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solarmorrigan · 3 months

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Hands Where I Can See Them, part 11

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Ao3

[Warnings for: open discussion of sex, brief sexual situation. Nothing explicit happens, but there is an optional explicit continuation to the chapter linked at the bottom if you're into it]

Eddie grabs the plastic-wrapped bouquet of flowers from his passenger seat before hopping out of the van and slamming the door behind him, heedless of the pocket of suburban silence that is Loch Nora. While Steve had insisted he be allowed to plan their next date (“It’s not because the last one got fucked up,” Steve had promised. “It’s because I like planning dates, too, and it’s my turn.”), he hadn’t said anything about not bringing him gifts.

Eddie heads up to the front door and rings the bell, even though it’s probably unlocked, and he could probably just walk right in – Steve might be expecting him to, even. They’ve started hanging out again, just spending time being together, like they had before, and Eddie’s pretty sure that means his “don’t bother knocking” privileges have been restored, but all the same, something about waiting at the door just feels right.

When he can hear Steve’s approach on the other side, Eddie holds the flowers up, obscuring his face just as the door swings open. There’s a moment of silence before Steve asks, “What are these?”

Eddie snorts, dropping the bouquet a bit and sidling around Steve and into the foyer. “These, my dear Steve, are called ‘flowers.’ They grow out of the ground. Sometimes out of pots. Although, full disclosure, I procured these from the grocery store.” He holds the flowers up again, presenting them to Steve.

“And… they’re for me,” Steve doesn’t quite ask, a slow-dawning smile crossing his face.

Eddie grins right back. “Everyone deserves to get flowers once in a while.”

Not even bothering to tamp down his evident delight, Steve accepts the bouquet, gesturing for Eddie to follow him back through to the kitchen.

“You know,” Steve says as he pulls a vase from a high cabinet, “if you were really being romantic, you’d have brought roses.”

“What?” Eddie asks, affronted as he glances at the flowers where they lay on the counter. “How are these not romantic? They’re pink!”

“They’re daisies. Those’re friendship flowers.” Steve smirks, filling the vase from the tap before bringing it back over to the counter. “You give them to your friends or, like, your mom. Roses are romantic.”

Eddie scoffs. “Roses are twice as expensive as every other flower because the greeting card industry told people that’s what they need to get to prove their love, and now they have every poor schmuck who can’t think for himself buying roses to conform to some predetermined, soulless notion of romance.”

Steve is undeterred. He pulls the daisies from their plastic and drops them into the vase before turning around to face Eddie, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “Am I not worth a little conformity once in a while?” he asks, brows raised.

The noise Eddie lets out isn’t one he would precisely call a whine, but he’s not sure he can call it anything else. He leans into Steve’s space, trapping his arms between their chests, and pecks a kiss to his cheek. “Once a year. I’ll be a conformist once a year and buy you roses on Valentine’s Day,” Eddie promises. “How’s that?”

“Deal,” Steve agrees, unfolding his arms so that he can wrap them around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer until Steve is caged against the counter, his mouth pressed soundly to Eddie’s.

They stand there for a long minute, exchanging slow kisses with no other objective than to feel each other, to revel in the closeness, and even when the kisses end, they don’t quite pull apart, foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as they catch their breath.

“Hi,” Steve says, going almost cross-eyed for a moment in an attempt to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, smiling again.

He’s been doing that a lot lately.

“So where are we going tonight?” Eddie asks, pulling a little further back to give Steve more room to move.

“The couch,” Steve says, ducking out from around Eddie’s arms and scooping up the vase in two careful hands.

Eddie’s brows scrunch down in confusion. “What?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Steve tilts his head to indicate that Eddie should follow him.

And follow him Eddie does – as if he’d do anything else.

Apparently, Eddie hadn’t heard him wrong; they go into the living room, where the smell of pizza is strong now that Eddie’s paying attention. Steve situates the vase on one end of the coffee table (and Eddie allows himself to feel smug about it, because whatever bullshit Steve gave him about roses, he definitely likes the daisies); the other end of the coffee table is covered with napkins and sodas and pizza and a few VHS cases.

“So… what’s all this, exactly?” Eddie asks, glancing from the setup to Steve.

“It’s date night,” Steve replies, sitting down on the couch and holding his arms out in a little ‘ta-da’ motion.

“Okay.” Eddie nods slowly, feeling a bit lost. “Not that I’m complaining—because I’m not, this looks great!—it’s just that this… looks like what we do together normally. Like movie night, or something.”

“Yeah, because I like what we do together normally.” Steve shrugs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really like the creative dates and the candles and flowers, but I also like just getting to be a slob on the couch with you sometimes, you know? I was never unhappy just hanging out with you, Eddie. It’s one of the things I liked– I like about being with you. I can just… exist around you.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, because he’s not sure he can say anything else.

He’s not sure how to tell Steve that he’s probably ruined Eddie for anyone else. That no one else could possibly live up to the standards Steve is setting. That he keeps surprising Eddie in ways that challenge him, that make him think, that make him grow. That Eddie can barely even comprehend the enormous amount of good fucking luck that had managed to land Steve in his life even after he’d fucked his first chance up. He doesn’t even know where he would start.

“Is… is this okay?” Steve asks, his expression dimming a little at Eddie’s lack of reaction. “Should I have–”

Whatever question he’d been about to ask is lost to Eddie’s lips, pressed firmly, reverently to Steve’s.

“I love it,” Eddie promises when he pulls away, giving him one more quick kiss. “I love you.”

Steve’s smile probably couldn’t get any bigger, and god, if it’s this easy to make Steve happy, Eddie still can’t understand why he hadn’t been doing it all along.

“I love you, too,” Steve says, and– actually, yeah. Eddie can understand exactly what makes Steve happy, hearing that.

Steve does eventually slide out of Eddie’s grasp to put one of the movies in (he’s been smuggling new releases out of the video store, insisting that no one will notice if they disappear for a night or two in between holds – apparently he and Robin have this down to a science), but Eddie reels him right back in as soon as he sits down, pulling him back into chest as Eddie leans back against the corner of the couch, arms around his waist.

“Can’t eat pizza lying back like this, Eddie,” Steve says.

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” Eddie declares.

They do make an effort, but Steve insists they sit up and eat like normal human beings when Eddie nearly spills soda on his head, and Eddie has to concede the point. It’s fine, though; he gets what he wants once they’ve finished, sliding the box and empty cans out of the way (mindful, still, of the flowers) and reclining back against the cushions together.

By the second movie, Eddie is laid out across the length of the couch with Steve on top of him, his head pillowed heavy and comforting on Eddie’s chest while Eddie runs an absent hand through his hair.

His attention is half on the screen and half on Steve, his fingers wandering down out of his hair and mapping out territory they had missed feeling for weeks. He brushes around the shell of Steve’s ear, distantly registering the shiver it causes, sweeps across the apple of his cheek, and runs one gentle fingertip down the slope of his nose, like he’s trying to commit it all to memory.

Eddie is running his thumb over the soft swell of Steve’s bottom lip when Steve, who has until now seemed content to let Eddie do as he will, presses a kiss to the pad of Eddie’s thumb. Eddie presses back, a mimicry of a kiss, and Steve opens his mouth and takes Eddie’s thumb inside.

Eddie freezes, but Steve does not experience the same problem. He closes his lips around Eddie’s thumb, sucking just for a moment before running his tongue up the length of it, swirling it around the tip, and then releasing Eddie.

For a long moment, Eddie stares, unseeing, at the TV. He has one hundred percent lost track of what’s happening onscreen.

“…Steve?” he finally ventures.

“Mm?” Steve lifts his head, looking up at Eddie, and Eddie is forced to pull his eyes away from the screen to look back down.

Steve’s bottom lip is still shining a little wet where Eddie’s thumb had slid out, and his eyes are blown dark and wide in the low light of the living room (or maybe for other reasons), and Eddie feels he has no other recourse but to kiss him.

Steve seems to agree, meeting him halfway when Eddie leans down towards him.

These kisses are nothing like the ones they’d exchanged against the counter earlier; these quickly grow heated and hurried and slick, mouths sliding fervently against one another. Steve is wriggling a little against Eddie’s front, trying to gain enough of a foothold to push himself up so their mouths are level, and the feeling of his tongue still sliding wet against Eddie’s, his hands around Eddie’s biceps, his belly pressing into Eddie’s pelvis, has Eddie ready to pull back and tell Steve that if he wants to finish the movie, he absolutely needs to stop pretty much all of that – but then Steve manages to push himself up further, straddling Eddie’s hips and making it clear that he’s in exactly the same condition.

And he seems to have no inclination to stop.

Eddie’s hands go immediately to Steve’s waist, quickly sliding down to his hips and gripping, encouraging him to rock against him before–

“Mm – wait,” Eddie manages, lips brushing Steve’s in a half-breath between kisses. “Stop.”

Steve pulls back, brows drawn in worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing– nothing’s wrong, exactly, I just – like,” Eddie nods between them, his hands tightening almost unconsciously around Steve’s hips, “is this okay?”

“What part of me climbing on top of you made you think it’s not okay?” Steve asks. “Because clearly I’m doing something wrong.”

“No, I just mean–” Eddie forces himself to gentle his grip, sliding his hands back up around Steve’s waist instead, stroking slow circles with his thumbs. “We don’t have to do this. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

Steve, for some reason, has the audacity to look offended. “I am actually capable of making my own decisions,” he says, tone going a bit sharp. “I’m not just doing this because I think you want to.”

“That’s– I know that, I do, I just want to make sure you know this isn’t all I want, okay?” Eddie rushes out, before the situation can spin entirely out of his control (if he’d ever had it to begin with; he’s actually not quite sure right now).

Above him, Steve softens a bit. “I know.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s mouth. “I’m glad it’s not just sex between us. I seriously am. But,” he bites his lip, staring down at Eddie with a little smile that catches somewhere between earnest and mischievous, “I also really like have sex with you. And I miss it.”

“Oh, thank god,” Eddie groans, letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch. “Because I would respect your decision if you didn’t want to fuck after all, but I would have to go hide in the bathroom and cry for a minute. And possibly jerk off.”

Steve laughs. “Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he says. “But I figure this is as good a time as any, right? I mean, this is the third date.”

“You know? I have honest to god lost track. I have no idea what’s going on anymore,” Eddie admits, and Steve shrugs.

“Fuck it, forget counting, then,” he says, smirking down at Eddie. “You wanna go upstairs?”

“Fuck yes.” Eddie nods, scrambling to get up off the couch the moment Steve is no longer pinning him down.

He follows Steve back through to the foyer, and they aren’t quite running, but whatever they’re doing is a little too excited to simply be called walking. Steve makes it to the base of the stairs first, and Eddie is right behind him, about to go up, when something occurs to him.

“Wait!” He grabs Steve by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait, wait, hold on.”

“What?” Steve wheels around, wide-eyed as he searches for the source of Eddie’s urgency.

“I just remembered something important,” Eddie says, and then he drops to one knee.

Steve blinks at him. “What are you doing.”

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie begins, grandiose and a little ridiculous as he clutches one of Steve’s hands in both of his own, “will you do me the honor of actually dating me?”

For a long moment, Steve just continues to stare down at Eddie – but Eddie isn’t worried. He can see the warmth in Steve’s eyes, and the way he’s pursing his lips like he does when he’s trying hard not to laugh. Eddie’s pretty confident in the answer.

Finally, Steve nods, losing the battle against his grin the moment he’s no longer biting down on it. “Yeah, alright.”

“Yes!” Eddie pops up off the floor, reaching out to cup Steve’s face in his hands and leaning in for one hard, excited kiss. “I officially have the hottest boyfriend in town,” he declares when they part.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asks, mouth curling into a smirk. “And what are you going to do with him?”

Eddie mirrors the look, taking Steve by the hand once more and tugging him along. “Come upstairs with me, and I’ll show you.”

And that seems to be the right answer, because Steve seems perfectly willing to let himself be led and find out.

Smutty Continuation; explicit, click through at your own discretion (This is entirely optional, you will not miss any plot if you choose not to read!)

Part 12

Tag List (Currently full! Message me if you'd like off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #look at them. nature is healing #one more part after this!#solar wrote #eddiesteve

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whoopsyeahokay · 24 days

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October Sun

summary: you'd known that Simon wasn't okay since it had been announced that they'd found blood in the boiler room. his pain, his hurt, his loss had spilled out from him and into you and you'd had no clue how to handle it. and then suddenly, you'd been soothed, and all you'd been able to think of had been getting to the source of that comfort and giving thanks.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.8

Wally couldn't stop thinking about earlier. How the slopes and arches of your body fit against him like a puzzle piece. How malleable you'd been under his touch. The intense liquid heat that had thrummed between you both as he'd leaned in to kiss you; heartbeats synchronized, eyes fluttering closed, utterly surrendered to the sensation.

He'd kissed a few girls when he'd been alive. Hell, he'd made out with Dawn a handful of times when adrenaline and hormones had needed an outlet. None of those experiences held a candle to what he'd felt when he'd just barely brushed his lips to yours.

There was something underneath it all. Not just his attraction to you, which he'd harbored for going on two years now. Something else. Something mystical and big and unleashed. Maybe you already knew what it was. After all, you could reach through the veil, hear and see and feel Wally...maybe you had an explanation.

If only the connection between you and Wally hadn't made it practically impossible to finish a conversation.

"Where'd you go, superstar?"

Wally nearly jumped in surprise, having forgotten he wasn't alone. He glanced around, saw Katelynn—the courtyard fatality—and Ajay studying him as intently as Rhonda. They were in the kitchen piling a late lunch of leftovers onto their plates while, around them, the staff muddled through their end-of-day breakdown.

"Uh," Wally supplied, intelligently. He was a miserable liar, something Rhonda had teased him for mirthlessly in the past. Told him he was as easy to read as 3rd grade English (ouch). But he didn't take his promises lightly and knew he had to come up with something or Rhonda would grill him until he broke. Deflection it was, "Do you think Maddie had a good time?"

Rhonda, perched primly on a counter, rolled her eyes and plucked a bread roll from the bin one of the staff was about to seal. "Jesus, you really are ditzy for her, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that," Wally said. He really wouldn't, "I just want her to—"

"Confess her undying love? Make you the center of her universe and forget all about her dreamy, badboy ex?" Rhonda scoffed, "Hate to break it to you, hot stuff, but you'd just be a rebound and we all know how those end."

"Badly?" Katelynn guessed. Having been fourteen when she'd kicked the bucket, she'd likely never had the chance to explore the intricacies of romance. Or of all its thorns.

Rhonda's hands clamped and then bloomed in front of her as she vocalized a bomb exploding.

"No, Rhonda, that's not it," Wally spoke in long strokes, as if to a child, willing away a flash of irritation. "What I was gonna say was that I want her to know there's more to being dead than trying to solve your own murder." Since, after all was said and done, there'd be nothing left to do besides passively haunt Split River High.

And that shit got dull after a semester or two.

Unexpectedly, "I spoke to her today." Rhonda admitted, somewhat reluctant, as the group paraded from the kitchen into the cafeteria. Wally encouraged her to continue with a smile, "About how I died. She thought it could help, so..." She slid into her regular seat next to Wally, eyes fixed on her plate, "I guess it did because she took off after."

It was obvious that relinquishing even that morsel of information made her uncomfortable, shoulders curled to her ears and lips pursed, those metaphorical walls re-erecting.

Wally clapped her on the back, "You did good, Deadly." A fond nickname he used sparingly as it often earned him an elbow to the ribs.

This time, Rhonda simply glared a warning at him before tearing a piece off her bread roll and smearing it through the gravy on Wally's plate. Progress, he supposed.

To move the conversation away from Rhonda, Wally engaged Katelynn, "I saw you with the extinguisher today."

Katelynn grinned through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"You know what we should do next time? We get those chairs with the wheels, a couple of fire extinguishers..." He mimed the scene with fervor, grinning conspiratorially between the others, "We could do it in the gym. Take bets. See who goes farthest. It would be awesome!"

Rhonda patted his knee twice—thank you—under the table. How she displayed gratitude without being obvious. As discreetly as possible, Wally returned the gesture, tapping three times to indicate I've got you.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Somehow, you'd done it: graduated to the end of the school day without incident. Sure, Mathilda had given you a funny look when you'd made your excuses to stay behind, but she'd been too distracted by what pieces to include in her portfolio to cross-examine you about it.

"Text me later, sillybean!" She called over her shoulder as she, Hana, and Lucas exited the school.

The siblings waved in unison, Hana pirouetting and blowing you a kaleidoscope of exaggerated kisses before falling back into step with her brother.

You turned back to your locker, shoving in your backpack and your uncle's hoodie. You'd accepted that the connection between you and Wally quashed any attempt you made to hide from him; berated yourself for not realizing it sooner.

After you'd closed the door and slipped the lock back into place, you mustered your courage and turned toward the direction of the theater. You could do this. Without getting sidetracked.

Yeah, you believed that about as much as you believed the lunchroom bread rolls were 'made fresh' everyday.

A metallic clamor caught your attention before you'd even stepped a foot forward, causing you to hesitate. Down several lockers along the row, Simon shook his lock against the hasp furiously. He was unmistakably upset, jaw tight, vibrating with unfettered anger.

You approached him just as he kicked the locker below his.

"Here," You said, inserting yourself between Simon and his locker, "What's the combo?"

Without pause, "8-37-15," he recited through gritted teeth.

You dialed the combination, unhooked the lock and held it out for Simon to take.

"You okay?" You asked, already aware of the answer.

"Yes." Simon lied then abruptly changed his mind, "No. I don't know." He dumped his bag at his feet and rummaged through the contents of his locker only to give up and spin around. Propped against the closed bottom level, Simon ran his hands through his hair roughly, reminding you of someone with far too much responsibility that outweighed their experience.

"What's going on, Si?"

He lifted his head, brow creased with despair, "Aren't friends supposed to trust each other?"

The question knocked you for six. Unsure if it was rhetorical, you chose to stay quiet and, sure enough, Simon expounded. "Aren't friends supposed to tell each other things, even if it's hard? Even if they think it might hurt? Because, at the end of the day, you chose that person to be there for you no matter what. And that person chose you right back."

No questions asked. Your voice overlapped with Xavier's, years worth of emotional petitions for comfort and unbiased support echoing in your head.

Thinking of your friend, you wondered, "Is this about Nicole leaving with Xavier after lunch?"

Simon seemed surprised by the news, yet, after a second, confirmed, "Yeah. Uh, yeah, it's about that."

He stared at his feet, arms folded tightly across his middle, chewed his lip as he pondered what he wanted to disclose. Finally, "I just want to be there for her, but it's like she won't let me. And it sucks." His voice was damp with pain. "And now she's pissed and she's shut me out and...I don't know what to do."

When he raised his head again, you almost choked on the sorrow in his eyes. You wanted to hug him, hold him, cry. Here was a boy whose best friend had, for all intents and purposes, left him behind, and now he was scared he'd lost someone else.

The mounting sadness radiating from Simon made your eyes sting. You had no clue how to comfort him, not like you did Xavier or Mathilda, the two people you'd chosen and who'd chosen you back.

The strength of secondhand emotion chipped away at you, threatened to shatter you into a thousand anguished pieces, but just as you thought you would break, a familiar warmth sunk into the cracks. The sensation blossomed upward and concentrated behind your ribs, loosening a deep breath of relief.

Absently, you shifted your hand the slightest bit away from where it rested against your thigh, the movement undetectable unless one was looking for it. The warmth grew, contented and safe, and then—a whisper of fingertips across the back of your hand, there and gone.

You didn't move, kept your gaze on Simon; simply waited for Wally to enter your periphery. His back was to you, his hand returning to his jacket pocket as he, Rhonda, and a couple of others walked toward the end of the hall. You vaguely saw him split from the rest of the group, Wally going left while the other three went right.

Simon swallowed, mournful, and he rasped, "What do I do?"

Invigorated by Wally's touch, you planted yourself in front of Simon, placed your hands on his shoulders, and urged him to, "Talk to her. People knock communication like it's some kind of cheap cliche, but it's the best way to resolve things." He nodded, weak but resolute, and you dragged him into a hug. "Trust me," You said, "Just be honest and listen. You don't have to understand everything, you just have to accept it."

Simon chuckled wetly, squeezed you tighter for an instant before releasing you.

"Thanks."

"Any time." And you meant it with every fiber of your being. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Simon said, scrubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes, "I'll be fine." He cleared his throat, "Listen, um, I forgot something in the cafeteria, but if you want to wait I could give you a ride home."

Something in his tone suggested the offer was halfhearted, though you appreciated it all the same.

"Nah, it's cool. I have to study." You replied, already positioning yourself to leave. Simon didn't mention that the library was in the other direction, merely flashed you a small, grateful smile.

"See you tomorrow." He saluted.

Free to excuse yourself, you found you had to fight the desire to go go go, hurry, go, that warm sensation purring louder the closer you got to the theater. Fuck making sure the coast was clear, you were supposed to be in there right now; swung the door open with probably a lot more force than necessary.

Wally, who had been sitting on the edge of the stage awaiting your arrival, hopped down as soon as you entered the darkened space, his gaze instantly locking with yours.

One dubious step, two, three, and the warmth fizzled and licked inside you, encouraging your pace to quicken, faster, nearer. You broke into a run, closing the distance, Wally's stare never wavering. With less than a foot remaining, you sprung up and forward, body colliding into his. He caught you easily, held you in his arms with one hand under a thigh and the other around your waist.

No thoughts, no words, no inhibitions; fever-hot and eager; Wally's jaw in your palms, you surged forward and pressed your lips to his.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

note: they're so good at talking, eh? 😏 anyway, to let y'all in on my little headcanon: Hana is "helpful student" from episode 2, the girl who alerts Mr. Anderson to the deputy at the door when the class is watching Frankenstein (1931).

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list! (which i've intentionally deleted from this post for the time being 💖✌️bear with, pls!)

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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01/26/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Renew As A Crew/Hoist The Ads; Cast & Crew Sightings; Queerties; Twitter Watch parties; Articles; Reasons to keep fighting; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonights Taika;

== Renew As A Crew / Hoist The Ads ==

Tumblr Post / Twitter Post /Instagram Post

Link to vote

==Cast & Crew Sightings==

While the sighting hasn't occurred yet... looks like Vico Ortiz, Nathan Foad, and Con O'Neill will all be attending Galaxy Con in San Jose on August 16-18, 2024 at the San Jose Mcenery Convention Center. Tickets available now. Src: _irene_adler on IG

One thing to note.. Chaos dad has been pretty consistent about reaching out every 3 days-ish lately.. I'm interested to see if tomorrow he shows up again. Just a theory.

== Queerties ==

If you're down, please vote for the Queerties each day! If you want to just vote for OFMD categories, feel free to visit: TV Comedy Best TV Performance Wanna help another Taika/Rhys verse Queertie? Vote for Kaimana for Best Film Performance in Next Goal Wins!

==Twitter Watch Parties==

Sadly, today #PirateOmens came to an end, but our friend @dandeebakes is already fast at work getting other cool Watch parties together! Please send them some love!

=HuntForThePirateHome=

HuntForThePirateHome Watch Party Starts Sunday Jan 28 at 3 PM EST, 12 PT, 8 PM GMT. Hashtags for that event are:

#HuntForThePirateHome

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

Thank you to @blueberreads for catching these trends on twitter during the Pirate Omens watch, definitely kept engagement up.

==LubeAsACrew==

#LubeAsACrew is back on 1/31/24 at 4PM PT, 1PM ET. Next up are S1 Episodes 5, 6, 7.

== How To Help ==

How To Help Save OFMD Task List - US How to Help Save OFMD Task List - Outside US

==Articles==

15 Things We’ll Miss About ‘Our Flag Means Death’

2024’s Canceled Shows, for Your Final Consideration

Relisting The Guardian's article from yesterday because they've opened comments, and it can help with engagement so feel free to comment on it now!

Also, @itsmfgames Has been kind enough to be keeping up a running list of Articles about the campaigns -- so if you have the time and want to go catch up on some articles, please checkout the guide below and visit this google doc for the list! It's been added to the Daily Renewal List for both US and Outside-US, so feel free to check it out there as needed.

== Reasons to Keep Fighting ==

Throwing in some great points from our tumblr folks regarding the cancellation that really helped me feel pumped today.

@celluloidbroomcloset's Our Flag Means Death was cancelled because it’s gay.

@queerly-autistic's break down on why Not All Fan Campaigns Are The Same.

@saltpepperbeard's reasoning for Clinging Onto Hope

@tulipseason's lovely reasons The Show Is Irreplaceable

== Love Notes ==

Alright lovelies. I have so many words to say about how great you all are, how much I love you (and I'm sure you're tired of hearing them), but I went back to work today after 7 days of being sick and now my brain is mush. So instead I'm going to put the text of one of my son's books in here because I think every one of us should feel loved like we were when we were 5.

On The Night You Were Born - By Nancy Tillman On the night you were born, the moon smiled with such wonder that the stars peeked in to see you and the night wind whispered, “Life will never be the same.” Because there had never been anyone like you… ever in the world. So enchanted with you were the wind and the rain, that they whispered the sound of your wonderful name. It sailed through the farmland High on the breeze… Over the ocean… And through the trees… Until everyone heard it and everyone knew of the one and only ever you. Not once had there been such eyes, such a nose, such silly, wiggly, wonderful toes. When the polar bears heard, they danced until dawn. From faraway places, the geese flew home. The moon stayed up until morning next day. And none of the ladybugs flew away. So whenever you doubt just how special you are and you wonder who loves you, how much and how far, Listen for geese honking high in the sky. (They’re singing a song to remember you by.) Or notice the bears asleep at the zoo. (It’s because they’ve been dancing all night for you!) Or drift off to sleep to the sound of the wind. (Listen closely… it’s whispering your name again!) If the moon stays up until morning one day, or a ladybug lands and decides to stay, or a little bird sits at your window awhile, it’s because they’re all hoping to see you smile… For never before in story or rhyme (not even once upon a time) has the world ever known a you, my friend, and it never will, not ever again… Heaven blew every trumpet And played every horn On the wonderful, marvelous Night you were born

== Daily Darby / Tonights Taika ==

The gifs today are courtesy of our lovely @ofmd-ann who blesses us every day with gifs that make me swoon. Darby / Taika

Warning to all you gif makers, I'm gonna be bugging the crap out of you soon for permission to share on these recaps :P -- feel free to say no!

#ofmd daily recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd #save ofmd #hoist the ads #renew as a crew #save our flag means death #our flag means death #stede bonnet #gentlebeard #edward teach #rhys darby #blackbonnet #taika waititi

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luna-lovegreat · 2 months

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So like

Time's asking Twilight to stay back and talk right

(In Dawn pt. 8)

Twi seems pretty concerned about the weapon

And then I think here, they were understanding- they were going to talk about it

AND then in that last panel

Time says "take care of anything left here; we're on our way"

"WE're"

Aaaaaalso the chain already knew that. Apparently those two just leave and talk lol

"They always have private conversations it's nothing new"

Also everyone was ready to go

And Time and Twilight didn't have their full armor on- indicating Time and Twilight are the two who will hang back in, "we're on our way"

So! For Time content... I think we've got a conversation coming up

And if I'm right, I think it's cool how they're so close and just wanna talk and work stuff out...

Art and comic by @linkeduniverse

#I hope they don't yell at each other tho #the inn keeper has seen ENOUGH #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #Lu twilight #Lu time #maybe if I make enough guesses I'll be wrong. I wanna be wrong. let me be wrong universe!!!#hello yes also FOURS THE ONE WHO ALWAYS NOTICES THESE THINGS #'they always have private conversations it's nothing new' so casually??? he knows everything guys

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gojos-fr-bae · 2 months

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Liar pt. 6

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of fluff, just the perfect concoction. Cussing, just the usual.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Again, I said I would release it two days ago but here we are. oopsies also, omd I haaate this, idk its just not giving me what I wanted it to have gave, uk? but I still hope you guys like it and it is what you have been waiting for.

(Requests open)

Satoru

Gojo was running around his house frantically trying to get himself together. You and he had agreed on going out with Kaito in order to introduce the boy to his father, finally. He had changed outfits about seen times and while trying to style his hair, he put way to much gel which he had to wash out which got his clothes wet meaning he had to switch his fit again and OH MY GOSH HE WAS LOOSING HIS FUCKING MIND.

To say he was nervous would be an understatement and he had kept himself sober since the previous night in order to be his best self for his son but it was just making him freak out even more. The amount of times he reached for a bottle of alcohol before realising what he was doing scared him.

He was in his bathroom standing in front of his mirror nit-picking every little detail about himself from his outfit to his hair and the dark circles that were no longer visible due to the foundation he had caked over them.

Everything was fine until he looked down at his watch and realised that he was running late. He ran out of the house as fast as he could before jumping into his car and sped out of his compound towards Jujutsu tech, failing to notice the cigarettes on his dashboard. Once he had arrived, he ran through the campus to your dorm room. Once he had reached, he froze with his hand about to make contact with the door, the seriousness of the situation finally dawning on him. He was going to meet his son for the first time ever. Oh no, he was shaking. He was trying his best to calm himself. He was finally going to meet his son. With a wide smile on his face, he gently knocked on the door.

His breath hitched when he finally laid his eyes on you. You looked absolutely breath-taking. You were wearing (Outfit of choice) and you looked stunning.

“Hi, Satoru,”

“H-Hi, y/n. You look…gorgeous.”

“Why thank you, you don’t look too shabby yourself,” You smiled at him as you watched a blush spread across his face.

“Th-Thank you.” he said, the most adorable smile spreading across his face.

“Kaito, someone’s here to see you!”

You watched as your son ran as fast as his stubby little feet could carry him. You had told him that his dad was coming to see him and although it took him a good minute to understand what you were saying, once he did, he was ecstatic. He was jumping up and down on your bed for almost the entire night before you told him Satoru wouldn’t come if he didn’t go to sleep. Knocked him right out. But what you were seeing right now was the complete opposite of his behaviour last night.

He was standing behind you, hiding behind your leg and glaring daggers at the man before him.

“‘Come on sweetie, say hi,” The boy just looked up at you, back at Satoru, and then hid further behind your legs.

“Sorry, he’s shy,”

“No, no, it’s okay, I totally understand. Shall we get going then?”

“Sure, let me just get Kaito’s bag.” you said, rushing into the house and leaving your son at the door.

Kaito stared Satoru down, squinted his eyes, and then did that thing where you point two fingers at your eyes, and then at the person you’re looking at. Satoru was… taken aback to say the least. Little did he know, Shoko had been training the child to attack the man since you arrived at Jujutsu Tech. Well, as much attacking as a two-year-old who just learned how to walk and can barely speak can do.

***

“Kaito, you see that man over there?” she said to the boy she was cradling in her arms while standing behind a tree. He squinted, trying to spot Gojo, and looked back at Shoko, nodding his head.

“Do you know who he is?” He shook his head no.

“Well you know how you love your mommy?”

“Uh-huh”

“Yeah, well that guy over there loves her too. Actually that’s your dad”

“Weally?! He squealed, eyes sparkling.

“Yes, but you know, he made your mama very, very, sad.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but know that you're a big man, you have to protect mama yeah?”

“Mhm,” responded, understanding the task that had been bestowed upon him.

***

“Okay, I'm ready to go!” You said, picking up Kaito and closing the dorm door behind you.

“Let me help you with that, he said, taking the bag from you before leading you towards the car.

“Oh, do you have a car seat for Kaito?”

Gojo stopped in his tracks. Shit! How could he forget?! Oh no, he’s already a horrible father and now you hate him and Kaito hates him and he’s a failure and-

“If you don’t then it's alright, he can sit on my lap. It’s no problem.” you said, interrupting his train of thought, and thank God for that because he was spiralling.

“Alright then.” Thank heavens.

He opened the passenger door for you, placed Kaito’s bag in the back and ran to his side of the car.

He was about to say something when he looked at you and saw your eyes fixed on his dashboard. Holy Fuck, he didn't- clean the car. Holy fuck.

“Oh -my I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so so so sorry,” he kept on repeating, doing his best to clean it all up as fast as possible.

“It’s umm… it’s okay.”

He was in for one hell of a day.

***

Y/N Once you reached the amusement park, he ran to open your door for you again as you stepped out.

OK so I'm going through writer’s block and I'm so emotionally tired from stuff I have going on so I'm just gonna give highlights of the day, sorry 😘

Your day was…eventful to say the least. Although the tension was extremely high at the beginning of the day, as things progressed, things got more and more relaxed, and dare you say, you even enjoyed the outing. The same can’t be said for your precious little bundle of joy. You still remember when Satoru won a giant stuffed monkey hoping that he would like it since he noticed the one he was clutching between his stubby little fingies. Words cannot explain the amount of distress that rushed through him when the boy looked down at the toy in disgust and turned away. For fucks sake he couldn’t even win his own son a toy properly. He was such a failure.

You looked up in his eyes and could already tell that he was beating himself up for it. But he just looked at you and gave you a small smile before going on with your day.

All wasn’t lost though. While you were walking through the park, Satoru noticed that Kaito’s shoes were untied, so he knelt down and tied them for him. While getting up, he gently patted the boys head, and he swears to all that is good and just that while he was turning back to continue walking, Kaito had a teeny weeny smile on his face, and that alone sent him to bed smiling.

For the first time in two years, Satoru had a good dream that night. No nightmares, night terrors, no flashback. Nothing but a peaceful dream of his adorable son and lovely wife.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Finally, took me long enough

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo angst #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru

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wanderingsimsfinds · 11 months

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WanderingSims Fave CC - Walls

1-3 - Julietsimscc - 4t3 dksims More Wallpapers*

4 - SketchbookPixels - Panels

5 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Cowbuild Morning Kitchen Paint with Wainscot Paneling

6, 45 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Kirsal Set Pt. 1 (Wooden Wall & Plaster Wall)

7-8 - simsinspring - Adele Wall Paint A & Adele Walls Stucco C

9-10 - simsinspring - Soft Life Walls 0 & 2

11-12 - simsinspring - Soft Walls I Set Wall 01 & 06

13 - Granny Zaza - TTOSH Walls

14-16 - RemySims - Amoebae Two Tone Stone Colors Wallpaper 1-3*

17-18, 36, 50-51, 82 - Pixelfrogslegs - Wall Mega Pack (Simple Paint with Wainscot Paneling, Split Personality Paneling, Vertical Clapboards, Walk the Planks, Worn Wood Sidings, Fair and Square)

19-20, 34, 48-49 - ilts - Walls by fiddledeedee (HL2 Walls 28, HL2 Walls 14, HL2 Siding 15, HL2 Bricks 11, HL2 Bricks 05)

21-22 - you-lust - Mari April Walls Border Plain Add On

23-24 - OnyxIrony - Wood Siding 001 & 002

25, 88 - Catharism - Egbert Tile Wall & Dorian Tile Wall

26-30, 81, 83-87 - you-lust - TheMalle Walls Conversion (Gwen Walls, Dragan Walls, Dorian Wall Tiles, Emily Walls, Dawn Siding Walls, Caius Walls, Semper Walls, Eponine Walls, Rudolph Siding Walls, Julietta & Daria Wall Tiles)*

31-32 - Blonde Chaos - Tilly Never Mind 04 & 05 Walls

33 - Martassimsbook - Mimoto Resident Evil 2 S.T.A.R.S. Office Wall G

35, 43, 53 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Syboulette A La Ferme Set Walls and Floors (Round Stones in Concrete, Painted Wood Siding, Old Natural Woodsiding)*

37-40 - Ruzue - Half-LIfe 2 Walls & Floors & Terrains Pack (Concrete Wall 01, Concrete Wall 03, Concrete Wall 14, Concrete Wall 02)

41 - peacemaker-ic - Weatherboard Siding (All)

42 - HugeLunatic - Narrow Horizontal Siding*

44 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Lycka Bathroom Concrete Walls*

46 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 novvvas Wabi-Sabi Bathroom Concrete Walls*

47- AoD4909 - Remember Me Walls 2

52 - enable-llamas - 4t3 peacemaker-ic Splendid Paneling (All)

54-55 - Catharsim - Panel Wall 1 & 2

56-60, 62 - omfgingers - Wallpapers (Walls 7, 6, 1, 5, 2, 3)

61, 63 - omfgingers - Wall Set 2 (Wall 16 & 13)

64-65 - Ruzue - Random Walls 03 & 07

66 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 SimVaultThings-Daer0n Bathroom Stuff Pack Wallpapers*

67-72 - OnyxIrony - Concrete Walls (2, 4-8)

73 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sims-KKB Floor Tile and Wallpaper Collection Wallpaper 1*

74 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sims4Luxury Farmhouse Entry Collection White Wood Wallpaper

75-80 - BlueHopper - Concrete Walls (Walls 06, 04, 02, 01, 03, 05)*

*Has multiple swatches within the file

#cc list #ts3cc #s3cc #s3ccfinds

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unexpectedstormy · 3 months

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My thoughts on the new update

Nice double vanishing point perspective! (This is what I'm learning about in art class right now.)

So Sky WAS running all around and that's why he was out of breath going down stairs in the last comic.

Holy smoking Sonic the Hedgehog that guy is fast. Also, can confirm: running with knife-hands does in fact make you run faster.

Close up of that face ehehehe >,'C

XD this is so funny. But who do you think said it?

It looks to me like it was Legend who said it based on where Sky and Warriors are looking. Here, let me make it clearer with laser eyes:

Also Warriors is Mr. Grumpypants. He's probably in army-intel-and-strategy mode. Or he he's just irritable after getting no sleep, wrangling a bunch of hot-blooded teens, and watching his friend almost die and miraculously recover.

Eyyy! Wild's got his new sword! He was probably just showing it to Twilight. From this angle, it looks like he and Twilight are holding hands. Also, Time has humongous hands.

Loving these dark spooky forest vibes. I'll definitely be doing a panel-background repaint of one of these.

Yeah! You glow girl!

(Teeheehee I just wanted to make that joke. That's the only reason why I put this panel here tweeheehee)

My face when I saw this sword on the ground: 😳😃 because oh my Hylia I want that sword so bad. I love scimitars. In other news, you know what I don't see on the ground? The Shadow's cursed axe of Horrible Evilness. I wonder if Sky noticed.

Yup. Portal. There we go! No one's surprised except for Sky. But check out what's in the foreground. That helmet. Wasn't that the Shadow's helmet when it/he was in [giant metal knight] form? (I can't remember what the name of the monster type was. Something nut I think.)

This face. Enough said.

Oh boy. Wild's face when he realizes that he didn't 'kill' it--or it resurrected. Also Sky, you drink up that stamina potion. You deserve it.

Time looking rather fine. Or like he's in an anime title sequence. And he's speaking like he swallowed an 1850's fireside poetry book again. (I think it's endearing.)

And there we go! My first thoughts on this comic. Oh! JK! One more thought!! VV

It doesn't say 'Dawn Pt 8' so does that mean the next arc starts in the next comic? 👀

#long post #kinda sorta #there' just a lot of pictures #linked universe #dawn pt 7 #analysis #lu erryone

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justafriend-ql · 11 months

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times never let me go said: happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈

(a mostly unserious post made entirely for my own entertainment)

this outfit

2. palm showing up at nueng's house and immediately inducing gay panic with the sluttiest soulmate-coded introduction possible until ourskyy 2

3. nuengdiao's gay little finger pointing (which happens at least 3 times in episode 1)

4. gaslight gatekeep girlboss

5. okay... 👀

6. local boy continues the age-old tradition of falling in love with a twink after seeing him play piano

7. (meeting ben) perhaps gay-on-gay violence is justified sometimes

8. nueng and palm flirt in the backseat. live chanon reaction:

9. update: gay-on-gay violence is definitely justified sometimes

10. phum taking a sec to call palm handsome before breaking a stool over his back (huh i wonder if that might mean anything)

11. okay... 👀 (pt. 2)

12. nuengdiao deciding to get wasted even though he's deathly allergic to alcohol because palm's talking to a girl (we love a messy!gay)

13. nueng standing up for himself when the homophobic principal and ben's dad insinuate that it was wrong for ben and him to kiss and telling them to punish whoever leaked the photo instead

14. "you're an adult now. you can eat whatever you want!!" slay thanks khun tanya :)

15. what if we were both boys... and we kissed on a rooftop at night under ambiguous circumstances... and it was episode 5...

16. our established couple besties wu and david <3

17. "your lips are burning and swollen" okay?? gay ass

18. gay beach wedding. enough said.

19. palm asking "is this how couples kiss?" after eating nueng's face like be fucking for real right now

20. male-male soulmates existing since the dawn of time and being an established part of mythological lore

21. palm: has gay sex one (1) time and immediately gets a tattoo of his lover's name

22. palm's face when nueng says he might confess his love to a woman one day lmaooooo

23. palm and nueng talking about how their mothers gave them the courage to be themselves and confess their love for each other

24. nueng: we need to show uncle kit that he can't mess with us. the plan: serve cunt

25. tanya immediately waking up from her coma when nueng says he wants her to see him with his boyfriend. true ally behavior!

26. WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO EXPRESS IT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE

27. message received

28. wow so glad it isn't like that anymore! oh wait...

29. (about to die) time to educate some assholes!!

stopping here because of the (deeply homophobic) 30-image-per-post limit, but feel free to add more below!! happy pride from p'jojo, palmnueng, and co. 🏳️‍🌈

#never let me go #never let me go the series #nlmg #this is what i do with my free time haha please enjoy

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magnolia-among-the-stars · 10 months

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fat funny friend (jake seresin pt 8/?)

PART OF MY “WHATEVER THIS IS” SERIES WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE

PAIRING: JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN x Female Plus Size Bartender!Reader

NICKNAME: Sunshine

Warning: A bit of self-body shaming

It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.

PLOT: Penny Benjamin’s niece works at The Hard Deck, saving the money she earns to get out of the west coast and put herself through Graduate School. What happens when a pretty boy pilot ends up as her fake boyfriend?

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / PART ELEVEN / FINAL PART

Two weeks. It had been two weeks and the pain of Jake’s absence took a heavier toll on you than you had previously expected, and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle it. Your home had become a hollow and messy disaster of a landing zone, blankets everywhere along with half eaten containers of take-out food. You hadn’t showered in a few days, your hair now only spun up into lackadaisical buns as you wiped your mouth on your sleep shirt and closed your eyes to the sound of the next rerun of Law & Order: SVU.

In the days immediately following Halloween, you were sure he was going to call, apologize for his lack of communication. You had tricked yourself into thinking perhaps he had a horrifying call to action and had been on an aircraft carrier before dawn.

But days later, you ran into Phantom and Rooster while they were out for coffee. Bradley looked at you confused, a wash of a smile etching on his face. It told you he knew, somehow and that smile made all these fantasies crumble out of your head and sent you into a spiral of pain and rejection in a way you never thought possible.

You’d let Jake in, all the way. Something you had vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t do again without great sacrifice. Instead, you were met with resistance and insecurity that bubbled through your chest and burned your esophagus raw as you wept and screamed out into the abyss of your lonely apartment. You took a few days off work, Penny texting back with a knowing ‘Take your time.’ You felt sick, throwing up in hopes that the weight in your tummy would dissipate but to no avail.

A knock on your door startled you awake out of a groggy fog, a numb vibration coming over you from your spot on the couch. You groan a little, turning away from the door to rest your face against the fabric with a heavy sigh. The loud banging continues on, and you grunt again, turning back to roll off the couch. You mosey over to the front door and check the window, only to pull the door open. “Nat, now isn’t a good time.”

“What the hell happened?” she demands, stepping inside and past you without hesitation. Her harsh tone takes you by surprise and your shoulders push back as you find energy for the first time in weeks.

“What the hell happened?” you repeat with an almost mocking tone. “Well, let’s see,” you cackle with a bitter wave rushing through your body. “What happened is that Bagman did what Bagman does best. He hung me out to dry.”

“What?” the word falls out of Nat’s mouth in a way she can’t help. “That’s impossible.”

“Well, if you’ve come here to mock me Nat, you can fuckin’ go because I've had it with Naval Aviators fucking destroying my subconscious so,” you pace over to the front door and swing it open. You stare expectedly at her as her stance deflats suddenly, her gaze downcast as she starts to swallow down what you’ve just blurted out.

“No Y/N, I’m not trying to,” she takes a slow and heavy breath before glancing back up at you. “Hangman is miserable. He’s a hollow shell of himself...I figured you’d stomped all over his heart because I’ve never seen him like this before.”

The mention of Jake’s state should tug at your heart strings. It should make your heart flutter that he’s so lost without you, and he’s so desperately broken that the absence of your presence was the clear notion to Nat that something must’ve happened. But you’re too bitter. Too broken to even have the slightest bit of sympathy for the piece of shit. A heartless, venomous cackle bubbles out of you in a way you’ve never experienced before. This is what he’s done...look what he’s turned you into.

“That’s hilarious. He’s a fucking wreck? Serves him right,” you slam the door shut and walk past her to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, your mouth going dry.

It’s the first time that Nat is finally taking in your figure, taking in the state of you as you move to the kitchen and tug the fridge door open. You’re less round than she remembers seeing you at the Halloween party weeks prior. You’ve got dark circles beneath your bottom lash lip and your stomach isn’t poking out as much as it used to. It worries her. “Y/N,” she tries again, her tone much softer this time as she approaches you. “What happened?”

You chug down the entire water bottle, letting the flush wash away any of the burning hunger in your stomach. Avoiding her gaze, you lean against the counter for support and take slow and steady breaths. Underneath all the feminine rage and anger, there’s insecurity ripping through your veins and cursing every inch of your body. You wish it into submission of a quiet hum as you glance up at her, wet lashes distracting her from the sniffle you make.

“What do you think?” Your sour tone isn’t directly for her; Nat knows that now as she steps closer.

Her arms are slowly approaching you as she tries to gently collect you into her embrace as your knees wobble, so shaky that you crumble to the ground as your mouth quivers and the dam breaks. She’s cooing as your ass meets the tile of the kitchen, your loud wails filling the quaint kitchen as she tries to hold you tight enough that the pieces of your soul don’t shatter.

“He left Nat,” you whimper, “He left me after we slept together for the first time. It took me so long to let someone in and,” you inhale the wet snot dripping from your nose. “I feel so embarrassed and so ashamed.” Your voice came out in slow, aching weeps as you looked down at your thighs.

All the body positivity, all the confidence in who you were faltering at the loss of a man who you weren’t even in a real relationship with. You were angry at yourself for even letting the thoughts to climb into your mind and rot your empowerment. “The man saw my body and then left…it really can shatter a person’s self-esteem if they aren’t careful,” you admitted and suddenly, Nat sees red. Nat sees this beautiful and vibrant person withering away in her arms and she can’t handle that. She won’t allow it when she’s grown so close with you.

So, she calls for re-enforcements, hatching a plan for the next evening to re-introduce you to bar life and get your mojo back. At 6:30 PM promptly the next day, she shows up as promised with Gemini and Aries in tow. Bags are tossed over their shoulders, and they’ve got bottles of Patron in hand as they grin lovingly. “Let’s ruin the fucker’s birthday,” Aries smirks as she places her bag down on the couch.

Hours later, Nat leads the way as you approach the porch of the Hard Deck and friendly, familiar faces greet you in excitement. “God damn Sunshine,” a kind firefighter from town hollers, eyeing your short black top and daisy dukes. Your toes are freshly painted, and legs moisturized, you’d felt like a real person for the first time since that night on Halloween. And now, three weeks later – you had just begun to smile.

“Thank you so much Benson,” you tuck a loose curl behind your ear and keep moving, the momentum bringing you through the door and into the Hard Deck. It’s in full swing when you glance around, slightly hoping that you don’t even notice him for the night. There’s a knot, continuing to twist and wind itself up and you find it a bit hard to breath just as you get to the bar top.

“There’s my girl,” Penny calls out, rushing around the opening to wrap you in the tightest hug she can muster up.

“Hi Pen,” you mumble back, enjoying the warmth of her embrace and pulling back to smile genuinely at her.

“Nat told me the gist of everything,” she pursed her lips with a nod to your friend, a mischievous glaze to her wise eyes. “You give me the look and I will ruin that man’s whole life, starting with his wallet.”

“That won’t be necessary Pen,” you squeeze her arms and pull back, “But I’ll take a tequila sunrise instead.” She nods with a wink, returning behind the bar to mix up the cocktails for you. You slide into one of the stools beside Aries when you hear it. The hoot of a Texan man gone wild. Him. You take a heavy breath, letting your gaze wander to his usual spot. Scratch that…your usual spot. And you wished you hadn’t because there he was with the men of the squadron, arm draped lazily over some skinny brunette’s shoulders as he pressed up against her ear.

“He looks real torn up Nat,” you seethe, turning back to your friend and pushing off your stool when she pushes you down.

“He only found the girl after he found out we were coming tonight,” Nat promises, taking a sip of her beer. “It’s sickening but I’ve got something to keep your mind off him,” she nods in the direction of the booth again. The weight of your purse burns against your hip when you square your shoulders and ready yourself to vomit when you turn back to the table. But your view is blocked by the frame of another man walking toward you, bright pearly whites gleaming as he approaches with an innocent smile.

“Just play along and watch the magic of a fury,” Nat’s voice trails off as you sit up a bit straighter and tilt your head.

“Hey Fanboy,” you greet the man a bit louder than your typical tone and he picks up the pace until he’s in front of you. He doesn’t stop his momentum though, not in the slightest as he leans forward and collects your cheeks in his hands to tug your mouth to his. His lips are silky smooth against yours, fresh minty breath refreshing as you breath him in. You cup the back of his head, nails scrapping against his scalp as he situates himself between your thighs.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he’s leaning back as he rests his hands on either side of you, caging you in. You’re left trying to catch your breath as you smile widely, enjoying the sensation of his mouth over the expanse of your neck. This is a show, and you are a reoccurring main character. You’ve played this game before and now more than ever, you need believability. So, you wrap your hands around his slender waist and giggle slightly as his teeth drag along the column of flesh. “Fanboy, stop mauling my niece,” your aunt quips playfully, in on the gag as you slot your hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Sorry Penny,” he pulls back, gazing at you lovingly. “She’s just irresistible.”

“Well, take your asses away from my counter. You’ll scare off customers,” Penny calls, her voice carrying easily over to the table in the back where there is a booth tucked away from the patrons. Your booth. Your booth that is now occupied.

“Want to take this party out to the bonfire?” Fanboy’s voice is low in your ear, causing you to shiver slightly and nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Eat your heart out Jake Seresin.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Speak of the devil. You peer around Fanboy’s shoulder to see the blond seething, fists balled up at his sides. His jaw is clenched so tight you though the muscle there would snap from any further tension.

“Can we help you?” you ask slowly, blinking at the man you had hopelessly fallen in love with. The man who slowly gained your trust and then ripped everything you knew out from under you. Fuck him.

“You serious Sunshine?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, eerily sharp. Your tone forces him back, hitting him square in the chest and a small flash of hurt creeps through his green eyes. Fuck him. “You don’t get to call me that…are you fucking serious?”

Anger ripples over Jake again and suddenly, Nat’s shoulder to shoulder beside you while Fanboy still hovers to your front. You feel their strength building inside of you as you stare at Jake’s strong and broad chest. “It’s my birthday.”

“And?”

Jake scoffs at you, his hands sliding over his sharp hipbones. His fingers flex and it takes every ounce of will power to not think about how they felt against your cunt. “And you are making out with Fanboy right in front of my face. On my birthday,” his hand goes up in emphasis as if it isn’t perfectly clear what the two of you had been doing.

“You’ve got some nerve.”

“Me?” he sounds shocked.

You scoff, “Yes, fucking you Bagman.” You’re shaking now. How dare he. How dare he show up to your side of the bar months ago and be charming. How dare he flirt hard enough and still be so sweet and unassuming that you let him take you on a terrible date and then save you from your horrible ex. How dare he take you to your favorite bookstore, let you share all your favorite tropes and stories with him while he just hummed along and happily held your selections until you reached the counter. How dare he told you about his home life, about his sisters. About his mom, about his tough relationship with his father and the vulnerability they’d earned from each other over the years. About his fears of flying in a tin can in the sky at trillions of miles an hour. How dare he let you down when you tried so hard not to let him in.

You slide of your stool, suddenly exhausted. Suddenly deflated and with no burning fire in you to fight back. You felt small again and you hated feeling small, especially here in public. You were tired of hiding, tired of pretending.

Maybe that was what got you here in the first place. And he sees it and he’s got this burning in his chest that feels like acid reflux but worse. He watches as you slowly dig through your purse, saddling up until you were right in front of him. You tug your hand free of the contents within the bag to reveal a small box, black leather smooth to the touch.

“I hate that I did this but I know how much you said you would only get a new one if it was the exact one,” your words are so gentle, he’s not sure you said anything really…not sure if he imagined it. You couldn’t be this gentle with him, not after what Jake had done. “I hate that you make me feel this way…and I hate that I still don’t hate you,” you confess, pushing the box into his hands with a mumbled Happy Birthday.

And then he no longer feels your warmth in his space, feeling vulnerable and insecure all over again. But this time, he’s in front of an entire bar of people who definitely prefer you to him and he’s feeling self-conscious, so he rushes to the bathroom, out of the view of patrons. His hands fiddle with the box, unsure if he should even open it. That burning in his chest is getting worse and he’s pretty sure it would be better if he just cut out his throat to save himself.

But curiosity is a killer and Jake Seresin is weak, so he pries the box open only to immediately let out a whimper at the contents inside. Nestled between the velvet material is a 1942 Hamilton WWII wristwatch, just like his grandfather’s that he lost on his last tour. The very watch he cried about the first time the two of you drank a bottle of red wine on his porch, wrapped up on the swing under a blanket. Fuck.

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#top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman #whatever this is universe!#hangman x sunshine #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin fic

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infiniteinquiries · 5 months

Text

♡ Coffee shop au in which ellie is a barista and knows you like her so she keeps making you increasingly terrible drinks to see how far she can push you ♡

pt. 2

-------

(pt. 1 here)

It had been a week since you'd graced The Wayfarer's Roastery. Ellie often thought it was a pretentious name, but here she was, working as a pretentious barista all the same.

It was the kind of set up you'd expect: white countertops and fake golden accents with a smattering of green succulents sprinkled in. You know, the kind of place you pay $8 for a cup of coffee because you're paying for "the vibe". Two comfortable seating areas that were always full, and minimalist back-pain inducing seating for everyone else.

She thought about you a few times that week, wondering if you'd perhaps leave a scathing review or just decide the shop was trash altogether and take your money elsewhere. But on the breaking dawn of a Sunday morning where Ellie was struggling to get through her opening shift, there you were.

You didn't stumble in this time. In fact, you looked quite composed. So put together in fact, Ellie wondered if your outfit and confident gait was some kind of ploy to impress her. Her cheek twitched in amusement, barely visible; you wouldn't have been the first.

"Mm," Ellie hummed in an almost sleepy tone, "back again I see. What can I do for ya?"

She watched as your eyes scanned the menu above her head. She tapped the countertop behind the register absent-mindedly.

"Could I get a Frappuccino? I know some places make those," you smiled, tilting your had sweetly. It was a bit much.

Ellie sneered, taking joy in the fact that she could put you in your place. "This isn't a Starbucks. Do you see a blender back here?" Her words dripped with condescension.

You looked at her, flustered and wide eyed. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know. Um...uh..." Ellie raised an eyebrow at you as you stammered embarassedly, glancing up at the line of customers forming behind you that signaled the start of the morning rush.

Ellie loved messing with women that tried to impress her. She took pride in the fact that she wasn't an easy catch, and being with her wasn't for the weak, especially with her fucked up sense of humor.

"Just...whatever you recommend," you blurted out in her direction. She took note of how your eyes avoided hers, veil of confidence gone.

"Alright then," she sighed, trying to tamp down the urge to laugh as best as possible, "that'll be $8.50".

Ellie's eyes tracked your hands as you dug into your jacket for your wallet. She zoned out as she thought about what monstrosity she could deliver to you next. She was grounded in reality once again when she heard the sound of coins scattering on the countertop.

She coughed to stifle a laugh, biting her lip to keep the sound from escaping. You looked panicked, and she decided that as much as she loved messing with girls like you, she didn't want to ruin your entire day.

Ellie began to calmly set the coins into her palm one at a time, a contrast to your frenzied gathering. Once she finished, she unclasped her fist full of change into your hands, held out pathetically like you were begging for something. The coins were warm as they left her grasp.

"I'll get on that right away," she smirked. A second barista approached the cash register to address the long line as Ellie scooted over to the prep area.

During your exploding wallet dilemma, she had come up with the perfect idea. Subtle enough to taste off, but not to the point she'd get in trouble for it. She whipped you up an iced London fog latte with a tiny dash of lemonade. Something about that combination just felt so wrong it amused her.

She approached the pick up counter, tempted to mispronounced your name but deciding against it.

As she noticed you still averting her gaze, she glanced out of the corner of her eye to see you sluggishly lift yourself from one of the only comfortable chairs and take your drink, mumbling an almost incoherent "thank you".

She giggled quietly to herself as she watched you quickly exit the shop into the cold air, briskly disappearing around the corner once again.

She wondered if you saw the small cheeky note she etched in sharpie under the logo of the roastery that read:

♡ Ellie

#tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #coffee shop au #barista au #tlou ellie #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams the last of us #tlou2 ellie #the last of us part 2 #ellie x you #orig

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agent-cupcake · 1 month

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Flashbang

Chapter 10 - Whisper

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: The Buggy Pirates set sail once again. Unfortunately, tensions on the ship are high. Good thing you're there to help Captain Buggy relieve a little stress.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubious consent, violence/blood, rough sex

Word Count: 13.5k

Notes: "I guess it's curtains for you" my god he is adorable please someone send help I am in loooooove. Happy Easter my friends I hope you like this one we're in the home stretch now.

“Come in, sit down, sweet angel, leave me all your tears Tell me all of your troubles, the weight of your short years Love is only a river drowning all of your cheer Sell me all of your laughter, and I will take some of your fear”

Awareness and clarity greeted you as soon as the slit of steely gray morning sunshine hit your face, peering through the edges of the blinds in Captain Buggy’s cabin. Part of you had already been awake, anticipating the dawn of a new day. Back at sea. Business as usual. Quiet the dread, hush your nerves. You could do this, and it would be fine.

It was hard though. Really hard. You didn’t want to get up. If you just stayed in bed, you could pretend that the previous day hadn’t happened. But you couldn’t do that. The thought of his displeasure if you didn’t get him breakfast while it was warm was reason enough to push you into action.

Buggy didn’t so much as stir when you extracted yourself from beneath his arm to get up. He slept in a haphazard splay with his limbs thrown to all four corners of the bed and his mouth wide open as he snored. That calmed you, if only for a moment. The mundane, vulnerable charm of seeing him sleep made your worries melt, overtaken with a borderline painful affection. Rubbing crust out of your eye and shivering in the morning cold, you wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, to let him warm you back up.

Your thoughts quickly soured, the previous night rearing his ugly head. Thinking of your confession, raw and honest as it was, seemed so embarrassing now. So dramatic. So pathetic.

That was just like you, wasn’t it? You could never quite do or say the right thing when the moment called for it. You just piled up embarrassments and regrets and then hated yourself a little more afterwards.

But what could you do about it? Nothing.

Rifling through your clothes, you found a dress with long sleeves to cover the rope burns on your wrists, picking out thick, tall socks to cover the matching burns on your ankles. It seemed normal now, but it was odd that nothing of yours remained in the berth where you first bunked. Your things, few as they were, had gotten lost in the mess of Buggy’s clutter. Your clothes, significantly fortified after shopping, were hung up right along his. There was something domestic about it, although he probably would have called it practical. You were where he needed you to be, there wasn’t anything sentimental about it.

After tugging a brush through your hair, you styled it like Pippa taught you, even coating your eyelashes in mascara. No bandana, but you were getting used to that. It was strange how many things a person could get used to, losing old habits in the grind of day to day routine.

The previous day and night felt an awful lot like a bad dream, but that didn’t mean you could pretend it hadn’t happened. The proof was a chair tipped onto its side in the dining area, the table pushed into the corner, and the pile of cut ropes coiled on the floor with matching burns on your wrists and ankles. The proof was knowing why you had left Lafitte, and what was coming. Buggy hadn’t mentioned what he told the crew, but they had to know something.

You hoped that everything would be familiar as the crew fell back into the roles you originally knew them in, but when you journeyed down into the galley for breakfast, you found that things were more strange than ever. Before Lafitte, you had been wary of the ship and its crew because it was new, because it was frightening and alien. After a handful of weeks aboard, you had come around to mentally recontextualizing what was once intimidating and unknown. Like memorizing the features of a friend to the point you could no longer imagine them as a stranger. Up and down became oriented differently, the passageways and narrow ladder staircases no longer the cramped maze you used to think of them as. The geography of your surroundings changed as you did, because you had changed. You knew many things you didn’t know before, and the innocent veil that shrouded your new life had been lifted. Funny to think like that. A murderer’s innocence. And yet that lost, naive murderer was more recognizable than the person who returned to Captain Buggy’s quarters after having spent the night in his bed.

And what of the girl before? The sickly fool who lived in fear of her father? When you thought of that girl, meek and nervous and miserable, you didn’t recognize her either. Her thoughts, her feelings—you couldn’t understand them anymore than you could comprehend the woman who wore form-fitting clothes and makeup and told her dad that she had run away. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t be.

If none of them were recognizable, what was left? Whose was the life you lived now? Whose thoughts were the ones making your heart heavy and head ache? What were you supposed to be after everything that made you you cracked and crumbled and scattered? In the mess you’d made, what remained?

You didn’t like those questions, and you didn’t like the answers.

Setting the breakfast tray on the table, you picked Buggy’s chair up before going into the bedroom. He slept just as soundly as before.

“Good morning, Captain Buggy!” you called with a cheer you didn’t feel, opening the blinds. The sky reflected your mood back to you, a cover of clouds blanketing the world in angsty silvery sunlight.

You turned around to see Buggy drag a pillow over his face to shield it from the light.

“You have to wake up, Captain.”

“I am awake,” he grumbled, muffled through the pillow.

“I got breakfast,” you said, hoping to entice him up with food.

You couldn’t hear what he said exactly, but it sounded like, “You’re breakfast.”

You frowned, trying to think of how to wake him up. Most mornings on Lafitte had been lazy mornings, you had forgotten how difficult Buggy was to rouse. “There’s coffee.”

He moved the pillow, looking up at you with one squinting, sleepy eye.

“Why do you never bring me breakfast in bed?” he asked.

“You need the right type of tray,” you said, grabbing his robe and holding it out for him. “Otherwise it’s a huge mess.”

“A few crumbs aren’t the worst thing these sheets’ll get on ‘em,” he mumbled.

Before you could think of a good argument against that, he groaned dramatically, sitting up and stretching with his arms above his head, yawning wide and scratching his chest. He had a way of making the act of getting out of bed seem like it took a great deal of effort, although you suspected some of it was for show because as soon as he was up, he took his robe casually, swinging it on as he trudged into the other room.

Buggy sat down, paying no mind to the ropes or the awkward rearrangement of furniture. You set up his breakfast and then your own, and didn’t mention those things either.

There were some things you needed to know. Questions that burned up in your mind as you picked through your meal.

“What am I supposed to do now, Captain Buggy?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Although you were the one with the nasty haze of anesthesia clouding up your brain, he was the one who looked glazed over and exhausted, blinking once and then over and over, clearly trying to wake himself up.

“What was that?”

“I mean… My job. Um…” You frowned, not sure how to phrase what you meant without embarrassing yourself. During the month in Lafitte, you had performed some of the same tasks as you had when you first joined his crew, but that had been vacation. Now, it was back to work. You weren’t sure what that meant for you, or how you fit in within the crew anymore. If you even could claim to be a member of the crew. He had never actually said you were promoted out of your position as hostage.

“Your job?” Buggy repeated. “It’s the same as before. I’m not gonna give you special treatment just ‘cause you’re cute. You do whatever I tell you to do. Got it?”

“I didn’t mean I wanted special treatment,” you said, frowning. “I wasn’t sure because… Well, things are… different.”

“Better get used to it if you really wanna be a pirate,” Buggy said, pointing at you with his fork before shoving it into his mouth. “You don’t get anywhere by standing still.” There was wisdom in that statement, diminished as it was by his mouthful of food.

“Yes, Captain Buggy,” you said, returning to your breakfast.

Maybe that had been the wrong question. What you really wanted to know was where you stood with him. Sure, the two of you had made up last night. Twice, actually. But no mention was made of your conversation or confession beyond him telling you to repeat it. I love you.

Randall said he loved you.

Dad said he loved you, and he loved Mom.

So what did that love mean if it was betrayed just as easily as it was given?

Love as respect. Love as obedience. Love as service. Love as a lifeline because you knew absolutely that you could not live without him. Desperate and sickly in the way it thickened and heated your blood, dangerously and aggressively needful when your thoughts spiraled around scattered fragments of feeling and memory. And yet, so, so tender. You looked at him and something in you softened. Your strange, flamboyant, cruel captain.

He sat in his chair with his wild blue hair half tamed into a tail, scowling at his plate and shoveling food into his mouth without any thought given to manners. His profile was dominated by the red bulb of his nose and his teeth were yellowed and he needed a shave and he was truly, genuinely cursed and yet you couldn’t imagine wanting anybody else.

Was that who you were now? A girl dominated, defined even, by that single feeling. Longing, lust, love.

You weren’t sure you liked that answer very much either.

The weather didn’t help anybody’s mood, least of all your own. By the time you got lunch and brought it to Buggy’s office, the silvery canopy had congealed into a gloomy cover of thick gray clouds which oscillated between dribbling out a light rain or dropping low as an annoying mist. You could only pull your jacket so close, the real problem was how a humid chill could work itself beneath your clothes and skin and settle in the hollow places inside. It left you shaky, your head pounding with a relentless headache.

Buggy said that he told the crew all about your “Daddy Situation,” although he hadn’t elaborated much. Thinking about it made your chest clench painfully. The anxiety wasn’t all in your head, you didn't think. There was a tension in the air, something uncomfortable lurking amidst groups of glaring crew members. For the most part, you had never been accepted. Some of the pirates liked you well enough, but not everybody. That seemed to be doubly true now.

Memories of the night you had been attacked kept coming to mind. You thought you had shoved them back into the deepest part of your brain to be forgotten. You didn’t want to think of it. But whenever you turned and realized somebody was standing in your blind spot, that same frantic panic flared up. Even though Buggy had assured you that it was Dad who sent them, you couldn’t believe that. Not really.

Instead of sitting and waiting for Buggy with all of those terrible thoughts swirling in your head, you left the tray on his desk and wandered into the map room, looking at the map laid out on the table to distract yourself. It was one of Dad’s maps, the ones he had been working on so intently in the months before you left. His pet project. You could, generally, read a map. That is, you knew what the different symbols and landmarks were supposed to mean.

You found Lafitte, tracing it to Barley. You were very far from home.

“You know, babydoll,” Buggy said as a way to announce himself as he opened the door with a little whoosh of breezy mist. The rain was light, but even that seemed miserable out there on the deck. “I’m starting to think I understand what you feel like.” He shut the door, flicking water off his hands.

“Captain?”

“I’m completely soaked.”

“Oh! I got you a towel,” you said, pulling it from over your shoulder and holding it out to him. It was only after he’d taken it that you realized what he just said. “Wait, that was…” you frowned at him, flushing.

“What are you doing waiting in here?” he asked, taking off his coat and tossing it at you to hang up. You managed to catch it, but only barely. “I thought you can’t read.”

“I… I can read,” you told him, hanging up his coat to dry. “It’s difficult though, and I get a headache.” You wiped your damp hands off on your skirt and returned to the map. “Lafitte is here, right?” You pointed to the spot where it was labeled. “Where are we going now?”

“We’re going…” Buggy came up behind you, reaching around to tap on a little spot on the edge of a small island. It was near enough to Lafitte, you thought. Scale was difficult for you to grasp. “Right here. With this weather, I say we’ll get there by tomorrow.”

“Why there?” you asked, leaning in to get a better look. The village of Saline looked completely unassuming except for the fact that it was specifically marked.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Buggy told you, leaving the map room to go into his office. “It’s even tinier and shittier than the dump I fished you out of. It’s out of the way, too. Nobody in their right mind would think it was a good place to set up shop. Except for daddy dearest. When he redrew trade routes that involved a stop in Barley, suddenly it wasn’t so out of the way. It’s still a little shithole, but you know what’s good about little shitholes that nobody gives a damn about?” He fell into his chair, splaying over it like a king on a throne. “You can get away with setting up a drug lab right in the open and nobodies gonna care. Hell, the townies and local Marines welcome the extra scratch flowing in.”

“A drug lab,” you repeated, your eyebrows furrowing. Of all of the unpleasant truths about your father revealed to you in your time since joining Captain Buggy, that one was still the hardest to believe. You knew Dad experimented with that sort of thing, he had always enjoyed chemistry and medicine, but it was difficult for you to wrap your mind around the idea that he would involve himself in such a horrible enterprise.

“Yeah, he wasn’t gonna put it in his own backyard,” Buggy said, pulling his tray towards him. “He’s not a complete moron.”

You frowned, a new question occurring to you. “If it’s a place he knows of, why are we going there?” you asked, following into his office to take your own seat. “He’ll track us down immediately.”

“No need,” Buggy said. “I already gave him an invite to the show.”

Your heart dropped, your breath catching.

“What’s with the face?” Buggy asked, frowning at your lack of enthusiasm. “You’re the reason we have to premiere so soon. Believe me, these freaks need more time to get their acts right. But,” he shrugged, “the show must go on. And before you get all nervous, don’t worry. I have a very special role lined up just for you.”

“But I don’t—I can’t do…” You trailed off, a new form of anxiety racking your raw nerves.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you can’t do anything,” he said, waving his hand. “That’s fine, dolls aren’t meant to do things. They’re there to look at and be played with, right? It’s perfect for you.”

Pushing all of the air from your chest as if to physically expel your doubt, you nodded. You trusted Buggy, that’s what you told him last night. You had to trust him.

Later that afternoon, you distracted yourself with busy work in Buggy’s office. He was busy, most of your chores were done, and the rain continued to insist upon its miserable wetness so there wasn’t much else you could think to do. You didn’t want to interact with anybody on the crew. Out of sight, out of mind.

Being alone wasn’t great either, especially now that you had the idea of performing to further pile upon your list of things to worry about. Every single time you had eyes on you, you managed to embarrass yourself, and you didn’t think this time would be any different.

Your brain got stuck in a loop on that one, trying to think of ways to make an appeal to Buggy that he would accept. Knowing it wouldn’t matter what you said, you wouldn’t change his mind. Wanting desperately to please him. Knowing you would only disappoint him. That endless feedback loop of anxiety continued on and on until there was nothing else.

“Babydoll, you in here?”

You were aware that somebody was calling for you, but it seemed very distant. Difficult to connect with.

“Hello?”

You heard footsteps approaching, followed by a pair of legs entering your field of view.

“There you are, girly. You okay?”

You blinked.

“Marty?” you asked, looking up at him, confused and disoriented. Had he called you babydoll? Did he even know your real name? “I’m fine, I guess I just got… lost in thought.”

“I was hoping I could borrow you for a moment,” he told you. “Rather, if I could borrow your hands. I’m trying to fix a leak, but I can’t get these big hams in there to remove the plate.” He held up his hands with a friendly grin, and you relaxed. It was just Marty. He was your friend.

“Of course,” you said, standing up. You had been sitting on the floor so long that your body was stiff, although you weren’t entirely sure when you even got there.

If Marty found your behavior odd, he didn’t say anything, leading you from the quarter deck and below to a room slotted next to the galley. Dark and cramped and stinking of grease and filth and old metal and rotting wood, you could readily say you did not like being in there. But it was something you could do to be useful.

Marty held the light while you groped around where he indicated. Even for your hand, the space was tight, you couldn’t imagine him trying to fit in.

“Do you feel that little latch?” he asked.

You carefully ran your fingers along the back of the plate until you found something that seemed somewhat latch-like. Hopefully. “I think so.”

“If you press on it,” Marty told you, “the plate should come loose.”

With some effort, probably more than was warranted, you pressed on it until you heard a metallic scrape, the latch releasing the plate from its frame. Marty set the light down and removed the panel to reveal the geometric grid of pipes. You stepped back, wiping your hands.

“Would you mind holding the light for me?” Marty asked.

“Of course not,” you said, picking up the lamp to shine into the cavity.

“Thanks, girly.”

“Of course! Um… actually, I…” You hesitated, looking around. It was stupid to be paranoid. Not only was it ridiculously loud with the rushing water and the galley kitchen on the other side of the wall, but there was no place for somebody to hide. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“The other people on the crew… They hate me, don’t they?”

He straightened out, looking at you with a frown. “Would’ja hand me that wrench?” he asked, gesturing to his tools. You picked up the heavy wrench, handing it over. Marty hefted it, looking thoughtful, before turning back to the pipes. “Some of them aren’t too happy with Captain Buggy’s decisions, that’s it,” he said. “It’ll all be settled soon.”

“They think it would be better if I weren’t here,” you said bluntly. “I’ve caused a lot of trouble for everyone.”

Marty looked at you, his eyes intense. “Has somebody threatened you?”

“No, it’s just…” You frowned, thinking of the most diplomatic way to phrase it. “I think somebody hired men… Two weeks ago in Lafitte, I was… Attacked.”

“Pippa told me about that. But it was the Surgeon who sent ‘em, wasn’t it?”

“Captain Buggy says it was,” you agreed. “You know, to get to him. He says I shouldn’t worry about it, but I don’t… It’s not that I disagree with him, just that I’m not sure. Dad—the Surgeon—I don’t think he would want to kill me.” You rolled your dry lip between your teeth, your shoulders tense. Thinking of that hurt. Thinking about the fear, thinking you were going to die, getting hit. It hurt. “And I don’t know who else would have done something like that.”

“You think somebody on the crew hired men to kill you?” Marty asked, leaning in to talk in a hushed voice despite the circumstances. “Girly, what you’re suggesting is…” He shook his head. “If somebody on the crew hired a hit on you, Captain Buggy’ll kill ‘em.”

“I know,” you said, wincing at the idea. “I’m not accusing anyone. It’s just that I’ve got a feeling like… Captain Buggy doesn’t believe me, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

“You sure they were hired, not just a couple of thugs?”

“They said they were. I remember…” You swallowed hard. Thinking of that night was difficult, it made your hands shake and something very cold and mean swell up in your chest. You covered up the crusted scar on your neck with your hand, protecting it. “They said they were told to make it look like an accident.”

“What did they look like?”

“One of them was really tall,” you said. “The other had a gold tooth.”

“You’re absolutely certain of that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, girly. I’ll ask around for you, as long as you keep out of trouble, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled fondly. “Anyone who doesn’t like you clearly just doesn’t know you yet.”

Out of everything, that took you aback. You had the wild impulse to hug him, and you might have done so if you weren’t holding the lamp. Instead you just blinked away the sting of tears. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he said, returning to his work. “If nothing else, you’re a nice change of scenery from the rest of these crusty bastards.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, smiling despite knowing he was just being nice. “Pippa is the prettiest person I’ve ever known.”

Marty nodded. “Yeah, if you like the type of broad that’ll step on your balls.”

“Ba—oh, that’s horrible!” you stuttered out, laughing in surprise at the crass comment.

“It is,” Marty agreed emphatically. “Some blokes enjoy it, but I like a softer type of girl.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly not as sure that he was joking about Pippa. “Yeah, I-I don’t think I’d like that either.”

He laughed and shook his head, checking through all the pipes to make sure none of the others needed repair. After he finished that, he put the wrench back into his tool bag and pushed the metal plate back into place.

“Um, Marty?” you said, a sudden and very important thought coming to mind. “If you find anything out, I think… Captain Buggy wouldn’t like it if he knew I told you, you know? So if you wouldn’t mind not telling him that, if you can, I… I don’t want him to get upset.”

“Don’t worry about that, girly. Mum’s the word,” Marty said, rolling up his tools and slinging them over his shoulder. “Well then, shall we go back up?”

You followed Marty up the ladder into the berth before mustering the courage to ask.

“Does Pippa really step on men’s… you know.”

Marty looked at you for a second before bursting out laughing. You weren’t sure why the question was funny, but he had a way of laughing that made you want to laugh too. It wasn’t like he was laughing at you, just that he was generally jovial.

“You oughta ask her,” he told you when that died down, patting your shoulder.

The two of you parted ways there and the weather was still awful when you got to the upper deck, but you felt lighter.

It was around the same time the next day that you sat in Buggy’s office while he argued with his officers in the map room. Granted, arguments with Captain Buggy were usually more of a one-sided thing. It was severe enough of a discussion that you could hear several raised voices through the door separating the map room and his office, not just his.

Another day of bad weather meant another day of unhappy pirates and another cold afternoon spent shivering and with a horrible headache. The weather was, apparently, the point of main contention for them too. Rain really put a damper on acts of piracy.

You sat very still as you waited, your mind drifting. Buggy had been too tired to keep you up very late last night, but you had slept poorly. Rather than having nightmares about the past, you had dream after dream of Captain Buggy getting angry with you, and the anxiety hadn’t faded throughout the day. Crina said you would upset him again, that it was inevitable. Even if you didn’t do anything, you would disappoint him. That was the only reliable thing you could do.

If the weather weren’t so miserable, maybe you would have been able to pull yourself out of that particular spiral, but it wasn’t, and you couldn't. Instead, you sat with your shoulders curled inwards, your hands folded in your lap. It was better to not think about anything at all.

“You’re dismissed,” Buggy eventually exclaimed, his voice raised enough to get your attention. You could hear his irritation, and then he threw the doors into his office open loud enough that you nearly jumped out of your chair, and you could see his irritation. “Get out, all of you,” Buggy demanded when they didn’t immediately leave. You stood up, instinctively obeying that tone of voice, but he gave you a look. “Not you. You stay.”

For a moment, you saw the group in the other room as they left. Mohji was there, of course. Without Richie. You hadn’t seen much of the lion at all, he probably liked the rain as much as any other cat. Crina was unmistakable with her dark hair and loose dark clothes, but she was turned away so you couldn’t smile at her.

You hadn’t seen much of Crina recently. Buggy got irritated whenever you mentioned spending time with her. He didn’t say what she did to earn his ire, and you weren’t going to ask, but you hoped they made up soon.

The door better his office and the map room slammed shut, abruptly halting that thought. Buggy crossed the room and collapsed into his chair with his head resting on his hand and eyes shut. You stared at him in an attempt to get a read on his mood, but you couldn’t. He sounded upset, but now he looked tired. You had no idea what to expect or say.

After what felt like an uncomfortable lifetime of waiting, Buggy raised his head, rolling his neck with a big groan, stretching his arms out.

“Captain Buggy?” you ventured. “Are you alright?”

He looked at you, and then he winced dramatically. “Agh, don't look at me like that. It makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean that you’re gonna take off whatever you’re wearing under that skirt and come over here so I can relieve a little stress. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be surrounded by idiots all day?”

You stared at him, hoping that he would laugh and say it was a joke. But he didn’t.

“C’mon, hurry it up.” Buggy snapped his fingers to make his point.

When his eyes were hard like that, you knew arguing was a bad idea. You swallowed down your nerves and nodded, quickly circling around his desk.

“What did I say?” he asked, exasperated. “All of this,” he gestured to your legs, “off. Now.”

“Sir, these… I’m wearing tights, I can’t just take them off.”

He sighed angrily.

“But that’s fine,” you said before he could get upset, stepping out of your boots and bracing your feet for the chilly floor. Buggy watched you shimmy out of your tights and underwear. There was no sensual way to do it. The best you could manage was to get it all done without revealing yourself, leaving a rolled up bunch of fabric laying over your boots before standing up.

“Sweater too,” he said, taking off his gloves.

You hesitated. “Captain, it’s… it’s really cold in here and I’m...”

All he had to do was go still, looking at you with a gruesome almost-smile, to make you realize how serious he was. Wanting very badly to appease him, you crossed your arms and pulled your sweater off over your head. Your nipples were already painfully stiff from the cold, poking against the flimsy fabric of your camisole. You thought, given the heavy fabric of the sweater, it would be okay if you didn’t wear a bra. Now it just felt lewd, like you had been expecting something would happen.

“You always make me feel so bad about this,” Buggy said, grabbing you and pulling you to stand between his legs. “Like I’m deflowering you all over again. Which, sure it’s, okay yeah, it’s a little hot, but I’d love it if you could just let it happen for once.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you muttered, unable to look at him.

“You don’t look embarrassed,” he said, shoving your camisole up over your chest. “Shit, you are cold, huh? Does it hurt when they get that hard or… Whatever.” The cruel brush of cool air and Buggy’s attention made you squirm uncomfortably, but all you could do was hold onto his shoulders, squeezing your eye shut. The warmth of his mouth on your nipple made you gasp loudly. It felt good, even if you tried to ignore the sensation, even if it would be so much better if you could control yourself. No matter how humiliated you were, your body responded to him.

Buggy’s other hand delved beneath your skirt, pressing between your legs to force them apart before following the unobstructed path upward. When you squirmed, anxiously pressing your thighs together to stop him, his teeth dug into the sensitive flesh around your nipple.

You yelped in surprise as much as pain, but his arm around your waist kept you where he wanted. Giving up on escape, you clamped a hand over your face while he laughed.

“I wouldn’t worry about the noise thing,” Buggy said, half muffled against your chest. “You sound like you’re getting railed when you’re having trouble getting your boots on, I doubt they can tell the difference.”

“That hurt,” you said.

“You love it,” Buggy said. He didn’t give you any time to respond before he switched to the other nipple. No matter what he said, you didn’t love the biting, but the softness of his tongue, you liked that. You liked that a lot.

Enough that when his palm landed flat between your thighs with a harsh slap, you were too relaxed to have any level of defense from the harsh pain.. Your sharp, piercing yelp filled his office, quickly followed by his laughter.

“That was louder than I thought it would be,” Buggy said, amused. You whimpered, squirming uncomfortably. “You know, sweetheart, it’s awful hard to believe you don’t like pain when you make noises like that.”

“Captain Buggy, that hurt,” you said, although the most distressing feeling was the sense of betrayal. You didn’t understand why he slapped you. You had done everything he asked, it didn’t seem fair.

Rather than give any explanation, his fingers curled, gently tracing the seam between your pussy’s outer lips until he could skim over your clit. Your body unintentionally rocked forward, your breath catching.

“Aw poor little babydoll,” he said, zeroing in on your clit to rub tight little circles. You knew better than to try to close your legs, so you went up, standing on your toes in an attempt to escape him. Buggy’s hand just followed you. “Does the mean, mean pirate mistreat you? You’d think you’d be used to that by now.”

“Stop, please,” you whimpered, shaking your head. To your relief, he did stop, his hand retreating from under your skirt. You relaxed, your feet falling flat on the floor. “Thank you.”

When you tried to step away from him, Buggy pulled you back with a fistful of your skirt. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he teased, spitting onto his hand before it returned between your legs.

“Captain Buggy, please,” you begged, although you were too afraid he might slap you again to try and physically stop him. Slick now, his fingers were able to glide over your clit, pressing just hard enough to make you shake.

“Would it kill you to admit how much you love this?” he asked. “What’s the point in pretending, babydoll? Just say it.”

“Say… what?” you asked softly, unable to meet his eye.

“How much you want this,” Buggy said. “You probably spend your whole day thinking about what you want me to do to you, praying that Captain Buggy will give you even a scrap of attention. No wonder you ditched the bra, you were hoping this would happen.”

“No, I-I didn’t,” you said, too overwhelmed by the embarrassment and pleasure as he continued to rub your clit to come up with any convincing response. Being touched shut your brain off, it was all you could think about.

“No, Captain Buggy,” Buggy said in a high pitched voice, mimicking you. “I would never think dirty things, I’m an innocent little angel!”

You heaved a big, unhappy breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “That’s not what I-” Your objection cut off abruptly with a breathy moan, a sound of surprise when his fingers abandoned your clit to suddenly slam into you.

Buggy laughed loudly and there was nothing you could really say to make a case for yourself, the moan proved his point better than anything else. Buggy settled for that, pulling your chest back to his face so he could take your nipple in his mouth. That drew a shocked moan out of you, your hips bucking against his hand as his fingers slowly pulled out.

“Captain Buggy,” you said, meaning it as a protest. It didn’t really sound like a protest.

He bit you again, his teeth digging into the soft flesh around your nipple like he had on the other. You yelped, trying to escape, but he held you in place. The only thing you accomplished was rocking back and forth, fucking yourself on his fingers. He laughed again, the sound vibrating against your chest as he soothed the sore skin with his tongue.

“Hurts!” you whined. “Please, it… it really…” You couldn’t keep talking, having to bite your lip as he curled his fingers. Maddeningly massaging them against your g-spot until your thighs trembled, your pussy dripping around his hand.

“I noticed something,” Buggy said, pulling away from your chest with an uncomfortably wet sound. “I know girls are sensitive here,” he curled his fingers against the spongy spot to illustrate his point, dragging a pathetic sort of whimper out of your throat, “but you… It’s like an instant win button, I push it and you get wetter.” He repeated the motion, smiling in amusement at your body’s uncontrollable reaction. “I can feel you getting wetter. It really makes me wonder if you were ever meant to be anything other than a glorified flesh light.”

You covered your face with your hands, burning with shame. And arousal. You couldn’t manage them both, they just existed in complete and agonizing contrast to each other, rendering you stupid and mute. “Please stop, Captain Buggy,” you muttered.

“Why? Don’cha wanna come, babydoll?”

You lowered your hand, peeking at him through your eyelashes. As soon as you did, he slammed his fingers into you. Once, twice, three times and then-

“Beg me.”

You opened your mouth to try and get something out, although your mind was too scrambled to know what it would be.

Somebody knocked.

Buggy’s hand froze, his body going stiff. Panicked by the sound, you squirmed, trying to fix your clothes, but he pinched your nipple to force you still. Both of your breasts had indents of his teeth, even the slightest touch elicited a sharp sort of pain.

The person knocked again.

Buggy closed his eyes. “Go away,” he shouted, a growl in his voice.

“Sir? It’s an important matter,” Pippa called through the door.

Pippa?

Buggy seemed curious as well, leaning back.

“How important?” he asked.

“Very important, sir,” someone else called. Was that Marty? “It’s mutiny, sir.”

Buggy’s hand retreated from between your legs, and he didn’t stop you from pulling your camisole down.

“Fine. Come in,” Buggy snapped, grabbing you around the middle and pulling you into his lap as he sat back. You tensed up, trying to wriggle away, but he didn’t let you go. It was easier to not fight it, to curl into him to hide the way your nipples pushed against the camisole.

Pippa came in, Marty close behind.

“You said mutiny?” Buggy asked.

“Yes, Captain Buggy, I—” Marty cut himself off upon seeing you, averting his gaze.

“Spit it out,” Buggy said, like you weren’t in a compromising and humiliating position. When you squirmed in discomfort, his grip on you tightened a little, just enough to make you wince. “Pretend she’s not here.”

“She told me about getting attacked while we were in Lafitte,” Pippa said, which was, you were pretty sure, a lie. Was this Marty’s plan to get around Buggy’s ire? It was true that Buggy liked Pippa, he probably wouldn’t mind if you told her about what happened. “I didn’t know anything about guys like that, so I asked Marty if he knew anything.”

“Pippa mentioned a fella with a gold tooth and his tall buddy,” Marty said. “That rung a bell ‘cause I lost some money to a pair of guys just like that a few weeks back. I didn’t know they took hits, but it doesn’t surprise me neither. They’re real street thugs, the kind you ask to rough up your ex wife or to get the guy who cheated you playing cards.”

“They were thugs,” Buggy corrected. “I doubt they’re much of anything after what I did to ‘em.”

“Yes, sir. The point is that I remembered they were pretty chummy with Ivo and them. When I started pokin’ around asking if anyone owed money to ‘em or whatnot, the bastard damn near socked me.”

“So?” Buggy raised an impatient eyebrow.

“And then I asked Ivo,” Pippa said.

“Did he punch you too?” Buggy asked dryly.

“No, he told me that he paid these two guys to kill her and make it look like an accident.”

You went stiff.

“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Buggy asked.

“Yes, and men don’t lie to me,” Pippa said, grinning in a way that made you fully believe that assertion.

Buggy nodded, considering that information. “This is all very interesting,” he said after a tense moment, “but I’m curious as to where this initiative came from.” He gave you an accusatory look, his eyes full of the anger you feared. It didn’t matter if Ivo had done it, you had gone behind his back instead of accepting what he told you. Of course he would be mad, you knew better.

“You asked me to keep an eye on her, Captain,” Pippa cut in before you could think of a way to explain. “And what I’ve noticed is that Ivo’s been keeping an eye on her too.”

Buggy frowned. You could see him thinking about it, maybe trying to decide if he was going to be mad at you or not. After a moment, he made an angry sound, gritting his teeth.

“Alright. Let's get this over with. I want everybody on the deck,” Buggy ordered, pointing at Marty. “Make sure Pin’s ready just in case and, oh yeah, make sure Ivo’s there, blondie.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said, leaving.

Buggy unceremoniously dropped you out of his lap, standing up. “Can’t a clown catch a goddamn break? I swear, just one thing after another.”

He pulled his hair out from the kerchief so he could pull it into two tails and let it hang through his hat. That, more than anything, made you realize how serious this was. Even while arguing with his officers, he had been dressed down. But now he was going to go out there as Captain Buggy.

Marty said that if somebody hired a hit on you, they would die.

While you put on your sweater, Buggy pulled on his coat, straightening it with angry, rough movements. You struggled, putting tights back on was even more difficult than getting them off.

“And you know what?” Buggy continued to mutter under his breath, talking more to himself than to you. “I knew that there was something weird about those guys. It makes no sense that the Surgeon would send a coupla hack thugs after me. I’d have seen it if I didn’t have so much other shit to deal with. But he is dead wrong if he thinks he can make a fool out of me. Tryna steal my shit, spitting on my generosity.” Buggy pulled his gloves on and left, ignoring your continued struggle trying to get your clothes sorted out.

Giving up on the tights, you just dug your panties out of the rolled up wad of fabric, pulling them up your legs and shoving your feet into your boots without socks, scrambling to follow him through the map room and onto the deck.

Marty had rung the bell, so most of the crew was already gathered. Most of them were familiar faces. Mohji, Newt, you even saw Crina, wrapped in a purple shawl with her arms crossed.

The rain had stopped, retreating into an uncomfortable mist. The violating chill almost made you turn back around to put your tights on, but you didn’t want to miss anything.

Or maybe you did.

“Ivo, just the guy I was looking for!” Buggy called as he went down the steps from the quarter deck, his voice aggressively friendly. You followed behind him, shrinking away when Ivo cast a quick look in your direction. No matter how much he disliked you, it was hard to believe that he would want you dead. That was such an extreme, it didn’t make sense.

“Captain Buggy,” Ivo acknowledged, “what can I do for you?”

“How are those friends of yours holding up?”

“Sir?”

“Two guys, like to attack girls for money… That’s not ringing a bell? One of ‘em had a gold tooth. Last I saw, they were in rough shape.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ivo, buddy,” Buggy said, walking towards the man. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. That whole face situation you’ve got is hilarious. So I’m gonna ask you again, and you’re gonna tell me the truth. Did you or did you not hire two guys to steal something that belongs to me?”

Ivo looked at Pippa. “You told him, didn’t you.” He said, not a question.

Pippa shrugged unapologetically, a little cold. You thought about what Marty said about her, and when she looked like that, you could believe it. “She’s my friend.”

“I hired professionals to take care of a problem,” Ivo said, looking at Buggy. “That girl’s got you under some sort of spell, she has ever since the beginning. I was the only one willing to do something about it.”

“So… yes, you did,” Buggy summarized. He sighed. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Captain Buggy, please wait,” you cried, rushing forward.

“Not now,” he snapped.

“Don’t kill him, please,” you begged quietly. “If he thought that it was…that he had to do this for the safety of the crew and for you, then he didn’t really think he was doing something wrong. Killing him maybe will… if other people feel the same, it will just…” Make them hate you more.

Buggy gave you a hard look, his expression unreadable. He turned away, addressing the gathered crowd. “Does anybody else have something to say?” he called. “Maybe you agree with Ivo here. No? Anybody?” Nobody said anything, not even a breath shuddered through the humid air. Buggy laughed, looking at Ivo. “How’s that for a laugh? If you had a point and she had me under her spell, you wouldn’t be a dead man right now. Thing is, this has nothing to do with her. You tried to take something of mine.”

“That runt of yours is a curse,” Ivo said. “I was doing you a favor.”

Buggy looked behind Ivo at a man you only vaguely recognized, a big guy whose face was pierced in just about every place it could be. He seemed to be ready for the order, looming dangerously at the edge of the crowd. Clicking his tongue, Buggy made a motion like a knife across his throat.

It happened so quickly that Ivo barely had time to try to escape before the larger man had him, grabbing him into a choke hold from behind. Buggy held Ivo’s eye as he approached him, stopping only just out of arm's length. The hatred and fury blazing in Ivo’s eyes promised every pain and horror, and Buggy smiled at him.

“Looks like it’s time for your final bow,” Buggy said.

The man holding Ivo rammed a sword through his chest to punctuate the comment. Ivo couldn’t make any sounds other than these stuttered, ugly, guttural noises as his windpipe was crushed. With a meaty twist, the man pulled the blade out of his chest. A bright red stain bloomed over Ivo’s shirt as he twitched and fought like a bug in a spider’s web. No matter how hot or bright his rage, it was a losing battle.

He dropped with a loud thump onto the deck a moment later, either dead or heading there fast. You didn’t know if that was from getting stabbed in the heart or from suffocation.

The pirates watched it all in complete silence, their faces stoic. The man, the executioner who you were pretty sure was called Pin, sheathed his blade and stepped back to rejoin the crew on the edge of the empty space acting as a stage.

Buggy walked forward, stepping over Ivo’s body to address his crew.

“My freaks,” he called, clasping his hands together. “I hope you all learned a valuable lesson here, but don’t let this unfortunate incident take your minds off of what truly matters. What we have before us is a golden opportunity. You all have been given the honor of being in a show that will make or break your career. And why? Because we’re not performing for some random nobodies. I’ve gotten us an audience worthy of my talents. And if this show does well, it’s not just my name and face that gets out there. It’s the Buggy Pirates that’ll be feared across all of the East Blue.”

Buggy paused for applause. Just a few responded at first, clapping and whooping, but soon everybody joined in, the noise pressing inwards, as thick and dense as the heavy, sticky humidity.

“Ivo here?” Buggy continued when they quieted down. “He didn’t understand the bigger picture. He doubted me. He didn’t trust that I know best.” Somebody in the crowd booed at that. “Weak men like him are poison to the artistic process, and he would have poisoned all of your small minds before I got the chance to show you the truth that art reveals. Not all of you will understand. Some of you will shy away in fear of what I’m offering. You may even reject my greatness the way Ivo and all the others have.”

Buggy let that threat hang as he walked around the edge of the crowd in a slow arc, looking at everybody individually as if daring them to reveal themselves as dissidents. Some of the crew met his eye, some of them bowed their heads, but nobody dared to speak. He came to a stop in the center, his back turned to Ivo’s body.

“Only the exceptional can understand the magnificence of my vision,” Buggy said with open arms, his tone warming with the fervor of exaltation, like it was a preacher’s promise. “Only those of you with open minds and hearts can share in the rewards that I’m offering. This show is your chance to prove to me that you are special. Don’t disappoint me.”

His arms dropped, the bubble that kept the deck silent as he spoke popping as the crowd digested that promising threat.

“Oh, and, somebody take care of this,” Buggy said, gesturing towards Ivo’s body with a look of disgust. He didn’t linger on it, stepping over the pooling blood to return to the quarter deck. “Babydoll,” Buggy snapped when you didn’t immediately follow. He clicked his tongue, nodding towards his office.

You, of course, did as he wanted.

Buggy didn’t pay you any mind even after the two of you were alone in his office again, taking off his coat and hat, pulling his hair back to slip under the kerchief. It gave the odd sense of a costume change after a performance.

Some performance.

The death of a man who would have gladly killed you shouldn’t have been so unsettling. It wasn’t. You didn’t care. It was fine.

“That was a really good speech, Captain Buggy,” you said, nervously shifting from foot to foot as you tried to understand his mood.

He sat down behind his desk, taking off his gloves. “Don’t just stand there looking stupid,” he said, “we’ve got unfinished business.”

“What?” you asked.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes. “You can either take off your clothes and get over here or I’ll have to get up and go aaaaall the way over there. After the day I’ve had, even I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there.”

“I… Um.” You stared at Buggy, wordlessly begging him to laugh, to make this a twisted joke. He couldn’t be serious. You just watched him order a man’s execution. The sounds Ivo made as he died kept repeating in your ears.

Buggy groaned loudly, standing up. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he said, approaching you with long strides.

“No, I-I’ll do it!” you told him, trying to prove yourself by pulling your sweater off. Buggy ripped it out of your hands and tossed it aside, pushing you back until you hit the wall. You grunted as much in pain as surprise, your head knocking against it.

Buggy didn’t give you any time to reorient yourself, pushing you up the wall so he wouldn’t have to hunch over to kiss you. Well. Kiss was a bit generous. He licked your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth as soon as you let him. You whimpered, your thighs squeezing his waist so you didn’t fall. If his stormy mood wasn’t obvious otherwise, the way he kissed you was proof enough. The wet messiness didn’t bother you as much as the possessive way his tongue claimed your mouth, his teeth biting your lips without any consideration for your comfort. It felt violating, it wasn’t affection, it was a point he wanted to prove.

Groaning, Buggy palmed your breast, reminding you of his earlier rough treatment. If it wasn’t already, the bite mark around your nipple would bruise. It hurt enough to make you squirm, shying away from the pain. He let it be, his hand pushing upward, settling around your neck.

That was fine at first, but then he squeezed.

You immediately panicked, pushing at his shoulders. It was hard enough to breathe when he was kissing you so aggressively. Now, he pulled away and you still couldn’t get enough air, squirming and then bucking against him. For a wild, horrible second, you thought about Ivo choking. Buggy watched you intently, the color of his eyes lost for the cruelty as he observed your panic.

When he finally let up, you gasped raggedly, tears sliding down your cheek. He watched those too, his lips parted and pupils blown wide.

“Say it again,” Buggy told you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused, your mind swimming with the flush of oxygen.

“Tell me again,” he pushed, almost petulantly demanding. “Say it, c’mon.”

“I love you,” you told him as soon as you realized what he wanted.

That seemed like the right answer because Buggy kissed you again, sweeter now. Needful. Desperately so. You held onto his shoulders, kissing him back in the hopes that he would stop being so mean. When he pulled out away, it was to kiss the corner of your mouth and then down across your jaw, his nose bumping your cheek.

“You’d be nothing without me,” he said, the words muffled by your neck. “You need me.”

“I do,” you agreed, your voice coming out choked.

Wrapping both arms around you to support your weight, Buggy turned around, carrying you forward to deposit you onto the end of his desk. You fell onto your back, your spine hitting the surface painfully.

“Captain Buggy?” you asked, wincing in pain. “What’re you… That hurt.”

“No it didn’t. You’re fine,” he said, throwing your skirt up over your waist and roughly dragging your panties off. You didn’t have time to push your skirt down or hide your nudity with your hands before he grabbed your legs and pried them apart, leaning forward so he could spit on your pussy. It had to be just to embarrass you, considering the way he watched your face as he did it.

You whined, closing your eye and letting your head drop back, kicking yourself a million times for not doing what he wanted in the first place and sparing yourself all of this. Buggy laughed, pushing his saliva into your pussy, his fingers dipping in just enough to make your hips twitch. You heard fabric move as he shoved his pants out of the way, and then his cock was pressing against your folds.

“Do you think I’ll feel bad if you pout enough?” he asked, pressing the head of his dick against your entrance just to tease you, to keep you on edge. “‘Cause, I’ll be honest, it’s having the opposite effect.”

“That’s not-” Your words cut off with a broken whimper when he finally stopped teasing and pushed his cock into you. Too much at once, especially when you weren't expecting it. You whined again, squeezing your eye shut.

“Hey, look at me.” Buggy told you, leaning over you with one hand holding your leg and the other returning to your neck.

You met his eyes, your own widening as he pushed all the way into you with hard little thrusts. No matter how many times you had sex, you always felt a sort of disbelief to feel so full. To be joined in such an intimate way. It was surprising. Shocking. Profane.

He pulled out smoothly before thrusting forward hard, tightening his hand around your neck at the same time. It choked out any noise you might have made, literally stealing your breath away as you tried to inhale past the vice of his hand. The position wasn’t as intimate as he usually favored, the iron bar of his arm keeping you pressed against the desk like a pinned butterfly.

Just when your panic was getting intense enough to become genuine dread, his hand relaxed, letting you breathe. The second the air filled your lungs, refreshing your system, he began to fuck you at a mean, rough pace. It wasn’t like anything you had ever felt. The devilish mixture of your body coming alive with sensation after being numbed by the lack of air and the violent pleasure of his cock slamming into you with hard, slapping thrusts had you practically convulsing beneath him.

“You actually like this,” Buggy said, his voice hoarse and ragged but distinctly amused. “Freak.” His hand flexed around your throat, choking you again.

Thrown back into a disoriented, panicking mess, you clawed at his arm. Buggy didn’t acknowledge that, picking up the same hard, dirty pace as before. Darkness crawled into the edges of your vision, eating everything else away except for Buggy above you, inside of you.

On the brink of losing yourself, Buggy’s hand relaxed. When oxygen flushed through your body, it came with an intoxicating rush of pleasure like you had never felt. The skin on skin slapping became more of a wet smack seemingly with every thrust, your pussy leaking around his cock, squeezing him desperately with the same painfully tight coil the rest of your body responded with. It was like being held on the edge of orgasm because it wasn’t enough, but you felt the same rush, the same warm break of heat as when you came, just without the actual final high.

Buggy cursed roughly as his hips slowed, gritting his teeth as if in pain.

He squeezed your neck, once again denying you breath. You shut your eye, your back trying to arch, your hands scrambling to get ahold of his arm. This time, he released you quickly, letting you get in a breath so he could hear your choked cry when you felt his fingers between your legs. Buggy didn’t need his whole hand to scrub hard, dirty circles against your clit, two fingers detaching and settling against the sensitive bud. Each hard thrust did a lot of the work for him, grinding them against you.

It was too much to worry about the noise you were making. If you had the capacity to speak, to breathe, you'd have told him the extra bit of stimulation was too much. Your body couldn’t contain the buzzing thrum of pleasure, your nerves aflame as they were numbed and stoked.

Buggy returned to the earlier harsh pace, and you panicked. There was no rhyme or reason to the way he controlled your breathing, pushing you to the dark edge of oblivion before pulling you back into the hyperphysical reality of pleasure.

“Can you just come already?” Buggy asked, his voice grinding out between his teeth. You could barely hear him, let alone comprehend the meaning of his words.

He relaxed his hand around your neck and, with a desperate, ragged inhale and fresh rush of overstimulating heat that made you sob, you came, your hips curling up to feel him deeper, to get more out of the fingers on your clit. It wasn’t just your pussy, or that little coil of tension in your core, or even an entirely bodily experience. When you came, it was the crashing wave of exhilaration and nothing else.

The hand on your neck flexed before the rush faded, locking you back into your body and denying you the satisfaction of riding out that high. Maybe Buggy wasn’t even aware of it, too lost in reaching his own end, his fingers continuing to grind against your clit, his cock slamming into you so hard it hurt.

You choked, pleasure giving way to fear, and the world went black, consumed by nothingness.

Dark confusion obscured everything and, for years or days or seconds, you had the odd impression that somebody from very far away was calling your name, that you were in your room, and that—

Gasping, you opened your eye, that unsettling confusion drifting into a new type of confusion as quickly as it came, your brain swimming beneath a gauzy blanket of unreality. Just like that, you were back in the intense cage of your own body, gasping and whining as Buggy finished with a couple of hard, deep thrusts. Your pussy squeezed him despite its shivery, overwhelming sensitivity in the wake of flooding oxygen, responding to his pleasure in kind.

When he was done, the fingers he’d left on your clit returned to his hand so he could brace himself on the desk, and there was just heavy, hot breathing in the wake of something that probably seemed a lot more dramatic than it actually was.

“Fucking… fuck,” Buggy said, his eyes closed. He laughed breathlessly, hoarsely. “That was…”

Your lips parted to say something, but nothing came out.

He opened his eyes, looking down at you. “You look wrecked,” he said. Considering the dozens of little blue flyaways coming out from under the kerchief wrapped around his head, the glossy shine of sweat on his face, and the deep flush painting his cheeks and lips red, you didn’t think it was fair to say that only you looked wrecked.

Buggy used the hand on your neck to nudge your face up so he could kiss your open mouth before he pulled out, letting you wilt back onto the desk. Laying with your body mostly on the hard surface and your legs hanging off the edge wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t want to move. You closed your eye, just trying to compose yourself. That moment of unconsciousness had been jarring, a little sickening. In the post-orgasm haze, you had a very uncomfortable and terrifying feeling like nothing was real. Or maybe that was wishful thinking?

You heard Buggy fix his clothes before grabbing a bottle to loudly gulp down swallow after swallow of water.

You breathed in, and then out, and finally got your arms beneath yourself to sit up because the only thing more uncomfortable than moving was the dryness in your mouth and throat.

“Captain Buggy, may I-” you tried to ask. About half of the question got out before you erupted into a huge coughing fit. It hurt to cough, and you could feel his cum leaking out of your sore pussy with each one, but you couldn’t make yourself stop. Your body was trying to expel the obstruction of his hand, not being able to tell the difference between pressure and choking.

“Jeez,” Buggy said. “Try not to hack up a lung.”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him that you were okay, but you couldn’t get anything out other than the wretched, ragged coughing. You watched through a teary eye as Buggy approached you, patting your back in an odd attempt to help. When you stopped coughing, he helped you drink from his bottle with a mockingly indulgent, “Now there’s a good girl.” You didn’t care. The praise, mean or not, made you feel better.

When you were done, you fell forward against him. “Thank you, Captain Buggy,” you said, regardless of your wrecked voice.

He pet the top of your head awkwardly. “Yeah, sure thing, kiddo.”

You sat up and he dropped into his chair with a big, satisfied umph, falling back into it like he was completely spent. Clearing your sandpaper throat, you got off the desk, wincing at the feeling of more cum leaking out of your pussy. Sweat covered your entire body, uncomfortably gathering on your hairline and beneath your skirt’s waistband. It made the cool air that much worse. You looked around for your clothes. Your sweater had been thrown to the other side of the room, your tights were by his desk somewhere, your panties were nowhere to be seen, and you were still wearing your boots without any socks.

Deciding your sweater was the most important thing to ward off the chill, you took a step in that direction. Buggy grabbed your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

You looked at him, confused.

He raised an eyebrow. “Get your scrawny ass over here, you look like you’re gonna pass out.” He raised his arms, sitting up to make room for you. Right then, you could have wept out of relief at the offer, your jelly legs taking you to sit in his lap. “Wait, tuck your skirt, I don’t want your mess on my pants.”

It was technically his mess, but you didn’t say so. It didn’t really matter. Smoothing your skirt beneath yourself, you sat sideways on his lap.

Buggy wrapped an arm around you, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, your waist, your stomach. You didn’t expect the pain when he palmed your breast, catching your nipple between his fingers. The bite mark really did hurt. You whimpered, your body unintentionally writhing back against him.

“Already?” he asked. “Give a guy a break, sheesh. I need a minute before I do that again.”

You made an unhappy noise, burying your face against his chest. Buggy laughed, petting your head. “I was joking. I don’t have time. I need to make sure that my freaks are ready, Cabaji’s coming in tonight so we can finalize our plans,” Buggy told you. “We’re gonna take Saline first thing in the morning.”

“Will it be very dangerous?” you asked.

“It’ll be easy. They’ve got, what, three hundred people? There’s a reason the Surgeon picked this place.”

“He didn’t set up any security to protect it?” you asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“How?”

“Why do you care?” he asked. “It’s not like you can help, your only job is to wait on the ship and not cause any more trouble.”

Heeding his dangerous tone, you put your head back against his chest. “Yes, Captain Buggy.”

The rain returned later that evening. Everybody was saying it would be cleared up by the next day, but that meant the pirates had to get everything ready dripping wet and cold. Most of them didn’t seem to mind it as much after Buggy’s speech. Although one of their own was dead, the crew seemed more invigorated than ever to perform at their best.

You weren’t asked to greet Cabaji when he came in, but you heard some of the others saying that the Chief of Staff was approaching, and there wasn’t much in the way of help you could offer to the crew as they prepared for the attack, and you wanted to see him.

So you waited, hanging back beneath the overhang to stay dry, watching as the sloop Cabaji and his miniature crew had used was pulled up. Pirates crawled up onto the ship out of the dark, wet and miserable. Eventually, you saw the man you were looking for jump up onto the deck. It felt like years since you last saw the man, but he hadn’t changed. He directed a couple of the men this way and that with his usual terse mannerisms before stalking towards the main deck.

“Mr. Cabaji!” you called as you followed with your jacket over your head, excited to see the man even though your last parting wasn’t especially warm. He half turned towards you, his eyes narrowed and confused before recognition hit.

“Hello,” he said.

“It’s been a while,” you said. “I’m glad you’re back safe.”

“Thank you. Is Captain Buggy with you?”

“No, he’s… They’re all in the officer’s mess. I heard you were coming and so I wanted to say hello. It’s been forever.”

“It has been a while. You look different,” he said.

“Oh, because of my…” You subconsciously reached up to tug your bandana down, but it wasn’t there. “Sorry, I know it’s…”

“No, you look healthier,” he clarified.

“Really?” you asked, smiling. “I, um, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he told you. “You said they’re in the officer’s mess?”

“Yeah, I have to get Captain Buggy’s supper but I thought… I wanted to say hello, before…” You didn’t want Buggy to see you greeting him. That’s what you were thinking, but you hated yourself for it. The only reason you would feel shame was if you had something to hide, but you didn’t, you just didn’t want to upset the captain when he was already so stressed.

Cabaji nodded, his expression unreadable. “Now that I’m back, there’s something you need to understand,” he said.

“What?”

“It is my duty to see to your wellbeing and safety. I will look after you because Captain Buggy ordered me to do so, not out of personal interest. Do you understand? Our relationship is strictly professional.”

You shifted your weight back, frowning. “I thought we were… friends.”

“We have sworn an oath of service to the same captain, that doesn’t make us friends.”

“Yeah, of-of course,” you said, nodding, forcing a smile. “Well, I-I’m glad you’re… I guess I should go get Captain Buggy’s supper. I’ll… see you down there.”

He nodded and you turned the other way to retreat into the galley through the middle hatch.

You were stupid. You felt stupid, you probably looked pretty stupid too. It shouldn’t have made you feel so bad that Cabaji would reject you, you shouldn’t have expected anything from him anyway. It wasn’t as if it was the first time you misinterpreted somebody’s kindness, or got carried away by your irrational feelings.

Still, you had to take a moment to collect yourself before bringing Buggy’s meal into the officer’s mess.

It was fine.

You were fine.

Shaking your damp hair to try and look a little less like a wet rat, you entered the room. It looked the same as it always did, colorfully decorated and festive. The pirates hung around juggling, playing cards, or talking loudly. Richie was impressing two of them with his uncanny ability to catch food out of the air.

Buggy sat in the middle of it all, of course, sprawled across a chair like a king. You placed his tray in front of him, studiously ignoring Cabaji as you sat at the captain’s side.

“Did’ja get lost or something?” Buggy asked.

“No, sir,” you muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Now that we’re all here,” Buggy said loudly to address the table, picking up his utensils. “Cabaji, where are we at with our doctor problem?”

The table’s attention turned to the Chief of Staff.

“He’s got a full crew,” Cabaji explained. “He’s supplemented the squad of crooked Marines that oversee this area with mercenaries. I give it a day before they’re here. Maybe a little more. The hostage situation will keep them from doing anything rash.”

“Which gives us enough time to get our audience ready,” Buggy said. “The rain’s been clearing up. We go in at first light, make it quick. As long as we can take the lab, we got the whole place for ourselves.”

“How much do we know about the town’s defenses?” Cabaji asked.

“They’re pathetic,” Buggy said. “It’s gonna be easy to get in and Fuse over there’ll take care of the rest.”

Cabaji nodded, and the conversation lapsed into other things as everyone else’s meals were served. You had very little appetite, but you picked at the food as something to distract yourself with.

“Hey, babydoll,” Buggy suddenly said, getting your attention. “Is there anything we need to know about daddy dearest before he gets here? He is the guest of honor, after all. I want to make sure he gets a properly warm welcome.”

Put on the spot, you froze, nervously looking around at the table. “He, um, he was a Major in the Marines,” you said, stammering. “The-the senior physician, you know, like, on a lot of high profile ships. But he’s retired.”

Buggy groaned. “No, no, no. I need things we don’t know. Tell me about who he is.”

“I don’t know,” you said, frowning. “About the drugs or anything, I… I had no idea.”

“You lived with the guy for your whole life and you don’t have anything useful to share?”

The disappointment in his voice scared you. There had to be something, anything that would be helpful. You bit your lip, thinking very hard.

“Oh! He drinks a lot. A lot, a lot,” you said, trying to smother the guilt you felt revealing Dad’s secrets. “So his hands shake a lot and he’s kind of unsteady sometimes when he walks. Also, he, um… He got injured when he was in the service. I don’t think he can fight anymore.”

“See? That’s good,” Buggy said. “What else?”

“There is something, but I don’t know how to… I was thinking about what he said. Barley’s harbor, Randall, me.” You looked up, meeting Buggy’s eyes. “Captain Buggy, you took everything from him.”

He grinned. “Good.”

“No, it’s…” You shook your head, trying to think of how to phrase it so he could understand the sickening pit of terror in your gut whenever you started to think about this.

“He’s obsessed with control,” Crina said. “You took that from him. That can be dangerous.”

“Oh, okay. By all means, feel free to chime in with your opinions,” Buggy said, half turning towards her.

“No, that’s-that’s true,” you said. “Crina knows.”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed. “Crina knows what?”

“About me,” you explained, caught off guard by the combative tone of his voice. “And, my-the Surgeon, how he is.”

“More than I do?” Buggy asked, raising an eyebrow. That was a dangerous question, one you didn’t want to answer.

“I might have a different perspective than you do,” Crina said.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You got some kinda girl-on-girl mind link? Women’s intuition?” he asked, looking between the two of you. “Wait!” Buggy snapped, pointing at Crina. “I know! You used your psychic mind powers on her. I hope you got consent before violating her like that. She’s sensitive.”

You flushed, embarrassed by his choice of words. “Captain Buggy, that’s not it,” you said, trying to smooth things over.

“But there is something,” he said, “you admit it.”

“No,” you tried to tell him, but Buggy wasn’t listening to you anymore, sitting up so he could face Crina directly.

“Isn’t she a bit young for you, Crina?” he asked.

“The only thing I’m interested in is her health,” Crina said.

“Wow, you sound just like her dad,” Buggy turned around to look at you. “Doesn’t she sound exactly like him, babydoll?”

You met his eye, your mouth opening to agree automatically, but nothing came out. The sudden turn of his mood and the accusation made your head spin. Of course she didn’t, but you couldn’t disagree with Buggy. You didn’t think you could even form the words.

Buggy burst out laughing, breaking the tension. “I’m just fucking with you. You really need to learn how to lighten up.”

Forcing yourself to untense, you tried to smile, to laugh it off. Crina hid her expression by taking a big drink out of something in a silvery flask.

“Can nobody take a joke around here?” Buggy asked, leaning back with a scowl.

Nobody said anything, the mood effectively killed by that outburst. Thankfully, the awkward silence was saved by the crashing entrance of one of Buggy’s pirates, stumbling into the room out of breath and panicked.

“Captain Buggy?” he called.

“What is it now?” Buggy snapped.

“You have a… The Surgeon is calling.”

“What’dya want?” Were Buggy’s first words into the mouthpiece. Apparently, the Den Den Mushi was something Cabaji had brought with him. For negotiations. The snail was wrapped up in a sweater to keep warm, seemingly content with his situation after getting fed. Buggy had it brought into his cabin for this conversation. He sat comfortably at his desk while you nervously perched on the bed, glad you didn’t eat very much because of the nausea squeezing your stomach.

“You know who I am?” Dad asked. It was just as strange to hear his voice coming out of the snail’s mouth now as it had been in Lafitte.

“‘Course I do, doc,” Buggy said. “My babydoll’s told me aaaaaall about you. I was wondering when you’d call. Normally I wouldn’t talk to my fans like this, but you’re special, eh?”

“You know why I’m calling?”

“Yeah. Duh.”

“I’ll make this quick, then. Give me the girl and that will be the end of this.”

That gave Buggy pause, it clearly wasn’t what he expected to hear. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “If I give her up, you’re going to, what, let me go? Don’t you know who I am?”

“I’m retired, I don’t care who you are. The fact of the matter is that you have stolen from me. If she is returned, I will withdraw. The Marines will, of course, pursue you further, but you will fare better against them without my support.”

Buggy’s excitement faded away to frustration, his angry eyes flicking up to you. You squirmed in discomfort, wanting to disappear all over again. “They just upped my bounty,” he said.

“I’m not concerned with money.”

“Oh, right. You’ve been doing some dirty deals, haven’t ya, pops? A real Doctor Feelgood. What did you swear when you got your degree, the hypocrite oath?”

“I’m not interested in your games, freak,” Dad said. “Is the girl with you? If she is, I would like to speak with her.”

Buggy scowled, glaring at you. “Say hi, sweetheart.”

“I’m here,” you said, your voice choked.

“You ought to know that Randall’s funeral was lovely, considering the circumstances,” Dad said. “He will be remembered and celebrated with respect and reverence, something he was denied in his death by the fiends you have run off with.”

“Hold on a second, doc,” Buggy said. “You’re way off the mark on this one. It wasn’t me or my crew that killed that idiot. Babydoll did that all on her own. Real gruesome too. When I slit someone’s throat, I like to make it quick, but she got in deep and started sawing. I tried to help move things along, but yeesh, it was hard to watch.”

Dad didn’t say anything, a silence as impactful as any amount of rage. You felt sick, blood rushing up into your head so fast it hurt. You didn’t want to think about that. You couldn’t.

“You see, pops, she understands that greatness demands sacrifice,” Buggy said. “She knew that if she was gonna make the cut to stand at my side, she needed to shed all of the dead weight.”

“She is my daughter,” Dad said. “It doesn’t matter what she wants. She is mine by right.”

“What right?” Buggy asked. “You can’t even make the whole dad claim anymore. With as much as we go at it she’s got more of me in her than you.”

“You can do what you will with her body,” Dad said, his voice deadly soft. “But she is not yours. When she returns to me, she won’t even remember you.”

“That’s funny, doc. I was gonna-” The line disconnected. “-say the same thing.” Buggy realized as soon as he was done speaking that Dad had hung up. He looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe that would happen.

You didn’t really care, that parting threat hit you with the force of a hammer. “What he said, it isn’t true,” you said, talking softly so your voice didn’t break. “No, that’s… He’s lying, Captain Buggy. Isn’t he? You won’t let him take me back.”

“Of course not,” Buggy said, replacing the mouthpiece with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “The old man must be losing his mind if he thinks I’ll let him get anywhere near you. That was all just talk anyway, there’s no way he wants you more than me.”

You nodded, trying to hold onto that assurance to calm yourself amidst the thousands of horrible, scary thoughts spinning in your head.

“Yeah,” Buggy grumbled, looking down with another scowl. “The old man is gonna lose a lot more than just his mind if he thinks he can get away with talking to me like that. Nobody talks to Buggy the Clown like that.” Abrupt as it came, his rage flashed away. Buggy looked up at you with a manic smile. “You were wrong, babydoll.”

“What?” you asked.

“I haven’t taken everything from him,” Buggy said. “But I will. I’m gonna be there the moment he realizes that I’ve got everything that he’s ever cared about in his whole worthless life. I don’t care what I have to do, he’s not gonna live to regret this.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #not sfw #tw.dubcon #this one didn't come together the way i hoped ngl #but choking is so so so good

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