#what is he doing with these wires. probably nothing smart

[kayvsdoodles]

old nerd doodle i don't think i posted

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Saving Steve Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - Steve Harrington has already saved your life, so it's time to return the favor. Little did you know that would feel a little less like an action movie and more like taking care of rowdy toddlers. Word Count - 2.1k Warnings - Language, Drugged up Steve and Robin, lots and lots of Dustin Henderson sass. Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

You loved your brother. Really and truly he was one of the best parts of your life. No matter what kind of mood you were in, you could always count on him to cheer you up. As much as you'd deny it to his face, you'd do anything for him, including maiming and murder.

Which was why you were trying your very best not to strangle him right now. 

Steve and Robin had been captured. They were being held by Russians, probably being tortured for information, and Dustin was arguing with Erica about being a nerd. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you watched Dustin work on trying to stop the fans, seeming to take his sweet time, and not for the first time, you wished you were as smart as him. Maybe if you had been you would have thought of a way to save everyone. Maybe if you had been your friend wouldn’t have been captured. Maybe if you had been Steve wouldn’t be getting hurt right now. 

“You’re making me more nervous.” Dustin said, pulling you out of the spiral of your thoughts.

“Can you not go any faster? We’ve been here for like twenty minutes.” You said, your fingers tapping the handle of your weapon erratically. 

“We’ll save your loverboy. Calm down.” Erica said, rolling her eyes. 

“Gross!”

“Shut up.” You replied at the same time as Dustin. “I still don’t see what’s taking so long, can’t you just-”

“This is a very complex system! I can’t-”

You had enough. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea, but you shoved his hand out of the way, reached into the box, and yanked out every wire that you could get your hands on. You didn’t care what the consequences were anymore. You had to get to Steve and Robin. Now. 

“What the hell!” Dustin yelled.

You shushed him, watching as the fans that had been blocking your path slowed to a stop, and a pleased smile formed on your face. “Well,” you gripped your weapon in your hand once more. “Are you two coming or not?” You asked, not waiting on them to follow you as you started crawling. 

After a couple of seconds you heard them start moving behind you, and Erica spoke again. “Your sister’s crazier than you are.” 

Dustin groaned. “I know.” 

—————

“Okay, remember the plan. You two-”

“Stay out of the way while you save your man. Just go!” Erica said, urging you forward. The three of you had just watched everyone exit the room they were keeping Steve and Robin in after the alarms went off from the hole in their floor you had created. 

Steeling yourself, you gripped your weapon tighter, finger on the trigger. You didn’t feel scared though. No, all you felt was determined. Steve had saved your life multiple times. Now it was time to return the favor. You slammed the door open and didn’t think. All you saw was the man in the white coat leaning over the guy you were in love with, and you attacked. You pressed the trigger on your weapon and held it against the man’s chest, thinking of nothing but getting him away from Steve until he crumpled to the floor, either passed out or dead. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you shoved the thought of what you might have just done away. When you turned around to face Steve though, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any ounce of regret. “Oh, Steve,” you said, taking in his beat up face that was grinning at you. 

“Hey! I was just talking about you!” He said, and then let out a sigh. “God you’re pretty.” 

Normally a compliment like that, spoken with such sincerity, would have had your heart fluttering, but it was already doing that for a completely different reason as you reached down to untie him while Dustin got to work on Robin. “You guys have to get ready to run, okay?” You said, glancing from him to Robin who seemed to be in much better shape. 

“Whatever you say boss lady.” Robin replied, giving you a salute with her now free hand that caused Steve to immediately burst into giggles. 

You shared a glance with Dustin at their odd behavior, but he just shrugged. There was no time to try and figure it out anyway. You got the last of Steve’s ropes off and grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. Apparently with more force than was necessary, because he stumbled forward, and you caught him around the waist before he could fall. Of course, that brought the two of you chest to chest. 

“Hi,” Steve said, looking down at you. The expression on his face was dopey and adoring, like he’d never seen anything better in his life than you right now. 

“Umm, hi?” You replied, breathless and confused. 

Before you could say anything else, your brother was yelling. “Let’s go!” 

Grabbing Steve’s hand, you tugged him out the door and back towards escape. Once everyone had made it to the cart, against your better judgement, you tossed Dustin the keys. “Get us out of here.” You said, ushering Robin and Steve into the back before following them. You didn’t like Dustin driving, but you wanted a better look at Steve’s injuries. “Robin, are you hurt anywhere?” You asked, squeezing in between the two of them and looking her over. 

“I’m peachy keen my dear friend. That’s the one with the messed up face.” She fake whispered, pointing at Steve. 

Steve looked at you with a slight panic in his eyes. “Is my face fucked up?” 

Oh yeah. It was fucked up all right. You had to fight the urge to touch it because Dustin was driving so erratically that you were afraid you’d end up poking him in the eye. Thankfully you were saved from the trouble of responding by Dustin taking such a sharp turn it sent you flying into his lap, your hands grabbing the cage on either side of his head while his wrapped around your waist. “Shit, Dustin!” You yelled. 

“Jeez, slow down,” Steve slurred, yet his hands made no effort to let you move. 

“Yeah, what is this, the Indy 500?” Robin asked. 

“It’s the Indy 300.” Steve corrected, looking at her over your shoulder. 

You couldn’t see her, but you assumed Robin was shaking her head. “No, dingus, it’s 500!” 

“It’s 300!” Steve insisted. 

“Let’s say, a million?” Robin replied, causing the both of them to burst into giggles. 

What the actual fuck. Something was seriously wrong with these two. You kept one hand hanging onto the cart while the other cupped the back of Steve’s head, trying to keep his head steady so you could get a good look at his face since it didn’t seem like he was letting you move any time soon. 

As soon as you touched Steve’s head, his giggles began to fade, and that doe eyed look came back. “You know I’ve dreamed about you like this.” He said to you. 

Your eyes widened at the admission, but you knew that was something you were going to have to unpack later. “Steve-”

“Dustin, watch out!” Erica yelled. 

Steve’s arms tightened around you, and your hand tried to protect the back of his head as much as you could as the cart crashed into barrels. The three of you let out almost simultaneous groans as your bodies collided with the back of the cart, and your frown deepened as you noticed Steve wincing. He was clearly in more pain than he was letting on. 

“Are you guys okay?” Dustin called from the front. 

“I’m never teaching you how to drive.” You grumbled, as Steve finally let you out of his arms. 

As soon as Dustin opened the back you held out a hand to both Robin and Steve, pulling them out more gently this time as you urged them both to the elevator. 

It took approximately five seconds to get everyone on the elevator, five more for the elevator to get going, and exactly ten before Steve and Robin started using a rolling cart like a surfboard. You just stood between Dustin and Erica looking at them in disbelief. “They seem drunk.” Erica said. 

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. What purpose would the Russians have to get them drunk?” 

“I’m not drunk! Check it out!” And it was at that moment that Steve flew off the cart and straight into the wall. 

“Wipeout!” Robin yelled, as they both dissolved into fits of laughter. 

“Sure that’s the guy you’re in love with?” Dustin asked you, his arms crossed over his chest. 

You shot your little brother a murderous look and a string of cuss words left your lips as you bent down next to Steve. A thought occurred to you, and you reached up to feel his forehead. “He’s burning up.” You said, even more panic starting to creep into your chest. 

“Awww, I think you’re really hot too.” Steve said, booping you on the nose. 

Heat flooded your cheeks as Dustin bent down next to you and pulled at the skin around Steve’s eye, ignoring his groans and swats to get him off. “His pupils are super dilated.” He said, glancing at you, then Erica. 

“Maybe he’s been drugged?” She suggested.

“Steve have you been drugged?” Dustin asked him. 

He let out a sigh. “How many times, dad? I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.” Steve replied with a boop for Dustin’s nose as well. 

You reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand trying to get him to focus on you. “Steve, do you have any idea what they gave you? I need you to tell me.” 

“You’re not gonna die on us, are you?” Dustin asked. 

“Dustin!” You scolded. You didn’t even want to consider that possibility. 

“We all die, my strange little child friend.” Robin spoke up. “It’s just a matter of how . . . And when.” She continued, twirling her hair around her fingers as you all stared at her. 

“Muah!” The awkward silence was broken by Steve who had just pressed a loud kiss to your hand that was still holding his. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” He said, beaming up at you. 

“For the love of God-” Dustin grumbled. 

You chose to ignore him. “Okay, Steve, I need your car keys. They’re going to be coming for us when we get out of here.” 

“Ooh, can we make a stop at the food court?” Steve asked. 

“I’d kill for a hot dog on a stick.” Robin said. 

You thought it was hard keeping your patience with just Dustin and Erica. This was a whole other level. “We can stop and get whatever you want as soon as you give me your car keys.” You said like you were talking to a child. 

Your heart sank as soon as Steve frowned. “Uh oh. The car’s off the board.” 

“What?” Dustin said. 

“They took the keys. The Russians, they took the keys.” Steve said, pulling out the empty pockets of his uniform. “That’s a bummer right?” He said, and he and Robin started laughing again. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Of course the one day you had taken a bus here. Your mind quickly went through the list of people you should call for help. Hopper was at the top, followed by Joyce, Nancy or Jonathan. Eddie’s name popped up for the briefest moment, but no. You refused to get him involved in any of this mess. “Do you have your walkie on you still?” You asked Dustin. 

“Of course.” 

“As soon as we get out of here, we’re going to try to find a quiet place and get the others. Hopper, Joyce, Nancy, Jonathan, I don’t care. Just someone with a car. You-” you pointed at Erica. “Are going to look after these two.” You told her, nodding your head in their direction. 

She groaned. “Why me?” 

“Because I’m the oldest, I’m in charge, and because I said so.” You told her. 

Erica rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” 

It was at that moment you felt a tug on your hand. You had forgotten Steve was still holding it. “Are you mad at me about the keys?” He said, and you couldn't help but be reminded of a little puppy, looking up at you with the saddest eyes. 

Giving him a small smile, you brought his own hand to your lips and kissed it this time. “You just risked your life for mine, and my brothers. I don’t think I can be mad at you for at least a week.” 

The kiss to his hand and your words wiped that frown off his face immediately, and he was back to smiling. “You promise?” 

You squeezed his hand. “Promise.”  

“You two are disgusting.” You heard Erica say. 

“Agreed.” Dustin added on. 

You just rolled your eyes.

[ilguna]

Hey! Can I get the number 89 (in honour of 1989 tv) with finnick ?

☼ lovestruck, lovesick, lovelorn pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, death, gore for sure, blood, weapon usage, mention of prostitution.

wc; 8.6k

prompt; 86. "Do you trust her?" // "No, but I trust her anger."

notes; i already did 89 for Peeta (castaway) and i'm trying not to do any repeats, so we're going with 86 :)

part two, part three.

--

The golden Cornucopia sits abandoned in the middle of this black sand island, whereas normally it’s occupied by the Careers to ensure that no intruders steal from them. There must not be anything worth protecting in here, then, besides the weapons that are displayed.

This allows the group to spread out, picking places to rest in the shade. Peeta lowers Beetee to the ground, propping him up against a box. He backs off, going to stand next to Katniss.

Beetee calls out to Wiress, making her go over to him. She crouches down, hands on her knees, waiting. In her limited state of mind, you’re fairly surprised that she’s still comprehending people, much less requests. He holds up his coil of wire, she takes it. “Clean it, will you?” 

Wiress nods, wordlessly getting to her feet and going to sit on the edge of the island to clean the spool of blood. She dunks it in the water, occasionally using her fingers to rub a particularly hard spot. While she does this, she begins to sing, no longer repeating the words ‘tick tock’.

It must be some sort of nursery rhyme from District Three, because you don’t recognize it. It’s about a mouse running up and down a clock, which is fairly appropriate, given the recent discovery, thanks to her.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna says, rolling her brown eyes. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

Wiress stops suddenly, getting to her feet, posture rigid as she points to the jungle and says, “Two.”

The rest of you watch as a white wave of fog begins to seep onto the beach. From here, it doesn't seem so threatening. You probably wouldn’t think twice about it, if you hadn’t run for your life from it early this morning. While it melted your jumpsuit and poisoned your skin, causing you to strip to your under clothes and for your body to be covered in scabs from where it touched you.

You’d rather fight the orange monkey muttations a hundred times than risk doing that again.

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.” Katniss says.

“LIke clockwork.” Peeta agrees. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

Wiress smiles, and then kneels in the sand to continue singing and dunking the coil in water. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says from beside you. Your eyes slide over to him. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks Katniss.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” She says.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna scoffs.

“It stops singing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.” Katniss ends that line of conversation, turning to go inside of the Cornucopia.

Johanna goes in after her to poke around in the weapons, since she’s been empty handed the entire time. Funny how Beetee was able to make it to the Cornucopia before she did, even if it ended up getting him hurt because of it.

You briefly glance at Finnick from where you were watching Johanna, and you have to do a double-take when you realize that he’s staring at you. He looks you over, up and down, which would be flattering, if you didn’t know that he was assessing your demeanor, deciding if you were a threat.

You squint at him, face twisting. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tells you.

“It’s not nothing if you’re looking at me like that.” You snap. “Leave me alone.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything back. You’re getting tired of him thinking that you’re going to betray the alliance. You’re in this as much as he is, you volunteered to be here. If anything, he should be a little grateful that he got a district partner that’s invested and capable.

He doesn’t see it that way, though. He thinks that you’re just as bad as Enobaria and Brutus—that you’re itching to get back into an arena to kill for some spotlight. And you know this, because he told you himself on the train. Once you were out of sight of the cameras, he tried to lay you out in front of Mags and the escort, and you shut him down.

You know he disagrees with the way you choose to handle situations, but to think that you would get in the way of a rebellion was a slap to the face. You made sure he knew that later on, when you were out of earshot of the Peacekeepers. If he wanted to think of you so lowly, fine. The line is drawn when he begins to implant those ideas in other people’s heads, too. Especially since you’ve done nothing to deserve it.

It didn’t matter to him. In fact, he tried to block you from being invited into the alliance by telling Haymitch that you could fuck the whole plan if your mood changes. He said all it would take is one disagreement, one thing not going the way you wanted, one wrong look, and you’d make sure that everyone else would be brought down by it.

Thankfully, Haymitch knows better than to just take Finnick’s word for it. He might be a drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention for the past ten years. He knows that you and Finnick have a history of not getting along. If anything, you’ll sabotage Finnick more than you will the alliance as a whole.

Which is why he told you that you have a place in it, if you want. And while everyone else places stepping stones to make sure that the plan to get rescued is in place. You were told that you have two jobs; the first one being protecting Katniss and Peeta, a task that you were already prepared to risk your life for. As for the second one—if anything were to go wrong, if someone unexpected were to get killed, you’ll replace their shoes, and get Katniss and Peeta to the end of the day at all costs.

This is why you’ve been on edge. If Finnick would see past his hatred for you, and thought about it, he’d realize that you’re trying to make sure that Katniss and Peeta are in good positions. You are not the threat here.

Johanna lets out a grunt, you turn your head in time to watch as she throws an axe through the air, straight at the Cornucopia. It hits the sun-softened gold with a gentle thud, and it sticks. She crosses the area, pulling it out by the handle, making a face at the blade.

Katniss is digging through the weapons, probably looking for more arrows to add to her collection, because two sheaths aren’t enough. When she finds one, she swings it over her back and comes out to stand over Peeta, who’s drawing a map of the arena onto a large leaf that he brought from the jungle. He slices the circle, creating twelve equal wedges.

“Look how the Cornucopia is positioned.” He says, looking up at her.

Her eyebrows draw in, and she turns around to take a look at the building she just came out of. “The tail points to twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, numbering the wedges one through twelve. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He proceeds to write lightning in the wedge, and then goes clockwise, adding blood, fog, and monkeys in the next sections.

“And ten to eleven is the wave.” She says, he writes it down. 

Finnick comes over with Johanna, the two of them have upped the weapon count on their bodies. And he thinks you’re the dangerous one, as if you don’t have a sword and a couple knives on you. Does he really need two tridents and half a dozen knives? It makes him look…

Hot, a voice whispers from the depth of your mind, It makes him look hot.

He’s standing in a patch of sun, where the Cornucopia doesn’t quite reach. The sunbeams baking his already tanned skin. His eyes are a brighter shade of sea green, with the light being in his eyes. He looks like he belongs at the bottom of the ocean, commanding the creatures that dwell in it.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he flickers over to yours. You stare for a second longer, before blinking and looking away, back at the map that’s being drawn. 

It’s a shame that Finnick decided years back that he would rather keep you at a distance instead of making a friend out of you. The two of you are so similar that it hurts at times, but all he can see are the differences, which hurts more.

The both of you won at young ages, with him setting the record, while you won at fifteen. He had an advantage in his Games, though, because the sponsors were drawn in by his good looks for being someone so young. This meant that he had everything he could have ever asked for gifted to him in the arena.

On the other hand, you didn’t make much of an impression during your reaping or the Tribute Parade, forcing you to change the strategy that you’d been given by Finnick and Mags. They wanted you to keep your head down, but if you wanted even a sliver of a chance, you needed to make your name big.

So, that’s exactly what you did. And that’s where the resentment he has for you, started. You showed off absolutely all your skills in the Training Center, making sure the Gamemakers knew you had potential, getting you a score of nine. During your interviews, you told Caesar that there wasn’t a single hurdle you wouldn’t jump to get home.

That statement was put to the test in the arena, when you killed several tributes, including your own district partner, because you knew it put you one step closer to getting out. You didn’t care what bridges you had to burn, how many sponsors you had to lose, or if you lost the support of your mentors. Nothing could stop you, and it didn’t.

Finnick hates that you had no remorse when you got out of the arena. Or now, because you told him that this is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, because between life and death, you choose life. He can’t wrap his head around the fact you’re so cold. How could the two of you be from the same district?

The similarities came back into play when you turned sixteen, when the Capitol realized that they do care about you. Which changed your title from victor to Capitol darling. You were told to join Finnick and be a prostitute, or President Snow would kill your family. 

This is where you screwed up, believing him to be bluffing. You didn’t think he would actually do it, but he’s a man of his word. When you were done listening to the screams and pleas of your parents to spare your siblings, Snow told you that if you didn’t agree, Finnick’s family would be next.

You had no choice, you had to agree. And when Finnick found out that you landed right where he was, there wasn’t a single shred of empathy he had toward you. Not even after you returned to District Four, and he learned that your family had been murdered in your home. The one you’d be forced to stay in for an additional two weeks while they got your victor house ready.

If you weren’t indifferent to his existence before, you sure as hell were then.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks Johanna and Beetee, referring to the wedges. 

“Only blood.” Johanna says, Beetee nods.

“I guess they could hold anything.” Katniss looks down at Peeta.

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta says, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look up, going to check on Wiress, since she’s gone quiet. Your eyes find Gloss, water dripping from his bare skin, knife sliding across the skin on her throat. It’s too late to save her, you know this when the blood begins to come down her neck like a waterfall.

The knife on your belt is in your hand and flying through the air in the matter of seconds. It’s headed right for Gloss, and when the blade lodges in the center of his forehead, it throws him back. This kills him instantly.

A movement out of the corner of your eye makes you turn your head, hand reaching for the knife that’s lined up next, but Johanna’s on it. She buries her axe in the center of Cashmere’s chest, eliminating her.

Three cannons blast, back to back.

Finnick swings his trident upward, deflecting a spear that had been aiming for Peeta, thrown by Brutus. Finnick goes to twist his body to take the knife that Enobaria throws at Beetee, but he misses by an inch. It’s too late for you to save Beetee, as the knife shatters the lens on the right side, and the blade buries itself in his eye socket.

Fuck.

Another cannon blasts.

You shove Finnick out of the way to chase after Enobaria and Brutus, who are making their escape around the backside of the Cornucopia. They’ve successfully killed two of your most important allies, and they don’t even realize it.

The two Careers are running down one of the sand strips to the beach. You manage to throw one more knife at Brutus before he’s out of range. It slams into his right calf, taking him down. He lands on his hands and knees, which is exactly what you were hoping for.

Right as you’re about to step onto the strip, the ground beneath you jerks, throwing you down. The center island of the Cornucopia begins to spin, fast. You press your sword between your body and the ground, digging your fingers into the grooves to hold on. 

It’s only thirty seconds later when it slams to a stop without warning. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking measured breaths to calm the growing annoyance in your chest. The Gamemakers knew you would kill Brutus, and later Enobaria, if you caught up with her. That’s why they had to intervene, otherwise the fun of the Games would be gone.

You slam your fist against the rock, pushing yourself to your knees. You lean back on your heels slightly, face to the sun while you collect yourself. With Wiress and Beetee being gone, this is a very large hiccup that you’re going to have to smooth out. You jinxed yourself, didn’t you?

A sigh leaves you as you get to your feet, swinging the sword into your hand. As you round the corner, you can see that everyone else is upright. Finnick looks over at you, eyebrows raised, waiting for good news, because you were the closest to the Two tributes.

“Brutus is injured. I would’ve had him if the fuckin’ Gamemakers had minded their own business.” You stab the tip of the sword into a patch of sand.

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks, looking around the group.

“He’s dead.” You tell her.

She meets your eyes, “What happened?”

“I—” Finnick starts.

“I didn’t block the knife in time.” You talk over him. “Enobaria’s got a strong arm, it went right through his glasses.”

You can see Finnick staring at you from the corner of your eye. You lick your lips, tasting the salt of the water, before pressing them together. When you look at him, the two of you stare for a long second.

You, Johanna and Finnick know what this means. If just one of the Three tributes had been killed, you could’ve used the other. With both of them being gone, it means that someone needs to pick up their job, and you were the one that was elected to do just that.

“What now?” Finnick asks you.

You tilt your head, eyes going out to the water, finding two of the four bodies. It’s got to be Wiress and Gloss, because they’d been right next to each other when they died. You lean your sword up against the Cornucopia before wandering forward, to the edge of the island.

Wiress is floating on her back, on her stomach sits the spool of wire, golden and shining in the sunlight. You begin to head down the sand strip closest to her body. “I want the wire.”

“What for?” Johanna asks, “That was his weapon, not yours.”

You look over your shoulder. “It has to be now, doesn’t it?”

Johanna makes a face, but it’s not one of doubt. She knows that you’re right, that’s why she won’t bother to argue. Not that she would, anyway. You and Johanna get along, basically two peas in the same pod. She just likes Finnick more, because he puts up with her bullshit.

You jog as close as you can get to Wiress’s body, before diving in the warm water. It’s a nice break from the sun, even if it is for a minute. It doesn’t take long to get to her body, prying the coil from her fingers. You’re about to swim away, when you hesitate, closing her eyes.

Finnick is waiting for you on the strip when you get back to it. You place the wire on the rock, and he reaches down to help you up. Your face twists, but you take his hand, letting him help. The moment you’re on both feet, he pulls you close, a rough hand on your shoulder as he pulls you close to speak in your ear.

“If you can’t do this, you need to tell me. I’ll figure something else out.” Finnick harshly whispers.

You jerk back, squinting at him. “Worry about yourself.” 

As you stoop to grab the wire, Finnick shakes his head. “I mean it, (Y/n).”

“And so do I.” You tell him, lowering your voice. “There’s a reason why Haymitch trusted me with this, and not you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “We’re back to this, huh?”

You scoff loudly. “You’re the one that’s upset by it, Finnick. So, here’s a fucking suggestion: deal with it.” You shake your head. “You’re so worried that I’m going to betray the alliance, that’s you’re forgetting that this is what I do.” You motion to the jungle with your free hand. “Enobaria and Brutus can run all they want, but we both know they’re going to have to come out eventually if they plan on finishing us off. And when they do, they’re going to get it.

“Not from you, not from Johanna, from me.” You seethe, moving around Finnick to head back up to the Cornucopia. You throw your hands up, one of them still holding the wire. “Face it, Finnick, I’ve got this handled.”

You turn around, finding that your three other allies have their eyes on you. You ignore them, watching where you place your feet. On the island, you retrieve your sword, dropping the wire onto a box. Finnick is a few feet behind you, wearing a hard expression.

You hate it when you have to talk to him like that, but you can’t do it any other way if you want him to listen to you. It’s like he doesn’t care unless you’re being hostile, except that tone of voice has him on edge, afraid that you’re going to flip a switch.

There is no happy medium. It’s like he’s dead-set on thinking that you’re an unlikable person. You wouldn’t have minded having an actual conversation between you, Finnick and Johanna to figure out a plan together. It’s his fault that he decided to take the situation into his own hands by assuming that you wouldn’t have the ability to fill Beetee’s shoes.

It makes you mad, so now you’re going to take care of it by yourself. As much as he wants you to ask for help, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure you don’t need him. Or the others, for that matter.

“Let’s get off this stinking island.” Johanna says once Finnick has joined the group.

You dig through the weapons in the Cornucopia, looking for a pair of knives that aren’t too short. The only ones that are available are displayed on the wall in the very back. They’re slightly curved, not too heavy. They’ll work just fine.

You watch as Peeta, Finnick and Johanna start in three different directions.

You stand next to Katniss, watching this. When they realize that no one is following them, they stop.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick says. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss tells him. “Any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.”

You tuck the knives in your belt, as you circle the Cornucopia with them to try and find the path that’ll lead to the twelve beach. Only, the jungle is perfectly replicated in every section, down to the last tree. Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s path, but it’s been washed away.

Katniss stops. “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“For now.” You murmur. “We still have the wave at ten to tell us, we’ll be back on track after that.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s growing impatient, wanting to move. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless. Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You let them decide which strip to take to the beach. Katniss and Peeta begin to lead the way. You grab the wire, motioning for Johanna and Finnick to go next, but they don’t budge. You roll your eyes and duck your head, putting a good distance between you and Peeta before you walk.

“What’s the plan?” Johanna’s voice sounds far, and she’s trying to be quiet, but there’s not enough going on for it to conceal her.

“She says she’ll handle it.” Finnick murmurs, you can’t tell if he’s mad or not.

“That’s it?” She asks, “It looked like she was yelling at you.”

“She did.” He says. “She told me to worry about myself, and she’ll handle Enobaria and Brutus.”

Johanna doesn’t speak right away. “Do you trust her?”

“No, but I trust her anger.” He tells her. “She’s right, this is what she does best.”

“So, you want to follow behind her?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Finnick shoots back.

“No.” Johanna sighs.

When you get to the jungle, they look inside of it, trying to figure out if there’s anything waiting inside or not. When you can’t see any immediate threats, they relax.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta says. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects. “I’ll at least watch your back.”

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up, yanking off a large leaf to hand to him. “(Y/n) can stay with us, while she figures out what to do with the wire.”

You drop it in the sand, along with your sword, as you sit down. Peeta crouches beside you, beginning to make his map, again. As you watch him draw the slices, your mind begins to wander. 

Katniss and Peeta are the Careers’ focus. They want to target the ones with the highest scores first, and then work their way down. If they take out a few of you in the process, then that’s great, but they’re afraid of what the Twelve tributes could’ve possibly done in order to get a perfect score.

It was a little odd for Gloss to go for Wiress, if this is the case. And Cashmere wasn’t able to kill anybody before she died. You guess she might have been going for Katniss, but Johanna was in between them, she wasn’t going to make it that far. That’s why Brutus tried to get Peeta with the spear, and maybe the knife was originally aimed for Peeta, not Beetee?

You just can’t wrap your head around their strategy of getting rid of the Three tributes. Were Enobaria and Brutus that worried about you guys coming up with a plan to use the explosives on the tribute platforms? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened in the Games, it’s just a stupid idea to do it in the water, when you have nothing to steady yourself on.

Either way, you need to figure out a way to draw them in. If there’s anything you know for sure, it’s that they’ll wait until dark to attack again, because they’ll have cover. It’s only the two of them now, which means they won’t attack the five of you all together, they’ll get overpowered in seconds. They’ll wait until you split up.

You play with the wire, twisting it between your fingers while you think.

If they send another twenty-four rolls from District Three tonight, you’ll have no choice but to go into the jungle for the lightning section, because that’s where they’ll be rescuing you out of the arena. You would just say that you should go up to the lightning tree and wait, except you won’t know what time it is until ten, like you said.

When the wave does it, you’ll have two hours to get to the tree. After that, Katniss and Peeta will have to get split up long enough to get the tracker out of their arms. That’ll be the perfect time to kill Enobaria and Brutus, too.

You just need a reason for them to split up. Johanna’s already agreed to getting it out of Katniss’s arm, which left Peeta for Finnick. You need some sort of placebo plan in the meantime, something for them to focus on to keep their minds off of the fact that the situation is going to be very, very suspicious.

“That’s it.” Peeta says, sitting back. “I don’t—”

A scream cuts through the still air, silencing him. You whip around to look back at the jungle, unsure of whether or not it belongs to Katniss. As you get to your feet, sword in your hand, you can hear another voice, shouting back. That one sounds like Katniss.

“What’s happening?” Peeta asks.

You get to your feet before he does, pulling the sword into your hand as you break through the jungle, swinging at any leaves in your way. “I think we chose the wrong section.”

“It’s supposed to be the monkey mutts right now, how can it be anything else?” Peeta asks.

Your face twists as you look over your shoulder, finding that Johanna’s eyes have rolled back as far as she can get them. “Because it’s the next hour?” She snarks.

Peeta doesn’t respond. For a moment, you’re genuinely concerned that the forcefield on the first day might have fried his brain a lot more than you thought. When you begin to think of all the decisions he’s made over these past couple of days, you relax. It’s not really out of his nature to say something stupid once in a while.

You’re about twenty yards into the jungle when you stop suddenly, sword at your side, eyes scanning the trees above. When Johanna and Peeta finally pause, you realize just how quiet it is out here.

Johanna takes a step or two forward, coming to stand next to you, looking up at the tree branches. She covers her eyes with one hand, squinting. “There’s no birds.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” You tell her, your normal voice feels too loud. “There’s not even insects.”

“What are you thinking?” She asks, looking at you.

“I feel like it’s too early to be the beast, because the sun was down further yesterday.” 

She nods. “A new hour.”

“That doesn’t explain why it’s so quiet.” Peeta says.

“Could be something in the trees.” You tell him, turning your body to face him. “That’s why I don’t want to go further in.”

“But Katniss and Finnick are in there.” Peeta shakes his head. “We have to.”

“Don’t you think they would’ve called for help by now?” You ask, “We heard Katniss say something, but then she stopped.”

“And they can’t be dead because there’s no cannon.” Johanna says after. “What if they’re hurt?”

You look further into the jungle. “It’s a bad idea.”

“We have to try.” Peeta says, starting toward the two of you.

You move in time to let him pass without running into your shoulder. He makes it an additional five yards before he walks smack into a wall, head bouncing off. A little smile fights its way onto your face, and then it vanishes when you realize that this is exactly what happened when he hit the forcefield.

He reaches out, going to touch it. You stride forward, grabbing the back of the neck of his undershirt, yanking him back. “Are you stupid?”

“Wait.” He swats your hand free. “Watch.”

You grab his wrist when he holds his hand out again, causing him to look at you with wide eyes. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“Then do it yourself.” Peeta motions, you let go. “It would’ve blown me back if it was a forcefield. Besides, it’s too far down.”

You look at space in front of you, seemingly fine. The wall that he’d run into isn’t even visible. You take in a breath, holding it, before sticking your hand out in the direction of it.

The palm of your hand vibrates against it, you apply pressure, wondering if it’ll budge if you lean into it, but it doesn’t move. You look down at your sword, pressing your lips together. If this is a forcefield, this will most definitely kill you. Still, you swing the sword into the invisible wall, and you’re pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t explode into sparks upon contact.

“Well…” You trail off, beginning to walk around the wall, keeping one hand on it. No matter where you touch, or how far along you walk, the wall doesn’t stop. You make it into the next section of the jungle, and around the corner, and still feel it there. When you make it back to Johanna and Peeta, you shake your head. “Sealed.”

“They’re inside?” Peeta asks. “Do you think they can hear us?”

“I’m going to say no.” Johanna grunts, swinging her axe into the wall repeatedly. “If we can’t hear the birds,” Her voice is strained, “Then we can’t hear them.” She stops, tossing the axe aside, it lands next to a bush. She sighs, “I guess we’re going to wait out here.”

Peeta doesn’t like this idea, you can tell by the way his face screws up, but he knows you don’t have any other choice. 

“I’m going to grab the wire, then.” You tell her.

“Speaking of it, come up with anything yet?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Almost.” You say, walking away from her.

When you get to the beach and find the wire, you don’t go back into the jungle right away. You stand beneath a patch of shade, staring at the Cornucopia, and the trees beyond it, squinting.

From what you can tell, Enobaria and Brutus aren’t on the beach or in the treeline, which means that they’re in those trees, somewhere. They must be fairly far in, where they’re resting. They likely won’t come out again until they’ve been sponsored and their wounds are healing. And even then, they’ll make sure you’re not on the beach, first.

Or maybe they are able to see you, and you just can’t see them.

If you were in their shoes, you’d be watching your every move right now to figure out what you’re doing. And if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter what you do with this wire, they’ll already know the plan. Really, it would just be an excuse to split Katniss and Peeta.

So, that’s what it’ll be.

The wire could be used for a number of things, you could probably make a trap out of it. There’s enough of it for you to bring it to the tree and back down to the beach, twice. The question is what Beetee would have used it for.

You close your eyes, listening to the waves on the beach, trying to remember how Beetee won his Games. You were talking to Mags about it the other day, she was telling you that it’s been thirty years since he won. Back then, he wasn’t the strongest tribute either, he had to make something to electrocute the last remaining tributes.

He wouldn’t really be able to do that now. He had the sources—the lightning at midnight and the water at the center. In the condition he was in before he got killed, he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip up to the tree, back down to the water, and up again to be out of the way of the electricity. And the chances of the wire being cut by the Careers isn’t that low, even in your situation now.

You’d need someone at the base of the tree, and someone unspooling the wire down to the water…

Your eyes pop open, it takes them a second to adjust to the sudden light. You stare at the water. This is what Beetee was going to do, wasn’t it? The wire acts as a conductor. If you hook it up to the tree at the right time when it strikes, it’ll fry everything in the water.

But what you want is to kill the Careers, in a way. The sand would have to be wet too, or at least damp. Which… Which will be the exact case when the wave hits at ten, and it’ll be cooler out, so the water won’t evaporate as quickly. If you bury the spool in the sand, it should have the entire beach covered and the water.

“Bingo.” You say, grabbing the coil.

You join the others back inside of the jungle, finding Peeta on the floor, forehead pressed to the invisible wall. Johanna’s pacing back and forth, arms crossed over her chest. When you get closer, you’re able to see that Katniss and Finnick are on the other side, both of them with their hands over their ears.

When a twig snaps beneath your weight, Johanna looks over. She lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping. “What took you so long?”

“Came up with a plan.” You tell her, dropping the wire and your sword next to one of her axes. 

“What plan?” Peeta asks, unmoving.

“On how to kill the remaining Careers.” You wink at Johanna, but it’s not flirtatious.

You know she understands when the crease appears between her eyebrows, giving you a slight nod. “Care to enlighten us?”

“When they’re out, I will. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” You nod at the other two. “What’s going on in there?”

“I think it’s jabberjays.” Johanna says, pointing up at the trees behind the wall. “They’re fifty of them in the trees. Katniss tried killing them, of course it didn’t work.”

Your eyes land on Finnick, finding his muscles rigid. You crouch to get a better look at his face, there’s a streak of red from his nose, down his lips, and off his chin. “What happened to Finnick?”

“He ran face-first into the wall.” Peeta says. “It was a bloody nose.”

You hum, lowering yourself to the ground. “Hopefully it won’t be much longer.”

—

The wall suddenly breaks, Peeta falling forward. He catches himself on his hands, getting to his feet. He doesn’t even say anything, just scoops Katniss into his arms, and walks straight out of the jungle with her, leaving the arrows behind.

You sit up, looking over at Johanna to see that she’s staring at you. She tilts her head, “Do you want to try?”

You take in a breath, “I’ll let you know if it works.”

She nods, following after Katniss and Peeta, because someone needs to be watching over them. You get up, walking a few feet over to Finnick, before crouching down beside him. 

You lift a hand, hovering it over his back for a minute, and then change your mind, placing your elbows on your thighs to lean on them. He’s got his eyes closed, head down. He probably can’t even hear you. You don’t even know how he’ll react to being touched, much less by you.

You press your lips together, heart hurting at the sight of him. It’d be better if Johanna were here, she can talk to him. All you’ll do is upset him more. You grind your teeth, once again wishing that this wasn’t your relationship. As you go to stand up, the hands over his ears loosen, head beginning to lift.

He looks around in the jungle first, making sure the threat is gone. That’s when he notices you beside him, waiting. His eyes are watery, he swallows.

“Hey,” You murmur, “Are you okay?”

He stares at you, eyebrows drawing in.

You nod, “I’ll go get Johanna.”

Once again, you try to get to your feet, when he speaks, “Why?”

“Why… what?” You ask, pausing.

“Why would you get Johanna?” He asks.

You turn your head in the direction of the beach. Is he really going to make you say it? Does he want to see the pain it’ll cause you? Or does he think it’ll come out venomous?

When you look at him, you sigh, “Because I’m not really a comforting person to you, am I?”

He doesn’t answer your question, “Where are they?”

“They’re on the beach.” You tell him. “I figured out a plan that’ll work. I’ll tell you guys when you’re ready.”

“Do Johanna and Peeta know?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No.”

Neither of you move, staring at each other. And while you could stay here forever, you don’t allow yourself. You push on your knees, standing up. You offer your hand to him, but he moves it away, just like you figured he would.

He doesn’t say anything, walking past you to leave. You stare at the scene of dead birds in front of you, before you turn around, collecting yours and Johanna’s belongings, and going to join them on the beach. 

Katniss seems better, she’s talking to Peeta. Johanna is standing over them, she glances at Finnick when he passes by. She has to twist her body to see you standing in the treeline. You hand her the axe.

“It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” Peeta says.

“You really believe that?” Katniss asks.

“I really do.” 

“Do you believe it, Finnick?” 

“It could be true. I don’t know.” He says, looking up at Johanna, ignoring you entirely. “Could they do that? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

Johanna makes a face, looking at you for help. You play with the piece of wire you’d unraveled, “I’m sure Beetee would know.”

“Peeta’s right.” Johanna then says. “The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on her hands.” She deadpans. “Don’t want that, do they?” She scoffs, throwing her head back to shout, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

She shakes her head, wandering around the beach to pick up shells. When she finds a good few, she stops next to Finnick, holding her hand out. “I’m getting water.” Finnick drops the spile into her hand, and she begins toward the jungle.

Katniss grabs her hand. “Don’t go in there. The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.” She says, shaking her hand free. You don’t miss the look she gives Finnick, and then you, as she disappears into the jungle. 

She comes back a couple minutes later with a shell of water, handing it over to Katniss first. She makes trips back and forth, letting each of you have some. She comes out one trip with a pile of arrows that she gives back to Katniss.

Finnick shakes his head, walking to the water. He stops a few feet in, and sits. You let the wire drop to the sand, tired of bringing it wherever you go. You don’t move from where you are, eyes fixated on his back.

“Who did they use against Finnick?” Peeta asks, curious.

Katniss is quiet. You’re expecting her to say Annie, because it makes the most sense, but when you look over, she’s eyeing you, and so is Peeta. 

“What?” You ask. “Was it Annie?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Katniss murmurs. “We thought we heard you.”

A loud laugh comes from you, unwarranted. The thought of Finnick caring about you enough for the Gamemakers to use you against him is funny. Really funny, actually. It must’ve been a walk in the park for him, listening to your pleas. A little gratifying, because he could pretend that you were getting what was coming for you.

But Katniss isn’t laughing, she’s serious. 

The humor leaves your smile, “It must’ve been his mother, that he was mistaken for me.”

“No, because we heard his mom, too. That first scream was yours.” She insists, “And he dropped everything to find you.”

“Finnick would never do that.” You tell her, voice cold. 

She doesn’t press it further, but the look in her eye is enough. She’s not lying to you, she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t gain anything from making something like that up.

You won’t believe it though. This is the same Finnick that told Johanna that he didn’t trust you, an hour and a half ago. There’s nothing that could’ve made him change his feelings in that time span.

Unless it didn’t.

Your eyes narrow at the back of Finnick’s head, hand tightening around your sword. 

A cannon blast keeps you from thinking about the subject any further, but the bubbling in your stomach is only getting hotter. Finnick gets up, coming to join you three, as well as Johanna, materializing out of the jungle. You stand together, watching a hovercraft appear over the next section, claw dipping in several times to retrieve all the pieces of one body. 

The beast.

This sparks Peeta to create another map, this time he’s able to fill in more than half of it. It starts with lightning, rain, and fog. It moves on to monkeys and jabberjays. He has to skip a section, and then writes beast. And the next one you have after six to seven is the wave at ten. This means you’re missing five of the other hours. 

The others begin to come back to life. Finnick begins to weave a water basket and a net to fish for dinner. While Katniss takes a swim and applies more ointment. By the time she’s done, Finnick has worked up a pile, so she sits on the edge of the water, cleaning them for him. 

It doesn’t take long for Katniss’s words to creep back into your mind, refusing to leave it be. Finnick cares about you, a thought that should have you excited, but it makes you uncomfortable. He has spent the last eight years making sure that you know that he hates you and couldn’t care less about what happens to you.

Yet here he is, supposedly dropping everything to save you. Possibly even leaving Katniss behind to do it. The Gamemakers must know something that you don’t, if they knew to use your voice. You want to assume that they thought Finnick was worried solely because you’re his district partner. Except, that doesn’t make sense either, because the two of you are notorious in the Capitol for being a pair of mentors that get into fights about how to handle things.

He has a lot of nerve.

The sun falls below the horizon, the moon rising to replace it in the sky. When they finish cleaning the fish, they bring it over, setting it in the middle of the circle for you to enjoy. The four of them begin to settle in the sand, you don’t move from where you stand.

The anthem begins to play, stopping them from digging in. The Capitol seal lights up the sky, and then it’s replaced by the faces. Cashmere, Gloss, Wiress, Beetee. The woman from Five, the morphling from Six, Blight, and the man from Ten. 

Eight tributes dead.

Strangely, this makes you think of your own Hunger Games. Where you managed to kill four people in the span of two hours, one of those being Rio, who was your district partner. By the end of the Games, you had eight kills under your belt. A third of the competition was taken out by you, a little fifteen year-old.

Once again, a factor that used to make Finnick sick. And now it doesn’t.

“They’re really burning through us.” Johanna says.

“Who’s left? Besides us five and District Two?” Finnick asks.

“Chaff.” Peeta says without missing a beat.

The sound of clinking fills the air, you look up to find a parachute coming down, teetering from side to side. It lands perfectly in the middle of the group, unfolding itself to reveal the steaming rolls.

“Do these look like District Three to you?” Finnick looks at Johanna.

“Yeah, look at the imprint.” She says, running her finger over the top of one. “How many are there?”

Finnick counts them, being sure to be thorough. “Twenty-four. How should we divide them?”

“Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest.” Johanna says, causing Katniss to laugh.

You pull your sword out of the sand, swinging it up to rest the flat part of the blade on your shoulder. Finnick looks up at you, eyeing your stance. You step away from them, shaking your head.

“Sit down, (Y/n).” Finnick tells you.

“Why, so you can keep an eye on me?” You snap, crossing the treeline. “Come and get me, Finnick.”

You make it a few feet in, before you hear the snapping of branches behind you. You sigh, turning with raised eyebrows to see that Finnick took it as a challenge. You didn’t mean it that way. You didn’t want him to chase you.

“Get out here.” He tells you.

You walk backward, tilting your head at him. “I’m just making sure Enobaria and Brutus aren’t out here.”

“I don’t care.” He’s still walking toward you. “We’ll worry about that when we make camp.”

You stop, letting your sword down from your shoulder. When you look past him, you can see that there’s enough distance between him and the beach. There’s privacy to talk and sort out what you heard.

Your eyes land on him, “Katniss told me something,” You start, watching his eyebrows twitch, “About how you thought I was the one screaming for help.”

Finnick shakes his head, “I thought it was my mom.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” You tell him, “But you said my name, and you dropped everything to go and get me.”

He sets his jaw, “So?”

“So,” The word is bitter, “What changed?”

He laughs, “Nothing, (Y/n). I went—”

“They used loved ones and family.” You cut him off. “You care about me, admit it.”

“I don’t.” He tells you. “I never have, and I never will.”

“You chased after the jabberjays thinking it was me, and you followed me in here because you’re worried that I’ll get caught by the Careers, admit it.”

“I don’t know what you think is happening, but whatever it is, it’s not true.” His voice wavers.

This is all the confirmation you need. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” You press your pointer finger to the middle of his chest. “That you’re not bothered by me anymore, and you haven’t been for a while. You’ve done a damn good job of hiding it up until now, but the jabberjays got you good.”

Finnick grabs your wrist, “That’s not true.”

“What changed, Finnick?” You insist.

“Nothing, because I don’t have feelings for you.” He snaps. “The reason why I came in here is because we want to move camp to the ten sector once the wave happens, I just didn’t want you to get lost out here and think we abandoned you, making you think it’s a free-for-all.”

He lets go of your wrist, face screwed tightly, as he leaves you here. You watch him go back to the beach, while you take several breaths, feeling the pit in your stomach grow.

What have you done?

---

this is part of my 3k celebration!!

[henry7931]

Too Bad For Chad

Poor Chad… when it came time to pick a partner in Chemistry, he made sure to pick the biggest nerd in the class. But no one could have predicted the accident that happened.

You see, right across the hall at his University—

The science department was working on an early experiment to transfer one’s thought to another human. Although all it took was for one of the professors to trip over a wire…

He bumped right into the machine which switched it to its max power and knocked the ray gun directly point at Chad and his lab partner Allen. What are the odds?!?

Well as one would imagine this could be a huge lawsuit, that is if Chad had anything proof of the incident.

You see Allen, is one smart cookie. He saw his opportunity of keeping Chad gorgeous body and took it.

That day, as Chad in Allen’s body began to scream and yell at everyone around him. Allen sat quietly observing the situation. And when asked about the incident by the university he denied everything.

He told them that he felt bad for ‘Allen’ that he seemed like he was going through a lot.

This all happened about a month ago, so how are they doing? Well let’s hear directly from them.

Allen:

Being lab partners with Chad was and is the best thing that ever happened to me. And I feel bad for him one bit!

I’ve dealt with meatheads like Chad my entire life, being pushed around and bullied. I’ve even envied and lusted after guys like him. But now I get to be him. Plus I still have my brains.

Since I’ve became Chad I’ve started to turn his GPA in the right direction, I’ve learned I’m now handsome enough to get away with just about anything, and I get to live out all of my horny fantasies.

With this body’s power and my brains I feel like I can do anything. Especially hook up with any guy on campus.

That’s the thing, all I have to do is turn on the charm with some handsome guy. I already know he’s into me before I make a move. I can tell when someone’s checking me out because I used to do the same thing.

I guess you could say I’m going through my hoe era right now. I’ve probably hooked up with half the guys on campus, including the “straight” ones.

But man, nothing beats a nice jerk session in this bod.

I’ll jerk off before going to sleep just gooning over my massive stinky feet.

I’ll beat one out in the shower right after a work out just hollering up a storm! And I don’t care who hears or sees me.

Like the other day, I was enjoying myself and my roommate popped in and couldn’t believe what he walked in on. I was licking every inch of these size 11 feet while pumping my 10” inch thick dick. But I didn’t stop, I just kept looking up at him and said, “enjoying the show?”

He tried to say something to me out of pocket but I made sure to put him in his place.

He’s now my personal toy, I let him worship my body when I get home. And he loves it!

At the end of the day, I’m still that nerdy gay guy deep down. But I have all of the looks and the power! 😈

[g1rld1ary]

locked in - jonah simms x reader

wc: 1573

cw: mentions of claustrophobia but nothing serious

me: i have watched so much superstore in the last 3 days its not even funny i am obsessed and jonah is my husband irl i love him!!!!! I've never written for him so hopefully the characterisation is okay?? but I'm still working on it!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“jonah? is that you?” you asked from behind the dolly you were pushing, stacked high with boxes.

“the one and only,” he replied, popping out into your eyeline. you rolled your eyes as you continued down the hall, forcing him to keep up with your pace.

“can you open the door to the storeroom? amy wanted me to put this new shipment of playstations in the cage but i can’t see at all where i’m going.”

“uh, yeah! no problem. i mean, why do they even call it the cage? makes it sound like the consoles are gonna come to life and seek revenge… like jaws or something.” he made a series of sounds that you assumed were supposed to be sharks, judging by his gesture of chomping teeth.

“more like the birds, that shit was freaky.”

“no way, you’ve seen the birds? i loved that movie when i was, like, thirteen!” jonah pushed the door open to the stock room, hopping in front of your dolly to deal with the padlock on the cage.

“it’s hitchcock, jonah, it’s not exactly a niche film. you know, you’re not the only one around here who's cultured.” you pushed the dolly into the cage, starting on stacking the new gaming consoles on the shelves.

“i know that! i didn’t mean that i— i mean, of course i think you’re smart and cultured and — oh. you’re teasing me.” his pale cheeks were dusted with a rosy pink and you nodded with mirth in your eyes.

“ding ding ding. guess that year of business school was worth it, after all.” you bit back your smile to continue the bit. jonah pushed the dolly in mock outrage, mouth open to begin another retort before the telltale click echoed through the suddenly dead silent room.

“did you just—”

“no!” jonah cut you off with a squeak, all but teleporting to the locked cage door.

“i think you d—”

“it’s fine! we’re fine! i’ll just unlock it.” he affirmed, more to himself than you, trying to squeeze his hand through the small gap.

“it’s pointless,” you said, running a hand over your face. “after that robbery a few months ago, they really upped the security in here.” the thick plastic sheet attached to the pre-existing wire cage was proof of that. unfortunately, it meant that jonah’s arm couldn’t squeeze through the gap anymore, plus the new electric code lock meant it was essentially impossible to open from the inside.

the bold do not close while inside sign amy had stuck up was mocking you both as jonah tried to force the door open.

“i think we’re stuck,” he said finally, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

“figures,” you huffed a laugh, “the one time cloud nine pretends to care about safety and it backfires.” you joined him on the floor, trying not to think about how it probably hadn’t been cleaned in the last two decades.

“do you have your phone? we could call for help,” jonah suggested, and you shook your head.

“it’s dead. forgot to plug it in last night. yours?”

“um, article nine of the employee handbook? phones and other devices should be stored in lockers unless on break or off the clock?” you looked at him for a long moment, trying to decipher if he was serious. “joking, obviously. i, uh, forgot it by the coffee machine when marcus went running out talking about some customer he was gonna try and ‘bang’.” you both made disgusted faces for a second.

“so what do we do? no way to get out on our own and we can’t call anyone… what if we’re stuck here for days?” you could feel the panic starting to set in, unable to control your shallow breaths.

“no way. we’ll get found when amy gets pissed that we’re not there to boss around,” jonah laughed at his own dumb joke, only stopping when he realised you weren’t saying anything, staring at your feet and shaking slightly.

“hey, hey. we’re gonna be absolutely fine, okay? it’ll be max an hour — we’re the stars of this show, after all.” he couldn’t help the silly comment on the end, but you didn’t seem to notice, looking up at him with wide eyes, wet with unshed tears.

“promise?” you asked quietly. jonah refrained from explaining how technically he couldn’t actually promise anything, for once sensing it wasn’t going to make you feel any better.

“promise.” he’d meant to clasp your hand in his only quickly, a comforting touch to calm you down, but when you’d held onto him for dear life, soft fingers holding onto his, he made no move to draw his hand back.

“and hey, if things get really dismal, i’ll be the gentleman and let you cannibalise me, ‘kay?”

“you’re so dumb,” you giggled softly, subconsciously shifting closer to him. “and just for the record, it wouldn’t even be a fight, i could so take you down in an apocalypse, pretty boy.” jonah’s lips twitched at the nickname.

he kept you occupied as you waited, spouting out any nonsense he had in his brain. you got at least five new yorker articles regurgitated. it was effective, though, jonah was a good talker and kept you distracted from any feelings of impending doom with stupid jokes.

“jonah?” you asked when there was a dip in conversation. “i’m glad it was you.”

“what?”

“in here, i mean. with me. i’m glad it’s you.” you silently cursed yourself for your awkwardness, unable to look at jonah and face his reaction.

“not creepy sal? but you two are such good buddies!” he shot back before softening, “i’m glad it’s you too. there’s no one else i’d rather be stuck in a cage with.”

you smiled, soft and genuine, matching jonah’s expression for a moment. then you took a risk and gently rested your head on his shoulder, swayed by the intimacy of your conversation. suddenly, you felt jonah shift, and a small kiss was pressed on the top of your head. it must’ve been a reflex action because as soon as it started, it stopped, jonah freezing in his tracks, muscles tensing up.

“oh my god, i—” he started quickly.

“jonah?”

“yeah?” he asked nervously, not daring to move an inch.

“shut up.” he relaxed all at once, melting into you, head resting on top of yours.

neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in comfortable silence. jonah was warm next to you, a grounding heat as you waited aimlessly.

an hour later, you were trading childhood stories when the door to the storeroom flung open, a distressed-looking amy bursting in.

“oh my god, are you guys okay? how long have you been in here?” she asked, hurrying to punch in the code to the cage door.

“since you sent me to unpack the playstations…” you trailed off nervously, still scared of the floor manager.

“holy shit, guys, it’s been like two and a half hours. i’m so sorry!”

“it’s no big deal, really. a paid break, you could say,” jonah said, pushing himself off the ground. you'd resigned yourself to your moment of closeness being over when he stuck out his hand, pulling you up kindly.

amy dashed off after the door was safely open, a million and one things on her mind as usual, leaving you and jonah to pull the dolly out and return it.

you lingered at the entrance to the store, clocked out and otherwise ready to go home. something in you said you had unfinished business.

you heard jonah before you saw him, whistling some ridiculous tune that was probably from an obscure opera no one had ever heard of.

“hey!” you called, skipping a step to catch up with him on his way to his car.

“oh, hi,” he replied with a smile, hands stuck in his winter coat pockets.

“i just wanted to say thank you, for earlier. i know i was a bit of a mess.”

“oh, no, it’s totally fine! i liked it! i mean, not you being panicked or being stuck in the cage or anything. just, like, hanging out with you. or something,” his awkward cadence always made you smile, something about it endlessly endearing.

“yeah, me too.”

you stood in silence for a moment, just looking at each other and the way your breaths turned to mist in the freezing cold. jonah moved first, stuttering out a few excuses for a goodbye.

“jonah?” you asked, voice clear in the silent parking lot.

“yeah?”

you hugged him tightly, arms wrapped around his middle as you buried your face in the soft wool of his scarf. he hesitated for a moment before reciprocating it, surrounding you with his body heat.

it was far too long before you pulled away, both of your cheeks red from the cold or something else.

“you know, next time we could maybe do something where we’re not forced into a location together against our wills? dinner, maybe?” you asked, suddenly shy.

“yeah,” he breathed out with a puff of vapour, “i’d like that.”

[lamnwar]

Want my kids? // Kiyoshi Teppei x Fem!Reader

MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!

A/N: this one wasn't based on any request, it's just me naturally being a slut for my husband teppei 🤰🏽 Context: something's been in Teppei's mind lately, and that is to stuff you so full that you eventually give him a kid. Warnings: Kiyoshi has a breeding kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, mention of pregnancy and slight allusion to lactation kink

When you first introduced Teppei Kiyoshi to your friends and family, their judgement was unanimous: you better tie him down before it’s too late and you lose what may be – in all impartiality of course – the perfect husband. And you wouldn’t disagree, no. How can you? It doesn’t matter how you try to look at it, he just happens to fill all the requirements.

Nice? He’s a living teddy bear.

Smart? A true genius hiding behind the smile of an idiot.

Interesting? He has so many layers to his personality that you, yourself, might get lost trying to understand him.

Face card? He’s got it, a stereotypically handsome visage.

The body? You would never dare question his athleticism looking at him.

And his cock? ...Shit, you can cry for it.

You seriously lucked out, there is no denying that. Teppei is surely the kind of man that makes you stop in the middle of your rant on how much you hate men, just because you are reminded of his existence, and it goes against all that his peers are. Then again, he might be the exception that proves the rule. But that’s another debate that you won’t get into.

Not now, anyway, not when he’s come home with the need for you. Yet today is nothing special. It’s a day like every other, you’d say it might even be a tad more boring than usual. But the tall man’s mind is wired differently, and something with the way you look sitting on your couch, mindlessly looking for something to entertain your night, drives him nuts. He’s not too upfront about it, he knows that won’t take him that far. The most you can possibly do if he comes to you with a “hey babe, I’m feeling horny” is probably suck him, or let him finger you right there on the couch for a quick release of his desires. Not that you have any issue with getting properly fucked by him, but rather that he’s somewhat of a perfectionist on this front.

If Teppei Kiyoshi is having sex with his girlfriend, he’s doing it right.

No quickies, no half-assed attempts at an orgasm. No. He does things properly – there is no point to any of it if by the end you are not shaking and crying, thanking him for the cum he keeps stuffing in your pussy. That’s why his approach is meticulous, almost strategic with the way he talks to you first, genuinely happy to hear you talk about whenever. And then he sits by your side, arms pulling you to cocoon up in the comfort of his hold. It’s all soft and sweet, like him. Little after, he follows up with soft, almost innocent, kisses on your face. All you can do is smile like an idiot in love – which you are. With each contact of his lips on your skin, you can feel your heart race.

Before you know it, he’s got you thrown over his shoulder as if you’re made of chiffon, deep chuckle accompanying his steps to your room. He drops you on the mattress, making you giggle like a schoolgirl. You’d be embarrassed to act that way if you were with anyone else, but something with the way Teppei looks at you makes you feel disinhibited of all your shames.

Drunk on his kisses, on the taste of him as you make out languidly. The way he pushes his tongue against yours in a desperate attempt to get more of you, as if it’s even possible. And you pull him closer, closer, closer. It’s somewhat messy but it makes sense to you.

“Teppei, need you...” your desperate whispers are followed by the tugs on his shirt, urging him to let you feel his skin against yours.

He indulges in your demands, letting your hands roam the plain of his broad chest, taking him in. He’s so big, he could actually break you, you think. Yet, he’s always treated you with such reverence that it’s almost a funny contrast with his imposing figure. A force that would wreck you if you plead for him to, only so he can see that blissed out look on your face when he manages to make you feel heavenly.  Fuck, aren’t you a sight? Every second you spend touching him with burning desire drives him closer to pure insanity. Thoughts clouded by the idea of having you full of him – the whole process of watching you beg for more of his cum, as if it were a blessing to take it.

Maybe it is, Teppei ponders. His blood rushes straight to his dick at the simple thought of getting you pregnant. All full and round for him, bearing his offspring in the temple that is your body. Yeah, you’d be such a great mother, and he’d be such a loving father to your kids. He wants plenty of them, the essence of both of you carried out in what he already imagines to be the greatest children in the world. And he’ll make you his wife, too. Nothing makes him happier and harder than the thought of spending eternity loving you. Ah... if only he could do that, filling your sweet hole with his seed continuously, loving you more as you take it with much enthusiasm.

His fantasy ridden brain controls each of his moves, the hands that grip your waist to pull you closer to him, before trailing down to your cunt. Lips peppering your thighs with kisses and nips – he could stay there forever, between your legs. So close to your pussy, your pussy that engulfs his fingers with appetite.

“Ngh! Teppei, fuck...”

“I know baby” he coos, thumb finding your aching clitoris to tease, “I love it so much when you soak my fingers like that.”

You whimper, the way he pushes his long digits in your gummy walls setting your body on fire. He can’t help the smile on his lips when you force him to get closer, just so you can drown your sweet noises in kisses. He swallows each moan that rolls off your tongue, his thumb rolling your clit like it was a toy for him to enjoy. Each stroke making your hips buck forward to meet his big hand. You look at the way it covers your entire pussy, a warm hold on it as he lets his expert fingers make you squirm.

“Gonna come on my fingers, aren’t ya?” he chuckles, “go ahead, make a mess.”

“Yeah... shit!”

You hiss, seeing stars for a few seconds as you release around his digits, hips moving frantically as he keeps circling your aching bud, solely for the pleasure of hearing the cute mewls that leave your pretty lips.

“So pretty when you come, honey” he hums, covering your skin with kisses as his mouth trails up your torso.

You can barely utter any words – he’s done barely anything that he already has you speechless. He smiles, a lingering stare on your fucked out expression, from where his head rest on your chest. You let out a soft laugh; nothing is particularly funny, you just happen to be incredibly happy at this very moment. Something with the feeling of his brown locks around your fingers as he kisses your chest, then suckle on your nipples – one after the other, Teppei doesn’t play favourites – just to draw out your honeyed sighs.

He can’t stop thinking about it. The idea of one day seeing your breasts full and tender as he’ll be in this exact same predicament, except that he’ll also be blessed by the delicious taste of your milk on his tongue, added to the salt of your skin. How can he not pop a boner when he’s a prey to such thoughts? And not a single sign on your face that you’ll ever say no to his intentions.

That’s a certitude.

“Maybe I shouldn’t wear a condom tonight, what do you say?” he mumbles against your skin.

Truth be told, he doesn’t need an answer, he already knows it. You’ll say yes, evidently. He can hear the thumping of your heart when he brings up the idea. Of course, you’ll get soaking wet at the idea of taking him raw, everything about it is enticing.

“Yeah, wanna feel you.” You smile.

It’s all he needs to hear before he flips you over to your stomach, gently pulling your hips up to meet his pelvis. His clothed erection poking at your ass, making you impatient.

“Gonna fill you so much babe, you’re gonna be a mommy.” He says, the sweetest smile on his face. The idea makes him elated, hell, he’s already leaking pre when he finally removes his last pieces of clothing. “You want it, right?”

“Uh-huh!” you’re too eager, it’s almost funny.

Your butt pushing against him just to feel his thick member against you. He laughs, watching you with awe. It’s truly heartwarming, how much you adore his dick. He rests at your entrance, nicely nestled between your folds. So pretty. Your arousal from your previous orgasm and his pre-cum mixing on his tip like colours mix on the brush of a painter. And he might be an artist tonight, one who can't wait to paint your walls white.

“Gonna give you what you want, then.” He slowly sinks in, watching the way your back arches as a reaction. He leans forward so his words can fall directly in your ear. “I love you, you know that?”

What a malicious bastard, you think as the words travel to your brain. He knows damn well that nothing makes your pussy clench as much as words of love from him. He can feel it perfectly, your tightness around his thick cock, as he pushes deeper. Pleasure written all over his face, he lets his groans echo around, creating a symphony with the creaks of the bed and the slap of his pelvis against your ass.

“So fucking hot...”

He can’t help but grip your hips tightly, mesmerized by the way you welcome his thrusts with so much enthusiasm, whines blessing his ears as you grip the sheets.

“Teppei, love when you fuck me!”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, pulling your head back to kiss your cheek lovingly. “You’re so sweet.”

Glossy eyes look at him, a filter of desire covering your irises as you struggle to hold up. He fucks you so good, it’s insane. Feeling him inside of you with nothing in between, the direct contact of his dick with the honeyed walls of your cunt, letting you take in the sensation of every vein, and the squish of his tip, so close to your cervix that it makes you wince.

You can’t even put words on how you feel, brain clouded by his moves. He knows you so well that he’s got the pace and depth mastered in the way that would make you squirm in a few minutes, feeling your body plead for a form a release – anything, really. It’s almost embarrassing, how fast you’ve come to that state. You would like to pin it on your endless love for him – after all, isn’t love the greatest aphrodisiac? But it’s clearly not it. It’s the full knowledge that he’s only fucking you this good with the intent of getting you pregnant. It may be twisted to some extent to come just for that reason, but the idea of being fucked so good that you end up bearing his child is certainly what brings you to your orgasm this time.

The brunette stills for a moment, surprised to say the least. He’s not used to you getting there just that easily – if anything, he’s just getting started. But here you are, drooling on the pillow below your face, too sensitive to take more, yet unable of drawing away from him. And when he reprises his movements, all you can do is jolt, back round as you instinctively pull away.

“Come on pretty, I’m not over yet” he coos, pulling your hips back to him, before digging deep inside you again. “Just a bit more, you wanna take my cum, don’t you?”

“Yeah...”

He laughs softly, pressing his chest to your bare back as he pushes the hair away from your face, just to see that god-sent look on your face. Your quivering lips that mewl out his name in need, and the light that dances in your eyes, speaking your deepest thoughts loud enough for him to understand how much you crave him. He lets his fingers linger on your bottom lip, swiping the drool away. You hum, kissing the pad of his digits, before taking them in your mouth.

“Shit.”

Teppei’s cock twitches at the sight. It is such a blessing falling upon him, your tongue swerving around his fingers languidly, the faint taste of your pussy on them as you melt in the soft, slow back-and-forth of his dick inside of you. It’s hypnotizing, something he cannot take his eyes away from, until you spit out his digits with a breath. He grits his teeth, holding your face to look at you as he picks up the rhythm. You gasp, barely able to maintain eye contact – but it doesn’t matter, because you can still feel his brown eyes taking in every inch of your face.

His arm wraps around your waist, keeping your limp, exhausted body from giving up. Just a bit more, he needs it so much... just a bit more of you.

But you’re oversensitive and he’s doing you so good that you can’t even think about trying to delay your high even more. No, the only thing in your mind is him. Teppei Kiyoshi, and the eventuality of being completely full of his semen.

“Fuck... Teppei!” is all you can properly voice out between your wanton moans and desperate gasps.

“Ah!”

He’s breathless, your cunt milking him of every single drop of his liquid that he can gift you. The incessant contractions of your walls as you navigate through your orgasm making him shake slightly, holding you tighter – if that’s even possible – as he keeps his cock deep inside you.

“That’s good, take it.” He mutters against the skin of your shoulder.

But he can’t get enough. Words fail to transcribe the way he feels, it’s a sort of heaven he can’t even believe he has the privilege to access. And it’s you, it’s feeling himself spill in you, that is the high he wishes to chase forever. Getting you to carry his children, as many as you can take with that same elated smile on your precious face.

“One more, babe, is that alright? You’ll make such a pretty mum.”

[whateverwillbewilderme]

Ford f*cks you in the name of science

Word count:2085

Warnings:F/M, medical kink, medical experimentation, examination, sexual experimentation, dubious consent, internal camera, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, friends to… something, sexual inexperience, bad sexual conduct in general

You gotta love Ford really. He’s smart, kind, and handsome too. There’s lots to love about a man who loves his family and only strives to be better for the sake of them and science. But god damn can he be stupid sometimes.

“Naturally, I’ll compensate you for your help today [name],” Ford says more professionally than the situation calls for. More than it deserves actually. It’s hard to be professional when your legs are up in stirrups and the only thing shielding your crotch from being visible to Ford is a thin sheet he gave you.

“And why exactly do you need to study my vagina ford?” You ask brusquely.

“Well- not your vagina exactly, your pelvic muscles. I need to see how your muscles react to certain stimuli.” He seems to stammer a bit at the bluntness of your question. But his answer seems ‘sciencey’ enough for you to believe he has no dubious intentions.

He turns away from the janky examination chair he set up for you and grabs what could be confused for a vibrator bullet connected to a long wire from his desk. “I made this specifically for this study, using the simplistic design of a common bullet vibrator with a hidden camera!” It’s odd how proud Ford is of his little creation, holding it up like it was the newest phone that everyone would go crazy over. “I will insert this inside you to capture the movements of your vaginal canal while the stimuli is in motion.” He explains naturally, his genius mind on science-mode (as you heard Stanley call it affectionately).

“So you’re gonna make me cum to see how my body reacts from the inside?” You clarify.

“Precisely my dear!” He says, proud that you understand. “I’m sure this will be helpful in my studies of reproductive biology in anomalies in gravity falls! If I completely understand coitus from a human perspective I can use it as a basis for my hypothesis for anomaly breeding!”.

You decide that this is weird and Stanford is way too excited to do this. But he is a good friend, so you suppose you can suffer through the awkwardness of letting your best friend make you cum. “ I guess that sounds reasonable.”

“Wonderful [name]! We must get straight to this!” Of course no foreplay. Ford's hands eagerly pull the sheet covering you off quickly, leaving you to try and clench your thighs closed instinctively. The stirrups hold strong enough against your attempt though and your movements are hopeless.

Ford turns back to his desk, fiddling with the computer to turn on his insertable camera. Once making sure it works correctly, he grabs a plain bottle of lube coating the metal frame of the camera completely before turning back to you. “Now, are you ready?” He says, excited to continue his experiment. You can only nod once before the tip of the camera is pressed against your entrance. A sharp intake of air and a grunt is enough to get Ford to slow down. “Sorry- sorry- should I have been slower?” Ford asks genuinely. “Fuck yeah, Ford! No prep or nothing?” You growl, “You’re this old and you still don’t know it’ll hurt if you force something inside me?”

The lubed-up camera almost slips out of Ford's six-finger grip as you reprimand him. In his defense, he does look guilty. “I’m sorry- I’m very unaware of human women’s body behavior- I wasn’t particularly popular with women when I was younger and the aliens I came across only copulated to reproduce.” He explained. For the first time, his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment. “You- you might have to teach me how to ‘warm you up’.” He infers, unsure of how to refer to the act. A sigh escapes you as you realize this is probably gonna be longer than you wanted it to go for. “God- okay. Grab the lube again, and put that damn camera down.” You order. He follows the orders quickly, dropping his precious invention on a medical tray and returning with the bottle, looking at you eagerly waiting for the next order. “Fuck… okay now did you bring an actual vibrator or something?” You ask, ashamed that this is a conversation you have to have. “Why would I?” He says obliviously.

What.

“Ford, what were you going to use to stimulate me exactly?” You ask exasperated.

“My penis of course?” He responds as if you asked a dumb question. “This is to study breeding habits in creatures, so I need to see how you react to an actual penis, not some plastic toy that goes vroom.”

“So you were going to fuck me. You were going to fuck me and you didn’t even tell me?” Ford immediately understands how fucked that sounds.

“…”

he’s embarrassed now.

“I understand where your worry is coming from now.” He mutters.

You sigh, almost ashamed at how dumb this genius could be. “Ya know what it’s fine. Totally chill.” You say, trying to convince yourself. “Let’s just get this over with.” He only nods silently, still too ashamed to say anything else.

“Put some lube on your fingers and s-start rubbing my…” you can only gesture to your crotch, too embarrassed to fully speak out the steps. He covers his index and middle fingers with a generous amount of gel but hesitates to actually touch. He lets out a shaky breath before the pads of his sticky fingers press down on your clit, slathering some of the lubricant over the small bundle of nerves before rubbing small circles over it.

It’s a shame how unsexy this scenario is because his hands do feel really good. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve been properly fucked. Your breath hitches as he caresses you gently, putting down a little more pressure when he notices your breath change. “Yeah- like that.” You choke out, trying to keep any moans from slipping past your lips. You can feel a pulse in your core, and when ford drags his fingers down your slit they come back glistening with a layer of your arousal coating them. Ford continues the motions for a few minutes, getting the hang of the movements well enough that your thighs tense around the edges of the leg rests. “You- you can try slipping a finger in. Gently.” You say, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t nod or say anything, just moving his attention to your weeping hole. His eyes are trained on the whole mess between your legs, as if creating a mental diagram of what your messy pussy looks like right now. He pushes his index finger in, slowly moving it in deeper until he’s in at the knuckle.

“Fascinating. Your muscles relax as stimulation is given, allowing for more to be inserted.” He mumbles to himself. Removing his hand, he grabs the forgotten and cold camera. “Forgive me, but I think it’s best we start using this now before we go to far ahead.” He insists. Luckily this time there’s no resistance, and it slips in easily, your walls forming around it. His eyes are trained towards the monitor showing the feedback of the camera. His fingers slip back in, now two instead of one. Clenching your eyes shut and breathing deeply, a small moan escapes past your lips as ford watches the screen, moving his fingers at a steady pace. “Good. Good. You’re clenching around them you know? Oh well I’m sure you do know, you probably feel it more than I do.” He says, mind on auto pilot.

“F-fuck…”

“Hmm? Is this affecting you now? It must be since your body is responding so strongly. You’re wet too. I knew women created their own lubrications but this is more than I expected. My fingers are soaked [name].” It’s terrible how good he sounds when he’s not even trying to talk dirty. You can’t help but let your noises out now, you’re lightheaded from keeping them in for so long. “Ah- ford- it’s just a lot-“ you try and say between cries of pleasure.

“If this is a lot how will you take my cock, hmm? Please just be good and let me continue with my studies a little longer, okay?” He asks, voice low and intimidating, but so fucking hot.

He removes his fingers and while he initially moves to wipe the slick off of it on his pants, he curiously brings them to his lips, licking off whatever juices still soaked him. “How… interesting.” He simply says. “We’ll have to do this again. I’d like to see how you react to oral stimulation next time.” He suggests, his (now clean) hands reaching to undo his belt next. Pushing down his pants and underwear In one motion his cock springs up, already hard.

Looking down at it you can’t help but be a little intimidated. Fords not exactly a small man, and his manhood isn’t either. It’s a nice and satisfying 7 inches or so and delightfully girthy. Little grey curly hairs bunch up around the base of it but it doesn’t make his cock any less attractive. Too busy ogling at his member, ford smirks as he lines himself up to your entrance. “I’m glad you like it.” He says cockily. Ford grunts as he thrusts in slowly, his inches stretching you further despite the prepping. His hands grip down onto the chair as he forces the rest of his length inside. “Fuck- i get it now. Your- so fucking tight!” He growls, leaning over you in a pure display of dominance.

“You’re squeezing me so well you know?” He rasps. his hand takes your chin and forces your gaze on the monitor. “Look. Do you see how your body reacts to me?” It’s impossible to speak right now, head to hazy to think about forming sentences right now. All you can manage to mumble out is a “uh-uh” between moans, eyes trained on the camera feed showing fords cock piston in and out of you.

A particularly harsh thrust causes the tip of fords cock so deep that it bumps against your cervix. It hurts, but the pain mixes deliciously with the immense pleasure you also feel that you decide you don’t mind. “Ford-“ you cry out, walls spasming as you cum, muscles tightening around fords cock. “There it is… that’s what I wanted to see…” he growls, watching the screen intently. Looking back down at you, ford grips down on your hips hard and thrusts faster, chasing his own high now. The change in pace makes your thighs shake, moaning wildly as he pummels into you. “See? I said you’d be compensated didn’t I? Doesn’t this feel good darling? If you like this maybe I can tempt you into joining me in some more studies. You’d like that wouldn’t you [name], always such a good friend…” he moans, getting off to his own words. “Fuck- fuck- fuck- my good little experiment-“ he moans before shoving himself in as deep as he can, burying himself in your pussy as he cums, The sudden feeling of fullness choking you. The camera view is blurred by white as he fills your pussy up, some even leaking out of you and dripping onto the chair.

A few moments pass before either of you even attempt to speak, the only sounds in the lab being pants for air. You’re disappointed when ford pulls out of you, followed by a stronger drizzle of his cum pooling out onto the table too. “Hah- thank you for your participation in this project [name].” Ford sighs, cock still twitching. You can only mutter an “Uh-huh…” as you come back down from your high. Ford turns to his computer again to turn off the camera feed, grabbing a clean towel from the medical cart beside him and turning back to you. Pulling out the camera by its cord, he tosses it onto the cart before he spends some time toweling you down.

“I enjoyed this, enjoyed you dear. For more than the science.” He admits, his eyes meeting yours. “I um- I did too ford. Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to do this again?” You ask, pulling your tired legs down from the stirrups. One of fords hands grabs one of your legs as you pull it down, then he leans in and leaves a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Dear… I’d love to do this again.”

[spencersbabymama]

Numbers l Chapter Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Disabled OC

Content Warning: Disability, negative self talk, blushing Spencer, talk of bizarre piercing fetish

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Brooke is thrust into work and it's not exactly what she expects.

Taglist: @just-call-me-by-yn @esote-rika

A/n: Thank you all for reading so far! Working on this fic has really made me fall in love with writing again 🩷🩷🩷 Also again, credit to @just-call-me-by-yn for always making my banners! I love you!

Story:

Luckily, Hotch had apparently worked closely with Penelope to explain the adaptive tech I use to run a pc efficiently.  So now I was helping her rummage through my backpack.  I have to admit watching her pull out various tangled plugs was an entertaining sight.  At first I wanted to apologize for not having my equipment more organized, but Penelope was so proud of herself every time she untangled a new wire. It was like a game to her.  

While that fiasco was going on, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Spencer dragging his finger down each page of the case file then turning each page about every 15 seconds.  His eyes tracked each word at lightning speed.  Honestly it looked like when a kid pretends to read to get it over with.  I know I should probably just leave him be, but my curiosity outweighed manners.  My eyebrows furrow in his direction “Are you really reading that fast?”

His head snapped up to look at me “Hm?” He looked confused at first but after a second he let out a small laugh under his breath like he was a little embarrassed and nodded softly “Yeah…”

My mouth opened to ask obvious follow up questions, like most notably, how on earth is that even humanly possible? But I was quickly cut off.

Spencer cleared his throat before continuing “Actually our conscious minds can process 16 bits of information per second, while our unconscious mind can process 11 million.  So to answer your question, yes I really can read this fast.”

There goes my stunned face again and I blinked at the guy for a moment.  I wasn’t sure if I should be disturbed, or wildly impressed by this guy’s smarts, I was mostly in awe. He was like a human computer.  I like computers, so we’ll probably get along.  

My face softened and I giggled softly “Cool.”

That same pink tint creeped across Spencer’s cheeks as he smiled, then went back to reading the case file.

Did this guy ever get complimented?  This was the second time he blushed in my direction and I wasn’t sure what I was doing to cause it.  Honestly it was kind of… cute in a boyish kind of way.

“Ah ha!” Penelope cheered, making me turn around to see her proudly displaying all my equipment set up.  

I smiled and guided my wheelchair up to the desk, making sure everything I would need is plugged in.  Although there was probably no need to doubt Penelope, her portion of the desk had three separate monitors she had to run, a few plugs were most likely nothing to her.

Penelope hung my backpack on the back of my wheelchair before taking her seat next to me “Should we take this for a spin?” She grinned.

I smiled back, unable to hide my eagerness to get started.  Penelope handed me the small mouse that fits in my hand along with the touchpad keyboard and I signed into my system for the first time.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Snapshots of different message exchanges appear on my screen.  It took a little bit of time, but after about an hour, Penelope, Spencer, and I managed to find one common person all the missing women have had contact with.  Their username was Hotrod94, if that doesn’t scream man who thinks he’s a gift from God I don’t know what does.  The back and forth text exchanges stopped completely within 3 days so the timeline fit.  Now us 3 were looking through each conversation for any info we could find that could tell us anything about where these women could be, or who took them.

Each message seemed normal, too normal.  It was almost haunting how the person on the other side of the screen could sound so charming.  No matter how smart or vigilant these women were, they didn’t have a chance.

“These poor girls had no idea what they were walking into…” Penelope sighed under her breath.  I could hear the empathy and hopelessness she was feeling for these women on the screen.

I couldn’t help but feel it myself.  It was one thing to talk about it, but looking into the eyes of each woman now, only made the urgency to find them stronger.  During training they tell you don’t get emotionally involved, don’t let yourself go there.  It will cloud your judgment.  Sure, most of that is true, but now that I was here, empathy is what was pushing me.

Spencer stuck his head between us to get a better look at the screens.  His eyes squinted like he was trying to focus on something.  You didn’t have to look at him hard to see the hamsters running on a wheel in his head.  With that brain of his, those hamsters were probably running a marathon at lightning speed.  The poor creatures probably don’t know what rest even is.

His face was only a few inches from mine but for some unexplainable reason, he felt closer.  It was like my personal bubble doubled in size to fit him inside.  My gaze kept flickering in his direction before I realize what I’m doing and my attention goes back to the screen in front of me.  That cycle went on about 3 times before Spencer finally spoke.

He used his pen he had been fidgeting with and pointed to one of the sentences sent by the unsub. “He never uses I in a sentence, it’s almost like he's trying to distance himself from each woman.”

Penelope scoffed, “Well if I had a soul and I was manipulating these women anyway, I’d do the same.”

I try not to laugh, but a small snicker slipped through anyways.  It was going to be fun sitting next to this sass every day.

I look back at the screen like before, but this time something sticks out.  My eyes narrow as I tap a few keys to zoom in on each woman's ear.  It can’t be, it’s probably a reach.  “Is it just me, or do all these women have double piercings on their ears?  That’s probably a coincidence, right?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.  I didn’t want my voice to show I wasn’t confident in my findings.

Spencer looks over at my screen before shaking his head “No… that actually makes sense…”  His voice trails off like he was still thinking.  Then he stood up straight to continue “Actually that could be huge for the profile.  There’s a fetish called Piquerism.  Essentially it’s when someone feels aroused by piercing another.  Most commonly by stabbing or slashing, but it can occur when the person has a simple ear piercing.”

“Ew.” Penelope shudders.

I was still reeling from the way Spencer spit out that information like it was common knowledge.  He almost seemed proud of himself for having that in his back pocket.

He clearly didn’t pick up on the creeped out looks on Penelope and I’s face because he continued like nothing happened “Penelope, can you let the team know?”

She shuddered one more time before nodding.  

I was too much in my head to pay attention to her calling the team.  This was my new reality.  Dealing with potential creeps like this was now my usual.  I knew it was going to be hard sitting in front of these screens every day and looking at the horrors that dance across them, but now that I was here, I was afraid nightmares were going to find me in my sleep every night.  How did these people do it?  Maybe I don’t have the stomach for this.  

I glanced over at the numerous toys on Penelope’s side of the desk and the dark cloud that was forming over my head started to break up to let light in.   The bright colors drowning out the darkness.  

“That was- um… A good catch Beven.” Spencer stuttered quietly enough that the call didn’t pick up his voice.

I look up to see him smiling softly.  Even though those words seemed shaky, they gave me a surge of confidence.  Hearing I did something good from someone as smart as him made me want to give myself a pat on the back.  My lips curl into a smile.

I already considered Penelope a friend, but it seemed like I can add Dr. Spencer Reid to that list.  Leading up to today I was so nervous how the team would perceive me, wheelchair and all.  I was lucky for most of my life I was surrounded by people who didn’t see me as different.  My parents, my family, and my friends never made me feel like I was less than.  The professional scene always seemed a little daunting though.  I knew what it looked like to any bystander, she can barely lift her arms, how is she supposed to be anything else than the greeter at Walmart?  I get it, honestly I would probably say the same thing if I was them.  Regardless, I knew I had more in me, and I was grateful everyone here saw what I could do, not what I can’t.

“Bevan, can you come with a list of tattoo parlors that also provide piercings in the general area of the abductions?” Hotch’s voice catches my attention through the call system “We’re gonna split up and find out who frequents the most.”

I quickly nodded, giving a “Yes sir.” Before he assigns Penelope a cross checking assignment. 

My fingers tap away, narrowing down a list of parlors that aren’t close to the abduction sights.  After a minute, I relay the list to Hotch, followed by him thanking me.  

Penelope hangs up before giving me a high 5 “Good work Newbie.  Someday you might be as fast as yours truly.” She jokes while resting her chin on her hands.

I snicker and shake my head “I appreciate that, but I watch you type and I don’t think I could ever get there.”

“Hm…” Penelope smirks before turning back to her computer screens “You're smart too, Newbie.  I am the best.”

Now Spencer and I laugh.

[monsterpr3y]

The first draft of The Lab

Lying on the floor of my cell, filled and covered with cum, I began to reflect on how I got here. Go on an adventure, I thought. See the world and find yourself, I planned. Well, I did a little bit of that. in the end, it was finding myself that lead me here. I found that I got a rush from stealing and cheating people. That sneaking in the shadows and liberating someone's purse gave me such a thrill. The richer the mark, the more exhilaration in taking their most prized possessions. I once stole a whole ass tapestry from the wall of a manor while the owner watched me. 

That way of life caught up with me. 

As you probably suspect by now, I stole from the wrong person. A mad scientist is going to have cool shit, so when I heard rumors of one living in a secluded tower all by himself I knew I had to hit it. 

This man was devious. And I mean that in all ways. Before I even got inside he'd clocked me, magic or some invention alerting him to my presence and went completely unnoticed. Then there were the booby traps (in one case literal) everywhere, so cleverly hidden that the master thief I'd become caught maybe one in five. I didn't even notice the one that drugged me, as it was through skin contact and brushed my face. I'd like to think that without that I wouldn't have walked right into thin wires that constricted on my arms and legs, but also onto my breast's, like it was waiting for a female to walk into it.

Everything went dark after that. When I came to, I was on a cold metal table, naked, and restrained, staring up into the oversized eyes of the scientist examining me with some vision magnifying contraption.

“Wonderful, you're awake! I am so glad you came to join us!” He hustles off the stool he'd been standing on and somehow I was taken down by a scrawny halfling? I'd never live this down with the other adventurers if they found out.

“I'm sorry for trying to sneak in, but I'd heard rumors about your lab and couldn't resist wanting to take a peek” maybe if I flatter his scientific ego he'll let me go.

“Oh my dear you're about to have the best seat in the house when it comes to my experiments!” 

I didn't like the sound of that. I needed to get free, but none of my skull with lock picking would help when my hands were restrained above my head, and whatever was holding them to the table was below the table. I could barely even wiggle my fingers.

“The only intruders I've had to date were men, and they just won't do for the experiments. Their primary motivation seems to be procreation, and they are smart and can tell a human male from a female. Watching them be torn apart in the arena was enlightening however!” 

“Excuse me! You plan to do what with me? Let me go right now!” I'm finally starting to struggle, as I realize my predicament. What the hell does he mean procreation? I thought I was naked on this table because he was going to play with me, which as a female adventurer is nothing new to me. Whatever he's talking about sounds a whole lot worse.

“Oh, but you're never leaving. Who knows, maybe they'll break you so badly you enjoy it” and he's out a side door. I struggle almost manically, desperate to get away of whatever hell hole I've fallen into, but he knows what he's doing with these restraints. I would almost be excited to be restrained and taken by the scientist, bondage always made sex hotter for me, regardless of my level of willingness.

The table begins to move, but it's not just a table. It lifts so I'm in a standing position and then it begins to retract in multiple pieces, leaving me bound with my arms and legs spread in an X in the middle of the room.

“Now I'm going to start you off with just one, so I can gage what you can handle” the scientist shouts down to me from a platform about 20 feet above me, where he's sitting cross legged holding a notebook and pencil in one hand, and the other is about to pull on a rope.

Metal grates and a chain clanks behind me, but I don't have enough slack to turn and see what's coming for me. I hear a slithering coming upon me, but slimier somehow. Thrashing against my bonds I realize that his experiments are monstrosities, and he's unleashing one to fuck me. 

My inner thigh is stroked by a slimy… appendage? I can't see what it is but it's not a finger or hand, and it's joined by another and another, until 8 or more are stroking my legs and torso, the slime on them oozing and coating my skin. Without warning 2 of the appendages find what they are searching for and my cunt and ass are both invaded. I scream and struggle harder, but there's still no wiggle room in my restraints. I begin to sob as the creature moves below me, and I see a Catacomb Slug take shape, the tentacles on its bulbous head now using my holes.

I get a brief respite as it moves far enough past me that the tentacles no longer reach me, but now I can see what's coming for me, and I've never wished to be blindfolded more ardently in my life as I see it's mouth open. 

“We need to lower you by increments for the next parts” the scientist is entirely way to enthusiastic about this, completely deaf to my sobs and pleading. I lower by about 2 feet, right above the grotesque mouth with its jagged teeth, and I'm sure I'm about to die… tho death would probably be better than whatever comes next.

It's tongue inches out of its mouth, long and rough looking, with even more slime dripping from it. I will never feel clean after this. As it extends it splits in 2, as if it's been forked, as I've never seen one do that.

“Now you get to see where the experimentation has come in. It's fascinating really, I've had this pet since it was a baby, it was actually cute back then, but I wanted to see what would happen if I introduced other DNA to it while it was still in its egg sac. I didn't know what I was doing as well back then, so it was a cocktail of things and he got the forked tongue of a snake, am amphibious nature from the frog, but also that DNA mutated it's slime. Instead of having a hallucinogenic property like the frog, it first numbs it's prey, and then it begins to tingle on the skin, and as it absorbs it creates a euphoric effect”

The tingling had already begun, tho I wished I'd stayed numb. It builds and builds, somehow centering on my clit, and I am breathing heavier than I should be for how little I'm able to struggle. But then a glorious detached feeling occurs, and my mind feels released from my body as pleasure courses through all my veins. 

At that moment the 2 tongues begin to probe my holes, a glorious friction from the rough texture they have, and between that and the tingling I know I'd be soaked even without the slime. A low moan escapes me, and suddenly I no longer want to fight back. No man's cock has felt this good, no finger has elicited such pleasure as the sensations building in my clit as I'm fucked thoroughly and my first orgasm builds so intensely that my screams reverberate off the walls.

“Interesting, the subject has a much stronger response than expected. I anticipate great fun in witnessing my creatures break her.”

As my orgasm subsides I begin to lower again and the slug moves forward, its tail right below me. It lifts it up and it's cock emerges from the tip, and I suddenly am glad for any numbing and euphoria, as it's bigger than even the tongues, and knotted all along its length. 

“And now we see the results of the werewolf DNA that was added in. Surprising result really, that it's cock was the only part affected, I do hope that it doesn't break you before we're barely started, but he's never gotten a chance to use it and I feel sorry for the poor lad”

It slams it into my cunt up to the first knot, filling me so full, but feeling good so far. The first knot pops inside me, and now I'm stretched and I'm sure would be screaming if it's slime hadn't prepped me. It stays at this length and roughly fucks me, my body in pain but the slime still working on the pleasure. Faster and faster he pumps into me, a mewling sound emitting from it, and just before it cums, a secondary cock emerges and slams into my ass, just as the second knot enters my cunt, and both absolutely explode with cum, my stomach bulging from the pressure of how much has been secreted into my body. Both cocks slip out of me, and it curls up in the corner ready for a nap.

“Not even any bleeding, fantastic, excellent! You'll do wonderfully my dear” the scientist says as my bonds loosen, and he enters the room again, putting a collar and nipple clamps on me and using a chain attached to all of them to pull me from the room and lead me to the cell where I'm now laying and reminiscing, covered in the cum of multiple monsters, and replete from all the orgasms they gave me in the process.

[conundrumsofphilosophy]

hi!! how do you think each merc would react if they got stuck on an elevator? maybe reader could be there too and started panicking, how would they deal with it? ^^

ANON I LOVE THIS. this is such a fun prompt im obsessed. sorry this took literally months . college is hard

scout

- he's immediately mad. kicking the wall and repeatedly pushing buttons

- ends up pacing and freaking anyone else in the elevator out

- when he starts yelling for help it's over

- if you start panicking it'll just make him panic because he doesn't know what to do to help you, he just gets louder

soldier

- slamming on the doors with his entire body weight. does NOT realize the doors will open to an elevator shaft and not a safe floor

- SCREAMING for help. he's not panicked really just very impatient. it's very un-american to get trapped in an elevator.

- if he's in there too long he'll wear himself out and sit on the floor and pout for a while. sad sad puppy dog man

- if you're freaking out he'll just yell in your face which will not help but he is yelling reassuring things. he just has zero volume control.

pyro

- definitely just saying what the hell over and over again. not yelling just muttering to themself and being mostly unintelligible

- kicks the door a little bit but doesn't get overly violent

- mostly just dismayed at the situation. will sit down and fiddle with whatever they have on them, tinker with whatever weapons anyone has. patient

- will sit there in silence with you and help you breathe deep if you're panicking. mutters kind things which you can't understand but he's trying

engineer

- pops open the panel immediately and starts fiddling with wires and trying to fix it himself. not at all worried that he might break it worse

- throws stuff if he can't get it working again. very much with the dangits and dammits and dagnabbits

- starts yelling for help but gets bored of it pretty quick and just huffs and puffs

- if you're freaked out he'll calm himself down though. he'd hate to be part of the reason you're freaking out

demo

- he doesn't even notice at first. he's just drinking and smiling.

- once he realizes it's been a loooong time in the elevator. he'll sort of just poke at some buttons, kick at the door a little bit. surprisingly nonchalant about it

- if he's drunk enough he'll start to prepare to blow the door open you gotta make him not do that. because it would most certainly not help

- if you're freaking out he'll stare at you for a while before he even says anything because he doesn't know what would help. he isn't helpful at all

heavy

- so normal about. he is chilling. if someone else has an idea that requires brute force he will contribute but won't initiate it himself he's perfectly content to just wait it out

- i like to think he brings a little paperback with him all the time and he will just sit down and read

- might even fall asleep. his snoring would make anyone else in the elevator want to die though

- probably the best person to have with you if you're freaking out he can provide anything you need. need to be grounded? bone crushing hug. need reassuring words? might be a little broken in english but he's got em.

medic

- gone into hysterics i think. especially if there are more than three people in the elevator he needs out right now

- snaps at anyone that tries to get him to help with anything he's like. sitting in the corner rocking back and forth

- he's literally completely 100% normal the second you get out it's like nothing happened

- he's not helping you if you're freaking out unless staring at you menacingly is helping

sniper

- doesn't care literally whatsoever he's used to being in enclosed spaces for hours at a time

- you better believe he's pissing in jars if he has them.

- will help with the Escape Plan if he deems it smart enough

- if you're freaking out he'll just sit there but he thinks it's helping

spy

- soooooo frustrated there are much better things he'd rather be doing than being trapped with You People

- filling the elevator with cigarette smoke much to the chagrin of everyone in it. he does not care whatsoever

- gets bored quickly and will sit and flip his knife endlessly while still chainsmoking

- if you're freaking out he'll probably just say something he thinks is kind but just makes you feel worse

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Is there anything in taeils chart that could point to him being an awful person?

Oooh- I was so hesitant in wondering whether or not I should respond to this question BUT I'm going too for education purposes because this is a great way of understanding how unhealed/undeveloped/immature zodiac placements manifest in people.

Disclaimer: Before I begin and receive hate comments, pls be mature and understand that this isn't reflective on EVERY person who has these placements AND also this is for funsies and not to be taken srsly. Taeil's decisions are a product of his own free will and free will always surpasses astrological influence. 18+

Placements: Gemini Sun, Leo Moon, Cancer Venus, Taurus Mars ( Rising Sign Unknown)

Sorry to the ppl with Gemini placements watching this but we have another Gemini man bringing shame to the zodiac world.

The benefits of this Sun/Moon duo together is having the ability to use their natural charisma, ability to adapt to different situations, friendly appearance and whimsical sense of humor to bring joy to others around them and to help the underdog/misfits feel included.

I don't know much about Taeil but from what I've seen on Tiktok and X, many people who did bias Taeil biased him because of his talented vocal cords, overall 'sweet' persona and having a 'gentle' demeanour.

But of course, Gemini and Leo are known for being able to 'mask' easily and adapt their personality to the environment around them- it's why they are great placements to have if you're in the entertainment industry.

These zodiac signs typically enjoy giving and receiving a lot of attention from multiple people to satisfy their ego and if unchecked, can develop a god complex honestly.

Taeil's ego might have been so unhinged and inflated he might have thought he could commit these acts and not get caught, purely because he's too smart or too famous to receive the consequences from doing it.

When I see a man with a Leo Moon and a Cancer Venus, this is giving me such mommy's boy energy not going to lie. It's common for men with Leo and/or Cancer placements to grow up with a mother who blew wind up their arse and they could never do anything wrong and their mother coddled and did everything for them.

I don't know if he's a Mommy's boy but it wouldn't surprise me if he is.

And I've just noticed in general, that a large amount of men who grew up being a Mommy's boy or in an emotionally incestuous relationship with their mother (NOT ALL BUT MANY) tend to have a quite derogatory view towards women.

This is mainly because they already have a woman who satiates their psychological, emotional and egotistical needs and so may view other women merely for sexual gratification and that's it.

It's common that men with these placements typically have a conservative/traditional view and opinion towards hetereosexual romantic relationships.

South Korea is a country where the societal norms and standards towards women are very misogynistic, restrictive and sexist (don't argue with me on this, there's a reason why the 4b movement exists) and that Cancer Venus influence means he probably developed these views towards women at a young age.

Which is really sad because majority of ppl who stanned Taeil were women or fem-identifying so unfortunately, I wouldn't be surprised if...

Taeil stans viewed him as being this 'soft spoken' idol that was respectful and loving towards his fans when in reality...

It's more likely that he saw his fans as nothing more than to satisfy his ego, give him the fame he thinks he deserves and would warm his bed with a single click of a pen.

Again, this is just intrusive thoughts and a random brain rot about how his natal chart could show insight into his wiring and why he made these horrific decisions.

None of this is confirmed, might not even be accurate but hey, you wanted my opinion and so here it is.

And don't be afraid if you know a person or stan another idol who has similar placements because again, a human's greatest gift is free will.

[weekendpassrevoked]

Easy's Songbird - Chapter 12

ngl i'm just pulling stuff out of my ass until i get to the actual plot i've written. i'm so sorry LMAO

song: The Sea Wall by Wood and Wire

‘May 20th, 1942

Dear Journal,

Today is the day we finally put all of our training to the test. In retrospect, I haven’t been training as long as the men have, so I’m slightly scared that something wrong will happen, but I’m sure that won’t be the case (at least that’s what Winters said when I told him.). Our first official jump out of a C-47, how exciting!

When I think of jumping out of the plane, I think of my father. I think my father would probably enjoy it if he had had the chance to do the same. He loves crazy things like that. On the other hand, Michel Alejandro would probably prefer being dragged by a horse on a public road than jumping out of a plane at 1,500 feet.

I think Lucas would have loved this too. He’s always been a daredevil, always looking for the next thrill. I bet he’d have joined up with Easy in a heartbeat if they let him. Cameron? He’d be up there, sure, but only after making a whole dramatic speech about how this was definitely how he was going to die.

I wish they were here.

Not just them—Sina, and Darren. I keep picturing what they’d say if they could see me in full gear, ready to jump into nothing but open sky. Sina would probably fuss, telling me to be careful and checking my straps three times over. Darren would just shake his head, muttering something about how crazy I am. 

It’s funny. I thought I’d be more nervous. I was nervous last night. Couldn’t sleep, kept thinking about everything that could go wrong. But now, standing here, watching the others joke around, adjusting their gear, it feels... different.

Despite this, if today happens to be the day God has decided I should die, I’d like to say I wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Isabella’

She shuts her journal sharply when the sergeant calls her name and the names of eleven other poor souls who have to jump off the plane with her. 

Next to her on the plane is David Webster, a handsome man with bright blue eyes and dark fluffy hair, from 1st Platoon who she had heard lots about. From what she’s been told, he’s one of the smart ones—Harvard-educated, well-read, and always quick with a sharp remark. She’d like to pick his brain some time, ask him about his favorite authors and such. He seemed interesting.

Webster shifts in his seat, flexing his fingers against his harness as if testing the strength of the material. He’s been through the same training, heard the same lectures, but there’s something different about being in the plane—being seconds away from throwing yourself into open air.

He glances at Isabella, who is adjusting her gloves with an almost mechanical focus.You ever do anything this stupid before?” he asks, his voice just loud enough for her to hear over the roaring engine.

She quirks an eyebrow. “You mean willingly throwing myself into mortal peril?”

His lips twitch. “Something like that.”

She huffs out a quiet laugh. “Grew up on a farm, Webster. Every day was a new way to die. My personal favorite is being kicked by a horse”

Webster lets out a surprised chuckle, shaking his head. “Jesus. And here I was thinking Harvard was rough.”

In front of them sits Carwood Lipton, someone else she hadn’t really gotten the chance to interact with, but when they had, he always treated her respectfully and she couldn’t ask for anything better; and Charles Grant. She hadn’t gotten a read on Grant yet, but she was hoping he would be nice to her if push came to shove.

Lipton, overhearing their conversation, turns slightly, offering a small smile. “Sounds like you’ve had your fair share of close calls, Vega.”

She smirks. “You could say that. Surviving a Florida farm prepares you for just about anything.”

“Have you actually been kicked by a horse?” asks Grant, curious.

Isabella grins wide. “Oh Grant, you have no idea.”

Grant raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Alright, now you have to tell me.”

Isabella chuckles, shifting slightly in her harness. “It was my own fault, really. I was twelve, trying to wrangle one of our more temperamental mares. Didn’t have a rope, didn’t have a plan—just thought I could walk right up and lead her in.”

Webster smirks. “I take it that didn’t go well.”

“Oh, it went great—right up until she kicked me straight in the ribs,” Isabella says dryly. “Knocked the wind clean out of me. I thought I was dying.”

Grant winces. “Jesus.”

Lipton shakes his head, amused. “And you just walked it off?”

Isabella grins. “Hardly. My brothers had to drag me back to the house while I swore up and down that I saw the gates of heaven.”

Webster snorts. “That explains a lot.”

“Does it?” she muses, adjusting her gloves.

Grant tilts his head. “How the hell did you even survive growing up on a farm like that?”

She flashes a quick grin. “By being too stubborn to die.”

Before Grant can respond, the plane jolts slightly, and all conversation stills.

A voice shouts over the roar of the engines, sharp and commanding. “Listen up!”

Instantly, they straighten.

“Stand up!”

The shift is immediate. Boots scrape against metal as everyone pushes to their feet. Isabella steadies herself, feeling the familiar weight of her gear pulling against her shoulders.

“Hook up!”

Her hands move without thought, securing the static line. The moment it clicks into place, she inhales deeply through her nose. Behind her, Webster does the same, rolling his shoulders.

“Check equipment!”

This had always been the most awkward part for her. Usually during training, Isabella was lucky enough to be in front of Gene and behind Luz or Liebgott, but this time she had been placed with men she barely knew. 

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus. ‘It’s just another step, just like training.’

Webster reaches forward, his hands expertly checking over her gear with practiced efficiency. She could feel the brief tug of the straps as he grabbed them, ensuring everything was secure. Isabella carefully checks over Lipton like she was trained, making sure he was good to go.

“Sound off for equipment check!”

“Twelve okay!”

The call traveled down the line, each voice sharp and steady despite the roaring wind.

Isabella tightened her grip on her harness as the response passed through the men before her.

“Six okay!” she called out when it was her turn, her voice steady, though her fingers twitched slightly.

The red light above the jump door glowed ominously.

Almost there.

She flexed her hands, shifting her weight slightly as the plane vibrated beneath her boots. Her heart hammered in her chest, but her mind stayed clear. ‘You’ve trained for this, Isa. Nothing new. Nothing different.’

The call rang out.

“Stand in the door!”

They shuffled forward as one unit, boots scuffing against the metal floor. The rush of wind howled through the open door, the world outside vast and waiting. Isabella watches as the person in front, Shifty Powers, walks up to the edge of the door. Shoulders squared, his body tensed like a coiled spring.

The red light flickered—then turned green.

“GO! GO! GO!”

Shifty disappeared, and one-by-one so did the others in front of her. 

Then, it was her.

‘Virgencita, te pido que me arropes en tu santo manto y me guies en el aire a llegar a salvo a la tierra.’

As she prepares to leap off, she adds another line to her prayer.

‘Y si no, pues, no te preocupes. No puedo estar amargada si estoy muerta.’

She swallowed hard.

And then she jumped.

The rush of air stole her breath, her stomach lurching violently as she plummeted.

‘One-thousand, two-thousand, three-thousand…’

Then—

A brutal snap at her shoulders. Her whole body jerked as the chute deployed, catching the wind and slowing her descent. The world came back into focus all at once.

Her breath left her in a sharp gasp, adrenaline still surging.

‘Thank you God…’

Isabella finds herself in awe as she looks down toward the ground. The world stretched wide beneath her, the fields and trees shrinking as she drifted, the ground illuminated by the glow of the afternoon sky. The hum of the plane engines faded, replaced by the distant, scattered voices of the other jumpers maneuvering their chutes. The wind tugged at her, but she barely felt it—her body was weightless, the moment suspended in time.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

It was beautiful.

It almost made her forget that in a few seconds, the ground was going to come rushing up to knock her flat on her ass.

She angled her chute, shifting her weight slightly as she eyed the landing zone. She had practiced this dozens of times, but she hoped the real thing wouldn’t hurt too bad.

She heard a distant, almost indignant “Jesus Christ!” and turned her head just in time to see Webster struggling with his own landing a few yards away. He hit the ground hard, tumbling in a way that was definitely not part of their training.

A snort escaped her lips.

Then—

The ground was suddenly much closer than before.

Isabella braced herself, bending her knees slightly as she made contact with the earth. The force of it rattled through her, but she moved instinctively, rolling with the momentum until she came to a stop.

The world was still again.

A sharp ache spread through her side where she landed, but aside from that, she was in one piece.

She exhaled, tilting her head back to look at the sky, her parachute billowing softly behind her.

A second later, a loud groan came from Webster’s direction. “That sucked.”

Isabella let out a breathless laugh, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “You alright, Harvard?”

Webster rolled onto his back, glaring at the sky. “Yeah, yeah. Just reevaluating all of my life choices.”

She grinned, finally getting her bearings and starting to gather up her chute. Around them, the rest of the jumpers were touching down, some landing more gracefully than others. A few excited cheers rang out in the distance, a clear sign that some of the guys had managed a near-perfect landing.

Lipton, having landed a few feet further up, jogged over with his chute already bundled in his arms. He nodded approvingly at her. “Good jump, Vega.”

She smiled at the praise, but before she could say anything, the distant bark of an instructor’s voice rang out across the field, calling them in.

“Alright then gentlemen. Four more to go!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That evening, Isabella found herself in the Officer’s Quarters. 

After her 5 successful jumps, it had been announced that there would be a celebration later in the evening in commemoration of them passing their training. Meaning that they would be required to wear their Class A uniforms. For the men, this was nothing out of the ordinary. But for Isabella, this meant only one thing.

Looking dolled up.

While the men of the company celebrated, Isabella found herself panicking. She didn’t have allotted bathroom time during the day to properly get ready without the men seeing her (and vice-versa) and she sure as hell wasn’t going to dress in front of them if she had anything to say about it. 

Thus, she turned to Lewis Nixon. Her saving grace.

“Sir,” she had pleaded earlier that afternoon, gripping his arm with desperation that he had, frankly, found hilarious. “Please. I just need your room for, like, an hour.”

He had raised an eyebrow, smug as ever. “What’s in it for me?”

“I don’t embarrass you in front of Winters.”

“You’re bluffing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Try me.”

That was how she found herself in Lewis Nixon’s room, the soft overhead light illuminating the small space as she adjusted her uniform in the mirror. The wool material of the Class A’s felt stiff but presentable, the fabric structured in a way that, for the first time since enlisting, made her feel like an actual soldier.

Much to Nixon’s amusement, she had spent a significant amount of time getting ready. When she had first arrived to Toccoa, yes, she had been wearing the same uniform. But the difference was that she hadn’t filled it properly.

What does she mean?

Well, she wasn’t a paratrooper then!

When Isabella had first worn her dress uniform, she was un-confident. Completely at will to her feelings of insecurity and anxiety. This time around, she found herself in the complete opposite situation. She felt proud of wearing it, happy at her accomplishments and proud of herself for overcoming what she had.

Isabella sat at Nixon’s desk, using a small mirror she had borrowed from the infirmary to do her hair. She wasn’t very good at styling it, usually pinning it in a bun or leaving it in a braid, but she wanted to look good at least once while she was at Toccoa so she would put in the effort.

Using the mirror, Isabella carefully styled her curls, making sure she was in regulation. Unlike many women, Isabella had been blessed with natural curls, albeit wild ones, but curls nonetheless. Taking her comb, she gently organized a side section of her hair into a victory roll. She didn’t have the advantage of having pinned it properly the night before and didn’t have a heat source, so she was putting her hope into damp hair, pins, and ridiculous amounts of backcombing to keep it in place. She worked meticulously, fingers deftly tucking and smoothing, ensuring every curl was secured into place. It wasn’t perfect—her hair never quite did what she wanted—but it was good enough. And for tonight, that was all that mattered.

Isabella exhaled slowly, setting the comb aside before reaching into her pocket. Her fingers brushed against the familiar metal of her mother’s earrings—the small, delicate pearl studs that complimented the uniform nicely. A gift she appreciated immensely. She hesitated only a moment before fastening them into place, her reflection softening just slightly at the sight.

Much to her dismay, she had no cosmetics with her. Isabella found it surprising, she had never been one for makeup outside of using it for performances. 

She narrowed her eyes at the mirror. 

“No makeup? No problem!” she said to herself cheekily.

Isabella was determined to keep one of her mothers main teachings honored and she would not leave this room looking under-dressed. That’s what her wit was for.

She leaned closer to the mirror, scrutinizing her reflection. Without any cosmetics, she had to get creative. She lightly pinched her cheeks, bringing some natural color to her face. Then, she pressed her lips together a few times, hoping to add a bit of life to them. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

A small knock at the door broke her from her thoughts.

“You done in there?” Nixon’s voice carried through the wood, laced with impatience. “Some of us have whiskey to drink.”

“Almost!” she called back, glancing at herself once more in the mirror. 

‘Good enough!’

Gathering the few things she had strewn across Nixon’s desk, she tucked them into a small pouch before stepping to the door.

Swinging it open, she was immediately met with Nixon’s raised brows and a slow, knowing smirk.

“Well, well,” he mused, arms crossing lazily. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Isabella scoffed. “Oh, shut up.”

But Nixon, ever the opportunist, leaned against the doorframe, giving her a once-over. “Not bad, Vega,” he said, the teasing in his voice subdued for once. “Didn’t know you cleaned up this well.”

She rolled her eyes, though a small warmth crept up her neck. “Should I take that as a compliment, sir?”

Before Nixon gets the chance to answer, a familiar voice cuts in.

“Why don’t you give Vega a proper compliment, Nix?”

Isabella turns, finding herself faced with Winters coming out of his own room. 

She straightened instinctively, though her stomach flipped slightly at the way Winters’ gaze flickered over her. His expression remained neutral—typical—but there was something considering in his eyes, like he was taking in a new detail he hadn’t noticed before.

Nixon, ever the menace, grinned. “Well, Dick, if you’re so eager to step in, be my guest.”

Winters exhaled, giving Nixon a look before turning back to Isabella. “You look very pretty, Vega.”

Her ears warm at the compliment, not actually expecting one from him. “Thank you, sir!” she beams.

Nixon, watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement, snorted. “Jesus, Winters. That’s the best you got? ‘Pretty?’”

Winters shot him a flat look but didn’t take back his words. Isabella, to her own surprise, actually laughed. “I’ll take it.”

She adjusted her sleeves one last time before exhaling sharply. “Alright. Let’s get this over with before I actually start getting nervous.”

Nixon smirked, gesturing toward the door. “After you, Vega”

With that, the three of them begin walking out. As they reach the exit of the Officer’s Quarters, Nixon speaks up, curious.

“What’s with the victory roll? Didn’t think you were that type of gal.”

She grins, excited. “Well, sir. I’m not. But if you really want to know, let me show you!”

When the three of them leave the building, they reach for their service caps. She turns herself toward Nixon as she puts hers on, gently placing it at an angle like many of the men did for themselves, victory roll on the other side of her head accentuating it. 

“Ta-da!”

Nixon blinked.

Then, slowly, a wide grin stretched across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Winters, watching the exchange, exhaled through his nose—somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “You really planned that out, didn’t you?”

She shrugged, straightening her cap. “If I’m gonna put in the effort, might as well make it worth something.”

Nixon let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re more dangerous off the battlefield than on it.”

She smirked. “I like to keep things interesting, sir.”

They continued walking toward the bar, the muffled sounds of laughter, music, and conversation growing louder as they approached. The atmosphere was alive—a rare moment where training, exhaustion, and the looming war were momentarily forgotten in favor of celebration.

Winters opened the door first, stepping inside as Isabella and Nixon followed.

Inside, she was faced with very happy, drunk men. Now, despite Isabella having performed in a bar for a very long time back at home, that didn’t mean that she herself had ever had a drink, and she wasn’t going to start now.

The atmosphere was lively, men laughing, shouting over one another, the clatter of beer mugs and boots against the wooden floor filling the air. The scent of cigarette smoke and cheap beer hung heavy, but there was an undeniable warmth to it all—the kind of camaraderie that only came after months of shared suffering.

Eager to join the fun, she politely excuses herself from Nixon and Winters, heading to the bar where Luz was speaking with Toye. She slides onto the stool sneakily, eavesdropping into their conversation.

She leaned in slightly, just close enough to catch Luz mid-sentence.

"—I swear to God, Joe, you wouldn’t believe it. This guy takes one look at me, right? And he says—”

“Says what?” Isabella cut in smoothly, propping her chin on her hand.

Luz choked on his drink.

Toye, not as easily rattled, barely blinked before turning toward her. His brows furrowed, eyes scanning her face like he wasn’t quite sure who he was looking at.

“…Vega?”

She smirked. “Present.”

Luz blinked once. Twice. Then let out a low whistle. “Holy shit.”

Toye let out something that was half a laugh, half an incredulous scoff. “Jesus, kid. What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing happened,” she quipped, straightening slightly. “This is what I usually look like.”

Luz shook his head, setting his drink down. “Nah, no way. You don’t just walk around looking like that—” he gestured vaguely at her, eyes still wide. “I mean, kid, Christ.”

Toye smirked, taking a slow sip of his beer. “Never thought I’d see the day you outshined every man in this damn room.”

Isabella rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the amused twitch of her lips. “Oh, please. You all are just dramatic.”

Before they could retort, Malarkey appeared, beer in hand, looking thoroughly confused as he took her in. “Wait—hold on—what the hell?” His gaze flickered from her victory roll to the neatly pressed Class A uniform, as if his brain was struggling to connect the dots.

Luz grinned, smacking Malarkey on the back. “I know, buddy. It’s like seeing a whole new species.”

Before Isabella could protest, Liebgott’s voice rang out from across the room.

“Holy shit, VEGA?!”

Every head turned.

The room fell eerily silent.

And then—

An absolute explosion of noise.

Chairs scraped back, voices overlapping, half the men in the bar scrambling toward her like she’d just murdered someone and dragged the body inside with her.

Skip was outright laughing, clapping a stunned Liebgott on the back as he gawked at her. Guarnere muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. Even Bull looked somewhat taken aback, his brows raising slightly as he leaned back in his chair.

Luz, grinning like an idiot, threw an arm around her shoulders. “Boys, we’ve been bamboozled. Hoodwinked. Lied to. This whole time, Vega’s been hiding this from us.”

She groaned, rubbing her face. “You’re all ridiculous—”

“Ridiculous?” Liebgott scoffed, still looking like he didn’t know whether to be impressed or concerned. “Vega, you look like—like some fancy movie star! The hell is this?”

“I literally just got dressed—”

“This ain’t just getting dressed,” Skip argued, shaking his head. “This is some kind of transformation. Like—like Cinderella or some shit.”

Skip nodded sagely. “Yeah. Except she’d probably punch the prince in the face.”

That made everyone laugh, and Isabella huffed, shaking her head and slightly pouting from embarrassment. “Unbelievable.”

As the men died down, Isabella finds herself seated between Liebgott and Gene.

“Boys, I’m as snug as a bug between you two! Care to explain?” she asks.

Liebgott, ever the instigator, smirked. “Just keeping an eye on our newly crowned princess, Birdie.”

She rolled her eyes, but Gene, who had been quieter than usual, just took a sip of his drink before muttering, “Not a bad idea.”

That caught her attention. She tilted her head slightly. “You’re worried about me?”

Gene didn’t look at her, just kept his focus on the glass in his hands. “You’re the only girl in a room full of drunk paratroopers. Wouldn’t call it worrying. More like common sense.”

Liebgott snorted. “More like he’s your guard dog.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Lieb,” Luz added, leaning on the counter beside them. “Y’know, Vega, you’re real good at sneaking by unnoticed when you’re in uniform, but you walk in looking like this?” He gestured vaguely to her uniform and styled curls. “You’re lucky the whole damn room hasn’t swarmed you yet.”

She frowned. “You guys are exaggerating.”

Toye, from across the bar, raised his glass. “No, they’re not.”

Isabella huffed, setting her chin on her hand. “Well, damn. I was just trying to have a nice evening.”

Gene, finally meeting her gaze, smirked slightly. “We’ll make sure it stays that way.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the casual sincerity in his voice. Before she could respond, Luz clapped his hands together, shifting the conversation. “Alright, enough gawking at Vega. Who’s getting the next round?”

The conversation easily drifted back into the usual drunken chaos, but Isabella couldn’t shake the lingering warmth from Gene’s words.

Or the way Liebgott muttered, just quiet enough for only her to hear—

“You do clean up nice, though.”

She turned to him, arching an eyebrow.

But before she could say anything, he took a long sip of his beer, avoiding her gaze entirely.

‘Typical.’

“So…” she starts. “What is it about beer that makes you people go all crazy about it?”

Luz gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “You people? Vega, you make it sound like we’re some sort of secret society.”

She smirked. “You practically are.”

Toye leaned in, arms crossed over the bar. “Wait, hold on. You telling me you’ve never actually had a beer before?”

“I took a sip once,” she admitted. “Didn’t like it.”

Liebgott, now recovered from whatever moment of sincerity he’d accidentally stumbled into earlier, scoffed. “Jesus Christ, Vega, what are you, twelve?”

She shot him a flat look. “Seventeen.”

“Same difference,” he muttered into his glass.

Luz, meanwhile, had a glint in his eye that immediately made her wary.

“Oh, no,” she groaned. “No, absolutely not—”

“Bartender!” Luz called over her protests, slapping a few bills on the counter. “One beer for the lady!”

Gene sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luz waved him off, grinning. “Listen, it’s a rite of passage, alright? We’re paratroopers. You’re a paratrooper. We drink. You gotta drink.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Winters doesn’t drink.”

Luz grinned wider. “You ain’t Winters.”

A cold pint was suddenly in front of her, and she sighed, glaring at Luz like she was actually considering violence.

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he said cheerfully.

With a long, suffering breath, she picked up the glass, staring into the amber liquid like it held all the secrets of the universe. The men watched, the anticipation palpable.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Then, with all the confidence she could muster, she took a sip.

Silence.

Then—

Her whole face twisted in disgust. “Oh, that’s awful!”

Toye barked out a laugh. “And there it is.”

Luz was nearly in tears. “You should see your face right now.”

Liebgott patted her back like she had just survived a near-death experience. “Welcome to the brotherhood, Birdie.”

She groaned, setting the glass down with a thunk. “I’d rather drink swamp water.”

Luz wiped his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, that can be arranged.”

Gene, ever the only responsible one, just shook his head and passed her a glass of water. “Here. Before these jackasses try to kill you.”

She took it gratefully, shooting the rest of them a glare. “You’re all terrible influences.”

Luz waggled his eyebrows. “And yet, here you are.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples.

‘Maybe I should’ve stayed in the Officer’s Quarters.’

“Alright Birdie, you know a hell of a lot about us. But we don’t besides the fact you sing and work on a farm. Tell us a story!” Liebgott exclaimed, beer finally hitting his system.

Her eyes narrowed, skeptical. “I’m not willingly giving you any blackmail material.”

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” Luz teased, leaning in closer. “You’ve already seen all of us at our worst. Fair’s fair.”

“How about we make it a game?” she starts, reminiscent of how she had to corral Lucas and Cameron when they too got drunk (much to her anger). “You ask and then I get to ask. That good?”

A mischievous glint sparked in Luz’s eyes as he exchanged an amused glance with Liebgott. “Birdie’s upping the stakes, fellas.”

Toye, now tipsy like the rest of the men, grinned. “Hey guys, Birdie wants to play twenty questions!”

Isabella’s eyes widened, surprised at the reaction.

‘Should never trust a drunk man, even if he’s your friend…’

A good portion of the men who had heard Toye came over, curious to learn about their mysterious medic. Her usual group of Malarkey, Skip, and Penkala came up along with Guarnere.

“I’m game,” Malarkey said immediately, grinning widely as he sat next to Toye. “I got nothing to hide.”

Isabella sighed heavily, resigning herself to the inevitable. “Fine, but if any of you so much as breathe a word of this outside this room, I swear to God, I’ll lace your canteens with laxatives.”

Liebgott choked on his beer, laughing loudly. “Jesus Christ, Vega, noted!”

Guarnere chuckled, leaning forward. “Alright then, ladies first. Liebgott, you do the honors.”

Liebgott rubbed his hands together, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Alright Birdie, you asked for it. Question number one—what’s the most trouble you ever got into?”

She grinned, face mischievous. “I never got in trouble.”

Liebgott’s face blanks, confused. “What?”

“I was a wonderful daughter. Didn’t do anything I wasn’t supposed to.”

A skeptical silence fell over the table, each of the men eyeing her with various degrees of disbelief.

"Bullshit," Guarnere snorted, shaking his head. "Ain't nobody that good."

She tilted her chin defiantly, smiling sweetly. "Believe it or not, I was the perfect angel. Mama never had a reason to yell at me."

Luz folded his arms, eyes narrowed playfully. "I call bluff. Not even one sneaky trip to a party?"

"Nope."

"Not even a secret crush on some boy your mama didn't approve of?" Malarkey prodded.

She shrugged, barely suppressing her laughter. “Never had a boy to introduce them to.”

The table immediately erupted into chaos, with Luz dramatically clutching at his heart. "Impossible! You're telling me our Birdie was never serenaded herself?"

She rolled her eyes, heat creeping into her cheeks despite her efforts to keep a straight face. "Believe it or not, George, boys weren’t exactly lining up to talk to me."

Guarnere shook his head, disbelief plain on his face. "Sweetheart, what were they, blind or stupid?"

"Probably both," Liebgott muttered into his beer, smirking.

Winters, who had been watching them in the corner with Nixon, noticed her slight discomfort and came to her rescue. "Alright, enough with the interrogations. It's Vega's turn."

Isabella brightened, seizing the opportunity. "Exactly, sir. Malarkey," she said with a mischievous grin, "what’s the dumbest thing you’ve done trying to impress someone?"

Malarkey immediately flushed scarlet, sinking lower into his seat as the entire table turned expectantly toward him.

She smirked. “Checkmate.”

Malarkey groaned, covering his face. "Why do I feel like I'm gonna regret this?"

“Spill the beans Oregon-boy!”

Malarkey peeked through his fingers, still beet-red. "Alright, alright, fine! I, uh…once tried to impress this girl back home by telling her I was related to Bing Crosby."

The table erupted into laughter, and Luz nearly spilled his beer. "You did what?"

Isabella stared incredulously, barely suppressing her giggles. "Did she actually believe you?"

Malarkey grimaced, sinking even lower. "Yeah. Until she ran into my mother in town and asked her about our 'famous cousin.'"

Another wave of laughter crashed through the table, tears now streaming down Luz's face. "Oh, Malark—of all the people, you chose Bing Crosby?"

He threw up his hands helplessly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time!"

Liebgott shook his head, smirking. "Well, Oregon-boy, that definitely tops it."

Malarkey pointed accusingly at Isabella, fighting a smile despite his embarrassment. "Alright Birdie, enjoy your victory now—your turn's comin' again."

Malarkey eyed her mischievously, his embarrassment quickly fading into playful vengeance. "What’s your most embarrassing moment on stage?"

Isabella froze, her cheeks turning a shade darker as she muttered, "Low blow, Malark."

"Fair's fair," Luz chirped happily, clearly enjoying this far too much. "We gotta hear it."

“Well, uh…one time I wasn’t looking forward and I fell off the stage in front of everybody.”

The men burst into laughter, Toye nearly choking on his drink. Liebgott leaned back, grinning wickedly. "Graceful as ever, huh, Birdie?"

She gave him a mock-glare, eyes narrowed. "Watch it, Lieb, or I'll make your next check-up real unpleasant."

"Alright, alright," Guarnere laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. "Your turn, doll. Who ya gonna get revenge on?"

Her eyes lit up instantly, locking on a smirking Luz. "George Luz," she began sweetly, "what's your worst date experience?"

Luz’s eyes widened comically as the table fell quiet, awaiting his response. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

"Goddamn it, Birdie," he muttered, fighting back a smile. "You're ruthless."

“Sorry Luz, nothing fair in love and war.”

Luz chuckled helplessly, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. You win." He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression turning sheepish. "So, there was this girl—prettiest girl in town, absolutely gorgeous. Thought I'd take her out dancing, right?"

Guarnere leaned forward eagerly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "This already sounds good."

"Well, it would've been," Luz sighed dramatically, "if I hadn't accidentally stepped on her dress halfway through the first song and ripped it clean off."

The men exploded in laughter, Malarkey doubling over as he gasped for air. Toye slapped the table, eyes wet with tears. "Christ, Luz, only you!"

Isabella covered her mouth with her hand, completely taken aback. "Please tell me you apologized."

"Of course I did!" Luz protested defensively. "But I spent the rest of the evening trying not to look her dad in the eyes while he glared at me from across the room."

Liebgott wheezed, clapping Luz on the shoulder. "How are you still alive?"

Luz sighed heavily, mock sorrow in his voice. "I'm pretty sure that man still wants me dead."

“Jesus Christ, Luz!” Isabella exclaimed, horrified on his behalf.

Luz shrugged helplessly, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, wasn’t exactly my finest moment.”

Guarnere chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “No kiddin’, Luz. Even I ain’t screwed up that bad.”

Malarkey raised an eyebrow. “Yet.”

“Oh, don’t jinx me, Malark,” Guarnere muttered, giving him a pointed glare.

Liebgott turned to Isabella, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “See, Birdie? Compared to Luz, your life’s been downright boring.”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m trying not to embarrass myself.”

Gene leaned closer, voice teasingly gentle. “At least you know you’re not alone, chérie. You’re surrounded by fools.”

“Hey!” Luz protested loudly, his wounded pride making everyone laugh again.

Skip leans on the tabletop, drunk and with a plan up his sleeve. “Alright Birdie. Who do you think the most handsome man in the whole camp is?”

Isabella nearly choked on her water, eyes widening as she stared at Skip. "Excuse me?"

A mischievous silence fell over the table, the men leaning forward eagerly. Luz looked like a kid on Christmas morning, practically bouncing in his seat.

"Yeah, Birdie," Liebgott drawled slowly, smirking. "Who’s the lucky guy?"

She felt heat rise to her cheeks, though she forced herself to remain composed. "I'm not answering that."

"Oh, come on," Malarkey prodded, grinning broadly. "Don't be shy!"

Isabella crossed her arms defiantly. "Absolutely not. I’m not going to let myself be accused of fraternization because you idiots are too nosy for your own good."

Skip raised an eyebrow, drunken confidence gleaming in his eyes. "We’re not letting this go until you answer, sweetheart."

Gene chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her embarrassment far too much. "Better give 'em somethin', chérie, or they’ll hound you all night."

She sighed dramatically, resigned. "Fine," she started carefully, eyes narrowing at her friends. "In terms of objectively handsome, I'd say Lieutenant Winters."

The men groaned collectively, clearly unsatisfied.

Luz pointed an accusing finger. "Oh, that’s cheating!"

Isabella shrugged innocently, fighting back laughter. "You asked, I answered."

Guarnere shook his head, smirking knowingly. "We’ll get the real answer outta you sooner or later, doll. Just you wait."

She leaned back comfortably, smiling sweetly. "I'd like to see you try."

Liebgott leaned forward, mischief bright in his eyes. “Nice try, Birdie, but we’re not buyin’ it. We meant someone who isn’t considered your legal guardian.”

“Yeah!” Luz echoed, banging his hand on the table with drunken enthusiasm. “No easy way out, sweetheart.”

She crossed her arms, trying desperately to maintain her composure despite the flush creeping up her neck. “You're all relentless, you know that?”

“Just give us a name,” Skip teased, propping his chin on his hand and batting his eyelashes dramatically. “We won’t judge—much.”

Guarnere nudged her shoulder gently. “Come on, Birdie. Who’s caught your eye, huh?”

Isabella groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “You’re all the worst.”

“Come on, Vega,” Malarkey coaxed with a wicked grin. “It's just us. Promise we won’t tell.”

“Like hell you won’t,” she shot back, fighting a smile.

Luz held up his hands innocently. “Hey, we just wanna make sure whoever it is gets our official approval.”

Gene chuckled quietly beside her, clearly amused. “I agree with them, chérie.”

She lifted her head, shooting him a pleading glance. “Not you too, Gene.”

He shrugged, eyes sparkling playfully. “Just tryin’ to help.”

Isabella sighed dramatically, lifting her chin with mock defiance. “Alright boys, what’s in it for me?”

They go silent, not expecting her answer.

“I grew up with three teenage boys, gentlemen. You can try to trick me all you want, but unless you give me something in return you’re not gonna hear a peep out of me.”

Luz recovered first, leaning forward eagerly with newfound admiration. "Alright Birdie, name your price."

Liebgott nodded, clearly impressed. "Damn, Vega, you drive a hard bargain."

Malarkey rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Extra cigarettes?"

She shook her head. "I don't smoke."

Skip shrugged, smirking slightly. “What exactly do you have in mind then?”

Isabella tapped her chin thoughtfully, savoring the suspense as all eyes locked onto her. Finally, a slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. "Alright. You boys handle my latrine duty for a full week. No complaints."

The table erupted into groans of protest, Malarkey clutching his chest dramatically. "You're killing us, Birdie!"

Luz shook his head, impressed despite himself. "Damn, sweetheart, that's cold."

She shrugged innocently, leaning back comfortably in her seat. "Hey, you asked. My price is fair."

Gene chuckled softly, crossing his arms and glancing around at the protesting faces. "Better just agree, fellas. She's not gonna budge."

Liebgott sighed deeply, shooting Isabella a mock glare. "Fine. One week, no complaints. You happy?"

She smiled sweetly, eyes gleaming with triumph. "Absolutely thrilled."

Guarnere leaned forward eagerly. "Alright, doll, now spill—who’s the lucky bastard?"

Isabella hesitated a moment, her confidence flickering slightly under their expectant gazes, but quickly recovered, offering a playful smirk. "Maybe I'm just keeping you on your toes."

Luz groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. "Aw, come on, Birdie!"

She laughed, finally giving in with a resigned sigh. "Fine. If you must know...it's Speirs.”

They go silent.

‘That’s what I thought. Losers.’

Nixon who had been silently listening with Winters speaks up, stunned. “You’re kidding right?”

She tilts her head, smile mischievous. “I don’t know, am I?”

Nixon narrowed his eyes, carefully examining her expression for any hint of deception. “You’re bluffing.”

She leaned back comfortably, utterly pleased with their shocked reactions. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Guess you’ll never know.”

Isabella takes a sip from her water, happy at the result of her answer. “Have you all learned your lesson about being nosy? Or must we continue?”

A collective groan rose from the table, with Liebgott dramatically clutching his chest. “Jesus, Vega. You’re ruthless!”

Luz slumped back in his chair, arms crossed with a petulant frown. “Alright, alright. Lesson learned. Never underestimate Birdie’s poker face.”

Skip chuckled, shaking his head. “Remind me to never play cards with you, sweetheart.”

Guarnere jabbed a finger playfully at Isabella. “I still say you’re bluffin’.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slowly, eyes glittering with mischief. “Well then, Bill, feel free to test that theory—if you’re brave enough.”

Guarnere held up his hands quickly. “Nope, I'm good. I've learned my lesson.”

Satisfied, Isabella leaned back again, smug. “Glad we’re all on the same page.”

Gene chuckled softly beside her, nudging her shoulder gently. “Nicely played, chérie.”

She flashed him a bright smile. “Why thank you, Gene. I try.”

They eventually disperse, eager to go back to their own devices. As the men go back to drinking and playing bar games, she finds herself back to where she started; seated between Nixon and Winters.

“Alright kid, was it a bluff or not?”

“I’m not starting this again, Nixon.”

Nixon leaned closer, eyes narrowed, but his voice was playful. "C'mon, Vega. You’ve tortured those poor bastards enough—don’t leave your old pals hanging."

Winters, watching the interaction, smiles. “You don’t have to tell anybody anything Vega.”

She smiles.

‘Nice to know Winters always has my back.’

“Thank you sir.”

Nixon eventually leaves to find himself another drink to nurse, leaving her alone with Winters.

She can see him watching her out of the corner of her eye. They sit together in a comfortable silence while they watch the men.

Isabella had always felt a deep respect for Winters. He had treated her with nothing but kindness since he had met her. Never doubted her once, never ridiculed her, and always made sure to keep an eye out for her.

She couldn’t thank him enough.

“So sir. Is there a reason you’re not celebrating with everyone else?”

Winters smiled slightly, shifting comfortably in his seat. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on things. Besides," he added gently, "I prefer to watch from a distance. You learn a lot about people by just observing."

She nodded thoughtfully, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. "I can understand that."

He studied her carefully, his expression softening. "And you? You've managed to survive their interrogation—impressively, I might add. You're not joining in the festivities?"

Isabella chuckled, shaking her head. "No, sir. I think I've had enough excitement for one night."

Winters nodded knowingly, a quiet understanding passing between them. "You handled it well, Vega. Not everyone could hold their own against that crowd."

She laughed quietly, grateful for his words. “Thank you sir.”

As she finishes her words, the door opens loudly. Somebody calls the room to attention, music halting and somehow everyone forgets about their drink and stand rigidly. Her confusion dissipates at the sight of Colonel Sink walking up to the stage, Major Strayer behind him.

“Well, at ease, Paratroopers. Good evening, Easy Company.”

“Evening, sir!”

“Now, Parachute Infantry is a brand new concept in American military history. But, by God, the 506 is going to forge that brand new concept into victory!”

As he speaks, Grant walks up to the stage, beer in hand.

“I want you to know that I’m damn proud of each and every one of you. Now, you deserve this party.” Sink happily takes the beer from Grant, taking a quick taste. “Thank you, Sergeant Grant.”

Sinks eyes quickly scan over the bar before they land on her, proud.

“Along with Parachute Infantry is another new concept, one I’m more than proud to say we have taken a part of.”

Sink paused, smiling warmly as the room fell completely silent, everyone hanging onto his every word.

"Project Blitz," he continued clearly, eyes still fixed on Isabella, "a groundbreaking initiative that's given us the privilege of welcoming Private Isabella Vega, Easy Company's very own medic. The first female paratrooper in history and America’s first female combat medic."

A loud cheer erupted around the room, whistles and applause echoing off the wooden walls. Isabella felt her face flush deeply, warmth radiating through her chest as the men around her clapped her on the shoulder, nudging her playfully and smiling widely.

Sink raised his hand to quiet the crowd, still smiling warmly. "Private Vega has shown us all exactly what determination, strength, and courage look like. She's set a new standard, not only for this regiment, but for the future of our military. And I dare say, she's become one of Easy Company's finest."

Another cheer surged, louder this time. Isabella couldn't help but smile, deeply moved by the sincere pride radiating from Sink and her brothers-in-arms.

Sink lifted his glass high, voice booming proudly. "So here's to you, Easy Company—and to Private Vega. Currahee!"

“Currahee!”

Isabella felt Winters gently pat her shoulder, his quiet pride evident in his warm smile.

"Congratulations, Vega," he murmured softly. "You've earned this."

She took a deep breath, heart swelling with pride and gratitude. "Thank you, sir."

Luz runs up to her, drunk and eager. “Birdie, may I ask you for a dance?”

Isabella flushes. Despite her being musically talented, Isabella had never been good at dancing. She couldn’t get the rhythms, couldn’t learn the steps and tricks.

‘How do I tell him I don’t know how.’

She stares at him silently, embarrassed. 

Luz, noticing her hesitation, tilted his head gently, eyes softening with understanding. "Birdie, you alright?"

Isabella felt her face grow even warmer, awkwardness settling deep in her chest. She cleared her throat softly, shifting her weight nervously. "Luz—I, uh...don't really know how to dance."

Luz blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly, chuckling softly. "Is that all?" He held out his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm no Fred Astaire myself, but I promise I won't step on your toes."

She smiled nervously, glancing toward Winters, who nodded encouragingly.

"Go on," Winters urged gently. "You're in good hands."

Gathering her courage, Isabella finally placed her hand lightly in Luz's. "Alright," she said quietly, laughing slightly despite her embarrassment. "But you better keep that promise."

Luz grinned broadly, leading her gently toward the makeshift dance floor. "Cross my heart, Birdie."

Around them, the men whistled and cheered, raising their glasses once again, the bar filling with laughter and warmth.

As Luz carefully guided her through the first few steps, Isabella gradually relaxed, her initial awkwardness giving way to genuine enjoyment.

“So Birdie. What do I have to do to get you to sing us a song before the night ends?” he asks, carefully swaying her to the music.

Isabella tilted her head thoughtfully, a playful smile dancing across her lips. "Hmm… what makes you think I’m that easy to persuade, Luz?"

He chuckled softly, gently spinning her before pulling her back into rhythm. "Oh, I don't know—figured after tonight, you owe us at least one song."

She raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider his offer seriously. "And what exactly do I get out of this arrangement?"

Luz’s eyes sparkled mischievously, and his grin widened. "Eternal admiration, my undying gratitude, and—most importantly—an ironclad promise that nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever know about your little secret dancing insecurity."

She laughed, her hesitation fading into genuine amusement. "You drive a hard bargain, George Luz."

"I learned from the best," he quipped back easily, eyes warm. "So? What do you say?"

She sighed dramatically, her playful tone returning. "Alright, Luz, you win. But just one song."

He smiled triumphantly, gently spinning her once more. "Deal."

Their dance ends and Luz proudly leads her to the stage.

The men don’t notice her while she carefully adjusts the mic, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels.

Taking a slow breath, Isabella steadied herself, looking out at the familiar faces scattered across the bar. The men had finally settled down again, lost in laughter, jokes, and drinking. The warmth and camaraderie were contagious, easing the fluttering nerves in her chest.

Isabella cleared her throat softly, nerves still fluttering, but confidence slowly returning as she met their encouraging eyes. “Good evening, Easy Company.” she says into the mic softly, southern drawl peeking through.

The men’s attention snapped instantly toward the stage, surprise quickly turning into enthusiastic cheers.

“Evening, Vega!” Guarnere called out, grinning broadly, and the others quickly echoed his greeting, clapping and whistling in encouragement.

She laughed softly, shaking her head at their eagerness.

“Now, since tonight is such a special occasion, I’ve been persuaded to serenade you before we must return to the reality of the world.” she begins, eyes flicking briefly to Luz, who winked playfully. “Private Vega has left temporarily and her place has been taken by Birdie.”

The cheers grew louder, and Malarkey whistled approvingly, "Finally!"

She grins. “As of now gentlemen, Birdie is taking song requests. So what’ll it be?”

The room immediately erupted into chaos, a chorus of eager voices shouting over one another.

“Sing somethin' upbeat, doll!” Guarnere hollered enthusiastically.

Malarkey cupped his hands around his mouth, eyes gleaming playfully. “No—make it Sinatra!”

“Nah,” Liebgott shot back, smirking mischievously. “Something we can dance to!”

“Don’t listen to these idiots,” Skip interjected with a drunken grin. “Give us somethin’ sweet.”

Luz waved his arms dramatically, trying to get everyone's attention. “How about something that reminds you of home, Birdie?”

The suggestion quieted the group slightly, murmurs of agreement rising softly.

“Home, huh?”

She thinks deeply, racking her brain to find something she could sing without the proper accompaniment.

“Well…if any of you can find me a guitar then I’ve got just the song for you.”

Instantly, a buzz of excitement swept through the crowd as heads turned frantically, eyes searching the bar.

“Somebody get the girl a guitar!” Guarnere shouted, waving his arm dramatically.

Luz sprinted toward the back corner of the room, nearly stumbling over chairs in his hurry. "Hold tight, sweetheart—I got you covered!"

Minutes later, he returned triumphantly, holding an old but serviceable guitar the bartender had reluctantly given him above his head like a trophy. "Found one!"

Malarkey laughed, elbowing Luz affectionately as he handed it over to Isabella. “Nice work, George.”

Isabella took the guitar carefully, fingers tracing the familiar shape. She gently adjusted the strings, nerves settling as the men quieted, watching with rapt attention.

She exhaled slowly, a flicker of something deep and private surfacing in her expression as she settled into position. “Alright then gentlemen…y’all better not make fun of me after this or you’ll have it coming.”

Luz placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “Us? Make fun of you? Never.”

Guarnere snorted. “No promises, doll.”

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but for the most part, they stayed quiet, waiting.

Isabella rolled her shoulders, settling the guitar against her body, her fingers brushing against the strings as she found the right tuning. The familiar feel of it steadied her nerves, grounding her in something she had known far longer than war.

She took a breath, then smiled faintly. She had chosen a song Lucas had written long ago when they were kids. He had written about the Galveston Hurricane his parents had lived through, and he’s proud of it to this day.

‘He should be.’ she thinks happily. ‘It’s the first song he ever wrote.’

She strummed, a slow, rolling melody spilling into the warm air of the bar. It was deliberate, steady—the kind of rhythm built from old folk tunes passed down across generations. A song that belonged to people she had inevitably become interconnected with, people who knew loss.

The first few chords hummed gently beneath her fingers, steady and sure, carrying the weight of a story older than herself.

She had played this song countless times before—on porches, by campfires, in the quiet comfort of home. But never like this. Never in a place so far from where it was written.

Isabella took a breath and let herself sink into the familiar rhythm, her voice slipping into the melody as naturally as breathing.

“Long ago, the seas would interflow, and the folks around these parts would pay no mind…”

The room shifted, the usual bar sounds fading into something quieter, more reverent. The men, notorious for their relentless teasing and constant energy, sat still, listening.

“Then on a sad September morn, the island would transform. When a great storm etched itself in time.”

The rise and fall of the chords carried the story forward, weaving through the space between them. The gentle drawl in her voice, usually softened in speech, came through unfiltered now—rich and unrestrained, as it was meant to be.

Luz, who had been grinning just moments before, now watched her with something softer in his expression. Malarkey, usually the first to throw in a comment, sat unmoving, his drink forgotten. Even Liebgott, who always had a wisecrack up his sleeve, remained silent.

“They tore down the first row of west end island homes, and the second row aint that far behind. And we can fight to hold that line, we can damn sure try. But Mother Nature’s got something else in mind.”

The lyrics settled into the air like something permanent, something that wouldn’t be easily shaken off. Her fingers moved easily over the frets, guiding the melody into the next verse.

“They built up a wall 17 feet tall, to protect the silent town from another blow. And on the east end of town, the waters kept held down. But the west end sits silent, soft and low.”

Isabella didn’t falter. She played on, letting the song breathe life into memories she knew weren’t just her own.

As a performer, Isabella not only sang to entertain, but to tell a story. Whether it be her own or of others. She took that responsibility proudly and worked hard to do it well. She owed it to Lucas true family, and the other survivors, to tell their story right.

“They tore down the first row of west end island homes, and the second row aint that far behind. And we can fight to hold that line, we can damn sure try. But Mother Nature’s got something else in mind.”

Her voice dipped, low and sure, the weight of the words settling over them like the tide itself.

“Marching water. Sure and slow. Slowly slaughters as it flows.”

As she reached the final chorus, she let the last few words linger, allowing them to land with the quiet finality they deserved. 

“They tore down the first row of west end island homes, cause Mother Nature had something else in mind.”

The last chord rang out, settling over them, stretching into silence.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Luz, shaking his head, let out a breath and broke into a grin. “Damn, Birdie.”

Guarnere whistled lowly, nodding in approval. “You sure you weren’t famous before the war?”

The laughter returned, light and warm, but there was something else behind it now—something real.

Isabella, feeling lighter than she had all night, cradled the guitar against her lap and grinned. “I’m real sure Guarnere.”

Luz leaned forward, his grin still in place, but his eyes held something softer. “You know, I don’t think any of us were expectin’ that.”

Isabella raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Expectin’ what?”

“That,” he said, gesturing vaguely at her with his beer. “You just went and pulled some real magic outta nowhere.”

Malarkey finally blinked back to life, shaking his head as he exhaled. “Yeah, Birdie, that was… somethin’ else.”

The others murmured their agreement, some nodding, some still lost in thought. She had seen this before—music had a way of settling into people, of getting beneath the surface where words alone couldn’t reach. It’s what she lived for.

Liebgott, ever the charmer, smirks. “What’s with that accent, Birdie?”

Her brow furrows, confused. “What d’ya mean?”

Liebgott leaned forward, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “That thick, drawled-out twang? You don’t talk like that normally. You sound like Bull.”

She blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before realizing what he meant. Her usual speech—though undeniably Southern—was tempered, softened. But when she sang… she let it all out.

She flushed, ears warm. “Well…people don’t think I’m some dumb hick if I hide it. Kinda hard to do when you sing though.”

Liebgott’s smirk faltered just slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes shifting into something more thoughtful. “Dumb hick? Who the hell’s been tellin’ you that crap?”

Isabella shrugged, avoiding their gazes as she absentmindedly traced a pattern along the wood of the guitar. “Grew up hearin’ it enough. Figured I’d save myself the trouble and learn how to talk properly so people take me seriously.”

A quiet, tense beat settled over the table. The men, who had spent the entire night teasing and laughing, suddenly weren’t smiling as much.

Guarnere scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s the dumbest shit I ever heard.”

Malarkey shook his head. “Yeah, Birdie, you really think any of us give a damn ‘bout that?”

Luz, ever the one to lighten the mood, leaned in closer with a grin. “You do realize we all sound like a bunch of blockheads too, right?”

Isabella huffed a small laugh despite herself. “Ain’t the same.”

“No, you’re right,” Liebgott said, more serious now. “It’s worse. You ever hear Bill try to say ‘strategy’ after three drinks?”

Guarnere threw a peanut at him.

She quickly steps off the stage, happy to have been able to sing for them at least once. As she approaches the bar, she kindly returns the guitar to the bartender, thanking him profusely.

As Isabella slid the guitar back across the bar, the bartender gave her a knowing nod, his usual gruff demeanor softened just slightly. “Haven’t heard a sound like that in a long time,” he muttered, wiping down the counter. “You got a gift, kid.”

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “And thanks for lettin’ me borrow it.”

The bartender shrugged, though there was the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Anytime.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice called over her shoulder.

“Hey, Birdie, don’t think you’re gettin’ out of a drink after that performance!”

She turned to find Luz grinning, already holding out a glass for her.

Isabella sighed, rolling her eyes but taking it anyway. “Y’all are determined to corrupt me.”

Guarnere clapped a hand on her back. “Ain’t corruption, it’s tradition.”

Malarkey raised his own drink. “Yeah, and after a show like that, you gotta celebrate.”

She shakes her head with a smirk. “No can do boys, I ain’t breaking the law for you.”

Luz gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if she had mortally wounded him. “Breaking the law? Birdie, sweetheart, we’re paratroopers—the law barely applies to us!”

Liebgott snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “Well, ain’t that the damn truth.”

Isabella raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That may be the case, but I’m not gettin’ caught drinkin’ underage just ‘cause y’all think it’s funny.”

Malarkey waggled his eyebrows. “Come on, it’s not like anyone’s gonna tell.”

“Yeah?” She smirked, arms crossing over her chest. “And what happens when Winters sees me, huh?”

The group immediately sobered slightly, eyes darting toward where Winters stood at the other end of the bar, engaged in quiet conversation with Nixon.

Guarnere cleared his throat. “Well, uh… I mean, technically, if he doesn’t see it…”

Luz leaned in with a grin. “You are a medic, right? Just tell ‘em it’s for ‘medicinal purposes.’”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Nice try, George. I ain’t fallin’ for that.”

Liebgott groaned, throwing up his hands. “Alright, fine! She’s got morals. What a tragedy.”

“Damn shame,” Guarnere muttered, finishing his drink.

Isabella grinned, clearly enjoying their suffering. “That’s right. Guess y’all’ll just have to drink enough for me.”

Luz clinked his glass against Malarkey’s. “Oh, don’t you worry, Birdie—we’ll handle it.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes, but deep down, she knew—despite all their teasing—they respected her choice.

And if nothing else, it was fun watching them pout about it.

Much to everyone’s dismay, the celebration comes to an end. The men leave the bar in droves, leaning against one another as they try to walk back to their respective barracks. Isabella walks back with Gene, who undeniably had had his own fair share of beers, but was insistent on making sure she at least made it to the barracks safely.

The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the bar, crisp against Isabella’s flushed cheeks as she stepped outside. The men stumbled ahead in various states of intoxication—some singing, some laughing, some trying their damnedest to keep one another upright.

Gene walked beside her, steady for the most part, though she could tell by the slight lag in his steps that he wasn’t entirely sober.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, y’know,” she said, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets.

Gene hummed, glancing at her with a tired but amused expression. “Didn’t wanna leave you with that bunch of drunks,” he murmured. “Luz would’ve had you carryin’ him back if I hadn’t stepped in.”

She snorted. “You act like you’re not half-drunk yourself.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Difference is, I can still walk straight.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at his slightly uneven gait. “Mmmhmm. Sure you can, Gene.”

He smirked but didn’t argue. They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the muffled sounds of their company trailing ahead, the occasional curse or burst of laughter cutting through the night.

After a while, Gene spoke again, voice softer now. “Is what you said earlier true?”

“I said a lot earlier Gene, you’re gonna have to specify.”

“About Speirs.”

Isabella nearly tripped over her own feet at the unexpected question, her head snapping toward Gene in surprise. “What?”

Gene, ever the composed one, simply kept walking, his gaze forward, unreadable. “You heard me,” he murmured. “Was what you said true?”

For a second, she just stared at him, half-expecting some kind of smirk, some tell that he was just messing with her—but there was nothing. Just quiet curiosity wrapped in that smooth, easy drawl of his.

She sighed, shaking her head as she looked ahead again. “Jesus, Gene, I thought we left the interrogation back at the bar.”

He hummed in response, but he didn’t let it go. “You didn’t answer the question.”

She exhaled through her nose, adjusting the sleeves of her jacket as she mulled over how to respond. “Yes. It was true.”

Gene didn’t react at first, simply continuing his steady pace beside her. His silence stretched long enough that Isabella began to second-guess herself, wondering if maybe she should’ve just brushed it off like before.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Huh.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “That’s it? Just ‘huh’?”

Gene smirked slightly, but his eyes remained thoughtful. “Didn’t expect that.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “Neither did half the damn bar.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You serious about it?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know the answer, but because saying it out loud felt different.

“Yeah,” she admitted finally, voice softer now. “I think he’s pretty attractive.”

Gene hummed, nodding slowly as if he was turning the thought over in his mind.

“Well, you got guts, I’ll give you that,” he muttered, smirking slightly.

Isabella scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gene shot her a knowing look. “Vega, you just admitted you’re into Speirs.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and?”

“And,” Gene drawled, “that man’s got half the company convinced he eats people.”

She laughs loudly. “You’re real funny when you’re drunk, Gene.”

“I’m serious Isabella.”

“You guys are insufferable. I just said the man was handsome, not that I was gonna marry him!” she groans.

Gene smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, you know how these guys are. You say one thing, and suddenly, you’re pickin’ out curtains together.”

Isabella groaned again, rubbing her temples. “Me saying someone is handsome doesn’t mean anything. Ninety-percent of the Company is handsome. You’re handsome, Liebs handsome, Webster's handsome, and so and so on. Y’all just like to pick fun at me!”

Gene hummed, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, damn, Birdie. If I knew you thought I was handsome, I would’ve tried a little harder to sweep you off your feet.”

Isabella let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, don’t start.”

Liebgott, who had somehow been trailing just far enough behind to hear the tail end of the conversation, caught up with a smirk. “Hold up, what’s this about me bein’ handsome?”

Isabella shot Gene a look that screamed ‘I blame you for this’ before turning to Liebgott with an unimpressed stare. “It ain’t a compliment if you already know it, Joe.”

Liebgott grinned. “Nah, go ahead, say it again. Just for my ego.”

Gene chuckled, shaking his head. “She was just makin’ a point.”

“About what?”

“About how y’all are a massive pain in my ass,” Isabella deadpanned, exasperated.

Liebgott tsked, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t lump me in with them.”

She scoffed. “You’re the worst one!”

Gene smirked. “She’s got a point.”

Liebgott clutched his chest dramatically. “Jesus, no appreciation for a guy tryin’ to boost morale.”

Isabella shoved his arm off playfully. “Yeah, yeah, go ‘boost morale’ somewhere else, Lieb.”

Liebgott sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Y’know, Birdie, it hurts when you don’t appreciate my efforts.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “You’ll live.”

Gene smirked. “Barely.”

Liebgott pointed at him. “See? Doc gets it.”

Gene just chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t drag me into this.”

Isabella smirked, crossing her arms. “And yet, here you are.”

Liebgott groaned. “Oh great, now you’re usin’ my lines against me? This is betrayal.”

“Just callin’ it like I see it.”

Liebgott was about to retort when something dawned on him, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face.

“So most of the Company is handsome, huh?”

Isabella stops in her tracks, deadpanning at Liebgott. “Yeah, most. Everyone except you.”

Gene let out a low chuckle as Liebgott gasped, hand flying to his chest like she had just shot him. “Birdie, sweetheart, how could you?”

“Just get me to the barracks Liebgott.”

She’s happy to find that the majority of the men had passed out in their bunks when she got inside. Isabella quickly changed out of her clothes in the pitch dark, appreciative of the hour. 

She moved as quietly as she could, peeling off the layers of her uniform and slipping into her spare PT clothes after removing the pins in her hair. The barracks were filled with the soft sounds of steady breathing, the occasional snore, and the rustling of someone shifting in their sleep. It was peaceful in a way that only exhaustion could bring.

As she pulled her blanket over herself and settled into her cot, the events of the night played back in her mind—the warmth of the bar, the way the men had listened so intently to her song, the teasing, the laughter.

Despite her happiness, she feels a small twinge of loneliness in her heart.

‘I wish Cam and Lucas were here…’

Isabella stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of Easy Company’s breathing around her. It was comforting in a way, knowing they were all here, safe for now. But that small ache in her chest remained, persistent and familiar.

She missed them.

Lucas would’ve been the first one to tease her for getting caught up in all the boys’ nonsense, but then he’d turn around and defend her the moment someone else tried to take it too far. And Cam? He would’ve just laughed his ass off, saying something like "You brought this on yourself, Birdie."

She smiled faintly at the thought, but it didn’t chase away the loneliness.

They weren’t here.

She shifted onto her side, gripping the blanket a little tighter. The barracks smelled like sweat and old wood, and it was colder than she would have liked, but at least it was full of people who had, in their own way, become a family to her.

Still, it wasn’t the same.

With a quiet sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on what she did have—the sound of someone muttering in their sleep, the faint rustle of a blanket being adjusted, the knowledge that she wasn’t alone even if it felt that way sometimes.

She spends what seems like hours awake in her bunk, unable to sleep. Standing, she quietly walks to the bunk in front of her. Liebgott’s.

‘This is a horrible idea.’

Carefully, she climbs the ladder to the top and gently shakes Liebgott.

“Hey Lieb…Lieb.”

Liebgott groaned, shifting slightly but not quite waking up.

She shook him a little harder. “Lieb, wake up.”

He grumbled something incoherent before finally cracking one eye open. His face was barely visible in the darkness, but she could feel the confusion rolling off him.

“Birdie?” His voice was groggy, thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated for a second, suddenly regretting her decision. This was a terrible idea. But now she was already here, perched on the ladder, and he was staring at her like she’d lost her damn mind.

She grins, snickering to herself. “You wanna have a sleepover?”

Liebgott blinked at her, his sleep-addled brain struggling to catch up. “…The hell did you just say?”

Isabella bit her lip to keep from laughing, even as she felt ridiculous. “A sleepover, Joe. Y’know, where we braid each other’s hair and talk about boys.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ, you woke me up for this? You couldn’t have asked Roe again?”

She smirked, climbing the rest of the way up and flopping onto the mattress next to him. “Nope.”

Liebgott sighed, scooting over just enough to give her space. “You’re an actual menace, Vega.”

“I know.” She grinned, settling in, pulling the thin blanket over her legs.

He muttered something about crazy Southerners before rolling onto his side, half-asleep again already.

A few beats of silence passed before he mumbled, “No seriously, what’s wrong?”

She hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Liebgott hummed low in his throat, like he wasn’t convinced but was too tired to argue. “Next time, just punch Luz awake instead.”

She chuckled. “Nah. I like annoying you more.”

He snorted, eyes still closed. “Yeah, well, you better not hog the blanket.”

“No promises.”

He sighed dramatically. “Great. First I get woken up for a damn sleepover, now I’m freezing to death.”

Isabella smirked, nudging his shoulder. “Shut up and go to sleep, Lieb.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head against the pillow.

“Night, Lieb.”

Liebgott let out a tired sigh, voice already slurring with sleep. “Yeah, yeah… Night, Birdie.”

Isabella settled in, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing as the barracks remained quiet around them. It was ridiculous, really—crawling into someone else’s bunk like a damn kid afraid of the dark. Twice. But somehow, the warmth of another presence made it easier to breathe, easier to let the weight in her chest loosen just a little.

After a few moments of silence, just as she was drifting off, Liebgott’s voice came again, softer this time.

“…You wake me up at stupid o’clock for this again, I’m makin’ you run laps in the mornin’.”

She smirked, eyes still closed. “You don’t got that kinda authority, Joe.”

A slow, lazy chuckle. “I’ll make it happen.”

She snorted, nudging him lightly with her foot under the blanket. “We’ll see about that.”

Liebgott muttered something unintelligible before finally giving in to sleep.

Isabella followed soon after lulled by the quiet and the warmth around her.

‘Maybe I should have more sleepovers.’

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

translation: ‘Virgencita, te pido que me arropes en tu santo manto y me guies en el aire a llegar a salvo a la tierra.’ - Virgin Mary, I ask that you cover me in your holy cloak and you guide me in the air until I arrive safely to the earth

‘Y si no, pues, no te preocupes. No puedo estar amargada si estoy muerta.’ - And if not, well, don't worry. I can't be mad if I'm dead

taglist: @darling-heffron, @malarkgirlypop

[koizumiyuu]

Social Outcasts

Part 8

warnings: none.

It’s fairly easy to get lost in the comforts of the Beach. Sure, (name) keeps constant vigil of the people around her and the subtle dynamics unfolding. But it is a fairly well thought out place when the militants aren’t wreaking havoc.

Her second morning at the Beach, (name) spends hanging around Kuina again. It would be far too suspicious to wander around on her own while the executives’ eyes are still on her, and despite (name)’s usual disdain for people, Kuina seems better than most. It turns out her and Chishiya are rather friendly with each other in an odd way. It might just be because the options are limited, but the two hang out together, joking as if they’ve known each other for a while. (name) learns that that is not the case at all, and they’ve only met here at the Borderlands and formed a sort of alliance of convenience, because ‘the rest of these psychos are crazy’ – Kuina’s words. (name) has a feeling that Chishiya is probably not too far off himself, but she doesn’t say that out loud, instead taking the opportunity to observe their dynamic.

It turns out Kuina wasn’t lying about Chishiya being smart in many ways as he sits at his desk, fidgeting with the taser (name)’s already seen before. Apparently, he’s an enthusiast of crafting useful things from random stuff and is rather good at it. After breakfast, Kuina invited herself into his room to hang out and pass time, naturally taking (name) along. Chishiya seems like a person who likes his own space, but Kuina’s disregard for personal boundaries appears stronger. And he must not hate it as much as he rolled his eyes, because he doesn’t demand them to get lost as they now sit on his bed, chatting. Instead, he even joins in from time to time, when the conversation topic turns to something he apparently finds interesting.

Eventually, Kuina brings up games, asking (name) what suit is her specialty, and that’s when Chishiya speaks up again, “You know, now that you’ve had time to sleep off your headache, they’ll be taking you out for skill appraisal tonight.”

(name) looks up, interested to hear the new piece of information he’s offering up, “Skill appraisal?”

He nods, focused on twisting some wires together in what he’s working on, “You’ll be paired up with an executive and enter a game, giving them a chance to observe your performance.”

She nods at that. It makes sense based on their system, but then again — “Niragi already played a game with me.”

Chishiya smirks, looking up at her, “Niragi isn’t exactly the voice of reason around here. Also, you weren’t an official member then, he was just scouting. Now you are.” He pauses for a moment, before tacking on as if an afterthought, “How’s the arm?”

‘Sore, what do you think?’ she wants to say. Instead, she shakes her head, “It’s fine now.”

(name) can practically see the cogs turning in his head, like he’s trying to read her expression and find something there that she isn’t aware of. Her face mirrors his own though, detached and unbothered as she gives him nothing to work with. Every conversation they’ve had so far felt like he was playing mental chess with her. Gauging her reaction to his every comment. But (name) couldn’t exactly call it annoying. The opposite, actually. It’s rather entertaining.

“So what is your specialty?” Kuina speaks up as if on cue and they both look away, the silent conversation cut short.

(name) hadn’t actually given it much thought before. Although she probably should have.

Spades games were fine. Not her favorite, but she certainly wasn’t weak at them. She’s only played one low-level Diamond game before, but since they are logic-based, she’s pretty sure she’d have little problem with the harder ones too. Plus, they’re fairly interesting when you’re playing for your life. Heart games were all about betrayal and selfishness. Both things (name) certainly has no problem with. Now Clubs games are probably the trickiest. They’re a combination of all three suits, only with the added hiccup of cooperating with people. (name) prefers doing things by herself, and relying on people in games who are more often than not, crying, screaming, or terrified out of their minds, shifts the equation to an unfavorable side for sure.

(name) hums in thought, playing with her hands absentmindedly, before she seemingly settles on a decision, “Diamonds.”

Nighttime rolls around and the main hall is once again flooded by a crowd of lively Beach members, ones getting ready for games, the others cheering them on. Despite Chishiya mentioning it earlier, (name) did get official word later on that she’s expected to participate tonight.

Apparently, the executives are the ones in charge of assigning groups in the first place, and (name)’s kind of curious to see how this plays out in real-time. She lingers by the edge of the crowd of tonight’s players as Hatter once again gives his preaching from his perch on the balcony, before Niragi and his goons begin ordering everyone around according to their assigned group.

She half-expects him to walk up to her and reveal that he’s the executive supposed to be overlooking her tonight, and her suspicion only grows when his path diverts towards her, that same wannabe-intimidating expression on his face as he shoves everyone about. He strides up, shoulder-checking her roughly before finally looking down with a sneer, “Where were you hiding, huh?”

Now (name)’s sure she’ll be stuck in a game with him, and she opens her mouth to reply with something sarcastic, but she doesn’t have to. Her saving grace comes in the form of a white hoodie and a condescending tone as he walks up to them, the usual unbothered expression on his face, “Hey newbie, you’re with me.”

Niragi’s sharp glare immediately snaps up to him, and he looks like he’s two seconds away from grabbing his rifle and taking aim at Chishiya’s head. Thankfully, he doesn’t get the chance, as Hatter’s voice rings out to begin the games. Normally, (name) would look for the chance to put an asshole in his place, but Niragi is already established as a case of ‘ditch whenever possible’, so (name) takes the chance to slip into the crowd after Chishiya as he turns to walk away.

His whole vibe is just dripping with the words ‘you should be thanking me’, but (name) doesn’t take the bait. God forbid this guy’s god complex inflates even more.

They make their way outside along with a crowd of other people, as everyone scrambles to get into cars with their group.

Along with a driver, there’s two more people who get in with her and Chishiya. A slightly tipsy-looking girl who jumps into the front seat and a bald guy, reeking of sweat and cigarette smoke, who squeezes in behind the driver in the back. (name) has the pleasure of sitting directly in the middle between the guy and Chishiya, who has the gall to smirk when he sees her pull a face. The driver pulls out of the Beach territory, and she glimpses Chishiya shoving headphones into his ears before the faint thumping of bass can be heard through. Suddenly she rethinks mentally making fun of him for having that thing a week ago.

She’s not sure which location their group is headed to, but she doubts it matters. No one really knows what the games are until you’re inside anyway. The ride however, is far from pleasant. The girl in front would not shut up about one topic or another, prattling on and on to the driver. He seems happy to engage her too, so the yapping doesn’t stop. The guy on her left won’t stop fidgeting either. He’s not as cheery as the girl, but his stink seems to get even worse after being pressed up to (name) for some time. She tries not to make it obvious, attempting to move away from him as much as possible. Which in hindsight, is no better either, as she just ends up glued to Chishiya’s side instead. Logically, he’s a way better alternative, but the heat emanating from his body is making her want to recoil. It’s disconcerting. How the feeling of another human being sitting so close can feel so reassuring and so nauseating at the same time.

(name) wishes she could read his expressions better at times, but when she glances at Chishiya’s face, he’s as indifferent as ever. Maybe it really is just her who’s bothered.

The car ride takes about half an hour and (name) realizes that they’re pulling into Mitsuike Park near Kajiyama. The parking lot at the entrance is empty, but the building in the park center further in is lit up.

They get out of the car and (name) tries to be subtle about breathing in the fresh air after sitting next to the stinky bald guy. Chishiya snickers beside her, letting her know that he definitely noticed.

As soon as they step past the gates and enter the threshold of the park, the familiar chime sounds out, indicating that they’ve entered the arena. There are no other indicators, so the girl and baldie take it upon themselves to lead further into the territory. They approach the park’s center area, where the single story half-glass building is lit up by a few lights. There’s about fifteen people there already, all gathered by the side of the building, and a small table with five electronic bracelets on it. The piece of paper on the table says ’20 Players.’

As soon as their little group puts them on, the announcers voice rings out throughout the park:

‘Registration has closed, the game will now commence.’

‘Game: Red Strings of Fate.’

‘Difficulty: Eight of Clubs.’

(name) raises her eyebrows, ‘Yikes, an Eight difficulty should be something… and a Clubs game too, just my damn luck…’

‘Rule: There is an even number of players. Each player must choose a partner to clear the game with. To confirm the choice, players must shake hands, and the bracelets will register them as a pair.’

Anxious murmurs sound throughout the group as people glance around nervously. Some of them have clearly ended up here by themselves, so picking a random partner on the spot can’t be a fun decision. Some are immediately taking the polite route, approaching the other lonesome players with a nice ‘Let’s work together.’ Others seem keener on intimidation.

 (name) doesn’t have long to observe the entire scene, before Chishiya’s grabbing her hand in a handshake as their bracelets light up with the same number ‘4’, indicating that they’re the fourth pair. Her eyes widen and she jerks her hand away as if burned, “The hell are you doing?!”

Chishiya just shrugs, stuffing his hands back into his pockets as if he didn’t just make the decision for both of them, “I’m the one supervising you, aren’t I?”

That does make sense. And from the looks of it, he’s probably one of the better options either way. Though they are in a dark ass park, who knows what the clear conditions even are yet. But she decides to not argue.

Once the last guy finishes intimidating another scrawny one into pairing up with him, the announcer’s voice sounds again.

‘The players must stay within 5 meters of their pair at all times. If the distance is violated, the bracelet will deliver a strong shock to both parties. The shock current will increase every additional 5 meters.’

(name) frowns, crossing her arms over her chest, “This really is an eight game, huh…”

‘Hidden in the arena are 10 hunters. They will not actively leave their posts to chase the players, but they will shoot if a player is in their line of sight.’

‘Clear Condition: The player pair must find 2 of the 20 hidden electronic keys in order to unlock their bracelets and leave the arena. Attempt to leave the arena with the bracelet still on, will result in an immediate Game Over.’

‘Time Limit: 1 hour.’

The lights cut and there’s brief silence as everyone listens if there will be more instructions. There aren’t. Instead, the artificial announcer’s voice sounds with one last thing, ‘Game Start.’

Next.

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Eye in the sky pt.4

Reader(codename: eagle) x König.

König was too weak to fight, now both are prisoner, but not for too long, König will do anything to keep you safe, no one will put a hand on you if they don't want to lose it.

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

«EAGLE, BEHIND!»

«König! Ahhh» «get your fuckin' hands off of me bastard!»... «Send her to sleep».

Cold water woke up König from his "nap", he was sitting in a metallic chair, two men standing up in front of him, the first thought that popped up on his mind was you.

- Where's...?

- who? Your comrade? I don't think you're in position to ask questions, although... That buddy is hard to break, refusing to speak, maybe you will be different, huh? Because if you don't cooperate, I'll start to play with your partner, I don't think you want that.

Now... Tell me, what were you doing there? What were you looking for?.

König laughed at his face, they think he will be easy, even if they try to use you to obtain information, he will not speak.

- Am I funny?. You! Bring more water and you! electric wire, now.

So they're planning to use electrocution as a first method, they're desperate. Another cold water bucket ran through König's body, he's ready, he's more than prepared for this and worse.

- It doesn't need to be in this way dude, just answer and we won't make you suffer.

- Ja, if this is what you call suffering, go ahead... I have the entire day. Idiot.

And König wasn't lying, of course it hurt, of course his skin was burning, of course he was exhausted but he knew it was better to keep them distracted, away from you. By the end of the day, they took him to a cell.

You heard someone's laugh, you can't believe what you're hearing, you stood up and there he was, König was dragged in the cell in front of you. He laughs and says something in German «Ihr seid alle tote Männer» (y'all are dead men) While the others close the cell. Once they left, you tried to get close to the entrance of your cell, the chain keeps you away.

- König? What happened? Are you ok?

- all good Maus, and you? Did they hurt you?

- I'm not easy to break, I'm okay. How is your wound?

- I think it's fine, after the electrocution it's probably already healed...

He laughed, why is he laughing? What did they say to those guys?

- Tell me what it looks like.

- Not now Maus, I'm tired.

-What did you say to those guys?

-Don't worry Maus, no one will hurt you as long as I keep them busy. Although, we will escape soon.

- König...?

- Ja?

- it's maybe not the right Moment, but... I think... I think I'm in love with you.

Silence, silence in that strange basement prison, maybe you really confessed your feelings in the worst moment.

-How can you be so sure?

-Because I feel the urgency to be close to you, to look at you, touch you...

-You still don't know me well Schatz.

-If we survive... I'll have plenty of time to do it.

He chuckled and muttered.

- I'll take you out of this place Maus, I promise.

No one of you knew when you fell asleep but a new day arrived, the sound of chains and someone being suffocated, then silence.

- Maus!?

- It's... Okay, I'm okay König.

- What's going on?

- Nothing, someone thought could take advantage of my situation.

-What?

-He came and tried to...

More men came in.

«Well, well, well... That... was one of my best men»

-He wasn't very smart.

«Bring her upstairs we will play a little»

König stood up and tried to convince them to leave you alone. Unfortunately, he couldn't. A few hours later you went back, and same as König, you were laughing about them, they're desperate you know your team will come, soon or later.

- Meine Liebe, how are you?

- I'm good, just tired... They tried to drown me, anyway, How's your wound?

- It's better, we'll leave this place soon.

-Really? What's the plan?

-They look desperate, they will try to hurt you and use you to convince me to give information... just if they're stupid enough as I think, the rest is merely improvisation, fight, kill and leave.

- Sounds like all will be improvisation König.

- indeed Meine Liebe.

And just as König said, they went back and took both of you upstairs, you're in front of König, he's sitting in that chair, a man holding his shoulders as if that was enough to contain a man like König, while the other is holding your hands on your back.

- you, undress yourself.

You weren't expecting that.

- Excuse me?

He pointed his gun to you and repeated the order. So you did, there you were in underwear, König devoured you with his eyes you can also see the anger since he's not the only one observing every curve of your body.

- Well, you're such a pretty thing, huh? What do you think, Big boy? something so pretty shouldn't suffer any damage.

- Don't listen to him... I'm not easy to break.

You look with a lot of self-confident, sure that you can handle the situation.

- Look at her! She's a psycho. Okay if you feel strong enough and he refuses to talk, we'll play a little game, there's 2 bullets here, you have 3 chances to talk, or she will get hurt.

König doesn't even try to answer, he just nodded at you. There's a vibe in the air, adrenaline, danger, you don't know it yet.

First chance to talk, König doesn't say anything, second chance, nothing.

- Alright, I'm tired of this.

He pointed and shoot you in your shoulder, you can feel your skin burning, your bones hurt but you tried to not make a sound, König's body is tense, every time more and more.

- Not even a sound, last chance to talk or this bullet will go directly to the head...

König looks at you, nodded one more time, you know he's ready to do something, even with the pain you get ready too.

It was quick. He untied himself, breaking his thumbs then putting them in place again, took the man behind him and broke his neck. Before someone else in the room could react you pushed the man behind you and hit him with your head, a kick to another one, König took the man with the gun In his hands, unarmored him and threw the gun at your side, you shot at the men you previously hit, and dressed as quick as possible but your eyes were focused on könig, he has the head of the man between his hands and he started to press it, more and more until a «CRACK» and a last scream filled the room.

- Nobody hurts my Maus.

König looked at you and before he could say something you jumped to him, you don't even feel the pain of the bullet in your shoulder, you hugged him, he returned the hug, you looked up and he looked at you, he looked afraid but then you saw him, he took off his mask. He's beautiful, the scar that goes from his lip to his eyebrow accentuates his facial features, he kissed your forehead and nose, then your cheek and finally left a soft kiss on your lips.

Alarm sound interrupted you, and steps outside the room where you were. He put the mask on again, and both hide at a side of the door.

«Sir! We have problems, enemies are out...!»

Once he gave a step inside the room, könig kicked him, the poor man was on the floor and you didn't even hesitate to shoot. Both went out, running through the halls, killing whoever that appears on your way, the adrenaline inside you, König running at your side, both fighting side to side, this is the kind of love that you always dreamed about, full of adrenaline, adventure. Once you were outside you noticed blood in König's abdomen, it's his own blood, the wound is bleeding again and your shoulder is in pain again.

- fuck... Ahhh

- Let me see Schatz.

- No, I'm fine, let's get out of here you're bleeding again... We need to...

«KÖNIG?» you heard someone's voice, both turned around... Horangi and Roze were the intruders. «We found them, we're on the way back to the rendezvous»

Roze approached you.

- Doc, you're alive...

- Yeah, we need a medical kit, König has a deep wound that refuses to heal, let's go.

Horangi ran at König's side and helped him to walk, once you arrived, you noticed your team giving assistance to the hostages from the first mission, Price was the first one to notice you, he ran and hugged you

- are you alright Kid?

- could be better, Captain we need a quick extraction, König is seriously injured.

He nodded and left, then the rest of the boys ran to you and König, even Ghost...

He approached König and extended his hand to him, König accepted the interaction and both nodded at each other.

- I have to thank you, you kept Eagle alive, also looks more alive than ever before.

- it's not as fragile as you think, the doc was the one who kept both alive...

Both looked at you, You let Soap see your wound, you and him were discussing the bullet extraction, he wanted to do it right there and you were refusing. Before you left, Ghost talked with you.

-You look good Doc.

- Thanks, I like the adrenaline Lt.

- You love him, Don't you?

- I do, how did you...

- You look at him differently, there's a different spark in you when he's around.

- Ghost I...

- No, it's fine, if you're happy, I'm happy.

You nodded, both shook hands, the helicopter arrived, you and König left, you took care of his wound and stayed at his side during the recovery.

- Danke Maus, you didn't need to stay all the time, you were hurt too.

- it wasn't really serious, and it's nothing, tho if you still want to pay the debt, I'm available after 5, we can go to dinner.

He laughed and then held your hand and kissed it, then he nodded and whispered «Meine Liebe, mein Leben, Mein Liebling.»

There it is, that flame in your chest, he's the only one who can make you feel in that way, desire, adrenaline, peace, all in one and all at the same time, only him.

[happydragon]

Useful Skill

Phee and Crosshair come to an understanding

Ao3

Rating: G

Word Count: 960

Hope y'all enjoy!!

@summer-of-bad-batch

Phee lisented as Crosshair cursed and struggled through his task. He didn’t know she was there since he probably would have snarked at her to leave if he did. She hadn’t even meant to sneak up on him in the first place, but then she heard a cursed shout which scared a poor moon-yo. When she went to find out the source, she discovered a very frustrated sniper as he struggled with his prosthetic hand. He seemed to be trying to do some maintenance on it but wasn’t making much progress. After a few more curses and a handful of groans, she decided enough was enough.

“Need a hand?” she asked as she approached closer. 

He briefly lifted his eyes, not surprised she was standing there. He tinkered a bit more before he finally gave up and threw the tool to the ground. 

“Be my guest,” he hissed as he turned away but held his hand out for her. She raised a skeptical brow but picked up the tool and sat a respectable distance from the sulking man. Both for his comfort and her safety. Can never be too sure if someone bites when aggravated. 

“What seems to be the problem?” She asked as she took his hand to inspect it. When he remained quiet, she glanced up with an expectant look and found him still turned away from her. 

“Listen, as much as I understand you don’t like me, I can’t fix a problem if I don’t know what it is.”

He finally turned to her with an annoyed frown but finally spoke, “Blasted thing won’t respond when I try to do anything. I pick something up only to end up dropping it two minutes later.”

She hummed as she turned back to the offensive item in question. With a slight press of her finger, she opened the compartment that hid all the wiring. She inspected the wiring, carefully using the tool to push aside the wiring so she wouldn’t accidentally cause him pain. 

As she worked, she could feel Crosshair’s eyes watching her every move. It wasn’t so much annoying as it was curious. He usually kept their interactions to a minimum. Hunter assured he was like that with everyone when he first met them and to be fair to Crosshair she has enjoyed getting under his skin just a little too much. He reminded her of Tech, although she used a different method to get under his skin. She sometimes made it a game to see how red she could get his cheeks in the shortest amount of time. Although the things he could say, she could swear made her heart stop. 

With one final click, she finished and handed the tool back to him.

“Should work smoothly now,” she announced as she stood back up and dusted herself. She watched as he flexed his trembling fingers, testing the movements. After a moment he nodded, so she turned to take her leave. 

“I don’t hate you, you know?” he said, causing her to turn back. He now stood, massaging the back of his prosthetic hand as he stared at the ground. 

“Yeah, I know. I also know I don’t make it the easiest for you.”

“Yeah, well I suppose I could be less cruel.”

She hummed but said nothing. Guess they were both at fault. 

“Where did you learn how to do that anyway?” he asked, “You don’t seem-”

“Like the smart type?”

“Your words, not mine.”

She gave a small laugh with a shake of her head. 

“Learned from Brown Eyes.” Crosshair paused in mistrations. “He said it could be used for more than just prosthetics. Like when I need to repair Mel.”

Now it was Crosshair’s turn to hum. She almost decided to turn back but then he spoke up again. 

“What,” a pause, “what was he to you?” 

That took her by surprise. She figured he had been filled in on their relationship by the others or at least had an idea of it. Maybe he wanted a better understanding. 

“Well I’d say we’re what you hope to be with Jana,” she said, unable to resist the chance to tease him. It worked, with his mouth immediately turning into a scowl as his cheeks darkened, if only slightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know that right? Most of you are. Funny how the sweetest one of all of you is the best liar.”

That made him actually bark a short laugh, which in turn made her smile. He deserved a good laugh. He and his siblings. If there was one thing she enjoyed more than teasing Tech, it was making him laugh. He had a great laugh. Not too bad of a smile either. She missed that smile. So kriffing much.

“To answer your question,” she began as she looked down, “We never had a chance to define what we were.” 

Crosshair nodded and didn’t press further. It felt strange to talk about it. Shep, Hunter, and Wrecker never asked, but Shep wasn’t a pushy person and the latter two had more pressing matters. It sort of felt nice to let out in the open. While it hurt, it made it real. Whatever they were, it was real. 

“Thanks again for the hand,” he interrupted her thoughts.

“Yeah, well, you know where to find me if you need me.”

“Right, I’ll be sure to look for where there's buried treasure.”

“Oh he’s got jokes now,” she laughed, not the slightest bit upset. 

“I’m full of surprises.”

With that, he wandered off, leaving Phee with her thoughts once more. As she watched him go, she secretly hoped that Crosshair and Jana would have the chance she never did.

I like to think it took a bit before Phee and Crosshair got along, but now that they've teamed up, pray for Hunter's sanity lol

[sapphicccici]

Febuwhump 2025 Day 1: Vocal Chords

so this is tidbit that my fiancée ( @kabie-whump ) wrote for me for my birthday back in august and has given me permission to post lol. It is about Makkel (oc intro here) who is from another planet and used to have magical singing, before his voice was taken away when he was arrested.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Bloodshot, right?”

Makkel looked up from his book. It was the new guy. Cossim. He’d been scarce over the last few days, but Makkel had still found time to observe him. He had a shocking amount of energy - bouncy but incredibly smart.

Makkel nodded.

“Sorry. I don’t remember your real name, and I guess you can’t tell me. I probably should’ve asked someone before barging into your room.”

He never stopped fidgeting, his fingers running through his hair and then playing with his necklace and then picking at a bit of paint peeling from the wall.

Makkel rose from his bed, going over to his small desk to pick up his ID card and hand it to Cossim.

“Shit, you’re really as tall as you look on camera, huh? That’s crazy…” He squinted at the card. “Makkel Dextri. Cool name.”

Makkel put the card back in its place, then returned to his bed. Years ago he may have been frustrated with his lack of ability to hold up his end of a conversation with this boy. He didn’t want to come across aloof or unfriendly, and he was genuinely curious about him. But he’d learned by now that there were plenty of people around who had no issue at all with talking at him while he nodded politely, and he liked listening more than he’d thought he would.

“I just, uh, wanted to say hi,” Cossim said. “I can leave if you want.”

Makkel turned so he was sitting sideways on the bed with his back against the wall, patting the empty space on the mattress next to him.

Cossim’s face lit up. It took him two tries to jump up onto the lofted bed but he managed it. From this distance, Makkel could hear music blasting from the headphones around his neck.

Makkel touched his headphones, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Wanna hear?” Cossim passed them over.

It wasn’t Makkel’s favorite kind of music. The song bordered on the genre of ‘just noise’ to him. All artificial. But music is music and it had an alright beat.

No one on Irenius knew what real music sounded like anyways.

He listened for a while before returning Cossim’s headphones with a thankful smile.

“Like it?”

Makkel shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

They lapsed into silence. Cossim produced a length of stray copper wire from one of his cargo pockets and began twisting it into a shape.

“Do you know sign language or something?”

Makkel shook his head.

He could learn to sign, probably. As far as he knew there was nothing against it in the details of his curse.

It’s the principle of it.

“This is just to keep you from singing our little colony to pieces.” They’d told him. “You’ll adapt after a few years. It’ll be like nothing happened.”

He didn’t want to adapt. He didn’t want to settle comfortably into what they had done to him. He refused to erase the evil of what they’d taken from him by giving them the satisfaction of seeing him find a way to overcome it. He was going to stay in this state of loss forever and he was going to make it everyone’s problem.

His manager had begged him to learn to sign as the interview requests came in by the hundreds after his 10th consecutive victory in the arena. He’d put his foot down. They could have his body, his looks, his brutal efficiency with a weapon. But Irenius couldn’t have his words. They’re the only thing he had left that no one else had touched.

No signing. No emails. No text-to-speech.

You want to turn Makkel Dextri into an object? Fine. But objects don’t communicate. Deal with it.

“Makkel?”

Makkel focused in on Cossim, giving a tight smile.

“I lost ya for a sec.”

He nodded sheepishly. He’d gotten better at not wandering off into his own mind over the years, but it still happened.

“Wanna play Smash Bros?”

Another nod.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

@febuwhump