgive him.

(Or whether or not he’d been bullshitting.)

“Not smart enough to just tell us she agreed and save us all the trouble though.”

“That might more have been gross optimism,” Otta noted, nudging her way through the newly forming crowd. It meant they had nearly reached Captain Mithrun. And possibly that he was doing something worse.

“Or she wanted us to come to her,” Lycion offered, having a much easier time parting the other elves. The ladies fell into step behind him automatically.

“Same thing,” Otta agreed.

“So what are we actually gonna do about the captain?” Fleki wondered, noting the increasing density of onlookers, most of whom were solely focused on the scene before them.

“Oh, that’ll be easy,” Lycion waved away the problem, nudging between another two Canaries and breaking into open space.

The situation had escalated again without them, justifying the budding crowd. What had been one deckhand presumably trying to politely talk the captain out of the rope was now two deckhands holding a third, one performing a healing spell on a bleeding hand.

Cithis was back on her feet too, holding the captain’s jaw firmly and dabbing at his face with a napkin. He was still glaring, although the effect was lost with Cithis’ grip smushing up his cheeks.

“Honestly captain, I’ve told you about putting things in your mouth when you don’t know where they’ve been,” she scolded him, even as the others approached.

Otta sighed heavily and shook her head.

“This one’s your fault, Fleki, he never used to bite before he met you.”

About to open her mouth to argue or try to defend herself, Fleki huffed and closed it again when Lycion waved his freshly bitten arm in her direction. She rolled her eyes instead, folding her arms.

“Hey if people are gonna grab you they deserve what they get,” she grumbled, glaring at the deeply amused convicts and crew surrounding them.

“He nearly took my fingers off!” Howled the injured deckhand, proffering a freshly healed set of fingers that were still a little red.

Not releasing her grip, Cithis turned from the captain enough to narrow her eyes at him.

“You went to lay hands on a warden captain over a coil of rope. Count yourself lucky if this is the only reprimand you receive,” she informed him icily, as if biting was a very normal thing for a warden to do.

That was how they knew that she was reaching the end of her patience with the captain’s behaviour; usually she was all sweet smiles and gentle reconciliation whenever something went wrong. Things had to get bad before Cithis ever showed her temper.

The poor elf opened and closed his mouth a few times, staring from his fingers to the entirely unrepentant Captain Mithrun.

“But… I… we need access to the lines!” He exclaimed, flailing in the direction of the sails. “He can’t just sit in them!”

Cithis raised a frosty eyebrow at him.

“Are we likely to sink if you can’t tweak this particular rope in the next thirty seconds?” She asked viciously sweetly, and the poor elf’s crew-mates drew away on either side.

Technically, the poor guy was right. The Canaries were all supposed to stay out of the way as much as possible, and defer to the crew for anything related to running the ship. But it was a beautiful day, with clear skies and a calm sea.

Trying to claim there had been any real urgency to moving the captain would be difficult. It wasn’t the kind of argument anyone wanted to escalate any higher.

Lycion gave him a cheerful pat on the shoulder on his way past and a friendly smile.

“I think it’s probably best if you let us handle the captain, and you just handle the ship. Captain, if you bite me I’ll bite you back,” he warned Captain Mithrun, bending down and hauling the captain out of the ropes, tossing him over his shoulder.

The captain very clearly did consider biting him anyway, but let himself be carried like a sack of potatoes instead, glaring at Lycion’s ass.

Cithis maintained eye contact with the unfortunate sailor for a minute longer, then turned to follow Lycion with a haughty sniff. Fleki waved both hands at the onlookers like she was scattering ducklings.

“Go on, fuck off everyone, we’re all definitely going to drown and be lost at sea if there’s a moment’s delay on the ropes.”

Since the show seemed to be over (at least for now), they did begin to disperse, forming into smaller groups to talk about what the fuck that had been about. Which was fair.

Luckily, the threat of Cithis was enough to keep any stragglers from tagging after them as they headed down to the captain’s room. Not that all five of them could fit in the captain’s room; with Lycion depositing the captain on the bed, he, Cithis, and Otta could just about squish to stand in the remaining space. Fleki stayed in the hall, glaring about for onlookers.

Captain Mithrun treated them all to a truly dark glare for a minute, then turned to stare up at the boards above him, his face falling into more of a pout.

Lycion examined his face for a moment, then sighed and shook his head.

“Oh, Captain… we should have said sooner.”

Captain Mithrun didn’t so much as glance over, but Cithis shot him a questioning look. Given that she’d apparently been openly discussing things with Flamela, it seemed a little rich.

Otta cut in to fill them both in, folding her arms.

“We were just talking to Pattadol and Captain Flamela. They’re going to see if they can help get us assigned to go back to Melini with you,” she said flatly, shaking her head minutely as Cithis’ eyes widened. They could talk about that part later.

Captain Mithrun’s face froze, his one good eye sliding over to peer in Otta’s direction. She scratched at the back of her head, feeling sheepish.

“We knew you could only get like, one person as your ward, so we figured for all of us to go it’d have to be kinda the same thing as Canary duty. You’re still gonna be hunting down monsters, and you’re still gonna need someone to take care of you, so really the only difference is gonna be that there won’t be any weird dungeon magic.”

“Which is gonna make Otta way less useful, but she wanted to come too,” Fleki put in from the hallway, grinning and ducking as Otta swung at her.

“Hey fuck you there are sprites everywhere! And I can still dig traps and shit, I’ll be more useful than you in a fight!”

Lycion made an aborted move to try and get between them, but with Cithis in the way he’d have had to push past her. And he didn’t care that much.

He gave Captain Mithrun a cheerful smile instead.

“It’s going to be a little more dangerous too, since we won’t be able to resurrect anyone if they get killed, so we figured it’d have to be all of us,” he explained, and the captain’s gaze slid slowly over to him.

The defined lines of the pout were softening out, leaving the captain looking more confused than anything else. Lycion gently brushed his hair off his face.

“That is, if you’d like us to come with you, Captain?”

That caught Otta and Fleki’s attention, now rough housing in the hall, and both looked over.

The captain’s brow furrowed again, as if the question didn’t make sense. It was hard to tell what made sense to him, though.

“You wanted to go back to prison,” he said after a few minutes, pushing himself up on his elbows so he could frown at Fleki. Who shoved Otta off her and sat up.

“I mean, I said that at first cuz I was surprised! But then I thought some more about it, and talked to the others, and… well, it’s not that much worse than being Canaries. Not if it’s all of us.”

“Yeah, cuz you’d definitely die if it was just Fleki trying to take care of you,” Otta snarked, dodging away from a quick swat.

Captain Mithrun stared at the pair of them, his eye wide, looking rather a lot like a lost puppy. Lycion ruffled his hair, then carefully fixed it when the wide eyed stare turned to him.

“So, what do you think, Captain? Do you mind if we come with you tracking the monsters?” It wasn’t quite the same question, which might have made it slightly easier for him.

The captain stared at him for a long moment too, then very slowly shook his head. He looked almost like he was about to cry, and the two on the floor sighed in relief.

Then Fleki hauled herself to her feet, shoving Otta out of her way to dive into the room, half sprawling across the bed.

“Okay but that’s no you don’t mind, not no you totally want us all to go back to prison instead, right? She asked, propping herself up on her elbows and grinning at him.

Captain Mithrun hesitated again, looking at all four of them as though not fully sure they were here. When he spoke it was just as slow and careful.

“I… won’t stop you if you want to come with me?” It sounded like a question, like he genuinely didn’t know what she was asking or how to respond.

The day had gotten away from him somewhere, but at least he wasn’t glaring any more. And seemed much less likely to bite someone. Lycion even sat on the edge of the bed to let Cithis scoot over so Otta could squish in, with minimal mutual grumbling.

Captain Mithrun was never exactly enthusiastic about anything, but anything beat the sulking from the past few weeks. Pattadol was probably right; at the very least he’d been unsettled, or they’d just confused him out of whatever actually put him in a bad mood.

They didn’t usually push so much into his personal space, but if he’d been upset about them leaving he could probably use a little company. And it wasn’t like there was much of a choice in the tiny room.

If he got cranky again they’d be able to back out. Maybe even before anyone got bitten.

Lycion gave the captain another gentle pat on the shoulder.

“We can keep practicing making pasta together,” he offered brightly, and got a slightly uncertain smile.

“We’re going to have to catch Flamela up on the pasta making, she missed our first lesson,” Fleki snickered, pulling herself up onto the bed too.

That was an even worse idea than trying to fit three of them standing, but the captain didn’t lean away from either of them. He wasn’t his usual deadpan self exactly, but at least he looked a little happier.

Definitely still more confused than anything else, and occasionally looking around to check they were actually there, but the faint bemused smile hadn’t left, which was a nice change.

Things fell as silent as they ever got on the noisy, creaking ship for a few moments and were dangerously close to actually being peaceful.

Then Fleki’s head whipped around and she grinned at Cithis again.

“Oh, and did you know Pattadol can swear? She totally told us to fuck off,” she said brightly.

Mithrun blinked slowly, frowning at her, and even Cithis looked surprised. Otta sighed and shook her head.

“She did not tell us to fuck off.” She waited a beat, then grinned as well. “She asked if we thought she was a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, she’s been onto us since we set sail,” Lycion chuckled softly, giving the captain a speculative look and then resting his chin on the much shorter elf’s head. Which tipped slowly upwards to look at him too, but didn’t move to dislodge him other than that.

Lycion decided to consider that a win, although it was always hard to tell how the captain felt about anything. If he felt anything about most things at all.

Too bad they were going to be keeping Flamela, not Pattadol while they explored Melini. Still, if she was doing diplomatic work, she’d probably be nearby enough to visit and check in.

She’d definitely love them visiting to make her their relationship counsellor with the captain. With both captains, since it wasn’t like Flamela liked Mithrun either.

It was hard to ignore the way the captain’s stiff back slowly, gradually began to relax back into Lycion’s warmth as they continued to chat around him. Or the way that his feet slid apart to let Fleki haul herself up between them when she started to slip with the motion of the waves, although that might have been to avoid being crushed.

Lycion scooped Mithrun fully into his lap and away from her anyway, making sure not to hold on in case the captain wanted to move away. He stiffened up again, but didn’t move. And slowly began to relax even further, finally resting his weight against Lycion when he didn’t move back.

Otta and Fleki both noticed, and Cithis looked decidedly speculative as she watched the tension slowly leech from the captain’s shoulders.

They’d always tried to give him as much space as he wanted, which had been blatant guesswork… and pretty widely varied, since Otta preferred maximum personal space and Fleki barely even acknowledged the concept.

Might have had something to do with how much time she spent outside of her own body on a regular basis, but the damn bird was just as inclined to burrow in and occasionally bite people.

Lycion wasn’t a fan of too much space either, or rather he liked a fair amount of physical contact. In his actual body for preference, but there was no chance of fitting that into the captain’s room along with the rest of them.

He could handle the spindly elf body for a good cause, and realising they might have been giving the captain too much space was a good cause. Captain Mithrun wasn’t a formal guy, so long as they did what he told them in a dungeon he’d answer to anything and let them get away with whatever they wanted.

It made it hard to see where his boundaries were, so they’d largely sided with caution. And apparently underestimated just how much he depended on them for stability, if nothing else.

Group cuddles on his bed? Probably not going to be much of a feature going forward, even if they did manage to snag an assignment still taking care of him. It got all five of them into the dinky cabin though, and since no one was making Cithis or Otta join in there were no objections.

Fleki was definitely gonna keep pushing until she finally located a boundary, either the captain’s or her own, and then promptly panic and never go near it again. Lycion could always grab her when he wanted attention, but he made a mental note to offer it to the captain more too.

After all, if they were all going to be keeping each other company even after the Canaries disbanded, they couldn’t rely only on Pattadol to tell what the captain needed.

They’d probably also have access to Kabru, with any luck whatsoever. And between the four of them, they could definitely convince Kabru that a little cuddling had been added to the captain’s daily routine.

Cithis had the same thought, exchanging a slow smile with Lycion as the captain very slowly melted into a puddle.

Going back to Melini was going to be a lot of fun.

——————

Pattadol totally also deserves to bite people much more often too, she gets no respect and while that is usually good for her development she does deserve at least a little! (She’d get more if she bit people)

Poor Mithrun has no fucking clue what’s going on or why, including why he is mysteriously now cranky all of the time, it’s not like his entire life has just been overturned and will never recover

There’s also a joke somewhere about Fleki having to learn to pull out now that they can’t just kill and resurrect her when her familiar gets eaten, but I couldn’t find it yet so just assume I’m funny 👍👍

Anyway, come join my touch-starved Mithrun agenda, the biting is not technically compulsory but here we are

[wraithdance]

Fortress [Part 1/2]

Synopsis: Kyle’s self control is tested by the pretty thing that wears Captain Price’s ring. Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick X Cougar!Reader; Established Price x Reader Note: AFAB!reader, no pronouns used for reader, No physical description or use of Y/N, reader is older than Kyle by several years. This will have a part two Content warning: NSFW, solo masturbation, mentions of reader having breasts, a man being down bad

The fact is Kyle has always had a thing for milfs/cougars.

It’s information he’ll never admit, but if you see his eyes lingering on the pretty seasoned women that pass him by… you didn’t, mind your fucking business, mate.

He also likes authority and the structure the military gives him. Occasionally, he pushes back on bad calls, but he’ll follow his Captain into the fire in a heartbeat. He’s loyal like that without fail.

So it comes to a surprise to Kyle how badly he fucked up. He didn’t mean for his feelings for Captain John Price’s drop dead gorgeous spouse to turn into anything more than a crush. You’re at least ten years older than him and he would never betray his Captain, he swears it on his life.

He didn’t mean for his hug to last longer than the acceptable amount of time when you pull him in tight. He didn’t mean to inhale the heady scent of your perfume that lingers at the base of your delicate neck. Fuck, he didn’t mean to shudder at the feel of soft, glowing skin as you move to stand beside John. 

You make a picture of strength and fortitude. Kyle feels like he’s out matched.

Kyle and his body are two separate entities when he stands abruptly at dinner. His face is hot with warmth and his hands clench to hide his cock from view. He’s making up some passive excuse about the wine not settling well as he races to the Price’s washroom.

It’s there in the small space that smells like lemon scented potpourri, that he’s barraged with images of the brief glimpse he got of your breasts over the dinner table.  You’d leaned over the serving platters to hear the punchline to Ghost's stupid joke. It was an innocent move on your part but you dipping your finger to gather the white gravy that stained your shirt when you notice it sends the hounds of hell baying at the gates of what was his iron mental control. He’d already ran from the table when you shove your soiled fingers into your mouth.

It still plays over and over and over and over… until he’s coming up with scenarios that never happened with such startling clarity that it frightens him. His mind supplies memories of what your skin felt like to fill in the gaps left from having never touched you in a way less than platonic. 

He’s panting himself into an anxiety attack when thick ropes of cum paint his fist and the decorative hand towels on the sink.

Kyle Garrick has lost control. It shames him to his core. 

He's prided himself on being better, sweeter, much more capable than the dogs playing men in his line of work. You make him feel like something half man. He hates the part of him that wishes to be at your feet.

His own disbelieving eyes in the mirror. He hides the cum stained towels under the bathroom sink with trembling hands (right behind the spare pack of toilet paper seems like a good spot). He’ll come back for them before he leaves, he swears to himself.

He just needs to focus and compartmentalize so he can at least pretend to be the Sgt. Kyle Garrick who has with the ability to withstand enemy torture. The soldier with the mental fortitude that ensured his place in the SAS serving her Majesty. 

That earned him the respect of his Captain who he would die for.

fuck.

When he makes an excuse to leave early he doesn’t mean to make eye contact with you, the demon wearing his Captain’s heirloom ring around your finger.  He’ll be fucking his fist until his cock is raw when he’s alone tonight and he doesn’t want you to see that in his eyes.

But he looks up when your husband calls out his name in concern.

It’s how he sees the small, nearly imperceptible smirk on your painted mouth and the knowing look you casts him under lowered lashes.

Kyle doesn’t go back for the towels.

Nor does he hear the concerned questions from his mates. He honestly can’t hear shit past the dull thrum of his racing heart pounding in his ears.

He doesn’t quite remember slipping a bit on the front steps in his hurry to leave or snagging his pullover on a branch as he ambles unsteadily down the street. He doesn’t know where he’s going, his home is in the other direction, but he doesn’t truly care.

If he’d been in his right mind maybe he would have seen his Captain’s dark gaze search the charged air between you two.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick is completely, irrevocably and devastatingly fucked.

[ivymarquis]

Homecoming

Pairing| John Price x Wife!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 2.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Mentions of concerns of cheating (No actual infidelity with the main couple), sex toys, reader gives John a show, mild D/s dynamic (kinda), PiV sex, squirting

The lines in John Price's face testify to the worry that nags him every day. 

He’s paid to worry. His men rely on it to stay safe- it’s the fear of failure -of one of them not coming home- that drives John to account for every possible course of action during an op, and come up with three additional back up plans for each initial potential course. 

He accounts for everything. No detail goes unnoticed, no stone goes unturned. He doesn’t have the option of making a mistake. If a clerk files a paper wrong, worse case scenario John resubmits a report. If he does his job wrong? Someone very likely will die. 

There’s many, many things in the day that worry John but his wife is not one of them. 

Not usually, anyway. And the slight nagging sensation as he pulls down the street that the two of them live on is easily accounted for by him projecting and empathizing with the plight of a young soldier John came across while getting ready to leave base. 

One of the corporals under Soap had flown out of the base like his hair had been lit on fire, eager to tell anyone who’d listen that he was thrilled to go home to his girlfriend. 

That same corporal was back on base in the morning, his disposition substantially more subdued than it had been 12 hours prior. 

John hadn’t commented on the corporal's red, puffy eyes. The man’s ego already suffered a terrible blow, and his crying being acknowledged by his captain would not have helped matters. 

The poor sod had walked in on his girlfriend in the act with another man. Not so much as a Dear John letter or a “get fucked” text, rather finding out in the worst way possible.

And so John brushes off the nagging in the back of his brain. He’s a worrier, and apparently his brain feels like torturing him with thoughts of how absolutely wrecked he would be if he found himself in the same position as the corporal. 

He leaves his bags in the car as he parks, too eager to see her to bother with them. He can unpack later. 

The house is quiet when he first steps in. “Darling? I’m home.”

He expects to hear an excitable “John!” and her scrambling to him from whatever room she’s in. Her usual routine ending with her flinging herself into his arms. 

He’s greeted with more silence. Maybe she’s in the shower? John sent a text to her on base that he was coming back. But the house isn’t all that far from base. Maybe she hasn’t seen the message. 

He makes his way up the stairs, grinning slightly at the thought of catching her in the shower- practically skips up the steps in anticipation. He’ll need to be careful- that he doesn’t spook her thinking she’s alone in the house only to be found naked and wet. He would feel terrible if she slipped from fright.

No sooner does John reach the top of the stairs does his stomach drop clear to the floor. 

He can hear the mattress squeaking. 

There is a part of John trying desperately to convince himself that he’s just being paranoid. That it always takes time for him to adjust back into civilian life when on leave. That he’s spinning out in the most bizarre way possible and needs to get a grip.

But he knows what the bedsprings in his mattress sound like when his wife is bouncing up and down in his lap.

He would know that sound anywhere.

John has a decision to make. 

There’s no strange car in the driveway. No strange shoes at the door. Everything is in order as it should be- no trail of clothing leading to the bedroom. 

Everything John sees tells him that all is well. 

Everything John hears tells him that his heart is about to shatter in a million pieces. 

He must well and truly be a masochist. An unapologetic glutton for punishment.

He doesn’t even know what he’ll say if there’s another man in his bed. What does he do? 

His heart is thrumming in his chest with each step he takes towards the bedroom that is mostly shut but slightly ajar. Somehow, despite the fact that he is assuredly physically safe, he is more stressed in this moment than he has been on certain high stakes ops. 

John knows exactly where to put his feet so as not to make the floorboards creak. He feels like he can’t fucking breathe. There’s a boulder pressing on his chest.

Everything rushes out all at once as he pushes the door open. 

Her back is to the door, oblivious to the audience behind her. His eyes roam her figure, naked save for a pair of socks- for whatever reason she never could finish with cold feet. He’s always found it an endearing quirk of hers. 

And there is no one underneath her. The soft bounce of her ass as she raises and lowers herself is almost enough to distract him from the whiplash of emotions whirling around in his head. 

Under normal circumstances, all it takes is a glance from his wife to get John at attention and ready to perform. Walking in on her pleasuring herself? On any other day John would simply grab a hold of her and pin her to the mattress until she squeals with little preamble. 

His mind is presently too busy sorting reality from fiction to focus on the fact that his incredibly hot wife is using a toy and getting herself off. 

The sheer relief that floods him is staggering. The weight crushing his ribcage dissipates immediately although is shortly followed by a deep seated shame. 

Of course she’s riding her toy. She would never betray him like that and he’s embarrassed he even entertained the thought. He decides then and there that the prior 2 minutes will be another one of the secrets he takes to his grave. There is absolutely no possible good that can from ever verbalizing this to her. 

Taking another breath to dissipate the last lingering tendrils he’s shaking off, John’s got himself sorted enough to enjoy the view in front of him for what it is.

He knows she has a few toys, but admittedly has always been a bit more on the traditional side of things. There’s a pride that swells in his chest every time he gets his pretty bride crying and gushing around him.

John is more than capable of achieving the goal at hand himself, and the toys were there for when he was on deployment. He’s never particularly felt the need to bring them in, content with the fact he can satisfy her when he’s here and the toys keep her situated while he’s gone. 

He’s half hard and stiffening by the second, watching her pretty ass bounce on the bed as her moans pitch. She’s getting close- John knows all her tells. But she’s also frustrated, evident from the effort she’s putting in. 

He also can’t help but notice she’s situated herself on his side of the bed, a surge of affection washing over him as strongly as the relief and lust he’s feeling. 

In a rare lapse of control he lets out a groan at the sight, palming himself through his pants. 

Her moans turn into a yelp of fright, jumping in the air and wheeling around in terror. 

“It’s just me, darling. Was going to surprise you with an early homecoming.” Turns out they both get a surprise- Although he does feel badly for startling her. 

Her ribcage is still raising and no doubt her heart is thrumming in her chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t realize I was,” his voice is a low rumbling timber as he eyes her up and down “interrupting.” he eventually settles on.

Despite knowing that she uses her toys, John’s never quite put too much thought into it. And yet now that the situation has presented itself he finds he is very interested in watching how she keeps herself occupied while he’s deployed. 

In the flurry of movement, the vibrator ends up lying next to her on the bed.

“By all means, don’t stop on my account,” his words scandalize her and he fights back the urge to bark out a laugh. The expression on her face is equal parts stunned and intrigued- he can practically hear the Oh? as her mind plays catch up. 

“You want me to…?” The question trails off as she considers the idea. 

“Continue.” He supplies helpfully for her, using softer language than a crass ‘keep fucking yourself with your rabbit’.

“Okay,” her tone remains soft and dreamy, like she’s not entirely convinced John is really here, with her in their bedroom. 

She stays leaning back, one arm props underneath herself for support as her knees draw up and fall to either side of her, giving John an unobstructed view of a sight he’s missed dearly. Those pretty eyes train on him, never wavering even as her other arm extends towards the rabbit, fingers wrapping around it before pulling it closer to her so she can reposition it.

John can feel his throat dry at the sight of the toy penetrating her. 

Were he a less disciplined man, she’d be face down and ass up with a fistful of her hair in his hand while he has his way with her. 

John loves his wife and misses her terribly when he’s gone- and not just for the carnal pleasures he knows that her sinful body can provide. But now that the situation has presented itself, he feels like a dog being teased with the promise of its favorite treat. 

Initially palming himself over the stiff material of his jeans, he wastes little time undoing his belt and freeing himself from his pants.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how you play with yourself while I’m gone.”

His voice is low and measured, knowing full well how much it riles her up when he sweet talks her.

It’s cute the way she stares up at him with wide eyes as she moves the toy in and out of herself. While this is a new situation, he’s seen every part of her and worships every inch of her. The blushing bride look on her face makes him want to devour her. 

And he will. 

Eventually.

He’s already stiff and standing at attention, absolutely enraptured by the sight before him. It takes no time at all for his hand to wrap around his cock, timing his movements to match hers.

That seems to be enough to make his pretty wife reach the threshold of her tolerance for his teasing, wanting the real thing in favor of the silicone that she’d been struggling with earlier. 

“Jo-John! Please? Baby, please- I- I can’t,” there’s something that curls low and pleased in his chest with her begging.

“You didn’t know I was heading back, love. You must have had some plan in that pretty little head of yours to get yourself off. I want to see it.” His words are gentle despite the overall figure it out intention. 

“Come on, darling- show me,” he goads her as she falls flat on her back, knees still drawn up and whimpering as she continues to pleasure herself. The hand that was supporting her moves in favor of playing with one of her nipples, plucking the sensitive flesh to push herself closer to orgasm. 

Those pretty thighs start twitching just in time as her moans take a certain pitch.

Despite the urge to tighten his grip and continue matching her pace until he finishes, Price forces himself to let go. Give him some time to calm down. He’s already got a plan forming in mind, ready to put it to work the second she-

“John, I can’t,” she starts again, voice pitching in desperation.

It’s sweet, how desperate his sweet wife is for the real thing- how she pleads for him to take over.

It’s not often that John drags any sort of authoritarian tone into the bedroom. He tries to leave work at work as much as he can, and has never held any interest in intimidating his partners in bed. Playfully throwing his weight around? Sure. Outright frightening? Not his thing.

But over the years he’s learned his wife and her preferences. He’s not oblivious to the way she’ll get wide eyed, rubbing her thighs together and shifting in her seat the few times she’s observed quietly as he’s put someone back in their place.

She’s not scared of him- nor would he ever want her to be- but he’s not oblivious to how her interest is always piqued when he controls a situation. She doesn’t sleep beside a CPA or a store manager at night and seems to enjoy the little reminders of that fact.

“You can,” he informs her as he slowly strides closer to the bed, “and you will,” his tone leaves no room for discussion. He leans forward, hovering over her without touching- depriving her of what she wants, in the interest of coaxing her to do what he wants. “Now be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

His goal with the command is to amp her up enough to help her reach her orgasm without directly intervening- knows that she’s so close to the edge and just can’t quite tip herself over it- and mission fucking accomplished.

She’s enthralling to watch as her orgasm washes over her but John is too impatient to even let her fully come down from her climax.

No sooner than she’s past the strongest part of it, John is dragging her to the edge of the bed and parting those pretty legs. The toy is turned off and withdrawn with a twitchy gasp before being forgotten about on another part of the bed. 

John gives little preamble- she’s wet and ready, taking him easily despite the sheer girth of him. 

She squirms and cries in pleasure- struggles to lay quiet and still like a good girl.

“That’s it, lovely. Just like that,” he praises while one hand smooths over her hip.

He buries himself in her, much like how his face buries in the crook of her neck. 

Her pretty thighs are trembling in his grip while he pries them apart and back. There’s no room for shyness between them- not after everything they’ve been through together.

The room is filled with the wet clap of his hips knocking into her plush ass with each thrust as she babbles her pleasure. 

John relishes in how her nails dig into his back for purchase, groaning low in his throat at the sensation. She’s desperate and clinging to him, eyes screwed shut in bliss as she reflexively strains in his hold and tries to lock her legs around his waist.

“John,” she pleads shamelessly as he works her closer. “Please- fuck! Oh my God, please don’t stop.”

Pleasure blooms warm and low in his gut at his pretty wife begging. “‘m not going to stop,” he assures her. Not until he sees those eyes roll as she finishes a second time. 

Fuck he’s been missing her. So soft and willing and warm, waiting for him all alone to come back home.

“Lo-love you, Joh-Oh!” He releases her thighs in favor of one hand cupping behind her head to pull her to him as the other dips between their bodies and rubs at her clit. 

He is a sucker for how noisy she is, whimpering in need even as he kisses her breathless as his other hand circles her clit in firm measured motions. 

“Fuck I love you so much,” he grunts out when they part breifly for air.

Those plush thighs are clinging to him for dear life, trembling as he pushes her closer to her second orgasm.

“Gonna cum, darling? Show me.” He teases, relishing in the way her eyes have that dazed, far away look in them as she whimpers underneath him- “John, please!”

It only takes two more circles to have her clamping down on him- arms, legs, and that velvet soft cunt- her climax loud and wet, dripping between her spread thighs onto the sheets. 

At that point it’s John’s turn to roll his eyes in pleasure, hips thrusting to chase his own end now that he’s satisfied she got hers. 

For a moment it’s silent aside from their labored breathing as the couple recover and reorient. 

He knows they’ll need to get up and clean up soon- hell, he’s still fully dressed aside from the fact that his cock is out- but for now as they shuffle so he can settle on the bed with her he just wants to enjoy her body tucked up next to his.

“Welcome home,” she giggles breathlessly in a delayed greeting. John certainly feels properly welcomed, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“Happy to be back home.”

[racerchix21]

SalTommy

I fucked us up

I might add to this later y’all but for now I’m gonna go hang out with family 🖤🖤

Tagging: @ohlookitsthearkhamknight, @eddiestommy, @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou, @waywaychuck, @obsessivebisexual4tevan, @i-am-married-to-my-fandom, @geniusjester, @evnnkinard @v88sy, @firehose118, @rdng1230, @crankypotionsmaster, @comeon-intothemadhouse, @bisexualdisasterbuckley, @starryeyedjanai @evansboyfriend

At the 118 Sal knew that running his mouth to the captain was gonna get him fired but he’d foolishly thought that his relationship with Tommy would last. It did for a couple more months but their conflicting schedules became too much and that lack of time together they both started getting snappy with each other. The straw that broke the metaphorical camels back was the night he’d shown up after a rare 24 hour shift where their schedules finally matched 5 hours late black out drunk and beaten straight to hell.

***

Should he be driving to Tommy’s place? “Fuck no,” he thinks but after the clusterfuck of a day I’ve been having who fucking cares if I die. Some little voice in his head is screaming “Tommy” but he ignores it. By the time he pulls in his normal spot in the front yard he can feel the exhaustion and the headache from his shift and the alcohol making their presence felt and he figures he’ll just lay his head down for a minute.

He doesn’t mean to doze off and he startles awake when his phone starts blaring out Tommy’s ringtone and before he can even think to grab it to answer his door gets pulled open. Turning his head he’s met with Tommy’s bloodshot eyes and clenched jaw.

“Where have you been, Deluca? I know you for a fact you got off the same time I did so what gives since you’re very clearly still in your uniform it’s obvious it wasn’t home,” Tommy demanded sounding a mix of terrified and angry before Sal saw his nose wrinkle up in disgust. “You went out drinking and then drove here,” his voice devoid of emotion. “I can’t believe you drove drunk. How many calls have we on where someone decided to drive drunk and killed themselves or others? Huh Sal how many?”

“Too many,” he dutifully answers before getting drug out of his truck and walked straight to the couch. He’s expecting his boyfriend to lay down with him but he’s left alone as Tommy disappears back into his bedroom. When he wakes again it’s to Tommy standing at the kitchen counter and their keys to each other’s places laying in front of him.

“Just leave please,” Tommy says before picking up his coffee cup and walking past to go outside. “Just…just be safe Deluca.”

***

Now here he is 3 houses later arguing with another captain because instead of being a man and apologizing or at the very least explaining to Tommy why he’d done what he had he left. It’s been a year and 3 days since Tommy asked him leave and he’s hated himself for a year and 2 days of that time.

After his twentieth call was sent to voicemail he’d given up. He’d called Chimney and Hen to make sure Tommy was okay, he’d gone to all their favorite haunts and that was precisely why he was currently standing in the middle of the locker room at the 136 arguing with Captain Cooper. He was 20 minutes late because he’d seen Tommy and some new guy sitting at their table in the little coffee shop by the 118 when he’d stopped to grab a cup before shift.

He’d stood there for what felt like forever watching the love of his life being cozy with someone new and every single regret he’d had had come roaring back. He’d screwed them up and now he had to watch someone else being the center of Tommy’s world. When he’d finally broken out of his stupor it was because the barista was calling his name loud enough that everyone was looking at him. Sal’d glanced back at her before looking at Tommy just in time to see the flash of hurt before Tommy pulled his new guy into an absolutely indecent kiss.

He fucked up and now his captain was reprimanding him…again.

I’m gonna fix this even if I have to show at his place and force him to listen to me…..

[pekoehoneyncream]

Captain John 'Bravo Six' Price Headcanons

Part One!

Words: 500~

TW: None (sfw)

Part Two

Okay! Here are the promised headcanons!

The brainrot is intense for these boys rn, so the volume of headcanons kinda got outta hand. I didn't wanna slam y'all with the full 800+ words of headcanons that I've made for Price alone, so I decided that I'll post half now and half later.

That said, Thank you all again for the Huge response my poll got, and without further ado onto the The Headcanons!

His preferred drink is Green Tea with a spoonful of honey. He loves getting to sit, relax, and slowly sip his way through a nice hot cup of tea. If he’s in a rush or just needs to wake up he drinks coffee instead.

Takes his coffee with the smallest bit of sugar and no milk. His team argues that three grains of sugar can't make any difference, but Price insists that he doesn't like coffee straight black, he needs that bit of sweetness. The team once tested him by switching out his coffee for an identical cup of straight black coffee. Price's disgusted spluttering showed them that he can indeed easily taste the difference.

Cannot just sit down and do nothing. Always needs to be doing something. This man is a category five putterer. Just goes about absently neatening up, putting things back where they belong, pulling books forward to be level with the edge of the shelf, squaring papers with the corner of the table, wiping down the surfaces, adjusting his kit so it’s settled properly. He’ll do the same to the team as well. Mindlessly untwisting straps, pulling tight buckles, zipping pouches, pulling down the rucked-up hem of Ghost’s mask, straightening Gaz’s cap, correcting a stray hair in Soap’s warhawk.

The absolute worst at remembering names, constantly asking the team what this or that person's name is. Has a little notebook full of reminders that are only useful to him, the privates and FNGs think he's marking down performance notes, but he's just desperately trying to remember that one rookie's name before they leave eyesight. “Price, this just says ‘Michaels - Red Hat’, do you expect him to always wear a red hat?” “No, but I remember the hat, then I remember the face that was wearing the hat, and that face is Michaels'.” “Price, that makes no sense.” “Give that back and get. Have you nothing better to do? Go on, get!”

Paints his nails. He got a voucher for a free spa day as a birthday present one year, it included hot-rock therapy, mud-baths, a massage, and a mani-pedi. He went into it with a ‘fuck it, when in rome’ mentality and just said yes to everything while he was there. They explained that gel-polish is hardier and longer lasting than regular polish, without being super hard to remove like acrylics, so he went with gel-polish. At the time he just got a clear polish, but these days he does it himself and wears whatever colours he wants to. Has his own polishes and his own little uv lamp and everything. He could die on a mission tomorrow, he doesn't have time for your small minded ideas about masculinity. Before he was Captain of the 141, he actually got written up by a superior, not for wearing polish, but for wearing a nail-polish colour that wasn't a colour that's in regulation.

Loves water. Yes in the staying hydrated sense, but mainly in the swimming sense. He grew up with a creek behind his house and he spent every spare moment he could splashing around in it. To this day his favourite place is the beach, or anywhere with a body of water. A swimming pool is a poor replacement in his opinion, but he'll take what he can get.

Constantly loses track of time in the shower, his personal water bill is consistently exorbitant. When he doesn't have time to spare he sets a timer, when it beeps at 5 minutes it reminds him he needs to actually start washing up, and when it goes off at 10 minutes he forces himself to get out. When he has the time he sets the timer for 30 minutes.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you have any thoughts on the headcanons or ideas you'd like me expand on or things you wanna squeal about or prompts you want me to write PLEASE hit me up! My ask box is open 24/7 and I'd love to hear from you!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[captain-mj]

That memory loss fic has done me in. I’m on my knees, captain. A part 2 would make my week <3

I've seen the requests and I got you guys!! Was planning on this being the last part, but uh... it got rather long lol.

Price had escaped relatively unscathed despite how hard that punch was. Soap wasn’t too surprised, Price was very tough. It didn’t stop Graves from fussing over him. 

“Uh, Captain?” He knocked and interrupted them. “Ghost is still...”

Price sighed, sitting back in his seat. “Any luck figuring out what’s going on?”

“Yes, actually. He thinks he’s been with a Roba for four months. Thought I heard you two mention the name before.” 

Price visibly paled a little. “Ah. That’s not good. That’s not good at all.”

“Who is he?”

“Cartel leader a few years back. He had several soldiers taken. Experimentation, brainwashing, conditioning. It was nasty. Simon ended up the only person surviving it.” 

Graves stood up. “I don’t think Ghost would want me around for this. I’ll see you two later.” He kissed Price’s cheek, punched Soap’s shoulder and left. 

Soap nodded at him before continuing. “He thinks he’s four months in. He’s paranoid, not as much as I was expecting though. Let me give him a drink and only bit me once.”

Price nodded. “He’s not going to wear a mask like this. He didn’t back then. It would explain why he reacted that way in the van.”

Soap nodded. “Couldn’t see our faces.” 

“I meant the skulls. Roba wore skull face paint. Had all his men wear it too. Not to mention a couple of other nasty memories. It’s why Ghost wears it. Symbol of fear for him.” Price sighed. “Did you try explaining?”

Soap was a little caught up in the information he was just given. He didn’t understand why Ghost would wear something that would remind him of his past like that. 

“I told him he lost his memories and he said that’s a new form of brainwashing. Basically brushed me off. Gets real upset when you call him Ghost to. He also... made a couple concerning comments.... He mentioned a Lady. I said I’d reward him if he’d work with me and he said he didn’t want the Lady. Didn’t really specify. You know anything about that?”

“No. I’ll tell the nurses though. We’ll keep women from going in there alone, just in case. Doubt he’ll attack them, but we don’t want him anymore scared than necessary.” Price shook his head. “I hope we get this figured out soon. If not, he might have to go on leave and possibly discharged.”

Soap knew what that meant. If it goes on, Simon will disappear. He wasn’t technically alive. They’d be dumping him on the street. 

“Sir, I’m aware that Ghost doesn’t have any living family.”

“Don’t tell him.” Price said immediately. “I’ll make sure everyone knows. We need to make sure he does not find out.” 

“Why not? If he doesn’t wake up and he knows we lied...”

“Soap, that is a very valid worry. But Ghost right now is a very big flight risk. I’m... Simon will try to commit. He did it the first time he found out and he tried twice our first month of working together. He’s fragile. He can be pissed at us later. Right now, we have enough problems without needing him on suicide watch.” Price whispered it to him and Soap’s stomach turned.

“What do you mean tried to commit?? You’re telling me a man with three suicide attempts is allowed in the fucking army?” Soap hissed at Price. Besides the rules and regulations around those things, if Ghost really did try and Price just fucking let him go back. Let him on the field with big guns and plenty of opportunities to fucking die. Soap gritted his teeth to Keep himself quiet.

“Look, he’s legally dead. I know it’s hard to understand, but when he wasn’t let back in, he went to Mexico himself and destroyed an entire cartel single handedly. You want him walking the streets? Near civilians? Yes, in the beginning, he struggled. Was convinced he was dead. That he had never crawled out of the graves. Used to say and do shit that concerned me. He’s better.”

“Better? He wears a mask constantly and avoids conversation like the plague.”

“You didn’t see it.” Price suddenly sounded very far away. “I’m worried you’re about to, but you didn’t see it. You think Ghost is fucked up now? He walked around like a goddamn corpse. He found his family murdered only a few months after being tortured and buried alive. I feel like all things considered, he’s better than most.” 

Soap was still angry. So goddamn angry. He just didn’t think it was directed at Price. “When was the last time he... attempted?”

“Over a year ago. He’s been clean since. I check him occasionally.” Price sighed. “I... need you to keep an eye on him. He won’t be as slippery as he is now, not as experienced, but he’s smart as hell.” He shook his head lightly.

“Will do, sir.”

“Soap, I know you two are close. I trust you, okay? Be careful with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Price shook his head and looked away. Soap could see the exhaustion sound like the plague.

“How long did they have him?”

“Seven months.” Price sighed. 

Soap nodded and then left Price’s office. He made his way straight to Ghost who was asleep now. One of the nurses smiled awkwardly.

“Gave him some drugs in his iv. Sedative and a painkiller.”

“Thought you weren’t supposed to sleep with a head wound?”

“Only when you first get them. He’ll be fine.” The nurse reassured. “You can sit with him as long as you want.” She took her leave and he settled next to Ghost again.

Soap hesitated before leaving for just a moment to grab his sketching tools. With his sketchbook and pencils, he started to sketch him. He so rarely got him maskless like this. He drew him with a loving amount of detail, including each scar and fleck on his skin. It passed the time as he waited for him to wake up.

After a moment, he reached over carefully and felt under his shirt, feeling the raised ridges of his scarring. When he had seen it, Ghost had explained it had occurred while he was captivity one time. They had made him. He had looked so ashamed that Soap hadn’t pressed.

Ghost yawned and looked up at him sleepily. “You’re here again. You were gone a while.”

Soap frowned. “Wasn’t gone too long.”

Ghost frowned at him, not saying anything. He noticed the book and tilted his head.

“Just taking notes.” Soap answered the question before he asked. He smiled gently. “Sleep well?”

“This bed is better than the concrete floor.” Ghost answered smoothly, smiling a little. It felt like an odd attempt at being suave. Soap blinked and nodded.

“Are sure? These beds might as well be made of rocks.” Soap laughed a little, trying to study the smile on the his face. He looked younger. Small.

Ghost looked away. “Didn’t say it was that much better.” He was clearly smiling again but he didn’t let Soap see it. Instead, he stretched as much as he could while cuffed and winced. “Morphine? That’s new.”

“How did you know it was morphine?”

“I’ve had to use it once or twice. Doesn’t have much of an effect on me but it takes the edge off.” Simon relaxed back into the pillows. “I’m starting to think you’re a dream. You were gone a while.”

“How long was I gone?”

“I don’t know. Time is funny.” Simon waved him off.

“What is usually used?”

“Opioids. Benzos. Hallucinogens. You guys keep me hiiiiiiiigh as a kite.” Simon’s words started to sound funny and Soap wondered if they maybe gave him a touch too much morphine.

“Well, like I said, i’m here to keep you safe.”

“Liar. They were just torturing me.” 

“I don’t think fixing your iv is torturing you. Or poking at your bandages.” Soap smiled indulgently.

“One of them cut me open and cut out parts of my liver.” Ghost looked at him and Soap felt his breath catch at the aching sincerity there. “He fed a piece to me. I’d really prefer if you didn’t say you’ll keep me safe. You’ll just waste your breath. I know when you leave, it’ll start again.” 

Soap stared at him. It must’ve been while he was asleep that he dreamed this. He looked at Ghost’s chest, what little he could see. Ghost had a giant y-shaped scar across his entire torso. 

Soap leaned over and touched his hand. “Are you okay?”

Simon stared at him before slowly relaxing. “I’m fine. It’s weird. I feel like I know you.”

“You do. You do know me.”

“No, I don’t.” Simon pleaded. “I don’t know you.” 

“Yes, you do, Ghost.”

“I’m not dead.” Simon said coldly. “I’m not dead. You can’t convince me I’m dead.”

“You’re right. You’re not dead. You’re right here with me.” Soap reassured, reaching up and gently tracing his jaw. Simon looked distressed.

“Stop it. Stop it.”

“What do you want me to stop doing?”

“You’re in my head. You’re messing with me.”

“No, I’m not. I promise you’re safe. I’m not going to leave again.” Soap comforted him until Simon weakly shook his head and dropped his head onto the pillow. 

“Please...” Simon mumbled, staring up at him. “Please, I don’t want them to go back to the rainbow room. I don’t want the Lady.”

“No one is going to, Simon. I promise. Why don’t you go back to sleep? Aren’t you tired?”

Simon hummed, clearly fighting sleep. He did so for a while before giving in. 

Soap took a deep breath and settled back down. His hands were shaking. After a moment of consideration, he messaged Price to update him, telling him that Simon woke up for a while before going back to sleep. 

Before long, Soap ended up falling asleep in his chair, focusing on the steady beat of Ghost’s heart monitor.

Screaming. It shocked him awake and he jerked up, watching Simon writhe and scream as loud as he could.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.” Simon mumbled between ear shattering wails. 

Price and Gaz were suddenly there, both just as panicked as Soap was. They tried to hold him down and watched as he thrashed, yanking so hard on his restraints that for a moment Soap wondered if his wrist would snap. 

Then, his wrist snapped. 

Simon choked out, sounding so angry. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave. There’s so much blood.”

Price grabbed Simon’s shoulders, pinning him down. “There is no blood. You’re safe.”

“it hurts it hurts so much. I don’t want it. I don’t want them.”

“I know, Simon. i know it hurts.” Price reassured. “You hurt yourself.”

“You bastards hurt me.” Simon hissed at him, but he was shaking so hard now. They were all trying to hold him down as much as they could. “Please. Please.” He begged, pleaded with Price to make it stop.

Price just stared at him, holding his shoulders down. He looked so helpless that Soap felt sick. 

“I know, son. I’m so sorry.”

“He promised. He promised he wouldn’t leave.”

“I didn’t leave.” Soap said softly, though he was looking at Price. “I think he’s dreaming through his memories. Said something about me being gone a long time earlier.”

“Shit. Can’t really protect him from that.” Gaz said softly as Simon finally stopped struggling, staring at the roof.

“Who’s the Lady?”

“Pilar. Her name was Pilar. She can do things with her hips that men would kill for.” Simon mumbled and it sounded like he was quoting someone. He eventually closed his eyes. “I don’t want her.” 

Soap felt like he was going to be sick. He traced the Glasgow smile on Simon’s face, despite Price’s alarmed look. “I’m sorry.”

“You left.” 

“I didn’t mean to.” Soap decided. “How long was I gone?” 

“It’s been... I don’t know. I think its been a month since we first met. It’s so hard. Time runs together.”

Soap bit his lip, feeling a hole digging in his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure when you see me, it’s nice.” 

“Fuck you.” Simon eventually coughed out and then just fell back against the bed. “Fucking hell.” He tried to curl away from their hands but it didn’t work. Ghost continued to shake for a while and they retracted their hands. 

Gaz sighed shakily. “Is he... okay?”

“Go back to bed, Kyle.” Price smiled. “We’ll watch him.”

Gaz nodded and quietly stepped back. He left them alone. 

Price shook his head. “Simon. Roba is dead.”

“No, he’s not. I see him. He’s there when I close my eyes.”

“Simon...” Price said softly. “This all happened a very long time ago.”

“Except it didn’t.” Soap pointed out. “To him, it feels like its right now. He’s currently going through it and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.” 

Small tag list of people who asked for pt 2 @sad-innit @confuseddipshit @lildoodlenoodle @imfeelingdizzy @robo-hips @cactusisconfused

[cod-dump]

I’m never gonna write fics for this fandom so I’m gonna throw this SoapGhost thought at you.

BUT— the 141 has 4 people. Captain Price, First Lieutenant Riley, SGT Mactavish and SGT Garrick.

They’re rounding out the team, adding another person. Second Lieutenant whoever. Price knows him, Ghost knows him, but Gaz and Soap don’t. This guy shows up and immediately fits in with everyone— except Soap. This dude *does not* like him. But he doesn’t make it known in front of the others. But Soap can tell.

That’s fine, he’s had to work with plenty of people he doesn’t get along with, it’s just another day at work. But this guy’s contempt for Soap just gets worse and worse. It starts with subtle comments, little digs at Soap that seem like jokes to other people, but the Second Lieutenant just gets this look in his eyes— Soap knows they’re meant to be insults.

It’s worse the first time Soap has to go out on a mission with the Second Lieutenant. *Ghost* was his partner, why did he have to work with *this guy*? Soap tries to keep things professional— he doesn’t joke over comms, he hardly speaks at all actually, just does his job to the best of his ability. But when he comes back, Price calls Soap into his office— something about “insubordination.” But Soap didn’t *do anything.* He can’t argue back, it’s a lieutenant’s word against his.

But things get worse. This guy is the definition of a “hostile work environment.” But Soap can’t do anything about it. Can’t say anything. He just has to take it, because he knows that Ghost and Price respect the LT2, and anytime Soap acts anything like his normal self, the LT2 is up his ass about it— actively *trying* to get him in trouble.

Eventually he just tries to be as straight-laced as possible, so much so that Ghost notices the weird behavior. Soap is too quiet, too rigid— he’s damn near a shell of his former self. Soap doesn’t spend time with anyone on the team any more, just spends most of his free time alone in his room. He draws way more, trying to distract himself. He’s anxious all the time now, waiting to get in trouble *again*. Waiting for a shitty comment *again*. Waiting for that second Lieutenant to finally convince Price to get Soap kicked off their team.

It reaches a breaking point one day.

It’s Soap and both lieutenants on a mission. Soap gets injured. Badly. Ghost is the first to reach him. Soap’s bleeding out, apologizing for fucking up; and is begging Ghost to not leave him there, to not make him die alone, to not kick him off the team— anything that comes to his mind. Nothing but desperate pleas and apologies. He promises to be better, to work harder, promises that he’ll do anything if Ghost and the LT2 don’t ask Price to make him leave.

Ghost doesn’t understand at first. Why would Johnny ever think that Simon would do any of that? He gets them all back to safety. When they finally get back to base, and once he ensures that Soap is safely in medical, he starts looking. He reads through every report the LT2 wrote, looks into every physical documentation of interactions between Soap and the LT2, and— despite his apprehension, Ghost finds Soaps journal and looks through it. His heart breaks.

His drawings are full of pain. The notes in the margins are full of quotes from the second Lieutenant, all of the shitty things he’s been saying to Soap for months. Ghost sees it all. Soap’s fear, his anxiety, his isolation, his desperation. This guy was harassing and hazing Soap right in front of him and he did *nothing*. This guy convinced Soap that he couldn’t trust Ghost or Price, that he couldn’t confide in them all of the shit he’s been dealing with.

He shows it all to Price. Everything he’s found. Price, too, is taken aback by it all. How could could he have missed this? How could they both have missed it? They knew *something* was wrong with Soap, but couldn’t figure out what. The answer was right in front of them the entire time.

They know that the second lieutenant needs to go.

Soap wakes up in an uncomfortable medical bed to find his captain and first lieutenant staring him down. He prepares for the worst.

But it doesn’t come.

*incoherent screaming*

THE ANGST! THE SELF HATE! GOD IT’S SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! AHHHHHHH!! GOD DAMN IT! I HAVE SO MANY FUCKING WIPS ALREADY! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!! YA’LL HAVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL MINDS AND IDEAS GOD! BEING SURROUNDED BY SUCH CREATIVE AND BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!! AHHHHHH!! THE BEAUTY!! I CAN IMAGINE THE LT2 EVEN FLIRTING WITH GHOST TO PUSH SOAP AWAY! TRYING TO EVEN BEFRIEND GAZ AND COMPLETELY ISOLATE SOAP FROM EVERYONE! EVERYTHING SOAP DOES ISNT GOOD ENOUGH! SOAP BECOMING A LESS VIBRANT VERSION OF HIMSELF, THINKING THAT HE’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH! IT HURTS SO GOOD FUCKING HELL!!!

[lets-play-pirates]

Ed and drowning imagery

(I’m sorry if this is awkwardly worded. I am not, as you might have guessed, a native speaker of English, and languages are definitely not my forte)

I'm fascinated by the drowning imagery associated with Ed. It's not omnipresent, they don't hit you on the head with it, but it's there nonetheless (or at least I think so).

It's also interesting that, as far as I can tell, this theme is pretty much unique to Ed.

People die in many different ways in OFMD: they get stabbed, they get skewered by their own sword, they burn alive, they get shot, they get a cannonball in the face, they get skinned alive on one memorable occasion (RIP French Captain, you will not be missed), and so on.

The only case I can think of of someone maybe drowning in a death that isn't caused (not directly) by Ed is Ned Low - Stede throws his own fiddle at him, hits him, he falls off the plank, and it's not really clear if it was the blow that killed Low or if he lost consciousness and drowned.

It's possible that some of the partygoers in S01E05 did, but because of the parallel with CJ's story about Ed torching a ship and how the people inside burned alive, I assume that they died in the fire.

Anyway. Ed.

We get the first reference to drowning in S01E04, when he tells Stede what being Blackbeard is like: “It's just fucking hard sometimes, you know? You ever feel trapped? Like you're just treading water? Waiting to drown?”

Then, the Kraken's awakening is heralded by Ed throwing Lucius overboard; Lucius falls into the ocean, and we can hear his terrorized screams and gasps as he tries desperately not to slip underwater.

If you want, you can consider both the shot of Stede's things being dumped into the ocean at Ed's behest and Ed pushing the cake toppers off the ship as two other examples of drowning-related imagery.

The most obvious example of this theme is Ed's coma dream while he's in the gravy basket; he is thrown by his vision of his old captain - the one who, presumably, taught him how to be a pirate - off a cliff and into the ocean, with a rock tied around his waist.

Then, we have Ed trying to sink the Revenge and drown everyone on board, including himself (and I assume that the crew members who are missing after the storm did, indeed, drown).

He regains consciousness as he's sinking deeper and deeper; he tries to free himself but in vain, and he's about to run out of breath when Stede appears.

The rope unties itself, freeing him, but it's interesting that Ed doesn't swim toward the surface, nor does Stede pull him out of the water.

Instead, suddenly, as he realizes that he isn't alone - that he is loved, despite all he's done, that Stede came back for him, that he's begging him not to die, that he’s vowing never to leave him again, that there's still hope, still a future - he finds that he can breathe underwater.

The last example so far is from the beginning of S01E07 when, early in the morning after his first night with Stede, after Stede’s first real kill, Ed bundles up his leathers - Blackbeard’s, and the Kraken’s - in a net, weights them down with a cannonball and drops them into the ocean.

He consigns his old skin, his identity as a pirate, to a watery grave, and wears in their stead Buttons’s old clothes, the clothes of a man who changed himself into a bird in order to be able to properly love his “ocean deep,” because there is a limit to the love he can share with the sea in his current form, like Ed thinks he can’t properly love Stede until he’s gotten rid of this weight pulling him down, of the poison he carries within himself (the atmosphere was poisoned, the soup was poisoned, and it was his actions that brought Ned Low to the Revenge), until he’s found his true form.

How wise this decision is remains to be seen. I know from the screenshots and gifs posted online of the season finale trailer (they don’t air the show where I live, so I couldn't watch the preview) that he’ll soon fish out his leathers again, but how permanent that will be is unclear. We know that he doesn’t want to be a pirate anymore, not like that - he has been trying to find a way to escape this life since before he met Stede - so drowning this symbol of a life he doesn’t want anymore seems understandable, and healthy, at least until he’s found how to wear that skin in a way that won’t hurt him or those around him.

I really don’t know what the point of this all is. I don’t even know if there is a point to begin with - maybe I’m just fixating on nothing - but if there is, I think that the key image of this series of scenes is that of Ed in the gravy basket breathing underwater.

The weight pulling him down is gone and he’s free, and yet he doesn’t have to make his way above the waves. He’s already safe where he is. He is home.

There is no struggle, no desperate rush to reach the surface. The ocean that used to be a threat, that was going to swallow him and devour him as soon as he got too exhausted to tread water and he eventually, inevitably, let go and slip beneath the waves, is now surrounding him, supporting him as he floats peacefully, effortlessly in front of the man he loves.

More than a transformation that has already taken place, it’s a promise.

It’ll take time, more than the season finale will allow him (but, hopefully, he’ll have another season to work on himself).

It’ll take patience, too, and for him to keep examining his own failings, to keep growing, to keep looking at himself - he still has a lot of fishing to do, and the sea monster is still there, maybe a bit less dangerous now that he’s learned to sit with himself and listen, and maybe the kraken is exhausted too, but he’s still lurking in the depths, still a beast - but if he manages to find that strength within himself, he won’t drown.

He won't drown.

He can change his shape, turn himself into an impossible creature, a merman, like Stede in his vision.

(and isn't this season's logo the image of two merman skeletons circling each other?)

[cryptenby]

something happened.

a fic about a captain and his first mate, and what an important conversation may have sounded like.

It takes Zoro a while to come clean. Like, years. 

He’s been called everything except a coward but the thought of Luffy’s face when he finds out is too terrible. Too painful. After everything with Ace, he swore he would take the secret to his grave, and made the other Straw Hats swear, too.

But now they’re so close. Any day now Luffy will become an Emperor, and while Zoro knows that he doesn’t even want the title, he also knows that it will change everything. He cannot be a true first mate to his captain—to the King— if he’s holding anything back.

continue on ao3 or read more:

He doesn’t bother talking to the rest of the crew first. It was hard enough to get them to keep the secret to begin with; he knows no one will stop him. If anything, he’ll have to hear from Nami and that damn kinky cook about taking so long to come clean. No, this is just between him and their captain.

Luffy is up in the crow’s nest yelling excitedly about something when Zoro comes looking for him. He’s worried about what to say but needn’t be—the moment Luffy sees his face, he starts descending without a word.

They meet in the not quite unused Captain’s quarters —Usopp uses it for a quiet place to paint, Sanji stores some dried foods in there, even Zoro uses it to train sometimes—but Luffy looks around as if the space is new, stars bright in his eyes. He saw the room when they first toured the Sunny, but he has so few things to himself and hates sleeping alone, so he left it to the crew.

His curiosity gives Zoro a moment to take off his swords and lean them gently against the wall before he lowers himself to the floor. Luffy turns around at the sound of his grunt and Zoro watches his lightning quick glance at his weapons before he follows Zoro down. The stars leave Luffy’s eyes as he faces him seriously, and Zoro is sad to see them go.

“What’s wrong?” Luffy asks urgently. “Are you okay?”

Zoro grunts again in acknowledgement. “It’s about Thriller Bark.”

Luffy sits up straight and furrows his brow.

So he doesn’t know then,  Zoro thinks to himself.  Good.  

 Fuck.

He takes no more time to prepare; a swordsman can only cut straight to the heart of things.

“Kuma was going to kill you. I was practically bleeding out; I wasn’t sure if anyone else had even made it. That shitty cook showed up and tried to stand in front of me but he was shaking harder than I had ever seen, and I just couldn’t handle your face if I let him die. So I knocked him out. I told Kuma to take my head if it meant sparing yours.”

Luffy’s face tightens and Zoro continues before he can be cut off. “He fought me on it, but he knew I wouldn’t back down and he would lose his honor if he killed us. Instead, he offered to transfer all of your damage to me. He repelled all of the pain and exhaustion from your body, and gave me a small hit so that I knew what I was asking for. I had never experienced pain like that. Still haven’t.”

Zoro can’t stop himself from pausing to breathe—just the memory of the pain can still make him feel tender to his bones.

“Zoro—“

“Still,” Zoro interrupts. “I would do it all again if I had to.”

He lowers his head to the floor in a bow.

Luffy stays quiet and Zoro keeps his nose to the ground. Even when he hears the steps of one of the crew coming to the door, pausing, turning away, he ignores his embarrassment and stays bowed. The not too loud footsteps and the smell of oil and earth means it was probably Usopp. Zoro wonders wildly what face Usopp must have made when he saw them, wonders if he’s going straight to Nami to gossip or maybe telling the whole crew.

Zoro wonders what his captain isn’t saying.

A few minutes more and his patience runs out along with his comfort. He pushes himself up smoothly and rubs his neck to give himself a moment's reprieve from Luffy’s silent gaze.

“Ach! Luffy, what the fuck!”

When he finally looks up, he’s met with Luffy, his finger deep in his nose in what seems to be a concentrated effort to reach his brain. Zoro is fairly certain he can see Luffy’s right eye bulging just slightly from the internal pressure of his own finger. It’s kind of cool but mostly just really gross.

“Huh?” Luffy pulls his finger back with a snap. Despite all of their time together, Zoro half expects it to be covered in brains and blood.

“Tch, idiot Captain,” Zoro barks. “Did you not hear me?”

“Of course I did!” Luffy flicks a booger away and Zoro bristles in disgust. “You lied to me about Thriller Bark and made the crew lie, too.”

That shuts Zoro up. He bows his head in shame.

“I wish you hadn’t done that. A first mate trusts his captain to protect the crew and we especially do not keep secrets,” Luffy continues, matter of fact. “Plus, I put you and everyone else in additional danger in Saobody Park by letting you face Kuma. I was the only one who didn’t know how injured you were. You could have died." Luffy looks at him with a fierceness he only sees on the battlefield, and the feeling it stirs up is too complicated to think about right now.

"Zoro. You are not allowed to die.”

Zoro stays silent. His earlier speech already consisted of more words than he usually prefers to say at once, and besides— he’s not sure what else there is. Another apology doesn’t feel sufficient and devotion is only expressed through action. All there is, is to accept what Luffy decides with all the honor he can muster.

God, he wishes he had something to cut.

“I forgive you, though.” Luffy grins.

Zoro closes his eyes.

Of course he does. What else could he say? How could he be the man Zoro followed through hell if he said anything else?

Still, Zoro quietly huffs a relieved sigh.

“Dumbass Captain.”

“Haahh?!” Luffy exclaims, offended. “How am I dumb?!”

“You’re supposed to hold me accountable!” Zoro yells back. “Haven’t you ever heard of a punishment? Consequences?!”

“Hehe, I already took care of that.” Luffy pulls out one of the new Stop Motion Transponder Snails and projects an image onto the wall. It’s of Zoro in his deep bow of regret, and Luffy grinning with a peace sign in front of him. He cackles as he scrolls through a few more photos with him in different poses. “You looked so uncomfortable, Zoro-kun.”

Zoro tries to land a blow until the fire in his cheeks burns out and Luffy blocks each one, laughing loudly. When Zoro finally makes solid contact, Luffy takes the hit good naturedly and tumbles over, still giggling.

“You’re a good first mate, you know.” He says quietly. “You could have your own crew by now.”

“Tch.”

“Shut up, we both know it.” Luffy looks over at him, a smile splitting his face and making the scar under his eye look like it’s grinning too.

Zoro reaches over to shove Luffy’s ridiculous hat over his eyes, and when he gets another laugh for his efforts, all of the worry leaves him in a wave. He’s not a captain—never wanted to be if he’s being honest with himself. Too many years have passed to count the days when he stopped thinking of his dream for himself and knew that his life was dedicated to helping Luffy reach his own.

Roronoa Zoro is not a Captain. He’s the swordsman and first mate for the future King of the Pirates, and he will never lie to him—or let him down— ever again.

[yourassimcomingforit]

A disorganized ramble about ofmd by me so that I don’t explode

Just gonna start off with FUCK THIS SHOW IS GOOD AND I CANNOT WAIT FOR SEASON 2 TO CONTINUE now with that out of the way we see throughout the show Ed threaten to off himself but he never goes through with it cause just like stede he’s to scared of death he’s scared of being the one to kill something whether it’s another person or himself which makes him a really interesting parallel to stede and the ways they react to having killed someone, ed tries to ignore it and makes up a story to place himself away from the murder while stede sees the one he killed at every turn and can’t forget it. Another super interesting parallel is the way they both think they’re unlovable with Ed it’s super obvious he’s constantly saying it but with stede he just never thinks to seek out love he grew up knowing he’ll never find someone to love and marry so he never really thought to look for love and when his marriage fails well obviously he couldn’t find love there so he can’t be lovable. Onto Izzy and stede they both love Ed in such different ways Izzy loving Ed only when he’s Blackbeard and suffering the most when Ed is cruel and mean and torturing people the moment Ed finds something better or tries to be better he drags him right back. Izzy and Ed bring out the worst in each other Izzy making Ed worse and Ed actively harming Izzy making him rage at the crew. In contrast with Ed and stede where they make each other happier Ed slowly sees that maybe he is lovable and stede finds that love is a possibility, they teach each other things and just make each other better.

Now back to Ed and his wanting to die he’s always threatening to do it whether it’s putting a gun to his head or telling someone else to kill him he’s always outsourcing his suicide and even in s2 e3 he outsources it throughout the episode we see him on a beach but at the end we see that it’s all just him hallucinating/dreaming it but we do see that he’s still not able to be the one to do it himself he dreams of his old captain whatever his fucking name who he hates being on the island with him who ultimately leads him to a cliff with a rock tied to his waist and shoves him off it’s another example of him outsourcing his death he can’t do it himself so he dreams of someone else doing it for him instead of realizing the true reality of it.

Now onto his little spiral into insanity when we first meet him he’s already pretty damn crazy and just tried of life but meeting stede brings back a meaning to his life and he’s happy and at the end of s1 e9 they’re getting ready to escape and have a happily ever after but stede ends up running away making Ed think he doesn’t want him anymore it’s a perceived rejection cause even though stede clearly loves him, him not showing up to escape with him brings back his preconceived notions of being completely unlovable and that sends him spiraling. The man he loves who made him happy suddenly rejects him and leaves him alone ripping away all his plans for happiness and love. He goes back to the crew and just wallows in his depressing and sadness before of course Izzy drags him right back into Blackbeard but this time it’s even more toxic because it’s fueled by the sadness and anger of stede leaving him behind nothing he does makes sense, throwing treasure overboard to steal more treasure cutting Izzy up for every single thing etc it’s all him projecting his hurt into everyone else instead of dealing with it properly. It all leads to him seemingly getting better talking with Izzy and getting closure getting of the drugs but it’s not it’s him gaining “clarity” the calm before the storm because he immediately drives the ship straight into a storm ripping the wheel off and preparing to set the masts on fire killing him and everyone on the ship. But of course he can’t kill anyone directly he can’t pull the trigger so he’s gonna have the fire and the storm kill them all when that fails. That leave him depressed suicidal and in the aftermath of a failed attempt that leads him to his little hallucination/dream that I talked about earlier.

An interesting thing we see throughout the season is new relationships forming from the ashes of old ones Mary and stedes failed marriage leading to Mary and Doug, olu and Jim leading to Jim and Archie and the short lived relationship of olu and Susan which ended because she ya know tried to kill all his friends. We even see this with Ed stede and Izzy, Izzy and stede keep fighting for a relationship with Ed by trying to burn the one he has with the other to have one with him.

I know I’m forgetting something else I wanted to say because I accidentally deleted an entire section of this but that’s all for now on my thoughts about ofmd. I blame this all on my friend who weaponized my autism to watch this show while I was still suffering from gomems. Gonna go explode have a wonderful morning evening afternoon and night

[withoutsiqht]

lays on the ground yesterday I learned my paladins family didn’t leave him behind because he was a bad person. they just couldn’t wait anymore. he thought his sister snuck out to tell him he couldn’t come because she didn’t want their parents to know she’d gone to see him. but I think there just wasn’t time for a real conversation about it. and she was probably just the one of the three of them with the fewest responsibilities and that’s why she was alone? the details just got lost in the rush. he’s spent the last hundred years thinking they didn’t want him. but they just ran out of time. that visit wasn't you can't come, it was we're going right now. I’m gonna die. I’m. He thinks. stares into the abyss did she expect him to follow and he didn't....... I love that this answers several questions and makes a million more. he’s been trying to do good thinking when they come back and see how well he’s done that they’ll want him again. Because he’s been trying to be a good person. If he had left when his captain told him to, he’d be with his family right now. granted his god would still be fucked. and he wouldn’t know Cassian and that’s not. he doesn’t like that. that’s not an option apparently. but also he doesn’t think his god is his god. he’s pretty sure that’s just some thing attached to him and hoping to use his desire for that relationship to get what it wants. and before that (wrong) realization sunk in he made a deal about his family. So now he’s also convinced when push comes to shove he’s not going to get to see them again. Because he thinks eventually this thing will ask something of him he’s not willing to do. And he’ll be breaking his end of the deal. This stupid boy is about to go on a downward spiral for no fucking reason. He has everything he needs go home. What the fuck. I love this stupid fucking game.

[wraithdance]

Fortress pt. 1/2

Synopsis: Kyle's self control is tested by the pretty thing that wears Captain Price's ring. Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick X Cougar!Reader; Established Price x Reader Note: AFAB!reader, no pronouns used for reader, No physical description or use of Y/N, reader is older than Kyle by several years. This will have a part two (eventually) Content warning: NSFW, solo masturbation, mentions of reader having breasts, a man being down bad

The fact is Kyle has always had a thing for cougars. It’s information he’ll never admit, but if you see his eyes lingering on the pretty seasoned beauties that pass him by… you didn’t, mind your fucking business, bruv.

He also likes authority and the structure the military gives him. Occasionally, he pushes back on bad calls, but he’ll follow his Captain into the fire in a heartbeat. He’s loyal like that without fail.

So it comes to a surprise to Kyle how badly he fucked up. He didn’t mean for his feelings for Captain John Price’s drop dead gorgeous spouse to turn into anything more than a crush. You’re at least ten years older than him and he would never betray his Captain, he swears it on his life.

It's why he didn’t mean for his hug to last longer than the acceptable amount of time, why he lingers when you pull him in tight. He didn’t mean to inhale the heady scent of your perfume that lingers at the base of your delicate neck. Fuck, he didn’t mean to shudder at the feel of soft, glowing skin as you move to stand beside John. 

You both make a picture of strength and fortitude. Kyle feels like he’s out matched.

Kyle and his body are two separate entities when he stands abruptly at dinner. His face is hot with warmth and his hands clench to hide his cock from view. He’s making up some stupid excuse about the wine not settling well as he races to the washroom down the hall.

It’s there in the small space that smells like lemon scented potpourri, that he’s barraged with images of the brief glimpse he got of your breasts over the dinner table.  You’d leaned over the serving platters to hear the punchline to Ghost's stupid joke. It was an innocent move on your part, but you dipping your finger to gather the white gravy that stained your shirt when you notice it, sends the hounds of hell baying at the gates of what was his iron mental control. He’d already ran from the table when you shove soiled fingers into your mouth.

It still plays over and over and over and over… until he’s coming up with feverish visions that never happened, with such startling clarity that it frightens him. His mind supplies phantom memories of what your skin felt like, to fill in the gaps left from having never touched you in a way less than platonic. 

He’s panting himself into an anxiety attack when thick ropes of cum paint his fist and the decorative hand towels on the sink.

Kyle Garrick has lost control and it shames him to his core. 

He's always prided himself on being better, sweeter, much more capable than the dogs playing men in his line of work. You make him feel like something half man. He hates the part of him that wishes to be at your feet.

His own disbelieving eyes in the mirror. He hides the cum stained towels under the bathroom sink with trembling hands (right behind the spare pack of toilet paper seems like a good spot). He’ll come back for them before he leaves, he swears to himself.

He just needs to focus and compartmentalize so he can at least pretend to be the Sgt. Kyle Garrick with the ability to withstand enemy torture. The exceptional soldier with the mental fortitude that ensured his place in the SAS serving his Majesty. 

That earned him the respect of his Captain who he would die for.

FUCK.

When he makes an excuse to leave early he doesn’t mean to make eye contact with you, the demon wearing his Captain’s heirloom ring around your finger.  He’ll be fucking his fist until his cock is raw when he’s alone tonight and he doesn’t want you to see that in his eyes.

But he looks up when your husband calls out his name in concern.

It’s how he sees the small, nearly imperceptible smirk on your painted mouth and the knowing look you cast him under lowered lashes.

Kyle doesn’t go back for the towels.

Nor does he hear the concerned questions from his mates. He honestly can’t hear shit past the dull thrum of his racing heart pounding in his ears. Kyle swears he hears the throaty snarl of circling dogs over the thrum of blood.

He doesn’t quite remember slipping a bit on the front steps in his hurry to leave or snagging his pullover on a branch as he ambles unsteadily down the street. He doesn’t know where he’s going, his home is in the other direction, but he doesn’t truly care. If he’d been in his right mind maybe he would have seen his Captain’s dark gaze search the charged air between you two.

But he hadn't, because Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick is completely, irrevocably and devastatingly fucked.

Banner by @/strangergraphics

A/N: support your local feral pterodactyl by liking and reblogging! :*)

[base0h]

Drunk Corazon & Law with s/o

@itschiminn asked - “Drunk Law/Corazon with significant other and/or friend”

Oh god. Imma have way too much fun- thank you for the request fellow braincell <3

Warnings ⚠️ - Truck-kun, g/n reader

Law

- He’s the type of drunk that literally acts the complete opposite of what he normally acts like

- Will start dancing in front of you for no fucking reason

- You know that like “so delicious” thing on tiktok?? Yeah… hehe..

- If there’s a karaoke thing oh ho ho >:3

- He’d sing that brocken song “crawling in my skin” and just start belting it out into the microphone

- He’d sing that and then start singing “It’s about damn time” (yes he’s gonna dance too)

- Very open when he’s drunk

- Like- all of his memories come back about his life and he’ll just start crying into your shoulder and chest

- Make sure you have tissues

- Do NOT say anything about what he did when he wakes up in the morning.

- just.. don’t

- He’ll automatically think that you’re leaving him for some reason, and his memory goes haywire

- like you’ll tell him something, and you have to tell him again within 5 seconds

- “Law- that’s not your hat. That’s a fish.”

- “Oh… *five seconds* Wait what’s this?” *picks up the fish and puts it on his head*

Scenario - Law getting drunk in front of his crew and you

——— >

“Y/n! Um… The captain is-!” Penguin started to shout before being tackled by Bepo. Bepo reeked of alcohol and- various other things.. “BEPO I CAN’T- BREATHE-!” Penguin shouted, coughing and wheezing underneath him. “NOOOO DON’T LEAVE ME PENGUIN YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND AND I LOVE YOU-!” Bepo sobbed, cuddling Penguin close to him and drowning him in his white and fuzzy fur. You sighed, staring at the drunk crew, but your eyes immediately landed on Law. The tall man looked pretty normal until he turned around and saw you. You two locked eyes for a moment until his hands made the familiar motion of his devil fruit abilities. In the blink of an eye, you were standing right in front of him. He instantly just- flopped his entire body weight onto you. It was like he was a puddle, melting into your body. You heard him sniffling, and he started to say quietly, “Please don’t leave me..” Over and over again. You had to tell him over and over again that you weren’t planning on leaving, but he kept asking with a confused and drowsy tone, “Really?..” It was a very repetitive cycle of you trying to let him know that you weren’t going to leave.. In addition to that, his memory fucking sucks right now. You’ll tell him that you love him so much and will never leave, and he’ll forget within a couple seconds. You wouldn’t believe the things alcohol does to his brain. In the morning - Law would have absolutely 0 recollection of what happened. He’d go about his normal day. One time you told him about what he did, and he didn’t drink alcohol for about a year. So lesson learned- just don’t make him embarrassed like that. He hates being all tomato colored in front of his crew. He’s supposed to be the surgeon of death, not the tomato of embarrassment. 💀

Corazon

- Did you think he couldn’t get more clumsy?

- You thought wrong

- When he’s drunk it’s like his vision no longer works.

- He once thought the wall was you 💀

- He has now achieved the ability to set both shoulders on fire at the exact same time :0

- please carry a fire extinguisher so your man doesn’t fucking die

- You have to make sure this man doesn’t go walking in the street alone

- Bec he’ll get hit by truck-kun fs

- When he’s drunk he’s the most clingiest thing known to man

- do NOT leave him. He needs attention rn

- Cuddles. Lots of cuddles

- He also needs an unhealthy amount of fried chicken

- like it’s really strong cravings

- he’ll say all sorts of sappy things like “You’re the light in my world” or “The amount of stars in the sky can’t compare to your beauty”

- THIS MAN’S ROMANTIC AF OK?? 🗿

- This man will sing “I see the light” from tangled and ask to make a lantern with you

- if you say no: “You don’t love me…?” 🥺 and will start fucking crying

- JUST MAKE A LANTERN WITH HIM 💀

Scenario - Corazon being clumsy AND drunk

——— >

You were STRUGGLING to carry this huge ass man. My guy’s 9’6, that’s huge. Unfortunately, you had a Zoro moment, and had to ask for directions. For the literal five minutes you took your eyes off of your man, he was gone. You frantically looked around, he couldn’t have gone too far right?! You look across the street and see him standing in the middle of all the traffic. He looked dazed and confused, and quite sleepy.. There was a flashing light, a loud horn came from the truck (kun) that was speeding towards him. You’ve never run that fast in your entire fucking life. You hurled yourself at this huge-ass man, tackling him to the side walk. You saw both of your lives flashing before your eyes. “Y/n… You’re so beautiful…” Corazon whispered with a smile, his hand on your cheek. “Corazon. A truck almost ran you over.” You bluntly stated with a deadpan face. “Really?? I only see you.” He said with a laugh, struggling to stand up again. You tried to support his weight the best you could, and Corazon kept saying different compliments on the way back home. “You’re so strong- how did I find you again???” “Remember that kid Law I was telling you about? That damn brat?” It was a very- interesting rollercoaster of topics you guys talked about. In the morning - Corazon remembered everything about the night before. And I mean everything. He was the most tomato colored man when he saw your face right beside his. “Y/n- I’m sorry.. I promise I won’t do that again-“ He would say with a saddened expression. How could you not forgive him?? You had to reassure him for a couple minutes that it was ok, and that you still loved him so much. When you said, “I love you Cora.. No matter what.” For about the 10th time, he started to cry with a shocked expression. “I love you too..” He whispered back, resting his head in the crook of your neck. This man’s a baby 🥺

a/n - I hope you all liked this one because I sure did 💀 I think I couldn’t breathe for about a minute once I stuck truck-kun in there-

<3

[tooweirdforyou]

Straw Hats With A Suicidal! Shipmate

message @pixelkittycomet » Hi, I love your stories/scenarios. I has an idea for my one piece fan character, (this is a bit touchy so idk) but I was curious how do you think luffy and the straw hats would react if their y/n crew mate tried to take their own life? Like they caught them just in time or something? Sorry if it's too serious.

-

Hello! First of all, thank you. And second, I wasn’t sure if this was a request, I don’t think it is- and I also took a look at your character and I think it’s really good. Also, wasn’t sure if you wanted together or separate.

I won’t dwell too much into this topic, since it’s very sensitive. I also changed it up a little bit. I did do something similar to this before though.

WARNING : mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, methods of suicide, self-harm, etc.

PLEASE USE CAUTION! NEGATIVITY AHEAD! PLEASE BE CAREFUL! I WILL NOT BE WRITING ANYTHING LIKE THIS AGAIN, I hope.

-

Luffy

LUFFY wouldn’t quite understand. He’s never had to lose a loved one like this before..

“[Name]?.. what are you doing?”

The loud gasp that escapes your lips is heard as you snap up with wide eyes and turn around to face your Captain, who’s staring at you with eyes just as wide as yours.

“Why are your hands bleeding? Did you get hurt?” His clueless tone and the tilt of his head makes your heart pound against your chest, quickly shifting to hide your hands from his sight.

“Luffy!- blood? I, I don’t see any blood. I’m fine, really. Why are you here again?”

“I.. came to see what the noise of crying was coming from.” He mutters out almost inaudibly, his eyes widening by the second at the slow realization.

You, hiding your hands with teary, puffy red eyes and the bloody water filled sink.

The first thing Luffy felt was rage.

You, of all people, were thinking of doing something like this? What could be so horrible to take it this far and deliberately hurting yourself?

And why didn’t he see this sooner, so he could stop it?

But instead of lashing out at you, he lowers his head to hide his face, and slowly walks towards you, before eventually jumping at you, and lunging to wrap his arms around your body, forcing the two of you onto the floor.

With his tight embrace around you, Luffy leans into your ear and you were able to hear his weak voice to you.

“I’m sorry..for not noticing sooner.. so please..” his voice cracks and you sensed he was crying with his frail, trembling voice.

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore..”

-

Nami

Nami wouldn’t even know how to react, she’s just stunned but once realization hits, genuine fear and panic flashes in her eyes and she’s yelling at you desperately.

The navigator was simply hoping to rest and relax in the aquarium lounge.

So when she walks through the door, she’s not expecting the sight of you trying to take your own life.

“W-What are you doing...?!”

Quick to react, Nami pulls out her Clima-Tact and fires a lightning bolt towards the suspended tied rope before you could even stick your head through the loop, successfully burning the rope.

“Nami! What are you doing here? Why’d you do that?!”

Hearing you made her scoff in disbelief, glaring at you through her quick teary eyes.

“You’re asking me why I did that?! Are you listening to yourself?!”

If you still didn’t listen and insisted on arguing, Nami doesn’t hesitate to slap some sense into you.

“HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE!?”

It would be silent as soon as she slapped you.

“I can’t believe you’d even think about this!”

Her voice is weak and she’s trembling, yet her cries and glares didn’t falter for a second.

Tears continue to stream down her face as she wipes them away, before she lunges herself at you.

“Are you trying to make us suffer by doing this?! Did you even care to think how we feel? How I’d feel?..”

Her lectures didn’t stop, even through her sobs.

“Don’t you.. EVER, think about doing this again! Okay?!.. just.. just come talk to me.. you idiot..”

-

Zoro

Zoro tends to yell because he doesn’t know how else to comfort or cope, and it’s just the stress he’s feeling from almost losing you.

The swordsman let out a heavy sigh as he climbs up to the crows nest after taking a quick break for a drink.

As soon as his head pops up through the little door to enter, he’s startled to find you, playing with one of his swords.

Specifically, the Wado Ichimonji.

Though, perhaps “playing” wasn’t the correct term. Either way, the sight of you angling it towards your neck to slice was something that instilled pure paralyzation and shock into him.

“What..-“ Zoro sprung into action, immediately jumping to push the sword away from you, shoving you away and onto the couch of the crows nest.

The impact forced into you from the shove made you grunt, knocking the air out of your lungs as you peer up at your assailant.

“Zoro? What are you doing?!”

“That’s my line, dumbass! What the hell was that just now?! Huh?! Were you really planning on taking your own damn life here?!”

“Shut it! You have no idea what I was planning!” You retort and Zoro scoffs. “I think I had a pretty good idea.”

“Tch. Even then, it’s not your problem!-”

“Of course it’s my fucking problem, [Name]!” That shut you up.

Zoro let out a deep breath and stared at you with his piercing eyes.

“Did you even think about how the people on this ship would feel? If they saw you doing something like this?.. what about Luffy? Did you give a damn about how our dear captain would react if his precious crew member, that he took the time to know and recruit to his crew, took their own life without an explanation?”

You didn’t say anything. You felt the tears brimming your eyes at him but you couldn’t say anything.

“Damn it, [Name]..” The swordsman looks down, shadow casted over his eyes and the clenched fists he had made his nails dig into his skin, veins forming.

Eventually, he slowly relaxes and walks to you, seeing your teary eyes and knelt down in front of you.

“Don’t fucking do this again, okay?.. please.. please don’t leave me alone like this...”

-

Sanji

Sanji would burst into tears the instant he realized it, all the regret and pain burying itself into him for not noticing your pain. He’ll beg you to stop. But he’ll definitely be yelling / comforting too.

The chef who wakes early to get started on breakfast for the day, whistles a quiet tune while brushing away the morning drowsiness.

And due to his exhaustion, when he opens the kitchen door, he doesn’t believe his eyes at first, but a quick second glance lets him know it’s real.

Seeing you, standing over the sink with a common kitchen knife ready to cut. Definitely not vegetables.

“[N-Name]-chan... what..”

The panicked expression you held while you snapped your head up towards him made his heart break.

“Sanji! You’re up early..” Sanji watches as you frantically move to hide the knife and rinse your hands, as if you were merely washing up.

“I just thought I’d help you out a little bit is all! Since you’re here, let’s get started, yeah?” You let out a awkward, nervous laugh and turn off the water.

Sanji felt tears brimming his eyes when he realized just what you were about to do. “[Name]-chan.. were you.. just..”

He’s in utter shock and disbelief, the pained look his eyes held made your heart sink to your stomach at the sight.

“How can you do this? What happened? What made you even think of doing this?”

Sanji didn’t hesitate to rush to you, grabbing you by your shoulders and tightening his grip. “Tell me, [Name]! How can you go so far as to attempt to do this?!”

Tears are cascading down his cheeks rapidly, before he pulls you into his chest in a tight embrace.

“Please don’t lose value in your life like this, [Name]-chan.. you deserve to live.. don’t take this for granted..”

Sanji can feel his shirt start to get wet but he didn’t care, rubbing your back and hiding his teary face. “Whatever it is you’re suffering from, i will help you through it. I promise.”

-

Usopp

Usopp would be frozen and panicking in the spot, before shouting at you with pleas and blabbers, before forcing you by tackling you to the ground.

Seeing you standing on the edge of the railing catches the sniper off guard. He was simply leaving his room to go to the bathroom when he sees you.

The moonlight is shining down on your form, and if Usopp wasn’t so concerned and didn’t have a sinking feeling at the sight of you, he might’ve thought you were a goddess.

“[Name]? What are you doing up? Get down before you fall!”

Upon being deeply lost in thought, you barely heard Usopp’s voice but managed to catch it.

You turn around to face the sniper and you offer a weak, teary smile which startles the poor guy. “..Usopp.. I should ask you that.”

Instead of responding, he widens his eyes and runs over. “Hey, were you crying?.. why? What’s wrong, [Name]? Should I go wake the others? Or chopper?” He was internally panicking.

“I’m fine.” You cut him off and turn back to the sea, shifting your weight as your smile fades and you stare at the water below you solemnly.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Usopp, surprised, nonetheless nods and leans against the railing beside you, still hoping you’d come down.

“Usopp... will you.. let me die?.. will you kill me?”

Silence.

Frozen.

His body froze. His mind blanked. His blood stopped circulating. Nothing could be heard but the ocean waves washing around the sea.

Immediately, Usopp did the first thing that came to mind and ran at you, wrapping his arms tightly around your legs to prevent you from what he assumed was jumping.

“STOP! I WON’T EVER DO THAT! DON’T SAY STUPID THINGS LIKE THIS! HOW CAN YOU SAY THIS AFTER EVERYTHING WE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER?! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, [NAME]!”

Loud sobs were quick to escape the sniper’s mouth as snot and tears cascades down his face, roughly pulling you and tackling you down to the ship’s deck so you weren’t on the railing anymore.

“Agh- Usopp—“

“PLEASE DON’T EVER THINK THIS WAY AGAIN! I...” Usopp stares down at you before shutting his eyes tightly, tears flowing nonstops, his grip around you unmoving, as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you..”

-

Chopper

Chopper would be screaming and sobbing endlessly, hugging your leg as his desperate pleas reach your ears.

Humming a sweet tune, with a carton of milk in his hoofs, the little doctor steps into his medical office and instantly, his once bright smile drops into a look of horror.

“[NAME]!”

Milk tossed aside, Chopper is quick to come bouncing by you slouched over, a half-empty flask of a green liquid in hand and your shallow breathing behind heard.

“Ch..Chopper.. hi..”

The little reindeer has pure fear lit in his eyes as he takes the flask from your hands and looks to see what’s in it.

“Why did you touch this?! This is a dangerous chemical, [Name]!” Chopper panics, fumbling through his book to find a quick antidote, ignoring your weak protests.

How could you go through his things and drink the deadly chemical?!

“Chopper, stop..”

The little doctor wasn’t listening, tears blocking his vision as he tried to read the words and began mixing some of his liquids together to begin working.

“This,.. and this.. no, this isn’t right-! Where’s Traffy when I need him!?” Chopper cries as he frantically mixes the liquid, eyes flashing towards you in worry.

You didn’t say anything, closing your eyes and felt sweat forming on your forehead and felt your temperature raising.

Weakly, you manage to wrap your arms around Chopper’s little body and hugged him like a stuffed animal.

“Thank you, Chopper... I appreciate it.. but.. I’m fine.”

“[Name]...”

Choked sobs slipped from his mouth as he grips the flask tightly, persistent in finding the cure for you.

The chemical you took wasn’t completely unknown but it was still foreign enough to Chopper that he didn’t know how long you had or how deadly it even was.

“I’m not giving up. I don’t want you to die! I don’t know or care what brought you to do something as drastic as this. But YOU’RE MY FRIEND! and I don’t want you to leave me alone!”

“So please... don’t die, [Name]..”

-

Franky

The silence Franky has is painful, he’s feeling mixed emotions at the thought of losing someone dear to him again. He’s angry, clearly but he doesn’t yell at you. Instead, he shares his thoughts.

The cyborg stare solemnly, his sharp eyes boring right into your slouched, teary, and sobbing figure.

The blade that was once in your hands was now discarded, unused and forgotten. Franky made sure of that last second.

He walks up to you, looming over you from behind as he pulls out a tissue with his mini hand and holds it out for you to take, still keeping silent since he came in.

You eased your sobs a bit and muttered a quiet gratitude before taking the tissue. You weren’t sure what Franky was thinking and honestly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

“..feeling better?”

A startled pause came from you as you froze for a second before relaxing and nodding. “..yeah.”

“Good.”

“Franky.. I-“

“I don’t need to know.”

Interrupting you, Franky continues to look at you before going around and sitting on the ground in front of your form so you would face him.

“I don’t know why you did this. I don’t need to know either, but if you want to tell me, I’ll listen. However, I won’t apologize for what I did just now, I won’t ever let you hurt yourself like that when I’m here.”

You stay quiet, letting Franky continue but his words are enough to make you start tearing up again.

“A life is not a choice. You should value it and keep living for the ones you love and for the ones that love you. Everyone on this ship is a loved one that cares about you and I’m sure you’re aware of that, but you must’ve forgotten. It’s okay to forget that though, because I’ll be here to remind you. Understand? No one on this ship wants you to do this ever. We love you more than you know.”

Wiping the shedding tears that continue to escape, you peer up at Franky and see him offering a genuine, assuring smile.

“So don’t do this again and live. You got an amazingly crafted and you are part of this SUPER~ pirate crew, the Straw Hats!”

-

Robin

Even if this has nothing to do with her whatsoever, Robin will never forget nor live down the guilt and regret of letting you even thinking about doing something like this.

Unable to sleep, the archaeologists was simply resting on her lawn chair on the upper deck, where her beautiful flowers laid.

Robin, resting her eyes as the sunset settles in the bay of the ocean, slowly disappearing. However, the quiet patter of footsteps creaking onto the upper deck made her open her eyes.

With one glance, Robin was able to see your figure quietly heading to a particular area of the garden, which was Usopp’s large plants, and also a view blocker.

Robin furrows her brows and quietly sat up, crossing her arms and shut her eyes, quickly forming a pair of eyes near you.

The sight of you hunched over, plucking at one of Usopp’s plants makes her eyes widen as she quickly sprouts arms.

“Cinco Fleur!”

Instantly, two pairs of arms formed and forcefully grabbed your wrists apart, a third pulling Usopp’s plant away from you and two more forcing you to back up.

“What the hell?!” You curse and struggled in the movement. “Robin?!”

“[Name]! What are you doing messing with Usopp’s poisonous plants?”

The historian shows herself to you as she continues to hold you in a bind, so you wouldn’t move. The pained and confused expression on her face almost makes you feel guilty, for you withheld.

“Poisonous? O-Oh, I had no idea. I thought they were vegetables!— Anyways why are you awake at this time??”

“I should be asking you that, picking vegetables at this hour?..” Robin mutters skeptically, tilting her head as her expression saddens.

“Don’t tell me you were...”

The turn of your head and avoidance of her gaze let her know your true intentions and she can almost hear her heart breaking.

“why?..”

You didn’t say anything and clenched your fists tightly, shutting your eyes and ignored the fact that she had released you.

“I’m sorry, Robin.. I can’t do this anymore..”

“To go this far? I didn’t think..” she continues to trail off, her eyes quickly becoming glassy and lost, painful memories of her own suicidal thoughts arising.

Robin sinks down to her knees and brings her hands to her face, tears brimming her eyes. “I don’t want you to do this, [Name].. you deserve so much and.. I want to keep seeing you on this ship.. I’m sorry.. I want you to keep living but I caused you to..”

Guilt became overbearing and you ran to her aside, engulfing her in a tight embrace, sniffling your own tears.

“Don’t, I’m sorry. For doing something so stupid with my life...”

Robin exhales gently and wipes her tears, looking up at you. “Say it.. please?”

You offer a small, genuine smile and nod.

“I want to live... I mean it.”

-

Brook

Brook feels great pain and sorrowful memories run through his mind, the thought of losing more precious people to him breaks his nonexistent heart.

The undead musician exits the bath, a towel wrapped around his hip bone to cover his lower regions and a towel tied around his hair at the top.

“Ah~ another refreshing wash from the bath.. I wonder how it’ll feel to bathe in a tub of milk.”

Brook’s walk was cut short as he notices you, attempting something quite dangerous that not even Luffy would try. Yet, something about it was familiar.

His eye sockets widen as he runs over. “[Name]-san!” Hearing the familiar voice, your startled self drops the object and it shatters instantly.

“Brook! You scared me!”

“Apologies... may I ask you what you were doing with that?..” Brook carefully asks, taking note of every action you made. He could feel how serious this seemed.

You bit your lip and turn away, kneeling down to pick up the pieces. “Nothing.. I just...”

‘Ah... I see.’

Distracted, you nearly jump when a few phalanges grab a hold of your wrist.

Brook’s tight grip forced your hold on the shattered pieces to release as he pulls it away and pulled you away from the mess.

“...” Even if you didn’t tell him, Brook already had a pretty good idea. He wasn’t stupid after all, his own crewmates often did similar things and it costed them their lives.

However, he could tell yours was intentional.

“Your life means more than you think.”

The skeleton spoke this as he begins to lead you to Chopper’s office, noticing you had cut your hand a bit.

“I don’t understand why anyone would take their own life deliberately like so.. no matter what the possible reason could be.. nothing is worth the attempt to take a life so precious, that you only have one of..”

Silence overtook you as you take in his words, feeling a swarm of emotions filling you inside.

“I won’t ask what’s going on but know that I and everyone else is always willing to listen...”

Outside Chopper’s office, Brook stops and turns to look down at you.

“[Name]-san. I’m sure you remember my backstory, right?”

You weakly nod, avoiding his gaze which he didn’t mind.

“Then you know that I am actually dead. However, I didn’t choose to die. Life chose for me.. and even with this devil fruit, I am given another chance at life, but at a cost.”

Tears were finally escaping you, silent sniffles being heard here and there as you continue to listen to him.

“Lives are not something to be taken lightly, and even if I am actually dead, I don’t regret this chance and am taking this opportunity to do better and I’m happier too. I’m with a new crew and family who I will protect and take care of, even if I die again to do so. You are one of them I will die for, if I have to.”

“[Name]-san.”

By then, you were a teary mess but that didn’t stop you from looking up at the tall musician as he offers his teethy smile.

“Remember. Your life means so much more than you think, hold more value for it. If you want to talk, I’m always here to listen and if you want a little song, I’m always happy to oblige.”

You muster up a weak smile through your tears as you nod and wrapped your arms around him tightly and gratefully.

“Thank you, Brook..”

His arms wrap around your smaller figure as he leans down more, smile softening as he chuckles.

“Yohohoho~! of course, any time.”

-

A/N : sorry this took so long, hun. Hope you still can see this when it posted it. I’m also sorry if it’s not great or what you expected.

I think the best one is Brook or Zoro.

[unohanadaydreams]

How would the captains react to catching their partner cheating on them? I’m feeling angst tonight

Finally some good fucking food. Angst; it’s what’s for dinner and I’m chowing down with you, anon.

Features: angst. Some violence and torture with Gin and Mayuri.

How The Original Captains React To Being Cheated On:

Genryusai Yamamoto:

There’s little to no reaction. You wouldn’t be the first and won’t be the last to use him for status or money or petty bragging rights. Just another day.

Quietly, behind closed doors, he does mourn. Not for the loss of you, but for the prospect of starting again. He caresses the pretty things he’s bought you, each touch a vote for or against bothering.

If you come to him, apologetic and willing to repent, he’ll look past the transgression. Less work for him to undertake, in the end, and the power of demanding this is that in the name of forgiveness suits him.

Shunsui Kyoraku:

He can’t help but laugh. All those years chasing girls and washing his hands of the consequences come to catch him now that he’s standing still with just one hand holding his.

Business goes on as usual, but he’s sloppier around the edges—spilling sake on paper work, falling asleep against Jushiro’s grave, and forsaking the frequent partying he’s known for in lieu of furiously scribbling down the perfect love story he didn’t get.

Honestly, he’s willing to forgive if it wasn’t done out of love for the other person and there’s a willingness to work on the relationship. Shunsui has played the unfaithful lover more times than he can remember; being black out drunk more often than sober will do that to you.

Soi Fon:

She can’t speak and doesn’t bother. Throat closed with anger, she lets her body tell you where your relationship lies—thrown off the bed and kicked outside.

There’s nothing but hatred for you and humiliation for herself. Not just personally, but professionally; a leader of the 2nd division being caught unawares is irony at the cost of her reputation.

People are always leaving her behind once she trusts them. After weeks, she’ll ask you why. Because that’s always the question burning in her chest. Why can’t she be a person someone stays for.

Gin Ichimaru:

Cute, how you think you can shuffle off and away from him after getting caught. He doesn’t flinch, talking with conversational tones. Hey, sweetie, who’s your little friend? Aww, they don’t talk or some thin’?

There’s two options; submit to grueling public humiliation or die. Gin loves to have fun, after all. And, isn’t it fun having to watch the person you cheated with get toyed with like a mouse under kitty claws? Aren’t you having fun kissing the corpse? Wasn’t your silly mistake worth it?

Gin has never forgiven, forgotten, or turned down an opportunity to make someone who cares about him regret feeling so. Your life is hell and the jailor can’t decide whether to keep your head under boiling water or kill you. Fun!

Retsu Unohana:

The impulse to leave as the only one alive is temptation incarnate. She is firm, restrained, and digs into her cheeks until her teeth pop through.

She keeps waiting to calm, for the situation to become objective instead of the turmoil in her gut. Retsu is especially brusque with everyone while working, making every stitch job a painful one. Why is there always something. Why can’t all the change finally stick; why is she still glad to feel the pain so she can inflict it back?

The betrayal was the end and there’s years of coping methods that keep you from spilling your guts on a sword, but it feels like a very near thing to her. Professionally, she’s less kind, and your next set of wounds healed by the 4th get infected. Poor thing.

Sosuke Aizen:

As far as you know, he’s stricken with heartbreak and disappointment. His voice is a touch too loud when telling you off—others hear. And disapprove greatly. He asks any bystanders for their discretion towards his privacy, adding a tear or two for effect.

Your relationship being over matters little; dime a dozen are the people who’ll fall over themselves to be his. The audacity of treating him, your better, with such unfairness? Affects him like an itch under skin.

Of course, he forgives you. He makes a show of it and the number of people out for your unhappiness grows. How could you cheat on such a gracious, loving man? You are punished with little action from himself, the many shinigami who view him with starry-eyes doing their work without needing explicit instruction.

Byakuya Kuchiki:

There’s little to say or do outside of making it clear he wants you gone in a permanent way. Reaction is the thief of dignity, so he saves any emotion for when he’s alone.

Self flagellation is his favorite dessert and he is convinced the bitter taste reflects his character somehow. In a way, it speaks to his lack of care and dignity as a clan leader; what fully aware man could let this happen?

For you, there aren’t any chances let alone forgiveness. You’ve stung his pride in multiple ways and only social norms keep you from dying in a duel over it. But as a shinigami—as a captain—he has avenues to vent his vindication until he feels the crime has been payed for. Too bad for you that pride is worth it’s weight in gold for a Kuchiki.

Sajin Komamura:

He runs away from the situation as soon as possible. Of course you cheated on him; how foolish to think anyone would not. At least he knows now and can get back to his normal.

Being alone isn’t all bad. There’s more time for his pets, his company, and his training. Comforting, familiar, he can pretend this is how it always was. Just him, alone.

His lack of self-esteem outweighs his want for justice. It was unfair to subject anyone to…himself, anyway. He can’t blame you for wanting someone untouched by the curse of the beast.

Kaname Tosen:

There’s more anger than even you expect. Injustice in anything, especially something so personal, enrages him. But he has the self control and sense to only send you packing.

Still, it’s all he can think about. Better to be consumed by this than the glacial pace his better world is taking. You’re one of the people holding that goal back, he’s sure. He insists on a talk that’s really just a long, painful lecture.

People like you, who disregard what’s right, don’t deserve forgiveness and the upset within him darkens. Maybe there is a way you can make things right. They’re so close to perfecting the Arrancar and he’d like to see how you’ve contributed once his eyes open, finally able to see.

Toshiro Hitsugaya:

There aren’t any dramatics or punishments or even words to give you other than ‘goodbye’. He sees the break and he cuts it cleanly. There’s no need for anything else.

Largely he copes by doing what he always does—working, training, meditating. There are a few sips of alcohol and punches to his pillow, but you’re no longer someone he cares about. The ice has holed over the spot you took just fine.

You don’t exist to him anymore. If you try to apologize, his eyes will pass over you and he’ll remind you once before ignoring you again: He’s a captain and he’s closed the conversation and now he’s getting back to work. Goodbye.

Kenpachi Zaraki:

So you’re fucking somebody. Is that a big deal or something? Should he be hurt? Because all he can muster is annoyance.

And then he thinks about it. He lets it sink in that somebody was touching you while you’re his. Kenpachi understands the want to play, but isn’t love when someone is the best in your heart and only them? Like, strength but more fucking confusing.

He’s still undecided if there’s anything to forgive. He tells you to give it another go with him in the mix and likes the feeling better than walking in uninvited. So maybe it was just play…and maybe he’s more rough with you two than intended. But he leaves more content than he came, so he figures everything’s fine. He can always kill somebody later, once he’s figured it out for good.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi:

You’re knocked unconscious and so is the person you were in bed with. That’s the last you see of them or the world beyond one lab room.

Congratulations, you are now confined to a pill that is swallowed by gigai after gigai designed in your likeness. Isn’t he generous, letting you take part in his research still? Don’t you feel honored to still feel any part of his touch as he takes you apart somehow more painfully than the time before?

Because it is just research. He didn’t care about you enough to still feel enraged about it. This is purely out of principle, a logical response to your base actions. Don’t worry, it’s just forever.

Jushiro Ukitake:

The discovery is emotional and he struggles keep his dignity, especially when a coughing fit starts soon after. He can’t even tell you off without sickness leaking into the moment.

The spiral begins. You’re awful one moment and justified the next. He’s the victim, then the one who should’ve known. There was no good reason and then he coughs again and there’s one.

He could forgive you if you’re genuine and forthright with a reason that isn’t the weight which holds him under blankets or pushes blood past his lips. As long as the illness isn’t what poisoned the relationship, he could forgive you.

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

And we were stars

A/n: I'm in the mood for angst >:)

Plot: Y/n gives his life up to save his team, and all he can think about is the memories of his families that warm his heart. God, he’ll miss them

Pairing: Avengers x Male reader

дорогой - sweetheart

Y/n: Your name

L/n: Last name

H/c: Hair color

E/c: Eye color

Warnings: Y/n dies, hella angst, seeing the reader’s memories, crying, cussing, overall depressing ngl

Word count: 1248

Life was such a fickle thing, and this was a realization that slapped Y/n in the face during this crucial moment of battle. They were losing, he could admit that, even if his team, his family couldn’t.

The H/c haired man had no idea how things had gotten this bad, at first everything was going fine, the new Supervillain of the week had popped up and had created murder robots.

No big deal, they’d fought fucking aliens before, for crying out loud. Wrong, these fuckers were intense, hard to kill, and they were merciless. Clint was already down with a broken leg, and everyone was fighting on empty fuel.

No chance had presented itself to take down the baddie, and Y/n wasn’t a man of morals, he’d kill the bastard if he needed to. Funnily enough that chance had presented itself, but as he took down Shit head something had ripped through his chest, stealing the air from his lungs.

Hot searing pain spread through his body like a fire, every neuron writhing in agony. His mouth opened in a silent scream as he fell to his knees, the world swaying around him. A ringing filled his ears as his eyes were drawn to the sky that was fading into purple hues.

He’d always wanted to die seeing the sky. God, that sounded morbid, even to himself. His eyes burned as a tear rolled down his cheek, he wasn’t scared. No, he just mourned the fact that he wouldn’t get to see his family anymore.

Even in a moment like this, a smile spread across Y/n’s lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he thought of a night that felt like forever ago.

Steve had claimed the team needed to bond more, well more than they did on deadly missions. He proclaimed that they needed movie nights and had set it up for Friday night at 7 after clearing that no one was busy.

The idea was so foreign to Y/n, he’d been orphaned at a young age and had moved from home to home until he turned 18. Then he joined the military and eventually SHIELD, never experiencing something as mundane as a family night.

The unique group of Heroes all made their way to the common room, situating themselves throughout the room.

Clint and Natasha were of course sitting side by side, using each other as support, Bruce and Thor were curled up, Bruce’s face pressed into the Gods side, Steve was strewn across the floor, looking oddly comfortable, and Tony was snuggled up with Y/n, his arm thrown over the other males’ shoulders.

The room was full of chatter and laughter, and never in his life had Y/n felt so complete. His chest swelled with happiness, a smile spreading across his face.

“What’s got you so happy kiddo?” Tony questioned, looking down to the youngest team member, only getting a blinding smile in return.

“It’s just nice to have a family.” He replied softly, earning a squeeze to his shoulder in return.

Y/n was ripped from the memory as a sob ripped its way out of his throat, the pain was unimaginable. His back arched weakly off the ground, as if he was trying to escape from his own body.

His hands reaching up in a feeble attempt to stop the blood pouring from his chest. He tried to lift his head up in vain, the slight movement felt like the sun itself was engulfing him.

“Kiddo talk to me, where are you?” Tony’s voice broke through the ringing in his ears, and soon voices flooded into his comm, causing him to let out another sob.

“I don’t wanna die alone.” Y/n said weakly, a steady stream of tears rolling down his cheeks.

“You’re not alone, you’re never alone.” Steve’s voice piped in, a shaky breath leaving the captains lips.

Y/n closed his eyes once again, using his memories to escape from the finality of death that lingered over him like a veil.

The next one was with Natasha; the infamous spy was teaching him some of her moves so he could better protect himself.

The spy was a brutal teacher, but he also respected her greatly for that. She’d put him on his ass countless times, but he kept getting back up.

When Y/n had finally taken her down with one of her own moves, the smile she gave him made his week. She clasped a hand on the junior Avenger, eyes warm.

“Good job, дорогой.” Y/n grinned boyishly at her, a flush spreading across his cheeks. He and Natasha were almost the same age, but she’d taken on such a motherly role in his life. In reality it was soothing, he could come to her for anything.

“Thanks Tasha.” He breathed out, leaning against her touch. “With your help and the team protecting me, I’m gonna be immortal.” He teased, nudging her.

Natasha let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes fondly. “Of course, дорогой, we’d never let you get hurt.” She replied, her voice holding a note of seriousness.

Once again Y/n opened his eyes, hearing the familiar thrusters of Tony’s suit. He let out a small croak, head barely moving to look at the man shrouded in red in gold.

The billionaire stumbled out of his suit, speaking hurriedly over the comm, all of the words blending together to the dying man.

Tony stood on wobbly knees, barely able to hold himself up at the sight of the youngest team member bleeding out on some decollate roof in upper Manhattan.

He fell to his knees beside the boy, giving him a weak smile.

“Hey kiddo, it’s okay. The teams on their way. We’re gonna patch you right up.” Tony didn’t even believe himself, words were just falling from his lips, as if desperately clinging to the boy’s attention.

Y/n let out a wet laugh, sounding far from pleasant. “It’s okay, I know I’m dying.” He said softly, his hand shakily reaching out for Tony’s own.

Tony grasped onto Y/n’s hand like a lifeline, his eyes burning with tears he refused to let fall.

“Try and hold on for us, won’t you, ya little brat.” The nickname held no malice as he squeezed Y/n’s frail hand.

Another weak laugh left Y/n’s mouth, his E/c eye’s turning to look up at the sky that held billions of stars.

“Yknow, when we die, I think we all turn into stars.” He said quietly, his chest rising slower and slower.

Tony bit harshly on his lip to keep the tears at bay, refusing to cry in front of a dying kid.

“I think you’ll be the brightest star of them all.” He forced out, watching as a small smile spread across his lips.

“I’ll see you guys in the sky…” Y/n breathed out with his last but of strength, his chest halting in its movements.

Tony let out a sob, his head bowing as he clutched the boy’s hand tighter. The pain of losing a teammate, a family member was unimaginable.

Unbeknownst to the grieving family, a twinkling star watched over them.