#what I can draw is rope apparently

[tails89]

You want me so bad it makes you look stupid

This is a date, Marisol realises with sudden, dawning clarity. Does Eddie know this is a date? “Well, it’s about time,” Eddie tells Buck and Tommy. “Working out how to hang out with you both was getting exhausting. Hey, why don’t we pull another table over?” Oh god, Eddie doesn’t know this is a date. - AKA, the one where Eddie (unknowingly) wants Buck so bad that it makes him act stupid in a restaurant.

Teaming back up with @an-optimist-prime again because we're hilarious.

It starts like this.

Christopher is at a sleepover. Eddie finally has a night off and for once, has no other plans to hang out with Buck or Tommy or anyone else for that matter, and it’s been so long since it was just the two of them.

Alone. They’ve been dating for four months now, and yet it feels like she barely knows him.

So, Marisol suggests dinner and Eddie suggests the restaurant.

“Buck recommended this place a while back,” Eddie explains when they’re in the car, and Marisol looks out her window and rolls her eyes because of course he did. “It’s just like pizza and pasta, but apparently the food’s pretty good and he’s been wanting to try it out.”

“Uh huh.” Nodding along, Marisol decides then and there not to set her expectations too high. Not that it matters, not really. She cares more about finally finding the time for a date night more than the restaurant itself. She’d be happy with burgers if it meant actually spending some quality time with her boyfriend.

So she’s pleasantly surprised when they step into the restaurant, the bells above the door jingling brightly to announce their arrival.

The lighting is soft and warm, the space mostly lit by ropes of fairy lights and flickering tea candles on the tables.

It’s pretty romantic.

The soft hum of conversation swirls around them as Marisol laces her fingers with Eddie’s and they follow one of the wait staff through the dining room and over to their table.

She stumbles, almost tripping as Eddie suddenly tugs her off to the side.

“Buck!’ He calls out, his voice so loud and excited it echoes above the general buzz, drawing the attention of the diners around them. “You two guys are here together?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, closing the gap between them.

“Marisol, you remember Buck, right?”

She almost laughs, like Eddie doesn’t mention his best friend at least once a day, but before she can mention this she catches Buck’s eye and the deer-in-the-headlights stare he’s giving them.

Huh.

“What are the chances?” Eddie grins. “I mean, Buck was just telling me about this place the other week, but I didn’t expect to actually run into you. And definitely not together.” He laughs, casually leaning against Buck’s chair, oblivious to the way his friend has gone rigid beside him. “So what, you guys are finally friends now?”

“We, uh—”

Marisol watches as Buck swallows, his eyes darting back to look at Tommy.

”Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Tommy’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh as he meets Buck’s gaze, and—

Oh.

Oh.

Cosy restaurant.

Soft mood lighting.

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

This is a date, Marisol realises with sudden, dawning clarity. Does Eddie know this is a date?

“Well, it’s about time,” Eddie tells them. “Working out how to hang out with you both was getting exhausting. Hey, why don’t we pull another table over?”

Oh god, Eddie doesn’t know this is a date.

“Eddie,” Marisol says, tugging on his arm. “Maybe we should go find our own table? Just the two of us.”

“What? You guys don’t mind us joining do you?” Eddie asks, and Marisol resists the urge to facepalm. It could not be more obvious that they’re interrupting something. Buck still hasn’t regained any colour in his face, that weird red birthmark by his eye standing out.

Like a stop sign.

Or a traffic light.

That Eddie just casually ploughs through. 3 dead and 47 injured.

Marisol meets Buck’s gaze, wondering if she can communicate ‘I’m so sorry’ in Morse code but all she remembers from middle school is SOS, which still feels appropriate in this situation.

There are now two tables pushed together, and any coded message is lost in the dance of shuffling seats so Buck and Tommy can sit on one side with Marisol and Eddie on the other.

Marisol genuinely does not understand how Eddie cannot see that this is a date. Both men are dressed up, sitting together at a rather fancy and romantic restaurant. She’s not just embarrassed for Buck and Tommy, but also just a little frustrated for herself. All she wants is just one night. Just one night, alone, with the man who is supposed to be her boyfriend. But, once again, that’s apparently not on the cards.

Silence sits heavy over the table as they all regard each other.

“So—” Marisol offers, to break the tension. “How did you two meet?”

“W-work.” Buck stammers.

Marisol nods for him to continue and nothing comes. After a beat, Tommy rescues them with, “we stole a helicopter together, and then flew it into a hurricane.”

”What’s this we?” Eddie cuts in, amused. “Technically you stole the helicopter. Buck and I were just along for the ride.”

Tommy shrugs, his gaze sliding over to Buck. “What can I say? I’m all about grand gestures. “ His hand slips beneath the table. “Especially when I’m trying to get someone’s attention.”

Buck goes red, spluttering into his beer.

“Jesus, Buck.” Chuckling, Eddie passes over a napkin. “What is it with you and choking at restaurants?”

“I’m not—“

”I swear, I can’t take you anywhere,” Eddie teases, handing over more napkins to mop up the mess. “You end up wearing more than you eat.”

”Fuck off,” Buck mutters, but he’s smiling now, staring down at the table.

“S0–“ Marisol cuts in over them. “Helicopters. That’s uh— that’s cute.”

“What’s cute about stealing a helicopter?” Eddie asks, genuinely confused by her comment.

“You know, it’s just— never mind,” she trails off to take a long sip of her table water.

At this point she’s just praying for the ground to open up beneath them. An earthquake or some other natural disaster to take her out of this situation. She just cannot understand how Eddie can be this oblivious.

“So, what other hang-outs have I not been invited to?” Eddie asks, his tone teasing as he leans forward in his seat.

”Just this one,” Tommy says, and there’s a record scratch in Marisol’s head.

Because this…

This is a first date.

They’re on a first date.

Is death by secondhand embarrassment a thing, because she’s pretty sure she’s dying right now.

And here’s the thing. She likes Eddie, she really does, but even she’s starting to re-think her long-term compatibility with someone who is either this clueless or this intentionally obtuse.

“But I’m hoping Evan will want to do this again sometime,” Tommy says, leaning back to sling an arm around Buck’s shoulders. “But next time, I suggest the restaurant.”

Marisol’s lost for a second, because who’s Evan, before realising that Eddie’s frozen beside her.

She turns, catching the exact moment that Eddie realises what’s happening, and what he’s done; that he’s crashed their date.

A series of emotions that she can’t quite parse wash over his face, his expression finally settling into shocked disbelief.

Finally he gets it, she thinks, exasperated. And it’s only taken 13 agonising minutes. At least they haven’t ordered yet.

Eddie’s mouth opens, then shuts, then he says, “You’re not gay.”

Real smooth Eddie, Marisol thinks, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands.

“I’m bisexual,” Buck says, his voice almost a whisper. “I think? Maybe? I’m not actually sure yet.”

“Right.” Eddie nods, like he’s not quite sure what to do with this information. “I, uh—“ he stands suddenly, knocking into the table in his haste. “We should go. I’m sorry for— we didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Tommy starts. “We still on for Muay Thai on Thursday?”

Eddie stares at him. “I uh— “ he starts, before bolting from the restaurant.

Marisol stands. “I’m so sorry,” she says, glancing back towards the doors as Eddie disappears through them. “I’ll talk to him. I, uh— I hope you have a nice night.”

Neither of them say anything until they’re in the car.

Eddie’s gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white, but he makes no move to start the engine.

Minutes pass in dead silence.

“Are you okay, Eddie?” Marisol shifts, turning in her seat to watch him. “You know, I completely understand,” she says when he still doesn’t respond. “It must have been a bit of a shock to see your two best friends dating each other.”

“I don’t get it,” Eddie murmurs. “Why didn’t he tell me? He’s my best friend. I thought— I tell him everything and he couldn’t— I don’t even know how long this has been going on for.”

Marisol nods, but says nothing. Clearly this is something Eddie needs to get off his chest.

”Like, has this been going on the whole time? I can’t— they hated each other, or— I thought they did. But he should have told me. Buck always tells me when he’s seeing someone.”

Eddie’s hands tighten on the wheel again, the leather creaking beneath his fingers.

”And why wouldn’t he tell me he’s into guys? He’s never said anything. Not that that’s a problem—”

”Of course not,” Marisol reassures him, reaching over to lay a hand on his arm.

“—because he’s my best friend, and I’ll love him no matter what—“

Huh?

“—but because we tell each other everything! We trust each other! I mean, I thought he trusted me. Did I do something? God, I was such an idiot in there. He probably thinks I’m homophobic—“

“Yeah, a little,” Marisol admits gently, giving his arm a pat.

He drops his hands from the steering wheel, his shoulders slumping. ”God, I’m the worst friend ever. To Buck and Tommy.” He straightens suddenly, turning to face her. “But also, like, Tommy?” He asks. “I mean, I like the guy, but Tommy? Sure, he’s better than Taylor, but literally anyone is better than her.”

“Uh,” Marisol doesn’t know how to respond to that. She honestly cannot figure out why Eddie is getting so worked up about all of this. “I mean, I thought Buck and Tommy seemed good together.”

Eddie’s head jerks up.

“You don’t know Buck like I do,” he insists. “Buck is— Buck could have anyone. He’s kind and he’s thoughtful and he’s so hot, and he’s always thinking of others, you know? He is literally the perfect package. And I hate that he never thinks that he’s worth anything. But he’s worth everything.”

Marisol is speechless.

Eddie continues. “Buck could do so much better. He deserves someone who sees him, you know? Who sees the way he loves with his whole self and loves him back. He’s so easy to love.”

Suddenly, everything clicks together for Marisol in perfect clarity.

Eddie is in love with Buck.

Marisol can’t even be mad with Eddie for leading her on, because he clearly doesn’t realise it himself.

She massages her temples against the headache she can feel forming. She wonders, not unkindly, if Eddie’s previous relationships didn’t crash and burn for this exact same reason. Nobody wants to be the third wheel in any relationship, and clearly, she’ll never compare to Buck.

“Also,” Eddie barrels on. “Who the fuck does Tommy think he is, calling him Evan? Does he even know how complicated that name is for him? Only I get to do that!”

”The audacity,” Marisol mutters under her breath.

She has enough self-esteem to know she doesn’t want to deal with this. She’s not exactly excited to kick him while he’s down, but also doesn’t see the point in dragging this out. It’s not fair to either of them.

”I’m going to be honest with you, Eddie,” she says, “I think we should break up.”

Her words stop him in his tracks and he blinks, lost. “Wait, what?”

Marisol turns, reaching for her seatbelt. “Can you please just drive me home?”

***

Tommy is fairly certain he’s just witnessed Eddie have a complete meltdown.

And look, they’ve all been there. They’ve all had that moment where they’ve gotten irrationally jealous over their best friend dating someone, and not been able to —or abjectly refusing to— pinpoint exactly why it’s so upsetting.

The whole situation should be hilarious. It would be hilarious, if Evan didn’t look like he was about to cry.

“Hey,” Tommy reassures him. “It’ll be fine. I think we just surprised him a little.” Or a lot. Probably a lot.

Evan stares up at him. “You think?” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I shouldn’t have suggested this place.”

“There’s no way you could have known he was going to show up,” Tommy points out, casually draping his arm back across Evan’s broad shoulders.

“I should have guessed, knowing my luck.” Evan groans dramatically. “This is the worst first date I think I’ve ever been on.”

“Really?” Tommy asks, incredulously. “Worse than the one where you nearly died?” He smirks at the indignant expression on Evan’s face.

”Where did you even hear about that?” Evan splutters. “And yeah, worse than that.”

”Should I be insulted by that?” Tommy asks, mouth twitching in a smothered laugh.

”It’s not funny,” Evan grumbles, crossing his arms.

“It’s a little funny.”

Evan cracks, his lips lifting in a grin and they’re both laughing, and god he’s beautiful, Tommy thinks.

“Maybe I should check on him,” Evan says, after a moment, his hand reaching for his phone. “Make sure we’re okay.”

”Or,” Tommy suggests, plucking Evan’s phone from his fingers and laying it on the table, “we could get the bill and get out of here. You could come back to my place.”

Evan frowns, but doesn’t move to take his phone back.

”You’re his best friend,” Tommy reassures him. “You guys will figure this out.” And maybe they’ll eventually figure out their feelings for each other too.

Tommy’s not blind. He knows this thing between him and Evan isn’t going to go anywhere in the long run, but he’s hot and sweet and Tommy is just happy to see where this goes.

“Come on, come back to my place.”

Evan smiles. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

[thedevillovesflowers]

Angels +Plot 🪽🪽🪽

Call of Duty AU

In this AU, there are many beasts but angels are the ultimate prize to capture or hunt.

Angels are not the heavenly beings you read about in bibles but rather they are a type of humanoid with the capability of flight, long lifespans, and the believed healing powers.

Angels are extremely rare creatures to spot. They are known to live solitary lives, however it has been documented they might live with exception of small families/groups.

Angels are omnivores. And can see in the dark. Most prefer to fly at night so they won’t be seen by humans.

Angels can come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Their wingspans vary depending on their height. There are also subspecies of angels.

Angels wing colours/patterns vary on the regions they reside in (think of owls and other birds of prey). For vanity, some angels will paint the tips of their wings to attract a mate.

Feathers are apparent on various parts of their bodies, legs, arms, chest, face etc. Braiding, preening, beads in the hair are comfort acts angels do, and to also show affection for one another.

Facial feathers are small, usually appearing on the forehead, cheeks, nose and chin.

Angels are either described as beautiful creatures, or terrifying ones, depending on who you ask.

Kingdoms would hire mercenaries to hunt down rare beasts to hang up for display, profit, or for pets.

But no one has ever captured an angel. Not yet. But then, a powerful king (Shepard) put together a campaign to capture one, he hired the 141 along with his own general, Graves (and his shadow company) to do the task. What the 141 doesn’t know, is that the king is dying of old age, he believes that capturing and killing an angel and using their blood will grant him long life and youth.

141 has slain/captured many beasts in their careers, so getting an angel was a challenge they were willing to take. I know this seems cruel of them, but in this AU they start off as thinking their helping people out by getting rid of beasts, but they’ll soon learn that what they’re doing is actually harmful.

The reader is an angel, living with their family in the mountains and caves.

One night, the reader set out to retrieve food, until she was shot down by a net the 141 cast, severely damaging her wing. And her family had to flee, leaving the reader behind sadly.

While graves and his men hung back, price, Gaz, soap and ghost went ahead to investigate.

Ghost went first, sword drawn, slowly rounding to the forest’s opening to where you laid. Rope held tightly over your body, one of your wings was cut and broken. You were unconscious, facing away from him. There was feathers strewn about everywhere, and as ghost came closer and walked around to see you clearly, he suddenly halted dead in his tracks, a terrible feeling pinched in his stomach….

You were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

(This is just an idea for now, I might draw this.)

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Slight angst. Probably more swearing, this is Izzy here. Longer chapter than the last.

Chapter Three - Can you see me now?

♡♡♡

Izzy had entered his captain's quarters in a slight daze. He was focused on his mission, sure, but the sound of your voice was taking over his mind. It almost felt real.

The way you said his name made his heart skip. Not that he would ever say that out loud. God forbid anyone thought Izzy Hands had gone soft.

He almost believed you had been on that bar.

"Izzy?"

He snaps out of his thoughts at the sound of Blackbeard's voice.

"He's not interested in meeting. I explicitly told him... Blackbeard desired his company."

"But does he know who I am?"

"Seemed to, yeah."

"And still he said no?"

"You can "go suck eggs in hell" was his response, I believe."

"Fascinating."

Once Izzy was dismissed, he walked up onto the deck and looked out to sea. Back on open water where he liked to be. He finds himself pressing his palm against his chest, where the ring sits under his clothes. It feels heavier than normal for some reason.

♡♡♡

Turns out it was the Spanish waiting. Not a private vessel like Stede had thought. You had cursed under your breath as the dingy approached the ship.

It was a set up.

Along with the crew and the Englishman, you were pulled into a line where Stede could see you all being held at sword point.

This was becoming the last straw for you.

"I think there's been a mistake," Stede mutters. He is then promptly stabbed as his crew gasp in shock. Blood soaks his clothes as the sword is pulled out of him. "Did you mean to do that?"

You stand by quietly and watch as Jim is revealed to be a woman in disguise. Apparently Spanish Jackie knew them and wanted their head... or at least nose.

As night draws in the Spanish prepare to hang Stede Bonnet. You look up at him as he stands on the barrel, noose around his neck. You stand there with the notion that you'll never see Blackbeard and Izzy again. This time you'll really be a ghost story to them.

A pain settles in your chest at the thought.

"I'm sorry, guys." Stede says to his crew. "Any last words?"

"Yeah," Jim speaks up. "You are the worst fucking pirate captain in history."

"I deserve that."

The Spanish captain mocks Stede for his last words. As he begins to laugh, he is swiftly swiped off the ship. All hell breaks loose.

Cannon fire. Smoke. Pirates boarding the ship. Yelling. Swords clashing. Several things happen all at once.

In Stede's panic, he knocks the barrel over, hanging from the rope around his neck.

You begin to laugh, tears welling up in your eyes. You know these guys! This crew!

You're cut free from the rope binding your hands and you watch the Spanish die one by one on front of you.

Whether it was fate or luck, you thank your lucky stars. 6 years away from the ship you called home, only to reunite with them on this very night. Your eyes dart from one person to another, looking for the man you missed the most.

As the fog rolls in thicker, Stede is cut down from his hanging, falling limp on the ground. He's looking worse for wear.

You turn at the sound of heavy footsteps. You smile at the sight of your captain.

Blackbeard stands over Stede.

"The Gentlemen Pirate, I presume."

"You've heard of me?"

"Oh yeah, I've heard of you. I've heard all about you."

♡♡♡

"Blackbeard."

He looks up from Stede and sees you standing there in front of his eyes. "No way," he mutters under his breath.

"It's me."

He looks you up and down, taking you in. He has thought Izzy had been a little odd these past few weeks. Now he was connecting the dots.

"No fucking way!"

You smile at him. Blackbeard orders his men to carry Bonnet back onto his ship as he walks toward you and pulls you in close. You finds yourself a little taken off guard, not knowing Blackbeard to be particularly a hugger.

"This is fucking unreal. You're alive?"

"Yeah. Have been all this fucking time!"

He sounds super excited as he holds your by the shoulders and looks you over again.

"Izzy is never going to fucking believe this."

You fall quiet as you look up at your captain.

"How is he?"

"He's, well, ya know, Izzy."

"Captain..."

"I'm sure he will be happy to see you again. We thought you were dead..."

"Almost was," you whisper.

♡♡♡

You climb aboard the Revenge. You had hoped to never set foot on this ship again, hoping you could simply go back to the one you used to call home, but it turns out Blackbeard has a genuine interest in this Gentlemen Pirate.

You go along with him for the sake of returning to your old crew.

"So, I'm allowed back, just like that?"

"You always had a place on my crew. "Dying" isn't going to change that. Just, I need ya to talk to Izzy first. I think that's important. I'm gonna go check in with the Bonnet guy."

"Right..."

Blackbeard leaves your side to go below deck. As you turn around, you see him. Izzy Hands. Just as you remember, though perhaps a few more grey hairs on his head.

He is frozen in place. Eyes set on you, the corner of his lips pulled down, his brows are knitted together. One of his hands rests on his sword at his hip, the other is balled up into a tight fist beside him.

"Izzy," you say his name softly.

You can see his jaw clench, perhaps even his eyes watering. You realise in that moment he doesn't believe what he's seeing. You take a step forward and he takes a step back.

"Izzy..."

"You're not real," he says plainly, trying so hard.

"I am real, Izzy. It's me."

"No. It can't... it can't be you," he nearly loses his composure. "You died. That ship burnt down to nothing and you died."

You take another step closer.

"I jumped off the ship, but got swept up in the ocean. The weather turned bad, do you remember?" He doesn't respond. "I couldn't get back to the ship, and before I knew it you were all gone. You have every right to believe I was dead and that I'm just a figment of your imagination, but I'm here..."

Izzy stares at you for a few moments longer because inhaling sharply and walking off.

You stand there and feel all the shuddering breath escape you. Yeah, he had every right to walk away.

♡♡♡

After sitting with Stede for a while as he recovers, Blackbeard stands up on deck looking out at the horizon. Izzy joins him, his mind busy with thoughts. He has to be going crazy.

"Been lookin' for you everywhere. We need to move quickly before the Spanish realise we massacred all their men."

"Oh, the Spanish. They die quite dramatically, don't they, the Spaniards? Lots of blubbering for their God."

"Yeah, agreed. Now, we really should discuss..."

"Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, Izzy! Did you see them yet?" Blackbeard looks over his shoulder at his first mate. "Our spirit isn't a ghost after all!"

"So I wasn't going mad?" Izzy whispers to himself.

"What's that?"

"Nothin'." Izzy looks out across the sea. His chest feels heavy. So you are real. You really were back from the dead. Where the fuck had you been all this time? Why hadn't you reached out in some way?

"Aren't you glad?" Blackbeard asked.

"Fucking ecstatic."

"Cheer up, Izzy. We're a team again!"

Izzy says nothing as he stares out at the sea. He doesn't know what to feel right now. For the last 6 years he believed you to be dead. You haunted his dreams, his thoughts during the day. He saw you in places he shouldn't. Izzy genuinely thought he was losing his mind at this point.

"Look out there. Those clouds." Blackbeard points out at the sky, trying to change the subject. He could tell the conversation was starting to bother his first mate. "Do they look like frankfurters to you?"

"They look like clouds," Izzy sighs.

"Yes, yes, they look like clouds because they are indeed clouds, but if you just put some fucking imagination into it, man!"

Izzy looks back out at the clouds, completely done with this moment, but humouring his boss nonetheless. "I suppose they do look like sausages."

"Frankfurters, yes! Exactly. It's like pulling teeth with you sometimes, man."

The two of them turn to face the crew of the ship. Most of the crew are milling about, but you're standing against the railing with your arms crossed and bead bowed down. Izzy's gaze is on you for a moment before glancing at the crew.

"What've we got?" Blackbeard asks.

"Well, the ship sustained some damage in the crossfire, and the crew's completely useless, bottom of the barrel."

"Mm, and what about them?" Blackbeard nods over to where you stand.

Izzy bites the inside of his cheek. "Prisoner of Bonnet or something... has been trapped on his ship for weeks according to the others."

"What's the plan?"

"The uszh - make 'em repair the ship, execute 'em." Izzy says this as he avoids looking at you. He is still trying grasp onto the fact you're not dead.

"Right, the uszh."

♡♡♡

Pete looks up from what he is doing to see Blackbeard and Izzy talking quietly to one another. "I bet he's saying something genius. He's history's most brilliant tactician. I wonder if he'll recognise me."

You look up at him. "Recognise you?"

"Yeah. I was on his crew once."

You narrow your eyes at him. "I don't remember you."

"Why would you remember me? Unless you were someone we crossed, but we very rarely left anyone alive."

You push yourself away from the railing and stand in front of him. "You weren't on his crew."

"Oh yeah? How would you know?" He stands up to you.

"Because I was on his crew. Until about 6 years ago I sailed under Blackbeard. I don't ever remember you."

Pete backs down. "You sailed with... him?"

"Yeah. You see those two over there?" You nod toward Blackbeard and Izzy. Pete nods. "They were my friends. My colleagues. My family, if you like. I killed for Blackbeard. Stole for him. Tortured for him."

Pete swallows nervously. Lucius steps between you both. "I thought he would be taller."

You sigh and step back.

Fang and Ivan come over and slap Pete across the head. "Back to work!"

Blackbeard turns back around to see what was happening. "Boys, boys, boys, hey. Let's not brutalise our guests like that."

Blackbeard swings down the steps, even though it was only 4 steps to walk down. The crew applaud him for that anyway.

"Hello everyone. I'm Blackbeard." He greets them.

Izzy comes down the steps you notice him avoiding your gaze. You know you've hurt him by suddenly reappearing in his life.

Blackbeard makes the rounds of the crew. They're fans of him. He seems pretty stoked by the reactions he's getting from them. He turns to find Buttons standing beside you with a seagull on his head.

It dawns on you how little you knew of this crew due to being locked in the brig for weeks. You realise how weird this all is.

"Sorry, sir, Blackbeard, sir, I was just wonderin' if we're going to be able to live or die..." Franchie says.

"Right, come on!" Izzy cuts him off. "Blackbeard has business to attend to! Fang!"

Fang hisses and orders them all to go back to work. You remain standing as Blackbeard and Izzy pass by you. Blackbeard smiled at you, but Izzy pretends not to see you as he steps last you.

You sigh and walk in the other direction.

♡♡♡

"This place is amazing. Izzy, look, look at this shit." Blackbeard gets all excited as he opens a cabinet to find a model of the ship they're on. He's never seen anything like this before.

Izzy sighs as he watches his boss. He was annoyed by the fact that Blackbeard wasn't taking things seriously right now, and it didn't help to know you were basically haunting him even though you were no longer a ghost. He supposed in a sense you still were, to him anyway, a ghost.

Blackbeard holds up the model of the ship. "It's a teeny-tiny version of this ship."

"It appears so, yeah." Izzy takes it from Blackbeard when he hands it over. "So, Edward..."

"He's got all sorts of knick knacks and trinkets."

"Edward?"

"This guy's fucking fascinating!"

"Edward, focus. We need a plan."

"I AM focusing. I'm focusing on all of this brilliant stuff."

"Edward, we really need a plan." Izzy insists.

"Crazy little trinkets."

"Come on, a plan."

"Yes! We always need a fuckin' plan, all right?! And then what? Then we fuckin' execute the plan, then we get another plan, then what do we do? We execute that, and so on and so on, and again, and again, and again, and again! It's all so fucking boring!" Edward shouts.

"Why aren't you focusing on them? Huh? Our friend who came back from the dead and crossed our paths again! Who we thought was dead, but really they were out there all this time probably doing some way more fucking interesting than the same thing over and over again!"

Izzy bites his tongue at that.

"I'm bored outta my skull man. Is this all there is?" Ed asks Izzy, turning to face him. "I shouldn't be bored. I'm fucking Blackbeard."

Izzy stares at his captain.

"Well, as board as you might be, if you don't make a decision soon, we're going to fuckin' die."

Blackbeard looks at his first mate.

"You're doing it again."

"Doin' what?"

"Avoiding talking about them. All you wanna do is talk about what I plan to do. You won't even say their name."

"Edward-"

"Do you hate them, Izzy?"

"Ed-"

"No, Izzy. Do you hate them? Do you despise them for dying?"

"They're not dead though, are they? Never were. They just made us believe they were."

Edward stares at Izzy.

"Huh..."

"What?"

"Now, there's an idea. I haven't done that yet." Edward says curiously. "I haven't died yet, have I? Maybe we should try that." He says, standing right in front of Izzy with a look of excitement in his eyes. He then walks past his first mate to go back outside.

Izzy stands there with the ship model in his hands. "Yeah, cos that make sense."

He puts the model back in the cabinet.

♡♡♡

You sit on the deck with your head leaning back against the railing. The crew are still fixing the ship, but you're lost in your thoughts about Izzy.

Israel Hands was always a hard man. From the moment you net him, he was tough, direct, took shit from no one. He took pride in being Blackbeard's first mate. Being first mate was no joke, it was a huge responsibility to the ship and to the captain. Izzy Hands was perfect for Edward's right hand man.

He was always the same, but it took months of sticking to his side to make him soften up, if only a little bit. Izzy would find himself drawing closer to you. He would always come to stand beside you. Always found himself sharing thoughts and ideas with you. Sometimes he just liked to sit in silence with you.

You became a safe space for him.

Izzy Hands is human, despite what some might think of him. You know deep down he has thoughts and feelings too, he just does a good job of keeping them hidden. You've seen the way he looks at Blackbeard, like he's the most important man in the world. Izzy would do anything Blackbeard asked him. Even bend the fucking knee if he had to.

You liked Izzy. As much of a bastard as he was. There was a connection there, it might be hard to see, but you knew it was there. It was the things Izzy did that proved it's existence.

Now he hated you.

You should have made more of an effort to contact hi somehow, but even then you don't know how you would have managed that.

"Shit..." You sigh.

In the corner of your eye you see Izzy comes outside. You keeps your eyes away from him. If he was going to ignore you, you would ignore him too.

Izzy joins Buttons where they see ships approaching on the Horizon.

"These wee black dots look a bit Spanish to me. What do you think?" Buttons says.

Izzy looks through his telescope. "Fuck!" He hurries down the steps muttering to himself as he goes to find Edward.

You watch him go, immediately breaking your ignoring him attempt.

♡♡♡

Izzy can't find Ed. He's not on deck by looks of it, and he wasn't in the captain's quarters when he went in to check. Izzy is losing his patience right now. He sighs and heads back outside to make sure the crew are still working, and to see if Edward has appeared in the time he was gone.

Instead Izzy just finds himself staring at you. You've been sitting in the same position for the last hour. He would yell at you for being lazy, but that would mean talking to you, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

However, as your eyes rise from the wooden deck to meet his, Izzy finds himself frozen once again. Those are the same eyes he used to look into back then. You're right there in front of him.

In his state of being thrown back to the past, he had failed to notice the crew of this lousy ship had gone from deck. He blinks and realises how quiet it is. He takes note of you looking at him. You open your mouth to say something, but he walks away immediately.

He won't talk to you.

♡♡♡

The crew are below deck eating and arguing over Jim. They seem to believe Jim is a mermaid, but they stands up and yell at the crew, stating they are not, in fact, a mermaid. Neither are they bad luck.

Izzy is not impressed.

"You don't get food when you're being invaded." He states to them, unhappy with how things are going. "You live at my pleasure! Back to work! Useless fuckin' fuckers!"

He storms off again.

When he returns to deck be finds you fixing the ship. You've picked up where they have left off. You haven't noticed him standing there silently watching you as you work away.

Izzy hates the way he feels right now, seeing you there in front of him. You're behaving like you haven't been gone for 6 fucking years of his life.

"You don't have to do that," he says, trying to remain neutral.

You don't look up from what you're doing, continuing to hammer the nail.

"As I gather, you were their prisoner. They ain't your crew."

You shrug. "Ed said I always had a place on his crew, but right now I don't feel like I belong on either. This weirdos, well, I don't know much about them. I know they're not very good pirates, that's for sure. As far Blackbeard... it's been 6 years. A lot has changed. I've probably changed."

Izzy watches you. You refuse to look at him.

"You haven't changed... much."

You stop hammering the nail, but you keep your eyes focused on the deck as you tilt your head in his direction slightly.

"Thought you were dead."

"Yeah..." You say softly. "Figured as much. Heard the stories. Ya know, pirates believe I'm some ghost who died on that ship that day, seeking revenge on anyone who gets close to the wreck. I apparently haunt the water waiting for the day Blackbeard returns so I can rest in peace. I mean, who the fuck made that story up?"

Izzy doesn't laugh, but he is mildly amused by the tale. "Some arsehole, probably."

You chuckle. "Probably."

At last you bring your eyes to meet his as you stand. You look at him with a sigh. "I'm sorry you thought I was dead. But I had no way to contact you or let you know I got off that ship that day."

Izzy says nothing.

"I thought about you every day," you confess. "You and the guys. I wondered if you ever looked for me."

"Uh..." Izzy drops his gaze.

"I get it... you thought I was dead. No point in looking for a dead person at sea."

Izzy looks back up at you. "Did you ever once look for us?" He asks.

"Every fucking day. For the record, Blackbeard isn't easy to find."

Izzy almost smiles, but the sound of the door opening behind him has him frowning again and turning around. The crew of the Revenge are coming back to finish their work.

Izzy doesn't look at you again as he watches them, making sure they don't slack off again. You decide to finish the job you started.

Izzy only glances your way when he knows you've stopped looking.

♡♡♡

You knew what you were seeing, but you weren't sure what to make of it. Right in front of everyone was Blackbeard in a white frilly shirt, sleeves covering his hands. He was waving his arms about in some strange dancing motion. His expression was very serious though.

You thought perhaps you had hit your head and were imagining things, but when Stede Bonnet comes out wearing Blackbeard's iconic leather outfit, you decided you must have been drugged instead.

Izzy has to walk off and you don't blame him. The man has put up with a lot from Blackbeard over the years, and this had to be taking the cake.

While the crew play along with this strange charade, minus you who wanted nothing to do with any of this weird cosplaying thing, Izzy pulled Ed to the side to have a word with him.

You see them standing in the door. Izzy is obviously irritated with Ed. When you see Izzy giving Ed two middle fingers, you know that he has reached his tether.

Izzy marches out and grabs Stede by the collar. He drags Stede down below deck. No longer able to stand by, you follow him.

"How quickly can we move this vessel?" Izzy asks Stede.

"I'm not sure. That's really the crew's thing."

"How are you stocked for munitions?" Izzy asks him, grabbing him by the jacket again.

As you and Ed enter, Stede looks up. "Ed! Do you know this guy? He's a complete asshole!"

"Ivan! Fang! Prepare the guns. Execute anyone who won't fight." Izzy orders.

"Well, Blackbeard... what do you think?" Ed asks Stede, getting closer. You dare to move closer to where Izzy stands.

"Do you concur?"

"Me?" Stede asks him.

Realisation sinks in for you.

"You wanted to be Blackbeard. This is what it's like." Ed tells him.

"We could just talk to them."

"OK, yes, and do you speak Spanish?" Ed asks.

"No."

You sigh softly. Stede was about to learn what it meant to be an actual pirate.

Lucius comes in counting down from 20. You looked at him in slight confusion, but the look he gives Ed means this is something they understand. It dawns you he was counting down the time before the Spanish grew closer.

"Time is almost up. What are you going to do?"

"What?" Stede panics.

"They're on us now. Time for a new idea, Stede. The crew's going to die."

"I don't have an idea!"

"Hurry, you're going to lose all your men. It's all going to be your fault. All of the men who trusted you..."

"I don't know!"

"Their blood's going to be on your hands. It's going to be your fault!"

"I don't know!" Stede says again.

All you can do is stand there and hope someone has a fucking plan. You did not plan on actually dying today. You glance at Izzy, but he's just watching this back and forth interaction between the two men.

You'd never get to apologise properly to him.

"Time's up!" Lucius screams.

"I don't know what to do!" Stede yells.

"Death it is," Blackbeard says. "But wait..."

"You're a genius, Blackbeard!" Pete comes in grinning.

You let out the breath you were holding. You should have known there was a plan all along. You feel your muscles relax. You don't see the way Izzy looks over at you discreetly from where he stands.

Upon returning to deck you see the ship is surrounded by heavy fog. You could hardly see a thing outside the deck.

"I don't believe it," Izzy says.

"No one will see us in this," Fang speaks up.

"This is why you do not doubt Captain Blackbeard!" Ivan calls out.

"You knew this would happen?" Stede asks. "How?"

Ed takes a seat. "Quite simple, really. The colour of this morning's sky coupled with the brisk westerly wind made me think we'd be safe. And then the shape of the clouds confirmed it."

"Frankfurters," Izzy mutters. "Fuck me."

"Izzy, I figured the fog would set in once the sea cooled around dusk."

"'Cept we're right in their path. They'll run snack into us," Buttons says.

"Correct! On any other day, for it's September 2nd and tonight's a full moon. So life anchor, and let the ocean current drift us into the warm embrace of safety."

You can't deny that was clever thinking, but the way Izzy glances you makes you realise something is wrong. You ask him with a silent tilt of your head what the matter is, bit he just looks back up at Edward.

"Ed, Ed, it's September 1st, boss."

"What's that, mate?"

"It's September 1st."

"Dickfuck, no, it's not."

"He's right. It's the first," Lucius conform. "The full moon's tomorrow."

"It's a leap year." Ed sighs.

"Does that change things much?" Stede asks.

"Yeah. We're goners. Those of you who can swim would be wise to do it now."

The crew start asking questions, worried.

"Where are you going?" Stede asks.

"The Captain goes down with the ship. I'm going to get pissed."

Stede goes to follow Edward.

All you can do is look at Izzy. He's not looking at you, once again. You want to say something to him, but he walks away before you can utter a word. You sigh.

Fang comes over to you. "He missed you, ya know."

You look up at him. "Izzy?"

"Yeah. He probably won't appreciate me tellin' ya this, but I'm sure I'd heard him crying in his cabin most nights after the incident..."

You turn to look at where Izzy stands, staring out into the foggy sea.

"I can never make it up to him for making him believe I was dead..."

Fang places a hand on your shoudler. "Sure, you can."

Fang leaves you alone with your thoughts. You keep your eyes on Izzy and take a shake breath. That bastard will never understand how much you missed him.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 -

[heartfullofleeches]

A healer takes care of their stalker in a completely sane and normal way.

Yandere Stalker + Healer Reader Drabble

Summary: As the title says.

Warning: Violence and Injury, spit mentions, and themes of masochism.

-

They meet you at the batting cage - kust like your note said.

How their twisted heart flew seeing that little piece of paper tucked under your pillow. They always made an effort to act with caution, but it soon became apparent that you were fully aware of all activities taking place within your own home.

How could you not with all the love that they give? Words of endearment left on your bathroom wall. Fresh meals in your fridge. The best way into someone's heart is their stomach, and a greater way to know them better than anyone else is watching their every move. Considering you scheduled this encounter, you must be as enamored with them as they are obsessed with you.

That tiny heart at the end of your letter told them so.

You're alone in the field with they arrive. Muscles glimmering with sweat, eyes focus as you unleash heavy swing after swing into the unrelenting night. Your stalker came an hour early to arrange a surpise, but it seems you beat them to it. It didn't bring their spirits down by much. The rope could be used another time. You must still be in the middle of practice. They've never seen you on a team, but with your recent outings to this location you had to be searching. Your form has gotten well. Not to mention how intimating, yet graceful you look deep in focus. Everyone would look your way. Since you'll be married so, they wonder if they can get you to avoid seekingq depth this new found hobby.

Your arms fall to your sides as the door to the cage opens, hand relaxed around the metal handle. They make sure to shut the gate behind them.

"My love..."

"So... you're the person who's been stalking me?"

Your stalker tugs on the strings of their hoodie. Stalking is such a harsh word to use. How can one stalk the love of their life?

"I...Don't make such a harsh accusation, darling."

Your skin crawls. "Only reason you would be here now. Watching me sleep, harassing my neighbors...friends."

The devotion they've withheld bubbles over as they step towards you. "Everything I've ever done I do for you and our future, Dearest. I'm sorry for the way I've treated those we know, but they get too comfortable around you for my liking."

You let them talk, get closer - adding justification to what you are about to do. Your hand tightens around the bat's leather strap.

"Sweet angel, you're too perfect for your own good. I've tried before to stay away from you, but I struggle to breath if I am not by your side."

They draw closer. You can smell their clothes and the scent they wear. The same fragrance that has haunted your home and bed for months. Your other hand wraps around the bat, feet and shoulders squared.

"So yes, I have watch you, but I have never nor would ever caused you harm. I need you more than life itself. From your letter, you feel the same, no? Let's become one-"

They've crossed the line. Literally. Their fingers brush your elbow as their arms rise, feet planting on the mark you drew in the sand before they arrived. It's too late for them to realize yours were already clocked back and swinging forward as they dive for an embrace that would never could. There's the sharp whistle of metal flying through the air, followed by a hollow, wet thud - then silence.

"I had to buy a lock for my trashcan because of you."

Everything is dark. They can barely hear; muffled rants of your angelic voice grounding them in a gradually fading reality. The bat connected directly with their left temple, rattling their bludgeoned brain in their skull and leaving them concussed on the dirt floor. Their heart beats in tune with each gush of blood out of side of their head, hairline dyed a deep maroon.

"D-dar...."

Bleeding out, they still call to you. Still desperate for you - the person who's made an attempt on their life. Like most they feared the end, but if this was how it came they could see no exectioner they'd prefer. The memory of their battered body and crimson blood would forever been engraved in your memory. There was no honor creator than that. Scowling, you kick their hand off your shoe and drag themself onto their knees by their hair.

"I'm not going to kill you. Stay still."

Collecting a mass of fluid on your tongue, you spit in their face. The shot narrowly missing their eye and gets into the wound. They twitch, tongue drooping from their mouth from pain and the need to collect the excess drool mixed into the trickle of red down their cheek. A wave of relief overcomes them as your saliva mixes into their blood stream. The gash in their head closes in on itself and the brain numbing headache throbs to extinction. Its effect lingers and they stare up at you in puzzled awe.

What just happened?

"Don't say a word. You don't get to speak, or ask any questions. If you come near me again, I'll bash your brains in until there's nothing for me to fix."

You roughly drop them on the ground, gather your things, and leave. Your stalker stares up at the sky; love born anew and stronger than before. You let them live. You really are an angel. How ever would they leave you alone now?

[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas Part 4/8

Hello! How are you guys enjoying so far?

In this Steve realizes his feelings, Dustin and Robin decide Steve needs to live forever, and Steve gets roped into something he swore he'd never do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

***

August was fucking miserable. Like the worst month of the year. After February. And January. And September...

That’s besides the point. The point was that AC had kicked the bucket in the middle of the biggest heatwave.

He was going to cry. The wizard piece turned out really well. Steve had loved all the little details that he had put in it.

But the rogue was giving him trouble. It was horrific. Because rogues were silent and mysterious, but the way Steve talked about Will, he was quiet kid, a bitchy teen, and a wild adult. Trying to figure his place in the world he kinda went punk. Dyed his hair bright green. Piercings and tattoos. Ripped clothes and combat boots.

Eddie slowly sat up. Well that’s a thought. He blinked for a moment. That could actually work.

Suddenly his phone rang. He frowned at the device. No one called anymore. It was all texts and DMs and Face Time. The name that came up because there was one, another surprising thing, was Steve.

He dived for the phone and managed to answer it before it went to voicemail.

“‘Ello?” he breathed.

“Hi, Eds,” Steve greeted cheerfully.

Eds.

Fuck.

The things that little nickname did to the butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey, Stevie!” he said back. “What can I do you for?”

“That article Nancy did is making some serious headway,” Steve explained. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet me for lunch to go over the details.”

Eddie laughed. “I was about to text you, darlin’. I have an idea for the rogue I wanted to float by you. So where to, my liege?”

“Monte Cruz, the Mexican place on 7th?” Steve asked.

It was a bit pricey, but it had the best fajitas Eddie had ever had. “Sure thing. 1pm okay?”

“Let me check,” Steve replied.

Eddie could hear him call Robin and while he couldn’t hear her response, Steve’s warm ‘thank you’ meant he was free.

“That’s perfect,” Steve said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.”

They hung up and Eddie laid on the floor staring up at the ceiling, holding his phone over his chest.

Fuck!

He got up and dashed to the bathroom to shower. He felt like he was covered in slime.

*

Steve was waiting for him on the terrace, a nice cool breeze rustling his hair. And Eddie couldn’t help but fall a little bit more.

Eddie waved and was far too pleased to get Steve’s little finger wave in return.

He sat down and grinned at Steve. “How is it cooler outside then in my loft?”

“Heat rises?” Steve suggested. cocking his head to the side.

Eddie laughed. “Well it’s the only thing that rising at this point. It’s so fucking hot.”

“I thought you’re loft had air conditioning,” Steve said with a frown.

“Apparently we worked it to extinction,” Eddie said mournfully.

Steve pulled out his phone. “Are you renting or paying a mortgage? I don’t remember what all we’re paying for.”

“Sadly, we own it,” Eddie said with a heavy sigh. “Otherwise I would have harassed a landlord to get it fixed.”

Steve hummed. “All right, I’ve messaged Robin. She’ll call around and get a technician come over tomorrow. It’ll go on my card if can be fixed or if it needs to be replaced.”

Eddie leaned back in his chair. “You don’t have to do that, man.”

Steve smiled at him. “Will the excess heat hurt your paintings?”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth a couple times before he threw his arms in the air. “Yes! Of course it will.”

“Then it’s a business expense and I’ll cover it.”

“I hate you,” Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You really, really don’t,” Steve murmured. “Now show me your idea for Will’s rogue.”

Eddie pulled out his drawing pad and flipped to the right page. He slid it over to Steve for him to see.

“Oh Eds,” Steve breathed. “It’s beautiful. He’ll love it.”

Eddie tried not to preen, but he couldn’t help it. “So I can go ahead and start painting?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “Though maybe wait until after your cooler is fixed.”

Eddie threw his head back laughed. “I think you’re probably right.” He gently took the pad from Steve’s grip. “So what’s going on with the charity?”

Steve lit up. He started explaining about all the people interested opening would basically be franchises but that Eddie would still have full control of each branch.

“This is amazing, Stevie,” Eddie breathed. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m happy to help,” Steve said with a grin. “It means that I get drive Dustin absolutely nuts with this whole charity thing. He’s been begging me forever to meet you.”

“I mean, you can invite him to one of our reeducation of Steve Harrington movie nights,” Eddie said, shoving his hair in his face bashfully. “If you wanted to.”

Steve smiled fondly. “That’s sweet of you. But I was thinking something that would absolutely flip their collective shit even more than a movie night. A Halloween one-shot.”

Eddie’s lips formed an O. His eyes sparkled and he grinned. “I know just the thing. It’s something my friends and I used to do in high school. You have these little half–not even half character sheets that have just the most basic of stats. The point is to die in the most epic way possible. There are rewards for stupidest death, most epic death, TPK. It’s lots of fun.”

“That sounds amazing!” Steve said. “Would you be willing to do it?”

Eddie leaned forward on the table. “On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“You join us,” he said with a grin. “You read the stats, you roll the dice, you die like a bitch, just like everyone else. You’d be on equal footing with the rest of the Party.”

“Can I think about it?” Steve asked shyly, ducking his head.

“Sure thing, big boy,” Eddie replied. “But let’s order lunch. I’m starving!”

Steve laughed. “Of course.”

*

Robin poked her head into his office and held up a leather folio. “Do you want to tell me what the hell this is?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, “I’m not Spider-man. I don’t have x-ray vision.”

“That’s Superman,” Robin replied with a huff, “and you’re dodging the question. You know full well what I’m talking about.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I really, really don’t. I haven’t done any even remotely outrageous in months.”

She walked up to his desk and slammed the folio on the desk. “Steven Kevin Harrington...”

“Not my middle name,” he sneered. “You know what it is. You have seen my birth certificate way more times than I have.”

Robin laughed. “But it’s so lame, so I make up ones that sound better.”

“Whatever, Robs,” he said with a huff of his own. “What has got you so twisted this time?”

She opened the folio and turned it around to face him. “You booked the Newfield for New Year’s eve.”

Steve smiled widely at her. “I told you I was going to. It’s hardly my fault you were making goo-goo eyes at Eddie’s agent at the time.”

Robin gasped. “I was not!” He raised a single eyebrow and she folded. “Yeah, all right, maybe.”

Steve sat up in his chair and scooted closer to her. “Look, before you start throwing accusations around about feelings and thinking with my dick, it’s for the charity. You know, the one we’re working on right now.”

Robin glared at him. “So it has nothing to do with him making goo-goo eyes at you?”

“He’s not!” he protested. “There’s no way. He can have anyone he wants, he’s not going to go for a stuffed shirt like me.”

Robin raised both her eyebrows. “You can’t actually believe that.”

“You saw his most recent video right?” Steve snapped. “The one where he ranted about how greedy businessmen destroying the environment?”

“Uh...” she said, “you mean the one where he especially called out billionaire businessmen and how smaller companies can change the face of the industry and then went on to list ten things that CEOs can do to change the world and all of them were things you did with Starcourt Ltd. That one?”

Steve blushed. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“Look,” Robin said sitting down in one of the chairs, “I was wrong about a lot of things when you first hired Eddie for this job. About him, about you and your motives. So I get why you can’t take my advice on this, but he likes you. And more than just a friend.”

He ducked his head as the blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears down the column of the throat. “Don’t go there, please.”

Robin held her hands up in surrender. “I won’t if you don’t want me to. All I’m saying is that if you think you’re falling for him, too…just know he probably feels the same.”

Steve licked his lips. “Yeah, okay.” Then he suddenly buried his head in his hands. “Fuck, I have to make a phone call.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He lifted his head and sighed heavily. “Looks like I’m going to be playing D&D after all.”

She laughed and laughed as Steve buried his head again.

The kids were never going to let him live this down.

*

“You’re sending my off for my last year as undergrad,” Dustin whined, “and you’re making me come back for fall break? Why?”

Steve was getting tired of this question. The only people who knew about Eddie DMing for them was Steve, Robin, and Eddie. And probably Chrissy. Oh and Claudia Henderson, Dustin’s mom. Which meant that all the other moms knew too.

All right, the conspiracy was bigger than Steve thought.

“Because it is your last year,” he said with a sigh. “You’ll be heading off to MIT next year and it’ll be harder for you to come home for the holidays.”

Dustin deflated. “Yeah, okay. So everyone will be home for Halloween?”

Steve brightened up. “Yep! I’m throwing a costume party with pizza and if you guys aren’t shitheads about it, I might even front for a wet bar.”

Dustin frowned. “What the fuck is a wet bar?”

Robin who had just come home, smacked him on the back of his head, knocking off his hat. “It means there will be booze, doofus.”

Dustin who had been about to yell at her for knocking off his hat, turned to Steve instead. “Seriously?”

“Yup! I’ve okay’ed it with all the parental units,” he said, “and I keep an eye on your intake to make sure you don’t get sick, they’re fine with it.”

Dustin launched himself at him and hugged him tight. “You’re the best, Steve!”

“There won’t be beer,” Steve warned. “It’s not the best drink to get started drinking on and bottles tend to hide how much you’ve been drinking.”

“Are they going to be spooky themed drinks?” Dustin asked.

Steve laughed. “Hell yeah, they are.” He ruffled Dustin’s hair. “Now go finish packing. I’m not going to let your mom do it for you this year. You’re an adult. Act like it.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “God, you’re more mom like then my actual mom.”

Steve laughed. “If I got insulted every time one of you called me mom, I would’ve died of a heart attack years ago.”

Dustin hit him on the arm. “No talks of dying. You aren’t allowed. You have to live forever.”

Robin laughed. “Sure, just got to find that elixir of life somewhere.”

“Or the fountain of youth,” Dustin helpfully supplied.

“You could always invent something,” Steve suggested.

Dustin’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea!” He dashed off excitedly.

“Pack first!”

Robin laughed.

***

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 9)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew & Reader-insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior, kidnapping (again), and vague descriptions of grievous injury (need I specify whom at this point?). Slight angst. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, please do block 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any variation of 'one piece yandere' that you feel is necessary. Do not tolerate this behavior in real life from anyone (especially backstabbing, definitely don't tolerate that and get medical assistance as soon as possible).

What you've all been waiting for (fearfully even) is here. The beginning of the end. The same story but... different now. For the better? We'll have to find out, won't we?

Word Count: 1,788

Apparently, Marco had promised Twin-Blade a party when he returned. And as you’ve seen several times by now—before discretely sneaking back to your room to avoid the shenanigans—Whitebeard Pirates don’t need an excuse to throw a party. Once the supplies were safely stored, Twin-Blade took center stage with a bundle in his arms.

You stared at it with something approaching horror, the pit of your stomach rotting from underneath you. You’ve felt a lot of different fruits before, brushing by them as you worked. But you’d never felt one like this. A little too alive and seemingly aware of your presence in a way you didn’t care for. Miraculously less than you cared for being on a pirate ship. It felt greedy like a spoiled child asking for more sweets with sticky fingers and sugar-stained lips. Like it would take and take and take everything you are if you weren’t careful.

Maybe devil fruits always felt this… intense? When it hadn’t been eaten yet? Just a bundle of raw power and potential.

Regardless, you didn’t like it.

Twin-Blade beamed, sneaking glances at you with his expression faltering.

“O-Oyaji! We were challenged on the way back by pirates. And guess what lovely prize they had?” Twin-Blade removed the fruit from the bag. Massive, even in his large hand, and purple with pointy spikes. The whole deck gasped in shock. Devil fruit users weren’t exactly rare on the Grand Line, but finding a fruit itself was a matter of sheer luck. Twin-Blade glanced at you again only to see your pinched expression. “What is it?”

You wrinkled your nose.

“…nothin’. Just feels… weird.” You shrugged, trying to push aside the sticky, reaching sensation of the devil fruit. Twin-Blade looked intrigued.

“Oh!?” He scrambled over to you, ignoring your flinch as the fruit got too close to you. “What do you feel? Can you tell what it does?”

So close to the fruit you noticed a new sensation. An almost magnetic pull. Not a compulsion to eat or touch it, but a literal draw. Like there was a rope around you gently tugging you closer. You shuddered, hating how it started to feel hard to breath near it.

“Dark. Grabbing. I-I don’t know. Feels weird. Please go away.” You huffed. Twin-Blade paused, looking at your face before frowning.

“Sorry. Got too excited. You don’t look so good, are you alright?” Twin-Blade moved the fruit away from your face and placed the back of his hand to your forehead. You swatted at him with a scowl.

“I’m fine! Stop that!” You hissed.

“Hey, Thatch, are you going to drink some of this booze or are you offering another mug to your loving brothers?” Ace declared, raising two mugs high as food was brought out from below deck to feed the rowdy crowd under the growing stars.

Twin-Blade jolted from his thoughts, immediately incensed.

“Oh, hell no! Gimme that!” Twin-Blade ran to claim his drink. You sighed with relief before quietly heading back below deck. A large hand lowered down in front of you. You looked up to see Whitebeard leaning over with a concerned expression.

“Are you alright, my child?” You huffed, attention torn between the Yonko and the devil fruit somewhere behind you.

“Yeah. Just headed to bed. Night.” You said with clipped words, veering around him hand, shuddering at the gentle pulse of the greedy devil fruit behind you.

Whitebeard’s eyes fixed on you as you walked below deck, dodging party goers and cooks bringing more food and booze up.

--*--

Thatch raised his mug up high with a cheerful laugh, accepting the teasing questions about his new prize. Ace kept glancing back every so often with a frown before drunken cried brought him back.

“What’s the matter, Ace?” Thatch asked, leaning against the younger man’s shoulder with a grin. Ace gave him a sideways glance.

“Nothing… I guess I’m just worried about them.” Ace tipped his head to the side, indicating the entrance to below deck. “They don’t really stay for parties but they seemed really eager to leave this time.” Thatch grimaced.

“Yeah. I think the devil fruit was messing with them.” Thatch huffed, irritated that his plan to drag you from your shell backfired so spectacularly. “What the hell does ‘dark’ and ‘grabbing’ even mean?”

Ace shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. They don’t usually talk about their devil fruit with anyone.” Ace explained. “But maybe you could ask? Couldn’t hurt at least. Maybe not with the fruit—”

“Zehahaha~! Got yourself quite the prize, eh commander?” Teach plopped down next to him suddenly with a cheerful grin and red face. He leaned over to ‘whisper’. “So… are ya going to eat it?”

Thatch sighed.

“…I don’t know. I don’t even know what it does. What if it’s really lame? I only get one shot, you know!” Thatch grumbled. “And your newest sibling seems more on edge than usual.”

Teach smacked his back hard with an uproarious laugh.

“ZEHAHAHA~! You’ll figure it out! Maybe they just need a bit to sort themselves out?” Teach suggested. Thatch smiled, feeling a little reassured at the possibility. Night had long since fallen and the party was still in full swing. They should be asleep by now.

“Ah~ I wish I could talk to them.” Thatch sighed wistfully.

“Well why don’t you?” Thatch looked at Teach in surprise.

“They’re probably asleep…?” Teach grinned.

“Well, it can’t hurt to check! And hey, I don’t think they ate anything, either!” Thatch bolted up.

“Ahck! What! I told them to eat while I was gone!” Thatch whined, his face hot as he swayed on his feet. Teach laughed at his misery, standing up to help steady him.

“Let’s make a food run and see if they’re still up, commander. Who knows, maybe they’ll be in a mood to talk after a bit of food?” Teach suggested reasonably.

Thatch, even a bit tipsy, could see no fault in the logic. Or possibly because he was tipsy? No matter, he was going to do the best damn food run of his life.

He needed to talk to you!

Thatch waved to Ace and, with Teach’s help, stumbled up to hopefully get food good enough to tempt you into speaking to him.

The whole time Teach was laughing and joking, teasing Thatch for getting so damn tipsy—which he honestly deserved, he underestimated the strength of the booze, which is a terribly rookie mistake to make as a Whitebeard Pirate.

“What’s the bag for?” Thatch frowned, rummaging in the fridge to make a quick snack. Teach chuckled, loading up the bag.

“What? Do you think you could carry food and walk in a straight line?” Teach asked.

“Ah. Good idea, Teach, eheh, I’d probably drop it on the floor and waste it all!” Thatch cackled, shaking his head as he grabbed a couple bottles of juice. He was probably grabbing too much food, but he wasn’t sure if Teach would be sticking around for the conversation and as a D, Teach ate a lot.

Teach gave Thatch a slightly odd smile, chuckling under his breath as he finished loading up the goodies.

By the time they made it to the hallway with your room, Thatch was now a lot more sober, aided by two whole glasses of water. He didn’t want to make a total ass of himself by being too tipsy to make any sense.

The door was, unexpectedly, locked. So Marco or someone else had already came by to check on you. Which meant you had to be asleep now. Thatch had a key, sure, but now he wasn’t so sure he should actually wake you up.

He paused in front of the door, looking at the key.

There was a soft, sharp sound behind him.

Like a knife hissing as it was pulled from a scabbard.

The hot, burning pain took his breath away and made his knees go weak.

He collapsed on the floor instantly, thinking hazily that he was having a stroke or something equally terrible.

He gasped, shuddering with agony as he was moved. Teach standing over him as he gently took something from his jacket.

Thatch couldn’t focus. His thoughts circling round and around again.

Teach was holding the devil fruit.

Teach had the key.

Teach had the devil fruit and the key.

He was stepping over Thatch into the room and Thatch found his heart racing under protest. Only capable of gasping weakly as his body refused to cooperate.

His eyes slid shut for only a moment. Briefly lifting up as Teach stepped over him again, locking the door and dropping the key on Thatch’s chest. A second bag slung over his shoulder.

“Zehahaha—nothing personal, commander.” Teach smiled sincerely before walking away.

What?

Thatch closed his eyes again and waited for the world to make sense.

It only grew colder, his erratic thoughts growing increasingly distant and unreal.

He thought there was danger, but where? He was a little cold, sure, but he was fine otherwise… right?

“THATCH!” Hot hands cradled his face, something like molten liquid dripping down his face.

Reluctantly, Thatch opened his eyes, the world growing soft and faint. Someone was crying over him. Probably because he was so damn handsome, heh. Tan skin and freckles all over. Silver eyes like a blade—he’s bleeding out, isn’t he? Seas, he’s not ready to die—overflowing with tears.

“MARCO! QUICK! SOMEONE GET MARCO!” The young man lightly smacked Thatch’s face. “H-Hang in there, Thatch! Y-You’re going to be fine! I promise!” He promised desperately.

But something was bothering Thatch. More than the chill in his bones and strong enough to pierce through the cotton in his head, numbing his tongue and fingers.

He didn’t know why, but your name was the last thing that left his lips.

Where did you go?

“THATCH!”

--*--

You shuddered awake hazily to the rocking of a boat. Your neck bruised and ropes wrapped around your body. The sea waves lapped away near your head.

You could see the rising sun on the horizon and a distant island when you turned your head. Something soft bracing your bruised neck from the wood of the row boat.

“…Mmm?” You hummed, head swaying as you laid back down.

“Hmm, go back to sleep. We’ve got a ways yet before shore and between the two of us, I’m definitely the better rower. Don’t worry—" You closed your eyes reluctantly and began to drift off. “—I’ll get a decent boat to sail properly with, zehahaha!”

You fell back asleep with the distorted sense that something was wrong.

Dark shadows practically wrapped around your ankles as you fell into darkness again.

[yuurei20]

Trey Info Compilation part 17: Rook

Rook refers to Trey as “Chevalier des Roses,” but this nickname apparently did not appear until their second year when Riddle enrolled at NRC, as, “One must have a roi—a king—to be a chevalier, or a knight.”

Trey does not like this nickname and often asks Rook to stop using it, which Rook tends to ignore.

Rook seems very fond of Trey (“All Rook did was sing praises about your smooth workflow,” says a Science club student), and when Sebek calls Rook creepy for bursting into song during Spectral Soiree Trey explains, “The random singing isn’t all that uncommon, actually. He does that sometimes during club meetings.”

When Sebek prepares to attack Rook for being suspiciously calm Trey defends Rook, explaining “Okay, sure, Rook’s a little weird. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, and sometimes he does that thing where he looks at the sky and smiles…but he’s not a bad guy.”

Rook wins Sebek over by telling a story ostensibly from his childhood, which Trey does not believe saying, “You just can’t get enough of these elaborate jokes, can you?…Just don’t go overboard with our remarkably gullible freshman, okay?”

When Sebek tries to pressure Rook into sharing personal stories from his childhood Trey comes to Rook’s rescue, pretending to see a ghost behind a pillar.

Trey explains, “I just figured you wouldn’t want people prying into your private life. I’ve noticed you tend to steer clear of that kind of stuff when we talk at club meetings. But I’m sorry if I read too much into it and overstepped.”

Ever sensitive to embarrassing situations, in a science club-based vignette, Trey asks Rook to not talk to the plants while they’re watering them, saying, “you are your eccentricities.”

Rook gives Trey “a fancy feathered cap” for his birthday, but Trey cannot figure out what he is supposed to wear it with.

Trey says Rook roped him into researching classic vampire moves for Halloween, but while he pretended to be scared, Rook was not convinced.

Trey says that if he had to pick someone to take with him to a deserted island, it would be Rook.

During Beanfest Rook gives a long monologue about how it was that he knew where to wait out in order to meet with Trey, explaining, “You strive to achieve exceptional marks in any situation that could reflect upon your dorm and its housewarden, the Roi de Roses. Moreso in exams or extracurriculars—any occasion with discernible outcomes for all dorms involved. But you don’t like drawing attention to yourself…You weren’t likely to take an aggressive stance. You are not a proactive man when it comes to events such as the one we find ourselves in today…and indeed, the Trey Clover I know wouldn’t go out of his way to seek out and and farmers for a chance in the spotlight...you would hunker down in territory familiar to you, behind natural fortifications, and wait out the enemy for a spell.”

When looking for people amongst the school third-year students that he thinks are the most approachable, Trey chooses Rook and Vil.

After Rook gives a dramatic description of his plans for post-NRC, Trey responds without acknowledging the curious way in which Rook expresses himself. Cater observes, "Rook's hype didn't even faze you at all" and Trey explains, "I'm used to it."

[lostinwalmartmymomleftme]

Hihihi it's me Ash (not revealing my tumblr account here yet bc teehee)

If the Dreamswap cast had to sing a song during karaoke night what song would they sing?

(Not naming actual songs bc I don’t want my bad music tastes to become apparent)

Dream would probably refuse to sing, but would end up being roped into it by Nightmare (In a best outcome scenario) so he would probably end up, singing something completely out of character for him.

Ink would half-ass a popular pop song, so he can go sit in a corner and draw on a shitty drawing app on his phone

Blue would sing his heart out to Taylor Swift and you can’t tell me I’m wrong.

Cross would sing show tunes, something like Noel’s Lament (from Ride the Cyclone) or alternatively: he would sing something 2018 Gacha Fandom.

Nightmare would sing a country song bc he thinks it’s funny and fumble over the lyrics all while trying to do a really shitty southern accent.

Error would probably just sing a random song Nightmare asks to duet with him (He’d refuse to do another forsaken country song)

Finch would just watch and refuse to join

Bobby would pout in a corner and refuse to participate

Randy would be too concerned with Bobby

Hacker would “sing” that Tequila song and then dip (yk the one)

And Ani’s dead

[granolawriting]

Could I request a platonic piece with Anakin and a teenage Padawan reader who’s having nightmares she thinks are visions? If this isn’t your style that’s ok ^^ If you do write it, plz tag my sideblog, eternalwanderlustvagabond

Oh sweetheart, this is totally my thing! I just don't see all too many people wanting it, is all. I will gladly write any kind of fic, and this one was a sweet deviation from the norm. thank you for the request <3

·˚ ༘ fears of a padawan; Anakin comfort text ·˚ ༘

word count: 1.2k!

request for @eternalwanderlustvagabond :)

Screams. That's the thing that you remember most. Alongside the clashing of blades and the thuds of bodies dropping, that's all that stays in your mind as you wake up covered in your own sweat. Heavy breaths, petrified over what you’ve just seen. 

For weeks now it seems, every so often you’ll have a dream, perhaps, of what seems to be all of your friends, family in a sense, in a battle they can't win. It haunts you. You don't even want to sleep properly anymore, anything to get away from the prospect of those visions returning. 

Visions. They have to be. Despite being only a padawan, you found yourself to be quite the well-versed one. People had a lot of faith in you, they roped you into the same category they often did Anakin-- which undoubtedly made him one of your closest confidants. Both having been picked by the council to train past the average due date, and both displayed grand abilities with the force. But he just seemed to have such a better time handing such a blessing and a curse. You were in awe of him. 

These dreams, premonitions, began to affect even the way you trained. Staying up until late into the night, and limiting your sleep to short increments that don't lull you into enough comfort to dream, doesn't do too well with days that require mental strain and physical fitness. You began falling behind in a way, and people noticed. You were stuck at a crossroads of sorts; did you relieve yourself of having to handle these visions you had, or did you rest yourself well enough to perform at the level everyone expects you to? 

Then, it’d hit you. You'd never properly talked to anyone about this, you never told anyone how you felt, keeping it locked away deep inside of you you’d rather carry your sorrow by yourself and bear the consequences of silence than speak up about it. A part of you felt as though it wasn't important enough to justify a council meeting, that your pain didn't warrant any help, and you didn't want to be a burden to anyone else in a way. Who could you even talk to about this? Surrounded by younglings who wouldn't understand, or padawans focused on their own training, and heaven forbid you spoke to the higher-ups on this matter-- when they have actual pressing matters to attend to. Some worse than your dreams. You decide to stay to yourself once more. 

The soft clacking of blunt heels echoes in an otherwise empty hall-- another unsuccessful training session under your belt, apparently. You felt dejected, and those around you grew curious about your behavior. Another night you would spend awake in your room, tossing and turning over the fears that you couldn't tell anyone about. Or, so you thought. 

A second sound of feet growing rushed in the hallway you both shared, an unfamiliar tune of what seemed to be an even unfamiliar stride draws ever close to you until you look behind you to see who could greet you at a time like this. 

“Hey, do you think we could talk for a minute?” 

It was Anakin. You had almost forgotten about him as you were so wrapped in yourself, but this question makes your heart drop. Is he here to talk about your low performance? Did your master send him? Did something really happen and you never said anything? 

“Oh, of course, what's the issue?” 

You respond in the most casual tone you can muster, just barely coated over the fear and worry lacing every syllable you speak. 

“Is, everything okay with you? I mean this genuinely. I've seen the way you’ve been training recently-- it's not like yourself. And I know you like I know myself. You are strong, and something really must be getting to you right now, I can almost see it in your eyes.” 

You stand there silenced for a moment. 

“Oh- but, please, correct me if I'm wrong. I don't mean to assume I just wanted to check on you. I care for you.” 

You feel a tear well in your eye at the sound of that. He was your friend. And as you stood there, a mouth slightly open as you tried to get the words out you felt that realization wash over you. Maybe he could do something about it, maybe he would understand what you were talking about-- maybe, he's experienced them too. 

“Anakin, I've been having visions. Visions of our masters, our friends, they were-” 

Getting choked up on your words for a moment you pause to compose yourself. Anakin looks at you with eyes full of attentiveness, not a smidge of judgment is found within his eyes focused on you, a mouth closed to allow himself to listen and even more let you compose yourself without interruption. 

“They were, in a battle that can't be won. I watched them get hurt, and fail. There was nothing I could do, it was like I was an outsider to my own future. And, I can't sleep over it. I can barely eat anakin. To be honest I'm a mess. And I just don't know what to do, I don't want my family to die.” 

A frown forms upon Anakin's face, but it's a sentimental one. Empathetic, even as he opens his arms for a hug and you with tear-ridden eyes follow his embrace. His arms folded around your back he soothes your sniffles into his robe with a thumb tracing your back, and a soothing reply;

“Oh- oh, it's okay. I know what you’re talking about, truly. It's okay to be afraid of those. You love us, and we all love you just the same. There's no reason to feel bad to be so scared of things like that, it's more than natural. But listen to me okay?” 

He raises his hands to your shoulders, as means to look directly into your eyes before what he says next; 

“You don't have to worry, okay? You and I are alike in so many ways, and I can promise you, they’re not visions. No matter how vivid they may be, the force can't do that to us. You can't see into the future, not even master yoda can, okay? So don't feel like you have to bear that kind of burden. You’re just afraid, and that's okay. I am too. Every day I walk these halls I worry I won't be good enough. And sometimes, that seeps into my dreams as well. And I feel hopeless, just as you are. But you can't let that overtake you. The only way to overcome these dreams is to overcome the feeling of not being good enough to help those you love the way they help you. And the first way to start is knowing that you help me, just as I help you too. We’re in this together okay? And we always will be.” 

His eyes are stern, but they’re coated with care. Said with a small smile on his face to comfort you, he brought you into an embrace once more. 

“You’re a wonderful person, okay? And I will always be here for you. Always."

Is said close to your ear, a comforting voice and body overwhelms you and he holds you once more, and as you allow the tears to subside the words he said to you truly resonate with you. You are more than your fears, and your insecurities. And he's reminded you of that. Those who are strong, first have to convince themselves that they are strong. And just like Anakin, you wish to be strong. And with him by your side, you’re sure you can do just that. 

[agaypanic]

Wake Up (Benny Weir X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Benny being like your personal alarm can be a unique experience.

A/N: I know I have other things I should be working on, but no one has requested for my boy Benny yet. Just wanted to make something short and sweet with him. Also apparently his eyes are green??? I thought they were brown this entire time

***

“Y/n.” A whisper attempted to draw you out of the state of sleep you were in. It wasn’t as effective as the owner of the voice had hoped. “Wake up, Y/n.” The words were drawn out in a whiny tone.

“Shut up, Benny.” You groaned, half joking. You had spent the night at your boyfriend’s house after a long night of playing video games and watching movies. So you were desperate to get rid of the rest of your exhaustion by sleeping just a little longer.

“Don’t make me resort to drastic measures, Y/n.” You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. You turned your back towards him, snuggling more into your pillow.

“Unless you’re gonna bring that girl’s dog back to life again, I think I’ll be fine.” He didn’t respond, something you were grateful for. In the silence, you were drifting back to sleep, feeling weightless.

Too weightless. Not that you minded.

“Y/n?” Benny’s voice was farther away, but you just chalked it up to being close to unconscious. “You know how sometimes when you’re about to fall asleep, you wake up because you suddenly feel like you’re falling?” You gave an affirming hum at the odd question. Then you realized why he asked it in the first place.

“Benny!” You shrieked as you bounced around on his bed. Using his magic, Benny had lifted you up as close to the ceiling as possible. After you answered his question, he expelled the magic holding you up and let you drop. After a few more bounces, you settled back on the bed, and Benny leaned over you. A goofy expression overtook him.

“Good morning.” He went down to kiss you, which you accepted despite what he just pulled.

“You’re a jerk.” You murmured against his lips. He pulled back just a tad, still hovering over you.

“Yet you still love me.” He twirled a strand of hair between two of his fingers.

“I’m debating that right now.” The smile that reached his green eyes was quickly replaced by an offended look. You laughed at the expression change. “Kidding, Benny.”

But you knew that he knew you were. Nothing could ever push you away from him, no matter how much he tried to annoy you, rope you into his insane plots, or talk about the latest video game he played in extreme detail.

“Breakfast and games?” You asked, starting to sit up. Benny’s usual look of happiness overtook him.

“It’s like you can read my mind.” He said, peppering your face in kisses.

[binkuscat]

Heat Cycle

Pairing: Neuvillette x Reader

Warnings: Amab reader, neuvi with a heat cycle, trans masc neuvi, breeding kink, unprotected sex

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ you had always been close with the chief justice, visiting when he had time and chatting about the day. physical contact had never bothered either of you, and this time was no different… right?

neuvillette had requested your presence in his office, stating: 'he felt lonely today, and would enjoy your company.' you figured he just needed someone outside his work to talk to. as you walked up the steps of the Palais Mermonia, you noticed how quiet it was. the lack of Melusines around outside should have ticked off something was awry, but you shrugged it off, heading in. walking to his office, you knocked and entered, seeing him writing quietly, before his lavender eyes lifted to meet yours.

"Ah, y/n, you're here. feel free to sit, i'll be done in a moment." he flashed a small smile, then looking back down to the paper he was writing on.

you sat down on the plush couch, waiting for him to finish up. when he did, setting the stack aside, he made his way over, sitting beside you.

"thank you for waiting. but now we can focus on visiting." he had sat a bit closer than usual, hoping you would both notice and not notice.

"of course, neuvi." you can tell something was different about him, and as curious as you were, you ignore it for now, reaching up to pat his head.

as you did, you notice him inching closer, feel him nuzzling your hand. at this point, you couldn't choose to ignore it any longer. "mr. Iudex, you seem to be acting weird, what's going on?"

he stopped, staring, as his face flushed. "well, hah… how do i put this? i'm… currently in what people call a 'heat cycle'." he seemed embarrassed to admit this to you.

you were caught off guard, staring blankly at him. "wait… so does that mean-"

he put a gloved finger to your lips, quieting you. "if you would allow me to make a request, y/n, i would like your help to calm my instincts."

you blink, processing his words. "are you… sure? with me?" the thought of fucking him, it had a bulge growing more apparent by the minute.

"i am. and it seems like you'd like it."

you regain your composure, moving quickly to pin him down. "mm… you'd be right." you trail one hand down, past his pant line, to his clothed cunt. you began to draw slow circles on his clit, eliciting a low whine from him.

"a-ah, y/n~" neuvillette pressed against your hand, wanting you to stop teasing.

"shhh… all in due time." you continued to rub circles, reveling in the way his body responded. after a few minutes, you pulled your hand out, to his disappointment. you chuckle, moving to take his pants off, then his boxers. you saw how wet he was, moving to put a couple fingers inside. neuvillette let out a sharp gasp as you did, arching his back. you began to steadily pump in and out, admiring the blush on his face.

the dragon whined once more amid the quiet moans he was letting out. "… i want you inside me, please~"

"hm… you seem ready, so who am i to tell the Iudex of Fontaine no?" you draw your hand back, hastily slipping your pants off, then your own boxers, throwing them aside. upon seeing your cock, neuvillette spread his legs immediately. you lean over him again, teasing his entrance.

he grumbled, trying to push you inside. "would you please stop and just get on with it?"

"alright, alright" you pushed inside, feeling him squeeze tightly around your length. he let out a low groan, clinging to you.

you begin to thrust, slowly at first, steadily speeding up, feeling him squeeze tighter as you went deeper.

"hah… it's almost like you're trying to milk me already."

"and maybe i am…" he was panting, feeling a knot grow in his stomach.

your hips stuttered as you grew closer to your climax. "mm… take all of it…" you plunge as deep as you can, ropes of cum painting his insides.

"ahn~! yes, give me all of it, breed me~!" neuvillette pulled you close, refusing to lose a single drop. he shuddered out of pleasure, gazing up at you.

"archons, you look so pretty like this~" you pulled out, watching as a bit of your seed leaked out. using two fingers, you pushed it back in.

once you two had calmed down and gotten cleaned up, neuvillette refused to leave your side. "to be claimed by you was the best thing to happen," he had said, now asleep in your lap.

[illusioninfnty]

Outlast: Chapter Nine (Sam Giddings x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1K

4:07

Sam was usually the one that was put together, the one that everyone could rely on, but when it came to you, she was stressed out beyond repair.

She bites her nails as she anxiously awaits your return. She wasn’t a big fan of this idea—leaving Josh outside—anyway, and your being purposely vague was making it worse.

She knew you were hiding something, and as soon as you got back to the safety of the lodge she was going to wring it out of you.

Sam ignores Ashley’s whines behind her as she begins to pace back and forth, deep in her thoughts. She mentally checks over all of the events that have happened tonight.

Chased by a psycho who was actually their friend, and apparently another of their friends is dead and two more are still somewhere out in the woods—

Sam’s thoughts are cut off by a sob escaping Ashley’s lips.

She sighs. “Ash, honey,” Sam approaches Ashley’s shivering form, placing each hand on the other girl’s shoulders and rubs her thumbs along them in an attempt to calm her. “They’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Okay? Just hang tight. Chris, Tex, and Mike will be back soon and we can figure out a plan.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash sobs, dropping her head in her hands. “It’s just—what the fuck is happening?”

Before Sam can respond, a sharp knock on the lodge door interrupts, drawing both girls’ attention to it. Sam turns back to Ashley, patting her arm. “See? Perfect timing. That’s probably them.” She moves to unlock and open the door, but her smile slowly vanishes as she sees only two people in front of her—and her girlfriend isn’t one of them.

“Where’s Tex.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Chris awkwardly shuffles away from Sam and closer towards Ashley as Sam glares up at Mike.

“She wanted to stay,” he replies. 

Sam crosses her arms and her stare hardens even more.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Look, I tried to get her to come back, but you know how she gets.”

Aggravation seeps from Sam as she huffs out a quick fine towards Mike and turns away from the rest of the group.

God, why couldn’t you care about your own safety for once? You were really stressing her out.

And here she was supposed to be the adventurous one.

Sam doesn’t have much more time to think about what you’re up to when a banging on the door sounds.

A faint let me in! can be heard and the voice is without a doubt Emily.

Chris is the first to reach the door, opening it for Emily as she falls inside.

“Shut the door! Oh my God, shut the door!” she yells out, scooting as far as possible as she can away from it.

They guide her all to the Great Room, sitting her on one of the couches as she tries to compose herself.

“I didn’t think I’d make it,” she mutters.

“Em, are you okay?” Chris asks.

“The hell was that?” Mike pipes in.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Ashley whispers.

“Guys!” Sam cuts in. “Let’s give her some space, okay?”

The three stop, and the pause allows Emily to continue.

“There was something out there!” She cries. “Like, something bad.”

Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Like what?”

Sam sighs. “Em, relax...it was Josh. It was all Josh.”

“That issue’s been fixed,” Mike adds in from behind Sam, and she glares back up at him.

“No, no. Guys, you’re not listening!” Emily yells out, frustration evident in her voice. “There’s something else out there. Something really bad. Like…a monster.”

4:18

The ropes around Josh are just nearly untied when the unmistakable screech of the creature—of the Wendigo—fills your ears.

And it’s not very far away.

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter.

You take in your surroundings. The shed is almost entirely one big open space, not giving you many places to hide. Josh is clearly still out of it, uttering random phrases that are unintelligible to you. He keeps swaying and squirming, and you know he’ll be instant bait for the Wendigo.

“I’m sorry, Josh.” You wince, both at what’s about to come and the pounding headache that still ruminates inside you.

“Huh?—”

You wind your fist back and knock Josh out with one swift punch.

“It’s for your own good,” you say, hoping he can hear you, but also for your own comfort.

You get to work quickly. Josh is a lot heavier than you expected, especially with the stuffed overalls he’s still wearing weighing him down. You maneuver your arms through his as you try to pull him to the side, somewhere out of the open so the Wendigo doesn’t see him. But the rustling that you hear causes you to drop him quickly and find your own corner to hide from the creature that had just entered the shed.

You stay as still as you can, holding your breath as the Wendigo crawls into the shed, its head swiveling back and forth. Josh’s body is still laying on display, and you fear that the Wendigo will take him, even if he is unconscious.

When the Wendigo turns its head away from where you hide against a small pile of junk, you slowly reach into your waistband for your gun. When your hand hits nothing, you mentally curse. Once again, another thing you desperately needed that you left at the lodge.

You can only watch helplessly as the Wendigo snatches up Josh’s body with ease.

But a glimpse of black on the Wendigo’s wrinkly, leathered shoulder has you doing a double take.

It was unmistakably that of a tattoo. One in the shape of the butterfly. The same design of your friend’s tattoo, your friend that you lost a year ago.

Hannah?

4:30

You’ve already been waiting a good couple of minutes when you hear the crunch of snow outside, alerting you to someone out there. You listen closely, and there are two things you notice. One, there are definitely two pairs of footsteps, and two, those are definitely humans—not a Wendigo.

“Fucking damn,” you mutter as you stand up from your crouched position, trying to go through as many possible plans you can in a couple of seconds to try to save who was out there. But what could you possibly do with no weapon on you?

You didn’t know who would be coming out here right now. Mike and Chris surely would’ve told the others that you voluntarily hung back to keep an eye on Josh.

Was it the two of them, back to retrieve you for some reason? Or—and it better not be—Sam coming out here, wanting to see you?

You tug at the roots of your hair in frustration, and soon you can hear the voice of Chris just outside the closed doors.

“Here!”

The doors swing open carelessly slamming against the walls, and it takes all of the power in you not to run up over there and throttle Chris.

His eyes widen as he sees the empty stool that Josh was once sitting on, and you jump out of your hiding spot before he has a chance to speak again.

You raise a finger to your lips and your eyes widen sternly, indicating to Chris that he needed to shut the fuck up. As you approach, you’re startled to see that the person with Chris is someone you don’t recognize. It’s an older man, and by the amount of equipment he has on, he’s someone who’s been hardened by this environment, not someone who was called here to save you all.

Someone who definitely knows about the Wendigos and the curse upon Blackwood Mountain.

There’s a glint of familiarity in his good eye as he gazes upon you, almost as if he knows of your knowledge, of all that your parents have told you. Does he know them?

You can’t even ask him before Chris interrupts.

“Where’s Josh?”

“Shut it!” You hiss, your tone much quieter than his. “He’s gone. We can’t leave here yet. It’s not safe.”

Chris ignores you and shakes his head stubbornly. “No, we need to go back and warn the others.” He turns to leave the shed, and the strange man follows, likely trying to pull him back in. But Chris stumbles back into the snow, the man right on his heels. You stay back in the safety of the shed, lingering as you hope the man can convince Chris to get back in.

But within seconds, the rustle of the trees causes the blood to rush from your face. You know the Wendigo is very near, and it is definitely not happy.

You see the man gesture for Chris to stay still, and all seems to be going well until the Wendigo jumps right in front of the two.

“Run! Go! Now, now!” The man yells at Chris, and he himself only gets a few steps forward until the Wendigo nimbly darts across the area, a gangly arm outspread as it slashes the man’s throat with ease.

He goes slack and his body drops to his knees, his head detached from his shoulders as the now detached part rolls away from the owner, and closer to you.

You wince as you turn your head away from the unseemly sight, catching as Chris clumsily raises the shotgun in his hands and aims it at the Wendigo that is now poised to jump and attack him. His shot miraculously hits, and the Wendigo goes tumbling back.

“Oh, shit!” Chris stumbles backwards, falling into the snow, but he eventually gets up and runs away, disappearing into the forest as the Wendigo chases after him.

Hurriedly, you run out of the shed and over the man’s body when the Wendigo is a safe distance away. You scour his person for anything that would be of use to you; you immediately go for his flamethrower, strapping it securely around yourself. You notice a flask on him and take a quick swig before placing it back where it came from.

Now armed, you follow the path that Chris took back to lodge. You can only hope that you make it back in time to help him, but the unexpected weight of the flamethrower has you slowing down as you struggle between both it and the weight of the heavy snow on your feet.

4:43

It takes longer than you expected to make it back to the lodge, and the sight that greets you is not a pretty one. The Wendigo is nowhere in sight, but neither is Chris’s body—only his head remains. 

You inhale shakily as you see the furious red of his blood stain the pure white snow beneath it. You run over and see Ashley standing in front of the door, one palm flat against the glass and another covering her mouth as she cries.

As you approach the disturbing scene, you have to avert your eyes as you can feel the tears pooling up. If you were just a minute faster, you could have saved him.

Mike appears from behind Ash, pulling her back as he quickly unlocks the door for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Come on, we gotta get down to the basement. Now!” He ushers Ashley ahead and you follow the two behind, clinging to the flamethrower like a lifeline.

“What the fuck happened?” You ask them both, and you don’t even try to hide the anger in your tone. “Why the fuck did he leave the lodge?”

Ashley shuffles ahead down the stairs as Mike turns to you, and you’re startled by the pure anger in his eyes. “He told us everything,” he says, “and I have a good feeling I know what you’ve been hiding from us.”

You can feel all the color drain from your face and you feel utterly exposed under Mike’s gaze despite the many layers that cover you. There was no way out of this one. If that man knew just as much as your parents did and he told all of your friends all of what really lingered beneath the depths of Blackwood Mountain, you truly had nothing to hide anymore—your secrets were all exposed for them to know.

This was really not the way you wanted it all to turn out, but it seems as though the truth always found its way out, even if you weren’t ever ready for it.

It was time to fess up to your friends, and it was time to save them, and fast.

Character Traits: 

Honest: 4/10 

Charitable: 9/10 

Funny: 4/10  

Brave: 7/10 ↓

Romantic: 7/10 

Curious: 5/10 

Relationship Status:

Ashley: 6/10 

Chris: 7/10

Emily: 5/10

Jess: 3/10 

Josh: 7/10 

Matt: 7/10 

Mike: 5/10 ↓

Sam: 10/10

Chapter Eight || Chapter Ten

[reigenkills]

no Muerte x Reader? fine (thanos voice): i'll do it myself

ella enchanted + red riding hood reader, Death having a laugh

EDIT: PART TWO LMAO | PART THREE 💀 | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | 7 | 8

EDIT EDIT: AO3 CROSSPOST

EDIT EDIT EDIT: WHOEVER WANTS TO BE ON A TAGLIST FOR THIS PLS PUT IN THE REPLIES

"I'm surprised you actually tried it."

You wince, instantly holding yourself still in the pose of dropping a match into a bowl full of spell ingredients. There is a fire burning in said bowl in front of you, but your shadow stretches ahead, looming over you, the summoning circle, and the stolen grimoire.

"It wasn't supposed to work," you say.

"It wouldn't have," says the thing casting the physics-bending shadow. "But I'm curious why you did it anyway when you knew it was a dud."

You eye the grimoire with a grimace, pride twinging in sympathy for the witch you'd stolen it from. She was a big-name witch too, real infamous in her circles. Of course you knew she was bullshit the second she started talking about being able to undo your curse, but some of her work is legit; and she might have tried to turn you into a toad, but you're slightly offended on her behalf.

There's a sniff (what? who just does that?) and then the shadow tilts its head. "Something's wrong with you."

"Isn't there with everyone?"

The shadow ignores you, instead stooping down - and a shot of fear bolts down your spine at the sudden wash of cold that hangs close to your back. There's that sniff again, and then, a voice right beside you says: "Oh, you're cursed."

Great. Rule number one of being a mercenary, never let your enemies smell blood. Or fear. Or uh, your curse, but apparently this guy can sniff that out somehow.

Then again, you should have expected this when you got roped into catching fucking Death.

It'll be a quick job, they said. Twenty minutes tops after snatching the great Evil Witch's spellbook and finding the spell to trap Death. Nevermind the fact that every witch worth their broom calls themself an Evil Witch these days, of course, and you had to go through several hundred censuses to figure out which one was your mark.

And then there's the fact that you're supposed to be catching Death. Fucking hell.

"Curious," says Death. Honest-to-goodness Death. What the fuck. "If you knew it wasn't going to work, and if you're already headed my way with that curse, why go through with the spell?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

"I'm Death, not Knowledge," he says. "Trust me, you'd know the difference between me and that nerd any day."

To your mortification, you can't stop the godawful snicker that joke gets out of you. You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Death snorts. "Tell me."

"I was ordered to trap you," you automatically say, and then clench your teeth in frustration, frowning. This damnable curse of yours.

"Oh?" Death moves, smoothly gliding from behind you to your side; the movement instantly draws your attention to him and - oh shit.

"What red eyes you have," you whisper, freezing under the brightness of his stare. With his hood pulled over his head, they're about the only thing you can see of his face, save for his snout, and the rows of large, sharp, teeth.

"The better to see you with, my dear." Death grins. "Was that your curse?"

"What was?" You swallow. "I'm just not used to meeting new people, I'm a nervous blabber."

"Tell me the truth."

"Yes, it was," you say, and then make a noise of frustration, clenching your fists.

"Look at that." If it were possible, Death's grin widens, effectively baring his teeth not even two inches away from your face in the process. "Isn't that interesting?"

"It's really not."

"Oh, but it is," he says. "How'd you get it? Parents not pay off their debts when it was due? Throw a rock at a bird and anger its patron? Or did you cut out the middleman and piss off fae?"

Spitefully, you keep your mouth shut, teeth grinding together in the effort. Death only snickers, narrowing his eyes in amusement.

"I could always just ask you to tell me," he says. "I don't have to be polite to someone who was trying to trap me."

"I knew it wouldn't work."

"You tried it anyway," he says. "And if you're gonna blame it on your curse, then let me understand exactly how this works."

Your gums are starting to hurt from how hard your jaw is clenched. Your glare up at him as pettily as you can manage, but the motherfucker doesn't look away, doesn't even blink while you glower at him.

Fucking eldritch entities.

You sigh.

"I was…cursed," you say, then, amend: "Gifted by fae when I was a baby. The gift of obedience."

"Because?"

"...cause she thought it would be a nice gift," you grumble. "Except - you know - that's nice when you're like, five or something, but not when…" You make a haphazard gesture with your hand.

Death eyes you up and down, though his gaze lingers over your shoulder and above your head, like he's seeing something only he can sense. You try your best not to shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

After a while, he says, "Pat your head."

Your hand automatically flies up to pat your head.

The piece of shit has the gall to laugh.

"Asshole!" You get to your feet, kicking the bowl of still-burning summoning ingredients at him. Who gives a shit if it's Death. The ass just laughed at you after telling you to pat your head like a chump. Sadly, he barely has to pay attention to dodge the metal bowl as it flies past him.

"You had to run around looking for that witch and nearly get turned into a worm," Death says, "Because of a gift of obedience?"

He breaks into another round of cackles at that, all seven feet or so of him doubling over in laughter. Your hands twitch for one of the guns in your holster, but no matter how irritating he is, it's probably not a good idea to shoot Death.

"Very funny," you seethe.

"It is," Death says, "It's hilarious."

"Yeah, well, let's see you laughing when someone figures out they can tell me to try and kill you or whatever," you grit out. "I can't control it, you know."

"Mm. I'd just tell you to not do that, after you tire yourself out. Way more fun that way," he says, snickering.

He turns to where the remnants of the ingredients bowl have scattered, still burning away - because the magic might have been wrong, but it's still magic, so the damn things haven't burnt to ashes yet - and inclines his head down towards it. The flames instantly snuff out.

"Stop trying to trap me," he says, and you instantly feel the command contradict your last directive, strain against it, and break it down. Your limbs loosen; you unclench your jaw. "You should probably move continents or something. Far Far Away still has mercenaries."

"You're not gonna kill me?"

"I don't kill," Death snorts. "I collect. The affairs of the living aren't my concern - until they are, at least. Some kid getting their curse used against them hardly concerns me."

The wording has you narrowing your eyes at him again. "And my…employers?"

He grins again, and you wisely back off at the sight of his teeth. "That's up to me to decide, isn't it?"

"I guess," you say. "You need addresses or anything?"

"Nah," he says. "I'm Death, kid. I'm everywhere."

This time, you snort, crouching to pick up the grimoire on the floor and tuck it under your arm. If you're gonna move continents to a place where nobody knows your curse, you're gonna need way more leverage than you usually do. "You just said you weren't Knowledge - "

You blink as you straighten, finding yourself alone in the barren, empty room. There's no looming figure, no overly bright red eyes. Just you.

You were visited by Death and he didn't kill you. Laughed at your plight, yes, but you're alive and kicking.

Probably best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or a wolf in the maw. Whatever. You should start packing and getting the hell out of here.

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR] All it takes is one stumble

(Posted on AO3)

-

By the time Iruka's putting the finishing touches to the training ground, the sun's hanging low in the sky.

Some of his hair's come loose over the day's work, sweat-slick threads of it striking unevenly along his hairline. He wipes his brows with the back of his hand and--oh great, from the gritty feel of it, guess now he has dirt on his face. He huffs in tired amusement and looks over.

The spread of land around him looks as untouched as ever, with only his leftover supplies to give his presence away, along with the pale vest he cast off when he started heating up from the exertion. Once everything's picked up, it'll be like he was never here.

His spine protests with a crack when he draws himself up, the old scar tugging unpleasantly with the motion. He frames his lower back right under the hem of his mesh armor, pulls his shoulders wide open and arches in a stretch.

The relief is such that he groans with it.

"Ah!" A yelp sounds from over the treeline, followed by a thud.

A couple of startled pigeons take flight.

Iruka sighs. He was so very clear, when booking the training ground, to claim it as off limits while he makes use of it. Honestly, it's a wonder anyone even bothers with the schedules.

When he makes his way over, the great Hatake Kakashi, retired Rokudaime, looks up sheepishly at him from a sprawl in the bottom of the pit.

"Yo."

"I--How?!"

"Hazards of the road of life."

"Right."

"There are sirens on it. You know. Creatures of the sea. Very distracting ones."

"I'm sure..."

Apparently quite content to sit in the dirt, Kakashi gives no signs of getting up. Moreso, for a man already at ground-level, he looks strangely unsteady. His torso sways from side to side, like it's tempted to slump even further.

Iruka narrows his eyes. "What the hell did you do to be chakra deprived?"

"Aah, kocho-sensei... Let's take it as a lesson. I am but a humble, living reminder to warn your students against hubris."

"You were pushing the limits of your chakra pool, weren't you?"

"Never had time when I was Hokage. Did you know I can now use close to thirteen chidori ?"

"Make it twelve next time so you're still able to walk back."

At the edge of the pit, Iruka finds a protruding root. He ties a piece of rope to it and throws down the other end.

The softly sloped walls shouldn't be hard to climb back.

"Aaah, about that..."

Iruka groans. "You're hurt, aren't you?"

"Sprained my ankle," Kakashi says cheerfully. "Nice trap, by the way."

"You never should've--It's a trap for pre-genin," Iruka grumbles as he makes his way down.

There aren't a great many dignified ways of picking up a grown-ass man, yet Kakashi plain refuses to settle in a fireman's carry. Even on low chakra reserves, he's serious enough about struggling out of the hold that, short of employing actual force, Iruka has to retreat.

Hands on his hips, Iruka glares down at him, aggrieved. "Really, Kakashi? Nobody will care about your bony ass sticking up!"

"Naive of you to think so." Kakashi holds his arms up. "Come on, sensei, I'm sure you give great piggybacks."

"Oh for the love of--!" Iruka grouses. Yet he still crouches and presents his back to Kakashi.

For someone so worried about appearances, Kakashi clearly doesn't mind the ridiculous fumbling that follows. His legs have to grip Iruka's waist like a baby monkey's to leave Iruka's hands free ro grasp the rope, but they eventually figure it out.

Once they're out, Iruka catches Kakashi's thighs behind the knee and proceeds to make his careful way out of the trap field. It's unlike him to show himself in public looking so underdressed, but needs must. He'll come back for his supplies and vest later.

Kakashi shifts like he's inspecting the field before settling back.

"Nice thing you've got going on, here. Tell me about it," he says from on over, bony chin digging in the top of Iruka's head while he speaks.

Iruka frowns distractedly as he counts his steps before walking around what should be a mild exploding ink tag burried under a thin layer of dirt. "You know about it already."

There's something almost hug-like to the squeeze of Kakashi's arms over his shoulders.

"Hm. But you like talking about it."

Now Iruka's just embarrassed. "You should tell me to stop when I'm prattling at you, you know."

Kakashi sinks deeper against his back, the soft cloth of his mask rubbing gently against Iruka's temple that Kakashi has seen fit to touch his lower jaw to.

"...I'm doing the opposite, if you haven't noticed," he says, voice warm and sleepy.

Iruka sighs again, but this time it's fond. The walk back to the center of Konoha is made to the tale of his hopes for the Academy's new lesson plans and the room they give students for experimentation and discovery and specialization. It's been a longtime project of his, in this time of peace, to transform the ninja Academy into a place of learning instead of the soldier-popping machine it used to aspire to be.

Kakashi gives a few encouraging hums at appropriate times, and a few renewed not-quite-hugs-but-close-enough. Very close enough.

Just before they reach the first building of the village, Iruka gives into the urge to nuzzle Kakashi's arm and gently squeezes his thighs in response. Kakashi's breath stutters.

Then, little by little, he melts against Iruka's back with a sigh of contentment.

*

Sakura looks entirely unimpressed at their sight.

''What's he done now?" she asks, stepping aside to let them in.

Kakashi gives her a lazy wave of acknowledgement and droops into a dead weight across Iruka's back. It's too deliberate not to raise some warning bells.

''I fell head over heels,'' Kakashi drawls, the shape of a smirk sounding his words.

And, well... What a circumvoluted way of coming clear.

Iruka drops him unceremoniously on the couch and begins making meal plans for their evening together.

[throneofsapphics]

another lesson

Manon x f!Reader

Summary: Manon let you tie her up, but apparently you didn't do a good enough job.

A/N: I can't get this out of my head.

Warnings: nsfw, light bondage, pure smut

“Look at you,” you purred, “my little witchling all tied up, just for me.” Manon snarled half-heartedly, but her eyes were fixed on you, watching your every move. It boosted your confidence, and a smirk filled her features as you climbed on the bed, your fingers trailing over Manon’s bare thighs, both of you completely naked.

In one movement, Manon’s legs had locked around your thighs, pulling you closer, and she slipped out of her bindings with ease. You sighed as the witch pinned you on your back. “I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.” 

Iron nails slid down, tracing lines down your chest, leaving the barest scratch. “Apparently I didn’t teach you well enough,” you let out a whimper as her nails dug in slightly. “I think you need another lesson.”   

She snatched the ropes you'd messily attempted earlier, before winding them snugly around your wrists, you watched carefully, trying to memorize her movements, but she lifted them over your head and attached them to her headboard. With the new angle you couldn't see what she's doing.

"This isn't exactly teaching me." You complained, and she ignored you. You tugged at the bindings, but your wrist didn't move, not one inch.

You opened your mouth to complain again, but she slipped her fingers inside, thankfully no iron, and ordered, "Suck." Your tongue twisted around them before letting them go with a pop.

"Look at my little kitty," she said, leaning down so her breath fanned over your ear. "All tied up, just for me." One knuckle grazed underneath your breast, and you whimpered, arching into her caress, but she moved away. “So pretty,” she murmured, sitting back between your thighs, her eyes absolutely devouring her body. You could nearly feel the heat following her gaze. Before one knuckle grazed your core, drawing a moan out of you. 

“So wet,” she commented, “and I’ve barely even touched you.”

“Please,” you begged. 

“What?” She asked, her golden gleaming.

“Touch me, please touch me Manon.” 

“Since you asked so nicely.” One hand grazed over your breast, the other cupping the back of your head as she sucked your bottom lip into her mouth, flicking it with her tongue. 

Gods, she was addicting and you always felt like you could never get enough of her. Her hand tightened, gripping the back of your hair as she covered your mouth with hers, lips parting to let you suck her tongue into your both, gently biting. Manon moaned into your mouth, sending a sense of satisfaction through you. Her lips were warm, and soft, but she switched and kissed you brutally, leaving you dizzy and your lips bruised. One hand roughly squeezed your breast before iron nails dragged down your body, leaving small scratches behind. You pulled against the bindings, wanting to touch her, feel the warmth and planes of her body, but she leaned back and smirked. 

“You can touch me if you can escape those,” she teased, knowing you wouldn’t be able to. Instead, you managed to wiggle a leg between hers, pressing your thigh up against her core, feeling her slick arousal against you. Her eyes widened in shock for a second, before narrowing as she pushed up your body, pressing her core against yours, drawing a moan out of you. Too quickly, she moved, hands roughly pushing your thighs apart, as she bit and sucked across the inside of your thighs, leaving small purplish bruises behind.

"Manon," you breathed, her name a plea on your lips as back arched. She wrapped an arm over your lower stomach, pinning you down into the soft mattress.

"Yes kitty?" She murmured, looking up at you through her lashes. You tried to convey with your eyes what you wanted, but she was having none of that. "Words," She warned, accentuating it with a harsh pinch to your side.

"Please touch me," you nearly cried, and her finger barely ghosted over your core. "More please," You begged.

"You want my fingers inside your pretty little cunt, hm?" She said, but didn't wait for an answer as she plunged in, right to her knuckle, curling to hit the perfect spot. Her mouth sucked on your clit as her fingers moved slowly, but thrusting hard enough your body rocked with each movement.

It didn't take long for her to bring you over the edge, screaming her name as she fucked you through your orgasm, leaving you breathless and your body numb. Your legs were shaking, and she sliced through the constraints, her iron nails cutting them easily, without scratching or nicking your skin. She rubbed out your wrists, running gentle fingers through your hair. 

“I want to taste you,” you murmured, still groggy.

“Later,” she promised, pulling you to lay your head on her chest.

[the-bottom-of-the-abyss]

siren song - chapter 4

previous chapter: chapter 3

next chapter: chapter 5

Playlist

A/N: This is also pretty mission based, like last chapter. However, next chapter will delve more into Ghost and Siren's dynamic! Also if you like playlists, I made one for this fic! It has a bunch of songs that just describe the general vibe but also for backstories and storylines we haven't gotten to yet. I'm planning for this to be a long series!

Also regarding the taglist, apparently I can't tag more than 100 people in a post so I will comment the ones that don't fit!

Siren

30 August 2022

1100, En route to cartel compound, Las Almas

 

You held onto the handlebar above you as Alejandro floored the newly acquired pickup truck over the rocky terrain on the way to the cartel’s compound. Bumps and unpaved roads made you bounce in your seat, your white knuckled grip being the only thing keeping you somewhat steady.

“We’re about there, be ready,” Alejandro warned. A collection of buildings and fields came into sight, what you could only assume was the compound Hassan was being held in.

“There should be ammo at your feet. Stock up while you have the chance.”

You grabbed a generous amount of ammo, having been dwindled down to 20 rounds of .300 and 39 rounds of 4.6mm in the fight with the Mexican Army.

Just as the truck went off of the road and into the grass, Graves’ voice came through over the comms.

“Ghost, this is Shadow-1, orbiting the compound now. Standing by for visual…”

“Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7,” Ghost replied. “We’ll mark our position with IR laser, over.”

“Roger 0-7.”

The car jolted to a stop and the four of you jumped out, weapons at the ready. 

“How do we find Hassan?” Soap asked.

“He’ll have an armed guard. Cartel protection,” Alejandro answered.

“Lotta places to hide…” you muttered as you walked past a couple haybales stacked on top of one another.

“Graves covers with close air. We clear the buildings,” Ghost ordered as you all got into cover. You and Soap crouched behind a wooden crate wile Alejandro and Ghost were behind another pickup truck.

“Copy that, Lt.,” Soap replied.

“Mark us,” Ghost told Soap before hailing Graves. “Shadow-1, we’re east of the compound. Position is marked.”

Soap took out a laser and waved it around in a circle upwards.

“Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7. We’re marking with IR laser. Do you have a visual, over?”

“0-7, copy your mark.”

“Shadow-1, be advised, Hassan is moving with an armed guard. You cover external, we’ll clear the buildings. How copy?”

“0-7, good copy. Armed guard. We’ll secure the area so you can move in. Stand by.”

“Roger that,” your Lieutenant said, glancing around the truck at the surroundings. You peaked your head up as well, seeing what looked to be a greenhouse, a stable, a couple of sheds, and a large building in the back.

Not even a minute later, all of you zeroed in on a truck coming out of one of the buildings.

“Shadow-1, there’s a truck leaving the stables, moving west.”

“Copy.”

“We won’t be able to keep Hassan,” you commented while you awaited direction from Graves.

“Probably not,” Ghost replied. “But we need him more for interrogation about the missiles than we did when we had execute authority.”

“Slippery bastard,” Soap muttered.

You nodded in agreement and continued to look for any movement.

“The greenhouse,” Alejandro said, drawing your gaze to the clear building. You could see armed guards alongside civillians but other than that, you had no way to see who was inside.

“Shadow-1, we’ve got targets at the greenhouse to our northwest. Roping now.” As Ghost finished speaking, Soap pointed the laser at the greenhouse ahead.

“0-7, no visual on target. What’s the call?”

“That army convoy’s gaining ground,” Alejandro cautioned.

“We go in guns blazin’,” Soap began, “hope he squirts, lock him up from there.”

While you may have wanted to utilize stealth on such a big compound, you just didn’t have that kind of time to spend.

“Graves,” Ghost said, “you’re cleared hot to engage exernal. We’ll clear the buildings when secure.”

“0-7, copy that. Keep your heads down.”

The four of you sat behind cover as the sun beat down onto your sweat-slicked skin while you waited for Graves to clear the area around the greenhouse.

One moment all was still and in the next bullets rained down like the anguished tears of a vengeful deity, eviscerating anything that laid in their way.

“Wow,” you whispered. The bodies didn’t even seem real; they flew around like ragdolls, like they weighed nothing at all.

Before you could think on it anymore, bullets started coming your way. You pulled out your rifle and began to take aim at those firing at you. You managed to take out a few and you’re sure the boys did too, but air support did most of the work, leaving behind a trail of destruction.

“0-7, all visible targets are down. Over.” 

At that, Ghost waved to move up, with him and Alejandro taking cover behind yet another truck and you and Soap on the side of a shed.

“Shadow-1, copy that,” Ghost told Graves. “We’ll be clearing the stables building first. Roping now.”

Soap marked the building with the laser for Graves and his crew. It was a stable, having multiple entrances and exits. 

“0-7, copy your mark. You’re clear to proceed.”

“Shadow-1, we’re moving now. If the target squirts, let us know.”

“Shadow-1 copies.”

You followed behind Ghost as he brought you close to the building. 

“Soap, freeze down the right side. Siren, Alejandro, on me.”

“Aye,” Soap confirmed.

Alejandro and Ghost stood on either side of the door while you took a place on Ghost’s other side.

“Breaching,” Ghost said quietly as he pushed open the door.

“¡Bajarse, bajarse!” Alejandro yelled as you entered. You saw multiple people drop the supplies they were using to clean the empty stalls and run out of the building while a handful picked up rifles and began to fire at you three with wild abandon.

You shot a few with your VEL-46, avoiding any potential civilians but a few of the cartel members remained. A woman screamed from behind one of the stalls, clutching her child to her chest. You maneuvered yourself so you could talk to her but still be in cover.

“Vamos,” you told her urgently pointing to the door. She cried out, holding her child tighter and rushed away from the four of you. Hopefully the child was young enough to forget this, to forget the death that followed in your wake.

You held the button to speak into the comms. “Graves, check fire. Woman and child exiting left side.”

“Siren, solid copy.”

You fired round after round, trying to take down as many as possible. 

“You got a visual?” Ghost yelled to no one in particular.

“Negative!” You replied, ducking into cover to reload.

“Graves, negative on Hassan! It’s a dry hole!” Ghost told him.

“Ghost, copy that. I need you out of the building. Move north right now.”

“Copy, Moving!”

You ran from the stables and took cover behind a large rock, not wishing to be caught in the crossfire.

“Graves, we’re clear!” Ghost yelled out. “Drop that fuckin’ building now!”

Within seconds, before your very eyes, the building you were just in was destroyed. Chunks of wood flew in every direction and small, contained fires erupted where haybales once stood.

“Shadow-1, good shots,” Alejandro told Graves. “We’re pushing west to the greenhouse.”

The four of you moved forward, making sure to check for any remaining hostiles in your path. 

“All stations, there’s armed personnel in the greenhouse.”

Before any of you could respond, someone took notice of the four of you creeping towards the building.

“Contact!” you yelled, taking cover behind a small shed. 

The gunship aided in taking down some of your attackers, but Soap yelled into the comms before any bullets could stray into the greenhouse.

“Check fire! Hassan could be inside!”

A few seconds passed. You assumed they did a scan for Hassan and found nothing based on Graves’ next order.

“Ghost, keep your team back, we’re fixin’ to engage the greenhouse.”

“Solid copy!”

Glass erupted from the greenhouse frame as your air support pelted it with bullets

“Shadow-1, good effect on target. We’re moving up,” your Lieutenant told Graves.

“Roger, 0-7.”

You creeped up to the greenhouse, glass crunching underneath your boots. The dying gasps of a cartel member came from the rubble.

“These guys are fucked,” Soap said, looking at the bodies.

“Dust ‘em,” Ghost ordered, nodding his head to the man still struggling to draw a breath. You pulled the trigger, silencing him. A mercy, in your opinion.

“Where is this fucker?” Soap questioned, looking around at how big the cartel’s operation was on this plot of land.

“He has to be in that compound,” Alejandro answered, obviously meaning the giant white building with two main areas connected by a long corridor. It was gated and looked of importance, just by architecture alone.

Ghost led the team to take cover behind a small shack along with sandbags and blue barrels.

Ghost spoke into his radio. “Shadow-1, what’s the ETA on that convoy?”

“0-7, convoy is six klicks out, advise you step it up and secure exfil.”

“I’ll contact Rodolfo,” Alejandro responded.

“Do it,” Ghost told him. “Graves, we’re working on exfil. Be advised, last building we’ll hit is the compound. How copy?”

“0-7, good copy. Hold your position until we clear the area.”

“Roger that.”

Once more, your team became a target, countless guns firing at you, bullets only barely missing at times.

“Shadow-1, troops in contact!” Ghost shouted.

“RPG!” you yelled, spotting a man aiming a rocket launcher towards your cover standing on the water tower. He fired and there was not much you could do to avoid being thrown back as it hit your cover and exploded. Thankfully the adrenaline flowing allowed you to get up quickly and fall back along with the boys to return fire.

“Move left! Now!” Ghost yelled, grabbing your arm and yanking you away from the RPG’s next target. You stumbled but regained balance quickly, moving to cover once more.

“Shadow-1, x-rays at the water tower!”

The water tower was hit brutally, the foundation shaking.

“Positive impacts! Hit ‘em again!”

The next few seconds of gunfire caused it to break open, and fall to the ground, surely crushing whoever dared to stand in front of it.

You were taking down one hostile after another, not faltering until you saw Ghost jerk back out of the corner of your eye.

“Ghost is hit!” you yelled, running towards where he laid on his back a few yards away. You felt a surge of panic flare up inside you, its cold icy grip an unfamiliar feeling.

A cartel member approached from the side, gun raised to shoot Soap who was focused on the enemies in front of him.

You quickly drew a knife from your vest as you ran towards your Lieutenant and threw it with deadly accuracy, the knife lodging itself into your target’s neck. You didn’t even care about retrieving the knife as you sprinted to Ghost.

“Fuck me,” you heard Ghost mumbled as you fell to your knees to look him over. Your hands shook slightly, as you raked your eyes over his vest. No blood, thankfully.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, raising your voice to compete with the gunfire going off in the background.

“Yeah, hit my plate. Bastards,” he told you. He looked at the face-down cartel member and then back to you. “Nice throw.”

You stood, intending on getting back into the fight, and held out your hand. He took it and you pulled him up, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go.

As you looked around it appeared that Graves and his team managed to take out the rest of the hostiles, leaving a clear path to the headquarters.

“Ghost, no movement detected. What’s your status?”

“He’ll be alright,” you answered. “Round hit the plate.”

“Affirm,” Ghost said. “Good thing your aim isn’t shit like theirs.”

Graves’ tone turned humorous at the remark. “Roger that, 0-7. Be advised, you’re clear up to the compound, but the gate is blocked at this time.”

“Copy,” Ghost replied. “Give us a way in, yeah?”

“We’ll open the door for you. Stand by…”

“You okay, Lt.?” Soap questioned.

“Yeah, mate. I’m good.”

The gate was swiftly destroyed along with any cartel members in the courtyard.

“Ghost, door’s open. You’re clear to proceed.”

“Copy that. Moving now.”

Ghost motioned to follow him into smoke created by the bullets hitting anything and everything in the immediate area. 

“Ghost, no movement detected.”

“Copy. We’re pushing to the entrance now.”

“Roger, we see you.”

You passed flaming cars, destroyed sheds, and mangled corpses on the way to the front door. It was a sight, that was for certain.

Ghost and you took a place on the left side of the door while Alejandro was on the right; Soap put C4 on the door before also standing on the right.

“Be advised, the convoy is three klicks out. You need to haul ass.”

“Solid copy.”

“Alejandro,” Soap asked, “where’s that exfil?”

“Five minutes out.”

“It’s going to be close,” you cautioned.

“Let’s do this, then,” Ghost said, determination hardening his voice.

“Breaching,” Soap said before detonating the explosive. The door blew off and the four of you swept inside to see a room filled with people surrounding a very familiar face: Hassan.

“Shadow-1! Positive ID on Hassan!”

“He’s moving upstairs!” you added, using your VEL-46 to take out any cartel members you could see. It seemed like taking out one caused another three to take their place.

“Graves, he’s exiting the second floor! North-west side!” After the room was cleared, you followed his path up the stairs and outside, just in time to see him running into the other building.

“He ran inside!” Alejandro yelled. You sprinted across the corridor alongside your team and reached the door to connected building.

Alejandro wasted no time bashing it open, allowing the four of you to funnel in. There were only a few cartel members which were disposed of quickly. Meanwhile, you all shouted to Hassan.

“Get down!” you yelled.

“Get down, now!” Alejandro echoed.

“Who the fuck are you?” Hassan spit out.

Ghost hit him in the face with the butt of his gun while Soap secured his arms.

“Mexican Special Forces,” Alejandro answered. “You’re coming with us.”

“Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7,” Ghost said into his radio. “Jackpot. I say again, jackpot. Target is secure.”

“0-7, solid copy. What’s the status of your exfil?”

“This is Victor 1-1,” Alejandro cut in. “Exfil is two minutes out!”

The exchange of gunfire continued, all of you covering Soap while he held onto Hassan. 

“All stations, be advised—convoy is closing on target area now.”

“Copy that, Shadow-1. Good eye,” Soap said.

“Alejandro, what’s the call?” Ghost asked, peeking out of cover to shoot an approaching hostile.

“They’re with the cartel—free to engage.”

“Shadow, how copy?” Ghost asked.

“Solid.”

Explosions rocked the compound, and smoke rose from the ashes of the destruction. The sound of cars exploding and missiles hitting the ground were unmistakable. Eventually, return fire fizzled into nothing, leaving you with a feeling of unease at the quiet. Such a big area, once filled with life, laid to waste for this one very, very dangerous man.

“All stations, visible targets are down. You’re clear to proceed.”

“Shadow-1, copy that.” Alejandro replied. “Exfil is inbound now.”

Ghost led all of you to the back of the compound, bashing the doors open with his shoulder. You exited just in time to see Rodolfo slide the car to an abrupt stop in front of you.

“I am a Quds Force Major! You have no right-!” Hassan began but was cut off by Soap slamming him against the car.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled.

“You will pay dearly for this!” Hassan said as Soap shoved him into the backseat. You rolled your eyes at the dramatics and hopped into one of the seats in the trunk. Ghost sat on the other side of Hassan while Alejandro conversed with Rodolfo in Spanish.

“We’re good!” Soap said into the radio.

“Go!” Ghost told Rodolfo. “Shadow-1, package secure. We’re RTB.”

 

—

 

Ghost

30 August 2022

1145, Olmeda, Las Almas

 

The drive was relatively silent as Rodolfo sped away from the compound and into Olmeda. It was a successful mission; they got the target and no one was killed.

Ghost’s chest still was a little sore from where the bullet hit his armor plate, but he certainly did not regret seeing Siren’s handiwork while he was on the ground. The knife throw was impressive, one that rivaled his. And the quiet fury in her eyes was something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“Wait, what’s that?” Ghost heard Siren say from the trunk.

Rodolfo slowed down the car once the gas station came into view.

“All stations, what’s the hold-up down there?” Graves asked.

“Shadow-1,” Alejandro replied, “there’s movement at the fuel station ahead. Possible cartel. Roping now.” He pointed an IR laser out of the passenger window.

A beat passed. 

“All stations, no visible threats in the area. You are clear to proceed.”

“Shadow-1, copy that. We’re moving.”

It wasn’t too long before they were stopped once more. A man wheeled a cart into the middle of the road, suspiciously slow.

“Shadow-1, we may have a situation here…” Siren said quietly. Rodolfo yelled out the window to no avail. 

“¡Rodéalo! ¡Rodéalo! Go around!” Alejandro told Rodolfo.

Rodolfo went to swerve around the cart, but hit it instead, temporarily blocking the view of the road.

“On the right-!” Soap shouted before the grating sound of metal colliding with metal filled the air. 

Somewhere in his mind, Ghost knew the car was rolling. But in the present, he only could take in the force of the seatbelt on his chest, the yelps of those around him, and the sound of broken glass.

It’s possible he blacked out because for a second he was in a comfortable limbo, absent of all sensations and then all of the sudden he was upside down, blood rushing towards his head. He scrambled for a knife and cut himself out and looked to see Soap doing the same. Soap grabbed Hassan and crawled out of the smoking vehicle, only to rush around to the side to avoid getting shot.

Ghost followed in suit and was relieved to see Alejandro and Rodolfo already out and returning fire. However, Siren was still in the car.

“Cover me while I get Siren!” Ghost shouted, yanking open the trunk doors to see her coming to, blood coating one side of her face. A sliver of fear struck him for a second at the injury, but he pushed it down. He needed to remain focused, for everyone’s sake.

“What the fuck…” She mumbled. Ghost took out his knife and cut her seatbelt, catching her before she could hit the glass-covered ground.

“Sergeant, you need to wake up,” he told her firmly, shaking her. Her head wound thankfully looked superficial, not too serious. She blinked rapidly and brought a hand up to her temple before wincing. It seemed then that she really saw him now, because her eyes widened a fraction at their surroundings. She removed herself from his grasp and looked towards the chaos outside.

“I’m good, Lieutenant,” she assured him, grabbing her guns that had fallen. “Just a scratch.”

He ducked out of the trunk at that and began to fire back at the approaching cartel members. Siren did the same, killing hostiles one after the other.

“All stations, we’re engaging danger close. Give me a sitrep when able.”

“Shadow-1, we’re up!” Ghost told Graves. “No casualties, Hassan is secure!”

“0-7, copy that. Colonel Vargas, what’s the word?”

“Shadow-1, we’ll hardpoint in the building behind us, over!” Alejandro yelled beginning to back up towards the restaurant.

“Copy that.”

Ghost followed the two Mexican Special Forces agents and his two Sergeants into the restaurant. It was a cozy place; not the kind that should be seeing gunfire and ground warfare.

“Clear!” Rodolfo yelled. They made their way up to the roof for a vantage point, with Ghost and Siren aiming East towards the gas station, Alejandro and Rodolfo covering South where the school was located, and Soap faced the Northwest, Hassan sitting tied up beside him.

Alejandro yelled to Rodolfo and Ghost assumed it was to call for extraction which Rodolfo did promptly.

Ghost focused on the targets in front of him, taking them out with ease. Air support eventually took out the majority of the hostiles at the gas station, leaving only a few more for Ghost and Siren to pick off.

Just when he thought they took them all out, he saw something headed straight towards them.

“RPG!” he yelled. Siren hit the deck and Ghost followed suit.

“Get down!” Soap yelled.

The building shook as it was hit by the explosive, only missing them by a small margin.

“Shadow-1,” Soap called out. “We’re taking RPG fire from the east. Roping now!”

“Copy, engaging.”

It seemed to be endless, the amount of cartel members there were. Ghost was going through clip after clip, and he was sure others were in the same position. He was on autopilot, hitting every cartel member he saw, only focused on eliminating all threats. At least they had air support, he thought. Graves’ team was taking out leagues of members, raining down bullets and missiles alike.

Rodolfo yelled something to Alejandro, which the Colonel then translated. “All stations, extract birds are inbound. Five minutes!”

“Rocket!” Rodolfo yelled. “Get down!” 

Once again, Ghost took cover on the roof, and in the split second they were there, he looked at Siren. She wore an expression of determination, the blood on her face only intensifying it. She shot back up and returned to taking down hostiles with her rifle. The corner of her mouth lifted into a small sadistic smirk when she landed a good shot, making something flare up in his lower stomach.

Focus, he told himself.

More of the cartel crowded the gas station, taking all of his attention. It was a bloodbath, truly.

“Ghost, I’m gettin’ overrun!” Ghost heard Soap yell out. Luckily, air support swooped in just in time, taking out any remaining targets.

“Bravo 0-7, Shadow-1, all visible threats are down.”

“Be advised,” Ghost told everyone. “Resupplies are low. Conserve your ammo.”

He then addressed Soap, wishing to make sure Hassan was at least still alive and hadn’t been killed in any of the crossfire.

“Sergeant Soap, sitrep?”

“Hassan is secure. He’s still a prick.”

An amused huff came from beside him.

“And you’re as mindless as your weapons of war!” Hassan yelled.

“Bravo 7-1, you are cleared hot to shut Hassan the hell up.”

“I get to go next,” Siren said, a glimmer of mischief in her eye. He was pretty sure that if he gave the go ahead, she would gladly make Hassan cease his talking permanently.

Before he could contemplate it further, another projectile was headed towards his team.

“Incoming!” Mortars came at them from the football field, luckily the first few fell short of the restaurants.

“The football field!” Alejandro yelled into the radio. From that point on, chaos was the only word to describe what was going on. Graves took out the mortar team but every ten seconds it seemed an RPG appeared, now some of them aimed at their air support. The gunship used flares to avoid being hit but that meant more enemies Ghost and his team had to handle while their air support was occupied. 

He was getting dangerously low on ammo and based on seeing Siren switch from her Sniper rifle to her SMG, he guessed she was too.

“Alejandro, where’s extraction? We’re burning through rounds, here!”

“One minute out!”

“Three mags left!” Soap called out.

“¡Estoy abajo a dos!” Rodolfo added.

“I’m running low!” Alejandro echoed.

“Fuck, I am too,” Siren said from beside him.

This was not an ideal situation. Simon “Ghost” Riley had been in plenty of downright awful situations, and this wasn’t even in the top ten. However, he was used to working alone, not having to worry about other people’s lives in his hands. But now? He needed to make sure they got out together, as a team.

“Get your knives ready!” Ghost told them.

“I always have my knives ready,” Siren told him, flashing him a sultry smile that he chose to ignore for the time being. More cartel members arrived via helicopter at the school, running towards the restaurant. Siren must have officially run out because she slung her gun on her back and pulled out a knife. She left her position and stood by the door, ready for any intruders.

Maybe it was because of how much was going on and not being able to keep them all away, but within thirty seconds someone did make it up the stairs and flung the door open, only to be grabbed by Siren and stabbed through the heart. Blood poured over her hands, and some drops flew onto her face as she yanked it out.

Ghost had seen people stabbed, had been stabbed before, and knew a good bit about techniques. She wasn’t just blindly shoving a knife into the nearest patch of skin; she was strategic, and seemingly practiced with a blade, knowing exactly where to put it. Not to mention her knife-throwing skills.

“I’ve doing this a fucking long time!”

He thought back to when he confronted her about her operation. But before he could think any more about how long “a fucking long time” was, a new voice crackled over comms.

“All stations, this is Hatchet 3-1. We are approaching from the southwest. Thirty seconds out.”

“Extract in thirty seconds!” Alejandro echoed.

“Solid copy!” Ghost yelled back.

It was a good thing too; more and more hostiles were trying to get to the restaurant and their dwindling ammo supply was concerning to say the least.

“Shite, I’m out!” Soap called out.

“Here!” Rodolfo tossed him a magazine. “Last mag!” 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost heard Siren say. “Armor is blocking our exit.”

“Graves,” Ghost said, “our exit’s blocked by enemy armor. Requesting immediate air support.”

“Check north! We got armor crossing the bridge!” 

While Siren was busy stabbing another cartel member unfortunate enough to come upstairs, Graves’ gunship fired at the bridge and took it out completely, destroying any transports and preventing further reinforcements.

“Bravo 0-7, extract is on station. Exit west of the building, they are standing by.”

“Shadow-1, solid copy! We’re moving now!” Alejandro replied. “Ghost, Soap, Siren, Rudy—we’re leaving! Let’s go!”

“Copy! Moving!” Ghost yelled back. They ran to the stairs, careful not to step on the deceased cartel members. 

“Thank fucking God,” Siren said.

“Copy that,” Soap echoed.

They reached the downstairs, luckily no hostiles were inside.

“Bravo 0-7, HLZ secure, You’re clear to proceed.” Graves told Ghost.

“Copy. Moving now.” 

His team rushed out of the door and straight to the helicopter, the sound of the whirring blades music to Ghost’s ears.

“Everyone in!” Alejandro yelled.

Soap had slight trouble getting Hassan to get in but eventually managed. Siren hopped in as well, and Ghost followed behind her.

“This should send a message to the cartel, yeah?” Soap asked Alejandro and Rodolfo.

“It will, hermano,” Alejandro told him. “They lost something more than just soldiers today.”

“What’s that?” Siren asked.

“Their reputation.”

“Word travels fast in Las Almas,” Rodolfo added.

“3-1, we’re set!” Alejandro told the pilot. And with that, they were off.

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