#I wish i could find things to refer to Hunk with...

[sinsandsweetness]

drunk tank- part 2

cw- vulgar language, drug and alcohol use, slight angst and pining for the reader, references to sexual acts. about 2.6k words that aren’t proofread:/ sorry loves.

notes- i started writing and i don’t know what happened. hopefully you guys don’t hate it? way more plot than i intended but… much smutty goodness to come, i promise (no pun intended)

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i live for your feedback and love hearing your opinions <3

Fuck.

You don’t even want to look around the house. You already know it’s gonna be a fucking mess. You can hear it. Feel it. Hell, you can smell it. Booze and weed and sex. Sweaty bodies packed into a 3 bedroom trailer on the wrong side of town. Coke on the bathroom counter that’ll have you wishing you’d never let Merle move in in the first place.

You stop at the end of the driveway, wondering whether you should even go in. Or if you should get back in the taxi and tell him to take you away and never come back. Go work at some diner in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Leave everyone else behind.

But Daryl’s face flashes through your mind. You can’t do that to him. Not after all he’s been through.

Growing up with the Dixons was a bit of a challenge. Merle being well… Merle. You and Daryl always ending up in some kind of dangerous and even disturbing situation. Creeps who smelled of Jack Daniel’s, with wandering hands and no sense of personal space. Having to put on a smile for Merle who desperately needed to finish the deal before you could even think about sneaking off to the truck. You were leverage. Sometimes even Daryl. Though you knew he hated it. Fried hair, rotting teeth, meth head bitches who thought he was trash enough to stoop that low. He wasn’t. Or at least he didn’t want to be.

You should go inside and find him. Get him to drive you to Shane’s to spend the night. It’s not like you’ll get any sleep tonight with this ruckus going on. Not after the shift you just had. And you’ve learned to really love Shane’s middle class, suburban townhouse with a California king and a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. It was… different. Unfamiliar. A perfect little escape from the chaos of your typical day to day life. Of your piece of shit trailer that’s already falling apart and definitely wouldn’t pass a health inspection no matter what kind of construction worker you were to hook up with.

Besides, Shane was a good fuck. Not that that’s all that matters in a relationship. It’s not. Merle was a good fuck too. You’re not that hard to please. But Shane is sexy. Charismatic. He treats you like a Princess. And honestly… as much as Daryl makes fun of you for it… you’re starting to really like him. He pays for meals. Takes you out. Isn’t afraid to show you off or introduce you to his friends. And, the biggest part; he’s safe. Steady. A fucking cop for Christ sake. So much different than the guys you’ve been with before. You weren’t at risk of any stray needles or guns when you stayed at his place. The only gun he kept at home stayed locked up in his office and is used strictly for emergencies.

And his sheets are clean and his fridge is full and his best friend is a hunk who happens to be going through some minor marital issues that you can’t say you’re not excited about. For once in your life, things are starting to look up.

Well… not from where you’re standing. Dreading the pounding bass and music that you can already hear pouring out of the windows. Praying that Merle had the decency to lock your bedroom door, but it was unlikely. You pulled a blanket over his passed out body on the couch before you left for work, so the likelihood of him remembering what you gently whispered in his ear was extremely slim.

Be safe. Lock my door. Don’t do anything stupid.

He clearly hadn’t heard you. Or if he did, he didn’t listen. Because the sounds and smells coming from the house as you walk barefoot on the gravel with your heels in your hand are proving to be the latter.

The door is open. Coats and purses thrown about. Stares from the girl and the guy flirting away in the front entrance. Red solo cups in their hands presumably filled with whatever the cheapest keg that your ex could find at the value liquor across the diner. At least that’s what you have to assume. Cheap beer. Sticky and sweaty and- holy shit.

It’s Daryl. On the couch, with a girl.

It’s no surprise that he’s over. It’s not like he has any other place to stay.

It’s the girl on his lap that has you stopping in your tracks. Bright blonde hair and fishnets straddling his thigh. Blowing smoke onto his, thankfully, annoyed and unimpressed expression. She’s almost naked. That’s why you’re so shocked. It’s not like Daryl has ever had an issue getting with girls. But the fact that her skirt looks like a belt and there aren’t even any panties under her tights… well It’s just… a bit of an eye sore if you were honest.

He catches your gaze. The sight of you rolling your eyes at the pathetic little show in front of you. Turning down the hallway and knowing he’s probably already shoving her off and jogging to catch up right behind you. Down the hall and to your room where you’re unsurprisingly forced to kick a couple of sleeping stoners out of your bed. At least they still have their clothes on. Most of them anyway.

“Who was that?” You ask, not turning around but hearing the door latch and lock behind you. Daryl’s smokey, leather scent coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He knows better.

“No one,” he mumbles into your neck, his breath smelling of the rum and coke he chugged and threw to the side before chasing you down the hall.

You can’t help the way you shake him off. He’s drunk for Christ’s sake. Not like he didn’t have a warm and willing body out there on the sofa. Probably desperate to get any of her slutty holes filled and fucked by your childhood best friend.

You slump down onto the bed. Unmade and definitely not from you. The thought makes you wince.

You run a hand over your face and think about the clean smell of pine sol and laundry detergent that now reminds you of the handsome, dark haired officer you’ve recently gotten to know.

Daryl sits down beside you. A nervous tic in his hands as he picks at his cuticle. Unsure of what to say or what to do. It’s not like he should feel bad. He was right, she is no one to him. He won’t even remember her name in the morning. But he still feels a twang of guilt. Wishing you hadn’t seen her string covered cunt grinding on his thigh in the middle of the living room.

“Where are the keys to the Chevy?” You ask, ending the awkward silence brewing between the two of you.

“No way.”

“I’m sober, Dare. There’s no way I can sleep here. Plus I work a double in the morning. Just hand em over.” You turn to face him. He sees the bags under your eyes and knows he should just hand them over. Let you get some beauty rest in officer Walshes big and beautiful bed. Where he’ll be sure to fuck you right tonight and make you a delicious breakfast in the morning before sending you off with a kiss and tap on your perky little ass. But that’s also exactly the reason why he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be the one sharing your bed tonight. He wants to make you some scrambled eggs in the morning and drop you off at the diner. Him. Not some asshole cop that fucked you right in front of him at the station a month ago. Hard and fast and really fucking good. By the sounds you were making and the twisted look of pleasure written on your face, it was good. And even Daryl could see that.

“Stay here. Please.” Daryl's hand makes Its way to your thigh.

“Daryl-”

“Don’t. Don’t fuckin- don’t leave.” He’s pleading with you. Can’t stand the thought of you moaning and writhing underneath his burly competition.

“Please.” His voice cracks but you pretend not to hear.

You shake your head. You need a shot. And an Advil.

“I’ll just call Shane.” You reach for your bag, ready to wake the poor guy up to come grab you from the trailer you refuse to let him enter, let alone see. Guess you gotta deal with it tonight.

“Fine- hey-“ he reached for your bag. Stopping you from grabbing the phone you’re rummaging for. “I’ll drive you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I had one drink. Seriously. Look at me.” You do it. Maintaining the heavy eye contact that’s burning into your irises. He’s telling the truth. You can see it. The way he’s holding your leg and the expression on his face. He’s always been a terrible liar.

“Okay. Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, hushed and you know you sound like a bitch. But you’re just really fucking tired.

He pulls you by the hand the whole way out to the door. Dodging the blondie from the couch and pushing your ex out of the way when he sees you, wide eyed and calling your name. Pupils blown and clearly coked out. Part of the reason he’s your ex. Among a plethora of other reasons you’d rather not get in to.

Merle’s truck sounds like shit. Stuttering a few times before it roars to life. A weird clicking from the glove box that you’re just too tired to check out. Smokes and a used condom thrown about the passenger side floor. Unsurprising but still disgusting.

You grab your phone and send Shane a text. Making sure it’s actually ok that you do crash for the night. Not that he’d ever say no. But you want to be polite.

Mind if I swing by? A bit crowded at mine.

It only takes him a few stoplights to answer.

Of course, Princess. You need a ride?

You answer immediately. Thumbs tapping fast on the tiny little buttons of your blackberry.

Nope:) 5 mins away.

Perfect. See you soon gorgeous

You can’t help the smile creeping up on your expression. Curling on your glossy lips and catching the attention of your best friend in the drivers seat.

“Pfft-” he rolls his eyes, turning the corner a little sharper than you’d like.

“Oh, shut it.” You snap back. Daryl has never liked any of your boyfriends. You don’t blame him. Most of them were real pieces of shit. Using you for your body. Your money. Not that you had much to spare.

Merle and you never dated. Just a couple drunk hookups that you didn’t enjoy.

Daryl never liked that either. Knowing his brother had seen the most sacred parts of you. Touched you and held you and watched your eyes screw shut as you came all over his cock.

Daryl wishes he could be the only one who’s ever seen that. The only one who knows the sounds you make when you’re close and the way you’re breath hitches when he kisses that spot on your stomach. It fucking kills him. Thinking about you gripping Shane’s dark hair while he discovers that same exact same spot. Going lower and lower until you’re squirming and writhing and-

“Dare?” You repeat. Grabbing the attention of the scowling young man who’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s about to fly away from him.

“Huh?”

“You missed the turn.”

“Shit, sorry.”

He circles around and shifts into park. Right across the street. The tree in Shane’s yard blocking the light from the front porch.

“Thanks,” you say dryly while reaching for the door handle. Ready to crawl into a warm bed. One where the only sound that enters your ears is the crickets in the backyard and the soft inevitable snoring from the handsome deputy holding you nice and close.

“Wait, just-” Daryl’s hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you pack. Snaking His hand around the back of your neck and crashing his lips against yours. Leaned right over the middle console to pull you in even closer. Tongue tracing your lips and deepening the kiss. The faint taste of tobacco and the familiar warmth of his mouth clouds your judgment. Kissing him back despite your relatively steady and semi-serious fling waiting for you on the other side of the red door across the street.

You pull away, eyes still closed and resting your forehead against his.

“Dare…”

“It’s fine.” He whispers. Nose nudging your own as he connects your lips for one last kiss that lingers just a couple seconds too long. A pained, broken look in his ocean eyes passes through when you finally pull away and scowl.

“Don’t. You can’t- you don’t get to do that.”

His jaw clenches and you’re sure he wants to spit some petty ass insult at you. Years of daddy issues and unresolved anger issues catching up to him with every little argument that crosses his path. But he finds it in himself to bite it back. Well not entirely. Just… a little less vulgar.

“Wear a condom,” he sneers, pulling away and falling back against the headrest. A deep sigh leaving his lungs as he chews on the inside of his lip. Already regretting his comment both due to the sheer cruelty of it but also because of the subtle admission of jealousy that he would fucking kill to have flown right above your head. It doesn’t. But the crimson painting his cheeks tells you he really fucking wishes it would. So for his sake, you ignore it and mutter a goodbye as you hop out and shut the car door. Heels clacking on the cement while you make your way to the front porch. Duffel bag in hand and a flutter of butterflies starting to swarm around in your belly.

You don’t even have to knock before the door opens and you’re met with the scent of a musky cologne and those beautiful brown eyes looking you up and down. Plaid pajama pants and a clean black tee shirt pulling you in for a quick embrace as he eyes the old Chevy still idling across the street, Daryl inside, ensuring you actually made it into the house.

“Hey, beautiful,” Shane kisses your cheek. Eyes still fixed on the man gazing over from the tinted truck window.

With a strong, guiding palm on the small of your back, you brush past the officer and head on in. Giving him a moment to set the alarm and lock the door behind you. Oblivious of the way Shane decides to wave at Daryl. Sending him a silent thank you for dropping you off all safe and sound. And maybe a very slight reminder of what he’s about to do to you as soon as that door closes.

And though he doesn’t see it, whether it’s from the tint of the truck or the clouds blocking the moon in the middle of the night, Daryl waves back. A pained, stomach dropping, shaky little wave that he didn’t even really want to return.

Daryl drives home as it starts to rain. Windshield wipers scraping on the cracked glass in front of him as his mind wanders, thinking about how nice it would be to stay in one of the nice, picket fence, suburban homes you’ve always wanted. Thinking about you in a big backyard, sipping on some white wine with a chunky little toddler on your hip. Your husband flipping some burgers and talking to the neighbors about football or the weather or the preschool you’ve been scouting.

It hurts his heart that in his little daydream, it’s not him who’s standing there barbecuing on that deck. It’s not him making small talk with your coworkers or reaching for the babbling little kid in your arms, asking for his daddy.

It’s Shane.

And for a split second, even though it physically hurts his heart. He knows that Shane can give that to you. And that, that simple little revelation is the whole reason he knows why he needed to wave back.

-

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[connor-is-ok]

“The Hunchback” by Connor S. O’Keefe

For more info on the content warnings, check my wattpad.

Content warnings: Fear, Language, Mental Health, Violence, Blood, References to Alcohol Abuse

—————————————————————————

I went into the gas station to get a pack of cigarettes, and I was nearly frozen from the short walk inside. For the middle of autumn in Mississippi it was surprisingly cold. At least I think it was. I had just moved here and didn’t really have anything to compare it to. The cashier definitely could tell something was wrong because he told me they were on the house. Guess he was the owner or something, that or he was about to get fired. I appreciated it though, since I realized I had forgotten my wallet after I asked him the price. As I was leaving he told me he hoped my day got better. I stopped, glanced over my shoulder, and after a beat I popped a cigarette in my mouth and told him I doubted it would. I walked outside and lit it. I took a puff and almost hacked up a lung. Guess I should have seen that coming since I had never smoked before. I zipped up my ragged bomber jacket and hurried over to my car. I quickly unlocked the doors and hopped in. Put my key into the ignition and…. Nothing. Not even a croak.

“Damn it.” I muttered under my breath. The last thing I needed today was my car going dead. This didn’t surprise me though. Couldn’t expect much more from a 2002 bucket of Toyota bolts. I wish I could’ve bought something better but this thing was all I could afford at the time. I had spent most of my money moving to Jackson two and a half months ago. I might have been able to afford some upgrades by now but after losing my job I hadn’t been able to find another. It was a small construction job. Ten bucks an hour which was decent. The construction company usually hired people in rehab so they didn’t really care that I had no resume. But a couple weeks in, after most of the employees failed a surprise drug test, the owner decided to fire everyone and rebuild his roster from the ground up, or some bullshit like that. Even though I passed and have been sober for almost three years, I guess they didn’t want to take the chance with me. I haven’t even touched drugs before, except for some experiments with weed in college. You would think having a college degree would really help my chances of getting a job but I guess having a criminal record, no matter how small, can really screw you over.

I prayed to whatever being is out there and turned the key again and the Corolla desperately tried to start. After ten seconds of holding the key in place, I was about to slam my fist on the dash when the stupid hunk of junk actually turned over. “Finally.” I pulled out of the parking lot, flicked the cigarette out of the window, and drove home. Well, I say home. It was a shitty motel but it worked. Since I had been there a month and a half before I lost my job they were only charging me $20 a month until I could pay them in full but with that kind of deal you can guess how bad it was. It's just a small local place and the owner is the sole morning receptionist who's just looking for some amount of business. At the time I was her only customer. I still had to kill at least four bugs a day though.

I say I’ve been sober but recently I hadn’t been so sure. The hallucinations had started again. That’s what the doctor said they were. Hallucinations from psychosis due to alcohol abuse. And I hoped he was right, because there’s no way evolution, or god, or whatever being is up there would ever let a nine and a half foot tall thing like that exist. That’s why I got clean. I went to rehab, and the hallucinations hadn’t been back since. That is, until two days ago. I woke up around 3:30 AM two nights ago to a tapping on my window. I blinked a few times and it was gone. Then, last night around 8:30 the tapping started again. I looked out the window, and to my horror, the giant was back. It smiled and waved at me. I screamed and rushed to the window, shutting the curtains. I climbed in bed and curled up under the covers. All night that thing was tapping and scratching at my window. Around 5 AM it finally stopped but I still couldn’t move. Then, when I thought myself brave enough to take a look, it was gone. That’s why I, a brown-haired, green eyed, 26-year-old unemployed vagrant, am buying my first ever pack of cigarettes at 6:30 AM on a Saturday morning.

I got back to the motel around 6:45. I walked in, put the pack of Camels on the counter by the door and walked over to the window. I still hadn’t opened the curtains up again. To be honest I was terrified too. I hadn’t slept at all last night and the fear was stiffening even still. I slowly grasped one of the curtains and pulled it open with the slowest movements I’ve ever had. And the window was perfectly fine. No scratches or dents anywhere.

“What the hell?” I mumbled to myself. “I could have sworn…… maybe it was just a nightmare and I actually did get some sleep.” I wasn’t really tired so the thought process made sense. All of the sudden a small pinging noise came to my attention. It was the motel’s answering machine. I forgot the room even had one of those. I had to use that as my phone number because I couldn’t afford a cell phone at this point. I walked over and clicked the play button. A deep southern drawl came out of the other end. He wanted to meet me at 9 for a….. a job interview? Is he serious? He didn’t say where to meet in the store, he just said he wanted to meet at Shores Grocery Stores. Luckily I knew where that was because it was actually across the street from that gas station where I bought the cigarettes from. I quickly called him back and said I would meet him there.

Nine o clock came by much faster than I expected it to. I got to the store five minutes before the agreed upon time. I had gotten a shower and dressed in my nicest clothes at the time, sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that didn’t show stains. I walked in and asked a cashier where the main office was and he directed me to the back right corner of the store where a little alcove was. I knocked on the door and heard “C’mon in.” from the other side. I opened the door and walked inside. “Can I help you?” Asked a man who looked like he was about to go to a rodeo. He was a six-foot-three, blonde haired, blue eyed, 56 year old Caucasian man, wearing a blue flannel shirt, cowboy boots, a white cowboy hat, and dark blue Wrangler jeans.

“Um… y-yeah, I-I’m here for a job interview.” I stammered.

“Ah, yeah, you’re in the righ’ place. Have a seat.” This guy's southern accent was something else. I could barely understand half of what he was saying. He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Terry Shores. I own this here establishment.”

I shook his hand and sat in the seat across from him. “Hi, I’m Jordan. Jordan Belmont.”

“Ah, Jordan. Like the country from the Bible Lands.”

“The What Lands?”

He looked at me as if he was second guessing his decision. I wouldn’t blame him if he was. One look at me and I would have kicked myself to the curb, not even a word shared.

“I’m actually named after my grandfather. Richard Jordan Manhoff.”

“Well ain’t that something. Do yah have any religious beliefs, son?”

“Well…. Kind of.”

“How kind of?”

“Well, I’m agnostic.”

“Agnostic?” He asked. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to figure out what it meant or if he was trying to not laugh.

“It means that I-“

“I know wha’ it means. You’re agnostic an’ yah decided to move to the Bible Belt?”

“What’s the Bible Belt?”

“Oh bless your heart.” He said, shaking his head and smiling. Being from California, I of course had no idea what he meant by that so when I responded with “Um….. thank you?” Terry threw his head back and laughed the biggest belly laugh I have ever heard. After about twenty seconds of laughing he wiped his eyes, looked at me, and said “Alright, let’s get this interview started, why don’t we? I see yah got a Bachelor’s in Business Management?”

“Yes sir, I do.” I said, knowing exactly where this interview was going.

“Wonderful, but I also see that yah have a criminal record, is tha’ right?”

“Uh, yes sir… I do” I said, my heart sinking with a feeling that this interview was about to come to an abrupt end.

“Tell me about that. How’d yah get it? What’d yah do?” Terry’s long southern drawl made it feel like the words were stretched out, making them hurt even more as I knew once I told him what happened, he would almost definitely ask me to leave.

“Well…. It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Well go right on ahead. I got pretty much nothing else to do today. After this all I do is just watch sec’rity cameras.”

“I um…. I burned down my house…”

“Now why in God’s green earth would you burn your own house down?”

“Well… it wasn’t my house per se. It was my landlord's house that I was renting.”

Terry nodded. “Righ’. And?”

“Well…. To shorten it up a bit, I had an alcohol problem, and according to the doctor it was so bad that it made me hallucinate this demonic creature thing, and I thought it was chasing me. I got so paranoid that one time I poured gasoline all over my house and prepared for it to come back. When it did, I ran out of the house, and threw a match into a puddle I had made, burning the whole place down in an attempt to kill the thing. When my landlord found out, he pressed charges. The judge gave me two options. 2 years in prison with a year of probation, or mandatory rehab with at least 2 years of supervised AA meetings, where there would be a cop to check in on me every week, which would also count as 2 years probation.”

“You still go to AA?”

“Yes sir… well, when my car will let me, if it works.”

Terry laughed, “Yeah, I’ve been having similar issues like that the last couple days. My truck darn near di’nt turn on this mornin’. Almost thought I would have to call and cancel with yah. Are yah still sober?”

“Yes sir. Almost three years now.”

“Well, here’s the thing. If yah don’t burn down any more houses, yah stay sober, and yah go to AA at least twice a month for the next 4 months, I’ll give yah the job immediately.”

I nearly got whiplash from his words by how much I did a double take. “Wait, what?”

“I need someone to manage my store and you seem to be the most suitable candidate I’ve seen these past two weeks. It only pays nineteen an hour, no Walmart or nothing, but we could renegotiate after a while if yah prove yourself reliable.”

“Are you serious?” I asked incredulously. No way this guy was about to hire me, a convicted arsonist, to manage an entire grocery store.

“Course I am.” He said solemnly. “I’m intending to open a ranch with my wife where kids can come and learn about horses. I love learning kids to ride.”

“Teaching kids.” I said and immediately regretted every syllable. I REALLY needed this job. And now I just blew it.

“What’d you say?” He glared at me.

“I’m sorry. Old habit. I was an English minor and I tutored middle schoolers during college. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me.” I begged him, desperately attempting to save myself.

Terry smiled a big, tobacco stained toothy smile. “I’m just messing with yah. My wife Meera has been trying to get me to have better grammar for months. She’ll appreciate having someone at the store to do that too. So what'd yah say? Can yah start tomorrow?”

“Um… yeah!” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. This was by far the best thing that had happened to me in a good 5 years since I had graduated college. “As long as my car doesn’t run out of gas by then. I can’t really afford gas until Monday.”

“Tell yah what,” Terry said leaning forward. “There’s a gas station across the street. I’ll pay for a full tank and I can just take a bit from your first few paychecks until it’s paid back. How’s tha’ sound?”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to do that.” I said feeling guilty at the amount of generosity he had already shown by even offering me the job.

“O’ course. Like I said. I really need someone to fill this position.”

When we got outside Terry asked me which car was mine. In the thirty minutes we were in his office the parking lot had practically filled up. I pointed out my car and Terry exclaimed “GOOD GOD SON! That’s your vehicle? Are yah sure I shouldn’t just buy yah a new car instead of a tank of gas?” We both laughed and I drove him over to the gas station. Afterwards I thanked him profusely and agreed that I would be back tomorrow morning at 8AM sharp. He told me to hang on a second, walked back inside, and returned a few seconds later with a new pair of jeans. He tossed them to me and said “I’ll take these off your first few checks as well. You’ll need them. No sweatpants in the dress code.” I looked at them. 31/30. I looked up.

“How did you know what pant size I wear?”

Terry chuckled and turned around to walk inside. “I have an awfully good eye for knowing those things about people. See you at eight, Jordan.” And with that he walked inside, and I had a job. I was so excited I could scream. But I didn’t because I didn’t want to look insane…… again.

That night, after I did laundry, I laid out a Ramones t-shirt, and the pair of jeans Terry had given me. I had to go to another store to buy a belt because I felt too embarrassed to walk into the Shores Grocery Stores to buy one. I honestly wasn’t even sure if they would have one to begin with. I bought a cheap braided leather belt and a couple microwave dinners, and now I was broke until Monday when my last check from the construction job could go through. I had waited to cash it until I absolutely needed to. As I left the parking lot, though, I could have sworn that I saw it again. That thing. Whatever it is. And I knew I was completely sober. Back at the motel, I nuked a Hungry Man microwave dinner and closed the curtains again. I was so exhausted from the night before but I had a bad feeling that the thing would come back again tonight. I had bought some melatonin at the store as well, so after everything was prepared for Sunday and I had eaten dinner, I popped five into my mouth, swallowed them down with a can of Sprite I had gotten at the motel vending machine, and passed out within three minutes. The next time I woke up was 6 hours later, 5AM, except this time there was no tapping, there was no scratching. I honestly believe I just woke up because my body was ready to be awake. I wasn’t even tired anymore. I climbed out of bed, got a shower, put on the jeans but decided to put a Clash t-shirt on instead of the Ramones one because it was less wrinkled. It wasn’t anywhere near time for me to go to work so I grabbed the cigarettes, climbed onto my bed and flipped on the tv. The Boomerang channel came on playing the Flintstones, which I'm not really a fan of, but I didn't feel like switching the channel so it stayed. I popped a Camel into my mouth and lit it with a cheap Scripto lighter I had gotten for a dollar a couple weeks back. I took a slow deep drag from it and exhaled, a much smoother attempt than last night. Then, I saw it. I call it the Hunchback. It’s human-like, but it has brownish-gray skin, with giant, black soulless eyes. Small palms with extremely long fingers and short, sharp nails. It’s completely hairless, with long arms that drag on the ground. Sharp pointed, shark-like teeth, with a tongue that it constantly uses to lick its non-existent lips whenever it watches me. When it walks it always has bent knees and it leans over like an old person using a walker. It has long feet, I would guess a foot and a half each. And it’s growled at me before. It sounded distorted, kind of like the Jurassic Park T-Rex. But now, it was sitting on my TV. I don’t mean on top of my TV. I mean INSIDE. On the show. It was sitting next to Fred Flintstone’s recliner, where Dino was supposed to be. And he was staring at me… licking his would-be lips. I screamed and threw the lighter at the tv. I missed and it smashed against the wall.

“Shit!” I cried as I had simultaneously broken my only lighter and made a huge mess on the wall. I grabbed for the TV remote, but it was gone. Nowhere to be found. I had set in on the nightstand, but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t on the floor or anything. It had just disappeared. I rushed over to the TV set and as I did I saw the Hunchback approaching the screen as well. It sounded like it was moaning. A long, drawn out howl type of sound. I pressed the power button and nothing happened. I tried changing the channel. Nothing. The Hunchback was starting to move faster. Finally I reached for the power cord in the wall behind the TV. As I pulled it out I saw the Hunchback attempt to leap out of the TV but I had pulled the cord out of the wall just in time. And as the TV screen faded, I got a chance to stare my attacker in the face. Which immediately made me feel nauseous. I took a seat on the bed to catch my breath. My heart was racing. Am I going crazy? I thought. I haven’t had a drink in years but it’s back again. There’s no way this is a hallucination this time. It can’t be. I decided to put it out of my mind and went to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper to wipe the lighter fluid off the wall. Suddenly I smelled something burning and remembered I had set the cigarette on the nightstand. I quickly ran over and put it in the ashtray. Thank god that I wasn’t in a non-smoking room. I finished cleaning up the lighter fluid and hoped that it wouldn’t stain and the motel staff wouldn’t be too pissed at me for any potential smell. I looked at the clock, 6:35. The motel had a small breakfast bar. Just toast and cereal. It’s not technically a breakfast bar, just food for the overnight staff, but I’d become friends with the receptionist, a short, stocky black guy named Russell. He sometimes lets me in the back for some food in the early mornings.

I was able to grab a match book from Russell while eating breakfast with him. A bowl of Frosted Flakes and two pieces of cream cheese toast. I went back to my room to grab the pack of Camels before I hopped in my Corolla and drove to work. It was only a five minute drive so I actually got there twenty minutes early. I expected more people to be there but there were only two other cars and Terry’s dark blue Chevy Silverado. So I went back to Terry's office, and talked with him for a bit. I mainly wanted to ask him one question; why is it called Shores Grocery Stores instead of Shores Grocery Store. It turns out that Terry called it that because when he opened the store seven years ago he was intending to have multiple stores by their tenth year. I also asked him why they had a clothing section if they were a grocery store, and where it was. Terry’s response was they had installed a full clothing section two years ago to try and expand the store Walmart style but it hadn’t gone over well, but Terry decided to keep a small one just in case the clothing section started being in demand. The clothing section was in the back left corner, opposite Terry’s office, so I took a bit of time to see what they had, and it was exactly what I expected. Flannel shirts, Wrangler jeans, and three cowboy hats. A very Terry clothing section. As I headed to the back to clock in for the first time I learned that the two other cars in the parking lot belong to the two main openers, one cashier, and a stock boy, with another stock boy to arrive in about thirty minutes. Terry had to leave after showing me where the time clock was so he could attend church service at eight thirty, but he said he would be back at one. I had to ask the other cashier how to log into a register because, as the manager, I was allowed to do whichever thing I wanted; either be a cashier, help stock, or watch the security cameras, which Terry described as ‘The most boring task I have ever done in my life’ so I decided I’ll do what I can to avoid doing that. The day went by pretty smoothly, although I had to stop a lady at the doors because Tabitha, the cashier, thought the lady might have grabbed a couple candy bars when she turned around to break a hundred. She actually had and willingly gave them back. I had to go to the office to write up a report on the attempted theft, something I have to do with every injury, shoplift, etc. after that I had two hours left on my shift so I just hung out in the office with Terry for most of it because at that point the second cashier had arrived which was able to hold the flow of customers pretty well. Right before I was supposed to go to lunch, though, one of the stock boys, a seventeen year old stoner kid named Tyler, dropped a bottle of bleach on the floor, which was fun because I had to make sure nothing went in his eyes or his mouth, help them clean the mess up, and, of course, write another incident report. I went to lunch thirty minutes late. There was a twenty minute period at three where I had to go out and help in the third of four checkout lanes but that was the last major event of my work day.

That night went much more smoothly. I went to the library to create a free library membership and check out a couple books. I wasn’t about to risk turning on my TV again. I checked out three books. One, about store management so I could freshen up a bit since I had been out of college for a while. Pet Sematary by Stephen King, one of my all time favorite books, and a short book called Dead Connection by some guy named Vincent V Cava. I had never heard of him but the cover looked interesting so I thought I would give it a try. For the span of recent events, horror books seemed very fitting. Maybe it would help me mentally prepare for the potential coming onslaught of hauntings. But the Hunchback didn’t come back. Not that night, or the next morning. Monday resulted in no special events either, Tyler didn’t spill anything although he nearly dropped a big box full of egg cartons. After work Terry and Meera invited me over to their house for dinner. I found myself beginning to feel safe and settled, seemingly finding my place in the world. I went back to my motel room that night and fell asleep easily; no melatonin, no Hunchback, and of course, no tv.

I woke up ready to celebrate the one year anniversary of the last time I saw the Hunchback. It had been a pretty good year for me. I was steadily making nine hundred dollars a week as the manager of Shores Grocery Stores, I had finished paying off my debt to the motel a few months ago. I had also gotten my own small apartment with the help of Terry, and my life finally seemed to be going up for once. I went over to my desk that I never actually used as a desk, instead using it as a prop for a medium-ish fish tank and fed the few fish I kept in the tank. “Morning boys.” I said as if they could hear and understand me. I grabbed a shower, threw on an old Black Flag t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and made my way down to my car, which was now a 2008 Honda Civic, thank you Terry for co-signing so I could actually afford it, and hopped in, on my way out to enjoy my day off. The sun was bright, and it was significantly warmer than last autumn. I threw on the knock-off RayBans I had gotten at a Dollar General, put the car in reverse, and headed out to the library. I had a couple books I had to return that were about to go late. The only other real plan for today was to meet up at a bar with a couple friends later that night to celebrate today. No, I wasn’t trying to relapse, as far as they were aware I was actually celebrating sobriety, but they didn’t question why I chose that spot. It was called Lucky’s and was my favorite place to eat. Terry didn’t drink and he introduced me to it. According to him, Lucky’s has the best food in Jackson, apart from his wife. And honestly, I have to agree. When Terry first took me there I ordered a burger, expecting it to be mediocre at best. In a word, mouthwatering. Apparently they have some sort of agreement with a local cattle rancher, and they get super fresh meat, so every burger they make is super flavorful and juicy. I used to date a girl while in college and she had convinced me to try veganism, it wasn’t bad but I am so glad that we didn’t work out. The signature “Lucky Burger” is something everyone needs to try at least once in their life.

The celebration was great. The guys told me to take a few shots, I aggressively refused; at one point I was willing to leave when they told me it was just water in a shot glass, not vodka, which was relieving and I happily took it from them after a good laugh. I still kind of wanted to punch a guy named Tavon, who I had met at the library, because it was his idea, but it was a good joke. It was a great night otherwise. We toasted shot glasses of Coca-Cola to my sobriety, after which Ethan, the opening stock boy who had just turned twenty-one, said that next time we come here I’m going to be his sober ride home. I laughed and told him to shut up as he downed his shot of Coke. Overall I made a few memories and had fun with my friends. I began to feel as if the Hunchback would never come back. And just as I began to feel that way, it did. In full force.

After the celebration dinner, I walked into my apartment to find one of my windows broken. I wasn’t too worried about it though, probably just some of the apartment complex kids trying to seem cool to their friends. The next day, however, it got more aggressive. When I came home from work I found all three of my fish out of their tank, on the floor, dead. I wouldn’t say I was distraught by it but I was very upset. These guys had kept me company for the last seven months. Before I let myself start watching tv again there were times when I would get bored and I would just sit at my desk and watch these guys swim around their tank, feeling jealous that they had nothing to worry about or be afraid of. Later that day I called Terry and Ethan and we held a small funeral for my fish. Even Ethan got up and said something, which surprised me because he’s not much of an animal person, but he apparently thought my fish were cool. I later learned that the reason he thought my fish were cool was because sometimes when he would come over, he would smack their tank and watch them scurry. The next few days were marred by nightmares of the Hunchback. And they were extremely vivid. Many of them were of it chasing me down darkened and dimly lit hallways. But there were a few of them where it would actually catch me, it would pin me on the ground and start eating me alive. It would start at my legs and chew all of the flesh off, then it would go to my arms and then chew all of the flesh from my chest, somehow I would still be alive, and the pain was excruciating. Finally it would bite my head off and I would wake up in a bed that was soaked in sweat. These dreams were constant. At one point I had enough and didn’t let myself sleep for three days straight. When I got to work on the third day Terry looked at me and called me over.

“Are you sick, Jordan?”

“No, I feel fine.” I lied. I hate lying to Terry but I didn’t want him to think I had relapsed in some way.

“Well you look like you haven’t slept for days.” He didn’t say this as an exaggeration or some sort of guess. Over the past year Terry and I had gotten to know each other very well, so he definitely knew I hadn’t slept. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I don’t like telling Terry no so I simply said “Maybe.”

“Let’s talk about it.” He said, and before he gave me a chance to reply he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his office. He sat me down in the same chair I had my interview in and looked me up and down. “What’s wrong?”

I sighed and began telling him everything, the appearances of the Hunchback last year, the nightmares, my window and the mystery of my fishes’ deaths. Terry sat back in his chair thinking for a couple minutes.

“So….?” I said after some time.

“Well, my guess is that, since it’s been a year since you last saw this Hunchback creature of yours, your subconscious is probably scared of it coming back again, and is manifesting that fear in your nightmares.” These were some of the biggest words I had ever heard Terry say over the past year I had known him, so it took me a bit to process what he had said. But he was right. It was the only rational explanation for all of this. “Now, I don’t know if I can be much help here, I’m no psychologist or anything. But what I can say is that when you get home tonight, get some sleep. You need it. Now get on out there, we need someone at register two.”

I got home that night after working a late shift, and decided to watch some TV during dinner, but I couldn’t find the remote. I figured it was probably under the couch and I didn’t feel like getting on the floor to retrieve it, so I just ate a quiet dinner and went to bed. That night, I had the worst night yet. It wasn’t a nightmare but when I woke up, there were three giant claw marks in my shirt, and through all of my bed sheets, both above and underneath me. I screamed at the top of my lungs as I ripped my shirt off. “What the fuck?” I cried to no one. I immediately called Terry, and he showed up a few minutes later. I showed him my shirt and the bed, hoping he could have some sort of advice or suggestion. The first thing he did was look at me out of the corner of his eye, and slowly say with a smirk “Did yah have a lady friend over last night?”

I glared at him and through gritted teeth said “Not the time, Terry,”

He chuckled and looked back at the bed. He took the shirt out of my hands and examined it for a few seconds. “So yah say this was the Hunchback again?”

“I mean, it has to be. There was no way this was some sort of animal. There was nothing else wrong with my apartment.”

“Has this thing ever made physical contact with yah? Has it ever touched yah?”

I had to think about this for a second but I was able to remember one incident. “Yeah… once. One night I woke up in the middle of the night in a sleep paralysis state. I saw the Hunchback in the corner of my room watching me. When it saw me wake up it slowly walked over to me, it caressed the side of my face and smiled while licking its lips. After that, it just walked away, out of my room, and closed the door. The next thing I remember, it was the morning, and I felt like I hadn’t slept at all.”

“I have an idea.” Terry said, and with that, he walked out of my apartment, got in his truck, and left. He was back within ten minutes and when he came back inside and asked me, “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“Uh… yeah.” A half lie. When I was little, for a couple years, my dad decided to put me in Cub Scouts, I wasn’t very good at it. One year, at summer day camp, they decided to let the younger kids try the BB guns. Easy enough to say, I sucked at it, bad. I never once was able to hit the target. I did, somehow, manage to shoot my scout master in the right butt cheek. Safe to say they didn’t let me touch the guns after that, probably a good idea for an eight year old. Terry handed me a Sig Sauer P220, it was all black with a beautiful wooden grip.

“If that thing comes back again, shoot it in the face, after that everything should be fine, except for a potential hole in your ceiling.”

“I guess I’ll try my best but I'm a terrible shot.”

“How… how do yah miss from point blank range?” Terry asked in befuddlement.

I shrugged. “Guess I’m just full of surprises, Boss.”

That night I couldn’t sleep at all, not for a lack of trying. It was either the awkwardness of having a gun under my pillow, or the fear of what happened the night before. I just layed on my bed, watching the ceiling fan slowly spin, too scared to look around and see if it had come back again. If it did, the Hunchback made no attempts to make any more physical contact. When the sun started to come up I decided to get up and make a pot of coffee. I looked at one of the security cameras I had set up the night before, hoping I hadn’t spent two hundred bucks for nothing. Suddenly, a loud, ear piercing screech erupted in my kitchen, I covered my ears and crumpled to the floor. The glass cup on my kitchen counter shattered. Like an opera singer singing a high C to a wine glass. The oven door glass flew over me and I got cut a lot. The lightbulb fell out of the ceiling, and shattered on the ground. My blender fell off the counter and also shattered on the ground on my other side. Then my watch shattered, slicing open the top of my wrist. Suddenly my cabinet slammed open, as if flung by an invisible hand, glass came flowing out of it from my now shattered cups and plates, sending a new layer of sharp shards all over myself and the floor. The coffee pot went next, spilling boiling coffee all over the place. I didn’t get hit by much of it but what did get me still hurt like a bitch. And then it ended. The sound was gone as quickly as it came. I was bleeding all over, I was barefoot and I was surrounded by hundreds of tiny shards of glass. I didn’t want to move to not risk cutting my feet on the glass, but I quickly decided that my arms were already cut enough so I proceeded to sweep the glass out of the way with my forearms and slowly crawl my way over to the back left corner of my kitchen, meanwhile getting blood all over the vinyl floor. I checked the security camera. The lens was cracked but it was still recording. Which meant it had recorded everything, with sound thanks to a small microphone hole in the top right hand corner. I took the camera down and removed the micro SD card. I put it in the zipper pocket of my cargo shorts, and crawled out of my kitchen, getting more blood on the floor. I stood up when I made my way to my living room. “That’s gonna suck to clean up.” I muttered to myself. I got a shower to clean off the blood, wrapped my left wrist in a bandage where my watch had sliced it open, put on a new change of clothes, took the old ones to the dumpster, and drove to Terry’s house to show him the footage.

“Well I’ll be damned…” was Terry’s response. “What happened?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Oh right, the Hunchback. I guess you’re not crazy after all.”

“Wow. Thanks.” I said with fake enthusiasm. I was just relieved I finally had some proof of that fact, even if I felt like I could only show it to Terry.

“I didn’t think it was anything supernatural, I thought yah were just trying to play some kind of joke on me.” I stared at Terry in disbelief.

“Do you really think I would ruin my favorite Black Flag shirt and my bed sheets just to mess with you?”

“Well… I mean yah did call me and tell me the store was robbed.”

“Oh shit.” I had done that. It was a slow night about four months ago. I had just let myself start watching TV again and I had watched Pulp Fiction on AxsTV, which gave me the idea to pull a prank on Terry. I had counted the cash from the registers, and told the closing cashier Tracee to hide the money in the corner behind the drink cooler. After which I called Terry and said the store had been held up at gunpoint and the thief had gotten away with nine grand. Terry was at the store in five minutes, which means he definitely sped and went through some red lights, since his house is ten minutes away from my apartment, which is four minutes away from the store. Tracee and I were literally on the floor laughing. I am surprised neither of us got fired that night. But I digress. I looked at Terry and asked “Got any ideas?”

“How can I? Up until a minute ago I didn’t believe that something like this could exist. The only thing I have are some guns and a hunting’ knife and I’m not sure if they would be effective.”

“Probably more effective than sitting on our hands. We have to try something. I mean, I don’t know how long I can take stuff like today, I’ll probably die if it keeps going this way.”

“Do you have any idea why it’s targeting you?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want it, not any more. We need to somehow get this thing to leave me alone, or kill it, or something.”

“I do have one idea but it will take a lot of prep time.”

“Ok, what's that?” I asked, hopeful.

“Yah like camping?”

A week later, Terry and I were trekking through the woods behind his house looking for a spot to have a camp out with an indefinite ending. The plan was for Terry to teach me how to shoot a gun, and that we would be camping outside until the Hunchback tried to come after me, then we would shoot and kill it. Simple plan? Not so much, like I said. I’m a terrible shot. Terry didn’t realize just how bad I was until the first time he tried to give me a lesson. He stood me two feet in front of a tree, I raised the gun, fired, and missed. “Oh dear Lord in heaven.” I hear Terry mumble over my shoulder. It took two weeks for Terry to finally get me hitting the tree somewhat consistently. About one third or so of the time I would hit the tree. We wasted hundreds of rounds on that damn tree but Terry had an arsenal, given that he basically lived in the countryside. He had three rifles, two shot guns, and five pistols. Way too much for both of us to use, so I just kept the Sig Sauer and Terry’s hunting knife. I left everything else to Terry. We camped out about an acre from Terry’s house for about a month. We slowly began to lose hope that we would see the Hunchback again when out of nowhere the nightmares started again. And they were bad. I mean three letter organization torture bad. There were dreams where the Hunchback would gouge my eyes out and rip out my tongue. Others where it would rip off all my toenails and fingernails one by one and then pull out my each of teeth. Some were of the Hunchback using its nails to saw through the skin at the base of my fingers, all the way down to the bone and then rip them the rest of the way off. In a few the Hunchback pinned me to the ground face down, grabbed my hair, and ripped the skin from my head with its claw, nail things. It was scalping me alive, leaving blood to ooze into my eyes, leaving me practically blind for the rest of the dream. Others were so bad I don’t even want to think about them ever again. And they all felt real. I felt all of the pain and every single time I would pray that I would just pass out from the pain but I never did. It got bad enough that pain began to linger even hours after waking up. One day I tried to pick up the P220 and my fingers didn’t move for a second. When I finally managed to wrap my fingers around the handle I immediately screamed in pain as all of the nerve endings went into a split second of shockwave pain, almost like they were being reminded that they were once each cut off and tortured away from my hand on many occasions. Terry ran out of the tent thinking I was being attacked by an animal, despite at this point some of them should begin hibernating. I had crumpled to my knees. I noticed my hand was numb, then slowly went back to that tingly feeling you get when you’ve slept on it weirdly, and then it was back to normal. I slowly became aware that my hair was matted to my face with sweat, I looked like I had been in a rainstorm. As I stood up I flung my head backwards and slicked my shoulder length hair back like I normally had it. Suddenly there was a brief rustling in the trees around our campsite. I wasn’t sure but I was fairly certain I saw the Hunchback. Pistol in my right hand, I grabbed the knife with my left hand, put it in the sheath on my belt, and ran after the shape in the darkness. I ran for several minutes following it through left and right turns. Suddenly the shape rounded a thick tree. I tried to follow but it had disappeared. I gripped the gun with my both hands, sneaking around like a cop in a dangerous house that hasn’t been cleared yet. I slunk around snapping the gun in each direction, tree to tree, trying to find it. On a gut feeling, I looked up, and saw it perched on a tree branch, like a bird. I swiped my hands up and fired at hit. I missed five shots in a row but I knew I was close to getting it.

I was tired and sore, which led to me not feeling like chasing it. I wasn’t sure how far out I was from camp and I didn’t want to get any more lost. I just stood there, watching it jump from limb to limb, further and further away. Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder. I whipped the pistol around to find the barrel of the gun pointed directly in the face of Terry.

“Terry!” I said, breathless. My heart was racing and I was still pointing the gun at him.

Terry slowly used the back of his hand to move the gun away from his nose. “What in heaven did you run off like that for?”

I stared at the ground. “I saw it. I fuckin’ saw it. It was there and I had it but I fuckin’ missed. I fucking missed it, man.” I was practically screaming that last part in frustration. As I said that I put the safety on and pitched the gun at the dry dirt like it was a baseball. It bounced and stopped a couple feet away. I looked up at Terry, tears welling up in my eyes. Terry grabbed my shoulders again.

“Hey, you’ll get it next time.”

At this point I broke and tears started coming down my face one at a time. “Who even says there will be a next time?”

“There will be, and we’ll be ready.”

“Yeah, but what if the guns don’t do anything? What if bullets don’t hurt it and knives do nothing? What if all of our preparations mean nothing?" I fell to the ground, burying my face in my knees, tears streaming down my face. “What do I do if we can’t kill it and the rest of my life is tormented by this freak.” I stopped and pointlessly tried to catch my breath. “Why shouldn’t I just give up now and go home? Return to San Francisco and just end it all. I’m starting to feel like that might be best.” Terry kneeled down and put his arm around me.

“You mean move back in with your parents?”

I scoffed. “Yeah right. Like I could do that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t! During the alcohol abuse I stole two hundred bucks from them and they didn’t know why. They didn’t know I was addicted to booze and they badically disowned me. They knew something was wrong but they thought it was drugs. They thought I had stolen money from them to buy heroin or cocaine or something. They gave up on me which sent me spiraling even worse. I had no one to turn to at that point and that’s when the Hunchback first showed up.”

“Well, yah got me now,” Terry said looking out into the trees. “So you’re not alone anymore. I’m here for yah, and I promise yah that I always will be. We’ve been through a lot together and I don’t know how I could manage all the stuff going on without yah. Meera really likes yah too.”

I sniffed trying to get control of myself and looked at him. He was smiling, which was odd given the circumstances, but it felt weirdly comforting to have him there with me. “Thanks, Boss. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

“Meera and I only ever had one daughter. So to me, you’re kind of like a son that I never had. It’s nice.”

I smiled and put my arm around him too. We sat there for a few more minutes, watching the sun lower in the sky before Terry got up and said, “Come on, we need to make our way back to camp before the sun goes down.” I stood up and he led me back since I had no idea where we even were. When we got back it wasn’t a very pretty sight. There’s no way for me to confirm or say with certainty that it was the Hunchback, but all of the food that we had was unpackaged, removed from their respective containers, and thrown in the dirt. We had nothing left but the tent. Terry and I had brought four wheelers out and parked them a few yards away, he went over to them and examined them. They seemed fine so we decided that we would head out tomorrow and buy some more food to bring back to camp. We went to sleep hungry but we toughed our way through it and had breakfast with Meera in the morning. That afternoon we brought some metal shooting targets to the campsite, and set them up in a nearby clearing. Terry used them to help me make my aim more precise, so that next time I would have a better chance of actually hitting the Hunchback. It didn’t really help much but I hit it a few more times than I thought I would.

That night went by smoothly, I had a bit of trouble falling asleep, but the next morning we both woke up to a howling sound, like the one I heard coming out of the motel TV a year ago. I jumped up and grabbed the knife, which I kept next to me at all times just in case.

“What in tarnation kind of animal is that?” Terry asked groggy and still half asleep.

“It’s not an animal.” I said putting on my belt and the sheath of the knife. “It’s the Hunchback. I’ve heard it make that sound before. It’s nearby. I know it.”

Terry got up and threw on his concealed carry harness. We had both decided to wear normal clothes to sleep in in case the Hunchback showed up in the middle of the night and we needed to chase after it. I unzipped the door of the tent and saw the Hunchback staring at us from the woods. I grabbed the Sig Sauer from the nearby folding table and took aim. I fired and missed it by inches. I ran out of the tent and took pursuit as the Hunchback started to flee. Terry was just a couple feet behind me as we both chased after the creature while it slunk its way through the woods. It’s not a fast creature, but its long legs helped it gain distance quickly. We chased it for a few minutes until it disappeared from view. It was the same as last time. I turned a tree and it was just gone. Terry caught up with me, out of breath.

Suddenly a thud came from behind us and we both turned to see the Hunchback lunging towards me, mouth open, claws out. I tried to dodge, but was just out of time. I put my arm up and its claws sank deep into my right forearm. We tussled on the ground, rolling over and over a few times. When we stopped it was on top of me, still scratching at my forearm. Clawing chunks of skin off. It bit down into my side and blood came gushing out. I screamed in pain as best I could when it brought its fist down into my chest. I heard a snap as one of my ribs broke, and a sharp pain in my side became more increasingly prevalent. Terry ran over to try and help me but it pierced its claws directly into his chest. When it took them out blood came rushing from the holes. I finally managed to move my hand down to my waist and grab the knife on my belt. I swung my arm up and stabbed the beast directly in the neck. It screamed and jerked back, breaking the blade away from the hilt of the knife. It took off in the direction of the clearing where we had set up our target practice. I got up and limped over towards Terry. Kneeling next to him, I grabbed the bottom of his head and lifted it up.

“Go on, go after it.” He groaned.

“No, I can’t leave you.” I tried to tell him but he cut me off before I could finish.

“I’ll be fine. Just go.”

“But Terry”

He gave me a weak shove. “Go! I’ll be fine. Go kill that thing, for both of us.” I stood up and looked down at him, considering if I should leave him here, possibly to die. He looked up at me and screamed, “Go on now! Get!”

I turned and left him there, lying on a bed of leaves praying that he would survive. I ran in the direction of the clearing. I pulled the gun from my waist band and cocked it, ready to end my mystery once and for all. I pulled it up, arms extended, like I had seen in cop shows before. The sky was cloudy and gray. It looked like it was about to rain, and it would be a bad one. Mississippi winter rain again. This was the type of southern rain that doesn't stop for a couple of days. I could feel that I didn't have long before it would start. A raindrop fell on my forehead as I turned and entered the clearing. The Hunchback was just standing there. Staring into the sky as if in a trance. I halted at the edge of the trees. I felt like I was in some sort of Doom game.

“Hey, you fuck!” I screamed at it. It turned and looked at me, licking its lips like normal. Rain began to fall even more and I took a couple steps forward. It didn’t move, and I took one more step forward. Then it came running towards me, its arms falling behind it, making it look kind of like Naruto. It tried to swipe its claw at me, but I dodged to the right, rolling underneath its swinging hand. I shot it in the shoulder and its arm went limp. It screamed with a mix of pain and fury as I got up and retreated a few steps backward. I took another shot and just grazed its leg. It roared again and came back at me again. I waited for it to get closer, to make sure I could hit the shot but when my gun jammed, my heart dropped out of my chest, and the next thing I knew the Hunchback was on top of me again, gnawing the flesh from my chest. I was starting to see my ribs. There were at least three of them that were broken. I was screaming and hollering in pain and piece after piece of flesh was ripped away from my body. It was excruciating. My throat started going hoarse and my screams got quieter. The world started going black and I felt myself slipping in and out of consciousness. Then suddenly a gunshot rang out over the trees and the Hunchback stopped eating me. There was a new gash in my forehead, which was streaming blood into my eye, so I was running half blind. I got myself to sit up, propped up on my right arm. Which was missing skin and bleeding all over the dry ground.

The gunshot had come from Terry, who had made his way to the clearing. He apparently had unholstered one of his Springfield 911 9mms and shot the Hunchback directly in what would be the spine, but it had done nothing to stop it. It knocked Terry to the ground and ripped into his leg. Terry was screaming and howling in pain. The Hunchback taunted us by matching his howl and then it laughed, or at least I think it laughed. I wasn’t really sure if it even could. I pulled my gun up to eye level, and prayed to Terry’s God that I might be able to hit it from this distance, just this once. I closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger. Bang. When I opened my eyes again the Hunchback was slumped over on its side, a bullet hole in its head, and Terry was crawling his way over towards me. I didn’t have much time left. I could tell. I was weak and bleeding a lot. The pain in my side was unbearable and it was getting hard to breathe. As he got closer I shakily muttered, “Terry, I. Terry.” And then the world went black.

The next time I opened my eyes I was in a hospital, sun shining through the window, with a breathing tube in my mouth. Pretty much my whole body was wrapped in bandages and my left arm was in a cast. I closed my eyes again and when I opened them, the breathing tube was in my mouth, there was an IV in my left arm, my right arm and chest were still in bandages, and it was nighttime. I looked over to the opposite side from the window and Terry was sitting next to me, in a wheelchair. I tried to sit up but was shot with pain throughout my entire upper body.

“Hey hey, take it easy.” Terry said softly, putting his hand lightly on my chest. “Nice to see yah awake again.”

“How…. How am I still alive?” I muttered, trying to find the strength to move my mouth and speak.

“Grace of God. Best explanation for everything.”

“At least someone was on our side against that thing.” I muttered. “What happened to you? Are you stuck in that thing for good?”

“No no. They had to strap me in this thing because I kept trying to walk before the doctor said I could. They finally gave me this thing so that I could move around and come visit yah.”

“At least you’re not too bad.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to my leg.” He gestured towards his left leg, which was still wrapped in bandages. “They say I’ll probably need a cane after this but I’ll walk again.”

I leaned back, further into the bed. “Yeah? And what did they say about me?”

“You’ve been out for five days. They said yah likely wouldn’t live to see another day. They gave 200 to 1 odds. But here yah are.”

“Damn.”

“Yah were in pretty bad shape. Yah had five broken ribs, and a puncture in your lungs. When yah stabbed that thing in the neck and it jerked back it both broke your wrist and dislocated your shoulder. Your right arm was missing most of the skin as was your chest. They had to give yah three skin grafts to fix that. I really am happy that yah woke up. I don’t know what I would have done with myself if yah had died.”

“You wouldn’t need to feel bad. I’m that one that dragged you into this mess man. Did I kill it?”

“Pretty sure. That was some good shooting form yah. I told them where the body was. They’re making their way down to it now to get it. I had to show it the footage from those video cameras of yours that we set up in the campsite.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s all over.”

“I’m gonna leave you for a bit. Go talk to Meera and tell her you’re awake. She’ll be really excited to see yah again.”

“Hey, what happened when we got here?”

“Meera brough us, that’s what took me so long. I had called her and told her to be prepared to take us here in five minutes. When we got here she told them that we had been attacked by a bear. When I woke up the next day I told the hospital I wanted to talk to the department of agriculture. I told them everything and showed them the videos. You should have seen the looks on their faces.” He said laughing. I tried to laugh but it made my chest hurt. Terry rolled out of my door and I turned my head back to look into the ceiling.

And that brings us to today. It’s been five years since then and I haven’t seen that thing since. There’s no way for me to confirm that it’s dead because the DOA never found the body. I can say though that all of the torment and nightmares and sleep paralysis, everything has ceased, and I am happier now than I have ever been. About three years ago I met and began dating a girl named Clarissa. She’s a registered nurse and actually works at the hospital I was in after the attack. We learned that she apparently changed my bandages once. Small world I guess. She has a Catholic background and even though she’s not really practicing she still goes to Mass on Christmas. I joined her last year. It was an interesting experience. We moved in together about a year ago, and life has been smooth sailing. We just had our first child, a girl which we named Theressa Anne Belmont. We call her Terry for short. Named after Terry and mother Teresa. She’s absolutely gorgeous. She inherited my green eyes, and Clarissa’s black hair. She has such tiny hands. I could talk about her all day but I am digressing. She’s my whole world. Both of them are. I still work at the store, but I have been “promoted” to managing the newly opened second one. Yes, Terry and Meera finally managed to open a second one, three years behind schedule. We actually asked Terry and Meera to be our daughters' godparents and they happily agreed. They treat her as if she’s their own granddaughter. We take her over there at least once a month, if not more. They absolutely adore her. I don’t blame them. I’m digressing again.

I’ve told Claire, my nickname for Clarissa, everything. I was able to make a copy of our footage and I have the scars, so she believes me about it all. She’s actually the one that convinced me to write all of this. I don’t really have a point in writing it other than to journal my experience. I guess if any of you have a problem with that thing, if you want, you can message me and we can talk about it. I could give you some advice. Maybe tell you what type of rounds would do the most damage. Armour piercing probably. I really hope I don’t get messages about this thing, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But if I do, I’m more than willing to help. If you, or anyone you know, has ever encountered this thing, just know two things, it’s called the Hunchback, and you’re not alone. My name has been Jordan Aaron Belmont. And this was my story.

[doweirdthings]

The Women on the Parkway - pt 1

Pt. 2

I hate driving. Even before the incident, I hated driving. I guess HATE is a strong word, but I could never understand people who find it relaxing - a hobby even. Something they prefer to do. At best, I think it’s boring; at worst terrifying. But just for the normal reasons, you know? Like “I’m driving a giant hunk of metal and with one wrong twitch of my hand I could kill myself, everyone with me, and a lot of people around me” terrifying kind of way.

Not this… other way.

Ok so basically, I was already in a situation I was uncomfortable with. I was driving from New Orleans up to Boone, North Carolina, a small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains for spring break.... Which, for reference, is a 12-hour road trip. Not only that, but my partner, Sam, was coming with me to meet my family for the first time. Ipso facto… a lot of anxiety and sweating was happening. 

The only good thing about this situation was we could split the drive up into manageable 3-hour legs for each of us to drive twice. My parents moved to Boone a year ago. Even though I had only been up there once before, that was one more time than Sam had been, so we agreed I’d take the last 3-hour leg winding through the mountains.

Most of the drive was completely uneventful (well, driving through Atlanta was a bitch, but if you’ve ever driven through Atlanta, you know why). We talked, listened to music, got a bunch of junk food… normal road trip stuff. The sun went down around 7pm, so the last bit of the trip was plunged into darkness, but that still wasn’t a problem. 

In fact, I used to prefer driving at night strangely enough. Not anymore though.

So we’re toodling along, stopped at a gas station around 6:45 to fill up, and kept on trucking. After that it was mostly small towns; I turned onto the Blue Ridge Parkway soon after. I don’t know if this is common knowledge, but the Parkway is known for being gorgeous. People come to North Carolina just to drive on it. Weird people, of course - people who actually like driving. But at night, it's treacherous. The road is built right into the side of the mountains for the most part. There’s a hard rock wall on one side and a steep drop on the other with tons of sharp curves. I was a bundle of nerves.

Man, I wish Sam hadn’t fallen asleep.

I mean, I get it. It was a long day and I had slept through their last driving shift, but still. I really really wish they hadn’t fallen asleep.

Every so often, I’d see another car driving behind me to turn off onto one of the side roads or whizz by to pass me (I drive slow, especially at night, and especially on the Parkway at night). But after almost an hour and I hadn’t seen anyone else I started to feel that something was off. Yeah, it was dark as hell, but it was only 8 o’clock? People live out here. They go places. Not a lot of people… but… I don’t know… I couldn’t help but wonder, where was everyone?

Either way, I took it as an opportunity to flip on the high beams. I hadn’t turned them on yet because a car would come by every five to ten minutes and I didn’t want to blind them. The tree branches were so white and bright; it was unsettling. Like looking at huge, pallid veins trapping us in the mountains. That, plus the extreme lack of other people… I was starting to feel spooked. I turned the music up as loud as it would go, hoping that it would wake Sam up. It didn’t work but I wasn’t too surprised – they’re a heavy sleeper.

I kept driving with the high beams on and the music up for what felt like another hour at least… but still no other cars. Not to mention, I should’ve been at my parents house by then. Or at least closer to it? But my estimated time of arrival displayed mockingly on my phone’s GPS wouldn’t budge. It just stayed stuck at “ETA: 1 hour 6 minutes”. I don’t know when it stopped counting down, but once I noticed, I started to pay closer attention to my surroundings. I know that long, winding roads and forests are not distinctive landmarks, but after a while, I could swear I was driving past the same areas over and over and over again.

At this point, I was freaking out. I kept shaking Sam’s leg TRYING to get them to wake up, but they were completely out of it. Their eyes rolled completely back into their sockets and their head lolled from side to side in a sickeningly limp way. I was about to yell their name until I saw something in the corner of my eye that made my mouth go dry and my blood run cold.

A woman. Just standing between the trees. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to look straight at her, but just the knowledge of her presence sent my heart beating so hard that it was all I could hear. Once I saw her, I couldn’t unsee her. I was always aware that she was there, barely visible out of the corner of my eye. From the details I was able to make out, she was in a long gingham dress and an old-fashioned bonnet - what I’d imagined women wore on the Oregon Trail or something. All of my more rational fears of crashing or driving off a cliff dissipated and all I wanted to do was get away from her. As I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal, I watched our MPH tick up on the speedometer.

But it was like I was running from the moon. No matter how fast I drove, she was there. The trees flew by, I ripped around curves, but she was still there. Standing there. Staring at me.

I turned off my high beams because I didn’t want her to be able to see me better than she already could… but right before I flipped them off, I caught a glimpse of her straight on as I turned a corner.

[toastess-with-the-mostess]

Let's Rewind! Toasts watches Voltron: Defender of The Universe (1984)

Season 1, Episode 9: A Pretty Spy

Y'know I would've thought this was the Bokar episode, but obviously it's not Oooh maybe it's the Hunk version of it, I know that doesn't make sense but if it is then you'll understand soon

Looks like some not so friendly fire on a doom ship in Arus space, it really might be this one then!

Keith just effortlessly predicting how the ship is going to crash-land, what a good tactician Hunk runs off to go check for any survivors

Was it really easier to go on a horse to the desert because I feel like using yellow to explore the wreckage would've been better

A slave girl has been found, Hunk recognizes the brand she because it's the same as his Obvs she's alive so she gets taken to medical to get her help

The team minus Hunk doubts she actually escaped, yup this is the episode I was thinking of!

She's explaining her backstory but had so weirdly long pause before the flashback started Apparently Twila was only recently brought to Doom with her brother and while the guards were distracted with beating him she ran back into the ship that brought them there and bolted

I like how last episode it was established that Lance was the one with the lie detector abilities but when it's a seemingly innocent girl all that power is out the window and gets attached to Keith More discussing if attacking Zarkon with Voltron is worth it instead of just waiting for his attacks before they form up It's shot down for fear of losing their jobs

Hunk is immediately pissed at Keith because she went through that escape by herself and Keith still thinks it was too easy Justifiable but I wish it was Lance who thought it was weird for some continuity

Also for some reason they're in the dark while outside, it's probably for drama but like that castle is huge literally go to the complete other side of it and you should be fine guys

And now all the boys share a room for some reason, one of my mutuals headcannoned that Lance is superstitious about things ending with zero being bad and after prince Bokar he was proven right so I'm just gonna take that and say the boys aren't convinced and slept in the room to prove him wrong lol

Twila has weird glowy eyes and goes to check if the boys are sleeping, and after she leaves Keith gets up to check what the noise was before going back to bed

I'm sorry the castle has a MISSILE ROOM?? MAYBE THAT SHOULD BE UNDERGROUND OR SOMETHING GUYS Apparently Twila has weird electric powers, she's a robot, but I'm just going to refer to her as a person anyway, and uses them to open the door

Is she an antenna or something lmao oop she's setting off a bomb in the missile room, that's actually pretty smart for the bad guys this time around I like it when they're competent lol

Oh Kova is back with Haggar So is Twila not a robot? Haggar said she's under her spell, so maybe I'm just mixed up

The mice bother Pidge, but he doesn't care, but Keith notices and gets worried, so he gets the team to follow One of them also wake up Allura and tell her what's up, queue horrified gasp

Coran fell asleep while on watch duty, why put the old guy there I feel like that was a bad decision period They see Twila planting a bomb, Hunk is disappointed because he stood up for her

The team is worried that they can't do anything in time but Coran just sends out the time bomb because it was attacked to a missile they could fire, the castle is saved!

I feel bad for Hunk because he really trusted her, but he goes off chasing her anyway

NOT THE HORSE WHY USE LASER BEAMS ON THE HORSE THEY ARE INNOCENT IN THIS Hunk finds Twila at a cliff, now it's a stand-off

Hunk asks why she'd work for Zarkon, and she gives the regular sob story of being promised something greater than Zarkon would ever let go of, freedom for the slaves Then her says her brother volunteered to be turned into a robeast as part of that deal, the coffin flies overhead

Man absolutely everyone gets fucked over in this war, I mean I didn't expect anything less but still

The brother robeast is called the Poison BugBlade! Weighing at 4100 short tons, this guy is definitely dying

She's supposed to be yelling at him to complete their mission, but her voice sounds like she's whispering really goes to show how much voice acting has improved in modern days

Oh hey the shot of running people is reused from a few episodes ago too I think, I feel pretty good about spotting that lol

The horse is alive lets go, Hunk gives up on Twila and goes to get his lion The rest try to fight him off for Hunk to join up

Again not really liking how much Allura screams and yells, like I do understand that this is her second robeast battle, technically first while as a lion, but c'mon girly pop! It's probably the 80s treating girls as if they were still fragile while they're put in tough roles for little girls to look up to

Allura gets back up only to be manhandled by the robeast again sdovinsdv, saved by Keith of course Hunk comes in after she gets up again

The voltron preamble is super close to the final product, I'd give it a few more episodes for it to finally be the iconic phrase most fans know

Twila still isn't backing down on her beliefs, she wants Arus GONE, but instead she watches her brother die in front of her :P

HELLO?? ALLURA GIVES LANCE A CHEEK KISS BECAUSE APPARENTLY HE SAVES HER BUT LANCE POINTS OUT IT WAS ACTUALLY KEITH Oh, I definitely see why allurance was shipped this time around too

Apparently Twila went back to her home planet to plan another way to get her people back Keith really thinks that she'll be able to do it this time because they'll help her out when it comes down to it

Episode end! I don't think I'll be doing any episode reviews this Labor Day weekend mostly because I'm going home and probably won't bring my laptop which is where I usually do my blogging from

[chibi-chaos]

Voltron Season 5 Theorizing

Right so I’m just putting this all out there - and man! I cannot wait to see the new season!!!!!

I’ll add imaged to this later when I have time ^^”

THEORY ONE: TWO LEADERS

Basically for those you saw the season trailer you guys might have noticed that Lance has commanding or ‘proactive’ lines. I am not saying he’s gonna be Black Paladin, cause I doubt it would be on the books this season.

BUT

There may be a split or even schism.

Firstly look at the trailer. For one there’s two clear groups forming for fights. You have one lead by ‘Shiro’ with Matt and Pidge making the team. And then you have the second team lead by Lance with Hunk and Allura as part of it (leg buddies?). Shiro remains the leader, but in some ways I’d say Lance is becoming a ‘shadow leader’

For one they both have equal amounts of proactive comments:

Lance:

‘Everyone get to your lions, we’re going in’ - in this on we see Lance, Allura and Hunk followed by a quick scene of their lions

'3, 2, 1.’ Going by the loudness of it, this is during the climax - a battle and Lance in this is calling the shots, presumably on a maneuver. .

‘Shiro’:

‘Stay in formation, and don’t touch the sides’ - this one we see all of the members and their lions

‘It may be time to consider taking the next step’ - This one shows Allura and Pidge, followed by all the lions.

In a way it makes sense that these two are going to be diverging. First in the last season Lance made orders to get out of dangerous before investigating, which ‘Shiro’ over-ruled. And look where that got them? On a planet being pushed into the ground by gravity increasing, before only just escaping an explosion.

On top of that look at the video called ‘Lance’s Upgrade’ - in Lance comments about Shiro not taking him serious - ‘I don’t think Shiro has noticed’. In a way it make sense with these two. Lance was Keith’s right hand man, not Shiro’s. Shiro always turned to Keith. And with Shiro not looking at Lance as his new right hand, it is causing tensions. Same as like with last season his actions are causing more with Allura’s comment - ‘we seem to be constantly at odds’.

Add on: If you go by ‘Lance’s Upgrade’ it’s safe to say that he still supports Shiro - he’s not trying to over take Shiro or assume control, in fact he has worked to smooth the worries Allura has with Shiro. ie. ‘you both have the coalitions best interesting at heart, don’t forget that.’

Another add on: The ‘Operation Lava Base’ just emphasizes how Lance in this is not taking over or trying to overpower Shiro’s control. He’s following Shiro’s instructions just as everyone else is. So in the end Lance is the ‘shadow leader’ or ‘right-hand man’ who’ll support Shiro unless he feels like there’s a better alternative and would voice it. It’s possible to argue he’s working on trying to get Shiro to take him more seriously/understand that he is the right hand now. After all, Lance is shown to be training by himself in ‘Lance’s Upgrade’ - it something that isn’t really shown except with Keith and that was because of how seriously he took his role.

THEORY (MORE LIKE COMMENTARY) TWO: LANCE IS NOT KEITH

Okay so this comment has been floating around a little, and I would like to basically prove otherwise. In the first season Iverson compares Lance to Keith, but that doesn’t mean he is being compared to or becoming Keith now.

In fact Lance has been for the past two seasons compared to someone else.

Alfor.

When Red called, Allura points out that like with Alfor with Zarkon, Lance accepted Keith as the better leader and settled for supporting.

And then with Lance’s Bayard changing, Allura comments about it being the same type of sword that Alfor wielded.

Similarly their personalities echo, Alfor goes from being young going head first in fights and having a joking tone to him, to maturing to become an ideal king and paladin. Similar is happening with Lance as he goes from being a jokester to a form of support for the others. They both accept being the right hand man, and are not afraid to call out then leader if need (ie. Alfor with Zarkon’s obsession of studying and experimenting with the quintessence - ‘This is madness’, and Lance when Keith was still adjusted to the role and was still focused on get Lotor when the other members were lost - ‘Keith, you’re splitting up the team.)

On top of that - the introduction of the sword is something to be expected. So far every red paladin has used a sword, and it links to how the Red Lion controls the sword for Voltron. By having Lance receive the third form of the bayard, it not only demonstrates that Lance is developing to fit his role more (hence why he didn’t instantly get the sword), but also shows how Lance will need to develop an understanding of the sword to help him with using one with Voltron formed. Also the fact that it’s his third bayard point out how he isn’t Keith, he’s main form is a gun, and with adding the sword it’s demonstrates him as a jack-of-all-trades.

Lance isn’t becoming Keith, he is adapting to the role of the Red Paladin. Just like how he adapted to become the right hand man for Keith, and how he adapted to save Plaxum and her people from the Baku with not much support from his team (since it was only him and Hunk, and Hunk was brainwashed for a bit).

OBSERVATIONS (Basically things I am still working on):

1. Keith is definitely having more time and development.Looking at it this way, for one he has unlocked his blade properly and is using it in battle. It means that he has figured out something that potentially was holding him back, and that might take a bit to illustrate. Some of the images also kinda reflects on this, for instance, the isolated Keith in the wide expanse is a style shot that usually reflect journeys.

2. Sendak returns with a larger arm... what this means... I am not too sure. I have a small hunch that Lotor’s gonna fight him, if you go by the fact they both had scene that are set at night in a galra base.

3. Shiro, Pidge and Matt seem to be hearing out Zarkon’s deal. What is interesting is what could convince them to hear him out, which would be something they have in common, or they all can agree is important. It potentially though could turn south, especially considering these three may all be in the scene which Kimiko Glenn (Ezor’s voice actress) leaked - Shiro and Matt shown and there’s a hint of green as well that could be Pidge. Even more so with the background of Pidge fighting in the trailer might match the leaked image. It makes sense that the leak is at that point, because on top of all that we know it will have Shiro, Matt and Ezor, and Ezor is seen behind Zarkon (Lotor’s generals having turned to Zarkon for the time being)

4. There’s a big ol’ fight on Olkari, it’s probably here where the ‘new age of warfare’ is being introduced full time. Considering Olkari is one of the main contributors to Voltron’s side of the battle - having helped made the teleduv which badly injured Zarkon - it makes sense.

5. The hints of a sixth lion in the previous season with the cave drawings seems to be correct, as the White lion is introduced. And it seems that Allura was have some form of tie to it. It could be to sort out the 6 paladin, 5 lions thing - BUT the white lion has turned up before, and in the original Voltron... It wasn’t anything good.

6. Shiro’s a clone - really I’m just putting it in cause why not. But by this point I think pretty much everyone had concluded that, and it’s only just reinforced more with ‘Lance’s Upgrade’ where Allura comments about Shiro being different.

7. ...okay there’s no seven... I really wanted to put something in for Hunk. But literally there’s not much given about him for this season. So I’ll say this. We have some people’s opinions on Lotor, I’l explain Hunk’s probable reaction. He won’t trust Lotor, he is a cinnamon roll BUT with new characters he has always been cautious. In a way it goes to his anxiety, where he is cautious with new environments/situations. He made a point to say he didn’t trust Rolo and Nyma, so naturally with everything he knows on Lotor he won’t trust him as far as he can throw him (which is pretty far). He’ll be suspicious, and will be the voice of reason, which often enough he has been shown to be (think first ep where he questions sneaking out, or with Nyma and Rolo, and several other moments). So he’ll approach Lotor with cautious, treating him with a great amount of suspicion but won’t shake the boat if it seems to be contained enough. But the moment the warning bell sounds too much, Hunk will upgrade from commenting about his distrust to trying to point out and convince people what he sees is happening.

[bigwishes]

Hello! I wish to be bigger and cockier than those douchebags at the gym, with all the attitude, personality and confidence they have.

There seems to be a lot here but, I think we can definitely make it happen! so lets start by making you bigger, all those guys have some beefy bodies. But lets get you a bit bigger than them, no bodybuilder sized but all those bros at the gym are going to wish they had the gains you had.

Damn you a starting to look incredible, but you could look better, why don't you go get a nice pump and give me a chance to think about the rest of your wish. Oh and don't forget that backwards cap and string tank, need to show all the bros at the gym your body.

It's so much easier to pump iron with this sort of bod. That is how you'll refer to those things from now on, that backwards cap is doing its work, changing that way you talk just like gym bro. You are now going to find it impossible to use words outside of bro gym slang, that's less than a quarter of the English language left for you and to some people it wont even sound like you're speaking English.

But lets talk about the last part of your wish you wanted to be cockier than them, have their attitude, their confidence and personality so...in short sorry bro you've just wished to be a total gym douchebag. I can see you looking at me like you fucked up but too late now, see you later douchebag.

You stand up in the gym with the realisation setting in, "no, surely I can have all the confidence and attitude and choose to be a nicer guy" you think looking at the massive sweat patch left on the machine.

But no matter how hard you try you can't bring yourself to clean up the sweat, you feel your mind lose grip almost like a rubber band snap in your head.

"Bro, that's nasty, clean up your fucking sweat" a guy yells from behind you.

You turn and see a hot twunk grossed out by the machine you just used and you feel the last of your old self slip away to a box in the corner of you mind.

What you think is the perfect response slips out your mouth, "How about I fuck your brains out mate, you can lick my pits clean after if you like?" The guy looks at you disgusted and walks off to another machine. "Feel lucky a hunk like me hit on your twunk lookin ass" you call out as you walk off, shoving your hand down your pants to readjust you junk, winking at the next hot guy you see.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[bubblyhoney]

buncha kisses

warnings: mature language, Good music mention, slight suggestive content, lotta name calling!, basically just fluff

tags: sapnap x fem!reader (a continuation of [renamed from “a collection of moments at the beginning of your relationship”] win for me, basically, with college!au)

words: 1447

A/N: a very sweet anon requested a continuation of college!au with sappy and had some great ideas for me! i love when you guys interact and talk with me pls continue to do so! been receiving a lot of really encouraging attention from some of my favorite people (ahem, for example @strawberrymilkgeorge [among others] <3) so i just wanted to say thanks for that :)

-

It’s a sticky day in May.

It’s that kind of hot that irritates under the skin and works its way through the hair on your arms. Makes you want to either rip your skin off or sink into a pool full of ice.

May is a month that Florida doesn’t take very well; it’s either raining like it’s the Great Flood, or hot as a mosquito’s ball sack.

And to make matters worse, it’s the due date of a huge calculus project. Like— weighted heavier than the final kind of huge.

You’d gotten up three hours before your final at 9 just to cram. Your desk was littered with folders, chapter notes, and highlighters dull with use. A half-eaten bagel was off to the side, staling by the second.

That was before your AC broke. Yup. Broke. Ka-put. Just full on died—it was almost audible. Your roommate had stumbled into your room, face creased with sleep, and cursed for thirty seconds straight.

Completely understandable, actually.

But you didn’t have time to fret about the damn temperature. You just took your shirt off, kicked the box fan near your bed into the highest gear, and breathed hot anger down into your notes.

The only relief you would find would be lunch with Sapnap after your final. His apartment had air conditioning, and he was surprisingly deft with a knife and cutting board. Dude didn’t know how to figure the mechanics for emailing his film class project to you that one time last semester but could whip up a Greek salad and broiled chicken like no other. Your own little Gordon Ramsey.

He was yours now, officially. As of last month he was yours. A month full of drive-in movies, failed study dates, and an absurd amount of McFlurry’s.

And that’s what is waiting for you in Sapnap’s cup holder when you swing your way into his car with an exasperated look on your face. You just melt, eyes flicking up to his gratefully and silently taking it.

“How was the final?” He lays a hand on the gear shifter and nudges the AC up one more tick. The door closes behind you and you shuffle your legs apart, leg hair tingling in this heat.

“It was fucking brutal. I think I developed an ulcer just looking at the reference page,” you huff and he just shakes his head, laugh hot on his lips. “Absolutely not worth the studying—think I got a good grade, though.”

“Well, that’s cool. I’m proud of you.” The engine chugs to life when he shifts into drive and starts for the side street.

“Thanks.” Your cheeks blush ever so lightly but you pass it off to the heat. A moment passes. “So.” The straw makes a choking noise as it nudges at the bottom of an empty cup. Jesus, you finished that fast. “What’s on the menu for today?” Brandy’s Sunny Day lilts softly into the blasting air as you settle into a comfortable conversation, schoolwork at the back of your mind.

“Thinking of making banana chocolate chip muffins and pigging on those. Thoughts?” Flicking on his left turn signal with his left hand, the right slides onto your knee.

It’s never too hot for that.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, voice small in a sudden bout of shyness. He double-takes with a smile, squeezing once at your leg.

Pigging is a perfect term for what you two do the second those muffins are out of the oven; it is too easy to shove three of those in a matter of seconds. Bellies full and in a sugar coma, you two lay under the whirring of his living room’s fan and stare up at the ceiling.

“This feels so good,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded. Reaching a hand out, he pats his way to your hand and takes it, immediately squeezing it. “Wish you were kissing me right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” You taunt and hike a leg up onto his hips, swinging onto his lap and leaning to get your lips near his.

And that’s that.

The night is perfect.

Sapnap ushered you into his car at midnight and within four minutes you were on a US freeway with your head out the window. Like a dog.

A lone bird flies past in the dark air and you watch it swing into a patch of trees. You just close your eyes and breathe.

The stress literally melts. Melts into a puddle and drips out of you, falling onto the black pavement whipping past at a moment’s notice. School is a bitch already, much less an American college education. Grades and tests and professors and GPA’s and all that.

You swear Logan Lerman’s character knew what he was talking about when he said “we were infinite” in The Perks of Being A Wallflower. That’s what this feels like: infinity. Going 70 in a car driven by your hunk of a boyfriend, feeling the wind in your hair and the taste of midnight in between your teeth.

The inside of the car feels sweet when you duck your head back in, smile wide and hair crazy and a content look in your eyes. Sapnap gives you a glance before looking back at the road nonchalantly and lifting to curl and twitch two fingers at you. You instinctively move forward, eyebrows drawn together in curiosity. Three fingers grip your jaw tight, and then his mouth is on yours as the chorus of The King swells through the speakers. You only get two seconds to hum in happiness and slide a hand up his chest before he’s pulling away and has those beautiful eyes back on the road.

“You’re mean to me,” you sigh, and settle back into your seat with a ‘hmph’. He just looks smug. Bastard.

The nights Sapnap plays video games with his friends are—hm. Definitely something. You like to let him have those nights with no distractions most of the time; and you’re categorized as a distraction by the amount of times he “lags” when giving you a kiss or getting you on his lap.

Tonight, he got off work early and on the drive home called and asked if you’d come over and sit with him while he Robloxes with his friends. (“It’s like you can’t go one day without your hands on me,” you’d teased, but he couldn’t say a thing in response. You were right, needless to say.) “You can bring your paints!” he’d even added, knowing you like to watercolor as a hobby. You weren’t necessarily Etsy-worthy but it was fun and a stress-reliever.

And so here you were. Legs crossed, sketch pad in your lap, watching your adult boyfriend yell so loud that his voice cracks and breaks with every change of tone. You really had to remember to apologize to his neighbors…

“Baby—,” Sapnap starts, swinging around in his chair to hit you with a look so pouty his lip was in danger of falling off. “My dear girlfriend. My lovely woman.” His question doesn’t even need to be asked— he wants you to go get him a drink.

“You’re a misogynist. I’m calling NOW on you.” But you’re already heaving yourself off of his mattress and heading into the hallway, faux-annoyed look on your face. It melts into a smile upon seeing that little canvas mounted on the wall next to the door to his bathroom. It was a haphazard portrait of his parent’s dog Bowser that you’d drawn the few days his step-mom forced him to bring you home over spring break.

When you return to his room a few minutes later with a Bang and a couple of snacks for yourself, Sapnap has his headphones off and is swinging his feet in his chair like a child waiting for their parents to pick them up from school. You approach him, apprehensive smile on your face, and hand his drink over.

“Thank you,” he drawls, mid-yawn, and sets it down on the desk. Snaking an arm around your waist, he drags you between his legs and stuffs his face into your shirt. He inhales deeply but pulls away after a pause, hands tight on your abdomen. You press a thumb into his cheek and rub fondly at his facial hair, watching the way his eyes close calmly and relax.

“You’re so cute it causes me physical pain,” is all you get out before leaning and pressing a kiss square on his pink lips. They move against yours like they were meant to, one hand sliding up the material of your shirt and onto your warm skin.

“You smell like Subway,” he murmurs, and then the moment’s over.

Typical.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[strawwritesfic]

Kelvin!Jim Kirk x Female!Old Flame!Reader: Starship in a Bottle

Summary: Life is fragile. Life is beautiful. Life can be smashed to pieces in the blink of an eye. Such smashing does not require that what is left will not still be fragile and beautiful itself.

Request: A one shot with the romantic interest being any male character from the Star Trek Kelvin Universe.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (teenage pregnancy; discussion of abortion; sexual references; foul language; implied Spock/Uhura; implied Hikaru/Ben; alive!Pavel Chekov; Five Year Mission; post-Star Trek Beyond; Vulcan OC; Vulcan OC & Reader Friendship; OC child of a canon character; Commander!Reader; ship designer!Reader; reference to Utopia Planitia; many call forwards to places, species, and objects introduced in The Next Generation and beyond; reference to And the Children Shall Lead)

Notes: This is, hands down, the thing I’ve written that I’m most proud of. I love Star Trek Beyond. I love Kirk. I loved cramming as many references as I could to the series as a whole into this. This one shot is a labor of love and the first one shot for the series I wrote after I had seen every single live action Star Trek episode up to that point. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

It’s about 11,000 words. You have been warned!

Starship in a Bottle

“This is a disaster!”

Your voice, shrill as it had ever been, echoed throughout the empty workstation. Thankfully there weren’t many people loitering there to view what remained of the U.S.S. Franklin, because you sounded quite deranged. But why should you not? What floated in the spacedock, just beyond the four-inch-thick transparent aluminum, could be described as nothing but a disaster.

“I fail to see the logic in shouting the obvious,” said your companion. He was dark-haired and dark-skinned, with pointy ears and a placid demeanor. “If there was not a disaster to fix, you would not have been called out to Starbase Yorktown to begin with.

You shot Tanir a dirty look. Of course, what with him being Vulcan, he merely returned your venom with a blank stare.

“This is not the Enterprise,” you said.

“No. I should think the ship’s registry makes that clear.”

“We were called away from Utopia Planitia to refit the Enterprise.”

“Another accurate statement. Three in a row, Commander. Just one more, and you’ll reach a new record.”

Vulcans. You admired Tanir. Really, you did. Sometimes, though, you wished your closest friend and coworker were an Andorian or a Tellarite, at least so you could find a little variety in the abuse you so constantly endured by those among your staff.

“How can you be so calm about this?” you asked. “You gave up shore leave on New Vulcan for the opportunity to work on this one ship, and it’s not even the ship we were led to believe it would be!”

“Perhaps there is a good reason for the switch. I see a group approaching. Let us hope they will provide us with an explanation.”

You spotted the flash of the opening door reflected in the aluminum yourself and turned to greet the coming party. Pissed as you were to discover that you’d been lured across the quadrant on false pretenses, you knew better than to yell at Commodore Paris over it. Tanir would never let you live down such bad behavior.

It was not the commodore headed over to greet you, however. It was instead a group of four: a short, wiry man in the same red uniform as yours, with dark hair and pale skin; a woman with stark white hair and skin whose species you could not identify; a tall, pale Vulcan in Science Blue, and—

“You!”

You and Jim Kirk recognized each other at the exact same moment. His Vulcan raised a single dark brow at the sudden chorus.

“What are you doing here?” Jim demanded.

“Fixing your ship,” you answered coolly.

“Like hell you are. I’m not letting you get anywhere near my ship!”

“What do you mean, your ship? Did you put this hunk of junk here so I couldn’t even see the Enterprise?”

“Be careful what you call a piece of junk. That ‘junk’ is my home!” said the woman. She looked ready to lunge at you over the insult, but the man in red held her back with a hand to her shoulder.

“Easy there, Jayla. She has no way of knowing that,” he said in a Scottish accent.

“Perhaps, then, she should learn to hold her tongue.”

“An excellent suggestion,” said Jim. “I don’t know what she’s doing here anyway. Commodore Paris said the best from Utopia Planitia was being brought in for the refit.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Captain, but Commander [L Name] is the best Utopia Planitia has to offer. That is why she is here,” Tanir said.

You would have offered him thanks right then, but knew doing so would likely only prompt him to say something derogatory to make up the compliment.

Such praise—coming from the mouth of a race not often known to lie—seemed to draw Jim up short. Then he said one word: “No.”

“No?” Tanir echoed curiously.

“No. You can work on the ship. I don’t care who else does. Just not her.”

“Captain,” said the other Vulcan, “to dismiss Commander [L Name] would be a grievous error. Only she can do what you want done for the ship in the time frame required of her. If you had read her research into—”

“The point, Spock!”

Spock blinked before smoothly continuing, “It would be foolish to allow your personal feelings to get in the way of allowing someone of her talents to prepare the new Enterprise.

Scowling, Jim looked from Spock’s face, to Tanir’s, to yours.

“The sooner we complete the job, the sooner you can continue your mission. Unless you are attempting this delay because you would prefer not to go on with your assignment?” said Tanir.

Jim did not look happy about it, but struggling under the pressure of two Vulcans at once was something you understood well was difficult not to cave under.

“Fine!” he snapped at last, spinning on his heel. “But I want regular updates on your progress.”

He offered no farewell before leaving the room. Spock watched him go before turning his attention to you and Tanir.

“I will allow Jayla and Mr. Scott to explain the assignment. Thank you for coming out to work on this for us. Mr. Tanir. Commander [L Name]. Live long and prosper.”

You knew Tanir well enough to know that his and Spock’s exchange of the Vulcan Salute thrilled him more than he let on. Spock was a big name among the remaining Vulcans—especially since the other Spock’s passing—and you wondered if the chance of meeting him had been part of the allure of Yorktown for Tanir to begin with. Not that you had any room to needle your engineer about his hero worship. Spock’s name drop of the Enterprise’s engineer had you seeing stars yourself.

Mr. Scott was too busy shaking his head to notice your staring, thankfully. “Wonder what’s got into the captain. I haven’t seen him this upset since the incident with Kahn.”

“Mr. Scott. As in Montgomery Scott?” you asked in awe. Well, making sure of that was easier than explaining why Jim was acting as though an exocomp had crawled up his butt.

“Yes?” Mr. Scott said.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting you! After Admiral Archer got you exiled I thought I’d never get the chance!” Forget the screaming from earlier; your squealing over meeting this man made you sound far more deranged. “I’ve kept up with all your research. The transwarp beaming technique—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I appreciate you saying that. You’ve done a lot of impressive stuff yourself. I particularly found the—”

“Montgomery Scottie. Is there a reason you asked me to come along with you to see my home?” Jaylah interrupted.

Mr. Scott smiled. “Oh. Right. Best we move onto the instructions.”

“That would be ideal. We are in something of a time crunch as it is,” said Tanir.

“Well, you already know the basics.” Mr. Scott gestured at the ship floating nearby. “We need a new Enterprise.”

You and Tanir glanced at one another.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Where is the Enterprise?”

“Gone,” said Jaylah.

“Aye. It sort of got…blasted into a million tiny smithereens out in deep space,” Mr. Scott admitted.

“Wh—” Just like Jaylah before, you required holding back to prevent yourself from lunging at him. Tanir did so as discreetly as he could.

“We were not informed that this was the case. Of course we will do our best to provide a new ship that meets your qualifications,” he said, “but why is the U.S.S. Franklin here in the Enterprise’s stead?”

“Well, that old ship did do us a lot of favors. What we were hoping was, with your permission of course,” Mr. Scott said to Jaylah, “that you could use some of this ship to build the new one.”

Her amber eyes lit up. “So it will get to fly again?”

“That’s what we hope.”

“That would be wonderful Montgomery Scottie. Please do it. Then, once I’m done at the Academy, I can come home again.”

Was anyone going to ask you how you felt about this task? No. Of course not. Jaylah’s acceptance was enough apparently, even though she wouldn’t have anything to do with the construction or deconstruction of either ship. After several seconds of her and Mr. Scott beaming over their plan, the latter held his hand out toward you.

“We’ll leave it to you, then,” he said.

Tanir prevented you from saying what you were thinking by stepping forward to shake Mr. Scott’s hand himself. “We will ensure your captain is regularly updated, as he requested.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to not shake Mr. Scott’s hand yourself, no matter how upset you were about his and Jim’s cockamamie plan to combine a brand new ship with elements of a dinosaur from the Federation’s birth.

He and Jaylah left immediately after. Before she left, she called out a cheerful “goodbye!” as though she hadn’t just given permission for you to do the impossible.

“If I may say so, you handled that remarkably well,” Tanir observed.

You didn’t answer. There wasn’t enough time to list all the reasons he was wrong. Commodore Paris wanted this refit done impossibly quickly, and now you had even more work ahead of you than originally anticipated. Trying to put Jim out of your mind (never an easy task), you went to your station to begin your designs.

******

Days and nights passed quickly in the secluded silence of your workshop. Things did not proceed as planned. Blueprint after blueprint found itself tossed unceremoniously into the database trash bin; you frequently wished that you could delete yourself along with it. Normally you didn’t have to spend the better part of week on nothing but a basic outline…but normally you already had access to what was required for a ship.

Jim always had to make things difficult, didn’t he? All the parts for a new Constitution-class could be put together easily. That just wasn’t good enough for him; he had to have some Frankenstein’s monster of a ship that included Freedom-class parts, too, and those hadn’t been in use for ages. Maybe a ship remained in a junkyard somewhere, but you doubted it.

The Franklin messed things up for its own stripping, too. Spacedocks just weren’t made with old ships like that in mind, meaning Tanir had to supervise a staff to manually pull the antique apart. Since you still didn’t know just how you were going to incorporate the old ship into the new, you needed everything as intact as possible. What had begun as a quick assignment you’d been eager to tackle was turning into an endless slog you’d just as soon pass to one of the Andorians always vying for your position.

“This is ridiculous!” you said as your seventh simulation for the day ended with the new Enterprise shaking itself into pieces less than a light-year away from its starting point.

“Mom.”

A hand tugged at the sleeve of your uniform. Slowly, you lifted your head from where it had fallen onto your arms to see a boy, grinning and muss-haired, gazing at you through his huge blue eyes.

“What is it, Emmett?” you asked. “Need help on a homework problem?”

“No. I finished that an hour ago. Are we going to eat soon?”

Poor Emmett. Just twelve years old and already he knew better than to interrupt you at work, even when you were hours past a reasonable quitting time and he’d likely been sitting there doing extra homework just to pass the time. You pressed a guilty kiss to the skin just beneath his thick, brown hair.

“Sorry, baby. I got caught up again, didn’t I?"

He nodded.

"How about I give you some credits and you go get us something you like for dinner? As soon as you get back, I’ll quit, and we’ll go home to eat.”

“Okay!”

Any boy his age would be eager to run through the streets of Yorktown unsupervised. You felt a little bad about letting him do so, but what harm could he get into? It was still a Federation starbase. Once you handed over the credits, Emmett shot off like a phaser beam toward the exit. Well, he’d been cooped up in there with you for most of the evening. Even worse, Tanir had left to give Jim the update he demanded, leaving your son without his favorite person in the galaxy to distract him.

Knowing that Emmett wouldn’t take long to return with food, you went back to your station. Your frustration level rose with every failed simulation. Tanir could remind you how proud you’d be of the work once you finished as much as he wanted; it didn’t prevent you from resenting just how much of a miracle Mr. Scott and Jaylah and Jim were asking you to perform—especially since the last clearly didn’t think you had it in you.

“Excuse me, Commander.”

“Think of the devil,” you said, still poking around at the new blank screen. “Not that your resemblance to the devil is all that extreme. How’d the meeting go? Did Jim convince you that you could do a better job than me yet?”

“No. But I tried.”

Thank goodness that you’d sent your son away, because your reaction to hearing Jim’s voice in your workspace was to let out a colorful Tellarite swear—among other reasons you were relieved Emmett was gone, of course. Scowling, you turned on your stool to face the door, where, sure enough, Tanir stood with Jim beside him.

“He refused to take the update from me, on the grounds that I am not the one with the most immediate knowledge of how the refit fares,” Tanir said.

“Oh, so now you’re not even going to let my staff do their jobs? Don’t you have better things to do than harass me in person?” you demanded of Jim.

“Not until you fix my ship,” he said.

To emphasize that he had no intention of leaving without getting what he’d come for, he pulled out the stool on the other side of your table and plopped right into it. His eyes focused directly on yours. You could feel yourself falling into them, head over heels…

“Commander.”

Tanir saved you from embarrassing yourself further with his interruption. Startled, you cleared your throat and turned back to him. Your cheeks burned. Hopefully keeping your face directed away from Jim’s would prevent him from noticing.

“Yes, Mr. Tanir?” you asked.

“I believe that when I left you to give Captain Kirk an update, you had company. May I inquire as to where your company went?”

You swore again, this time in Andorian. “I don’t have time to deal with you right now,” you shot at Jim, already bustling to get your things together so you could leave.

“That is all right, Commander. You speak with the captain. He has made it quite clear that he will not receive the information from anyone else. I will ensure that your guest makes it to your quarters safely.”

When you nodded, it was very reluctantly. Staying to speak with Jim was not what you considered an ideal situation. Better than the one Tanir had barely prevented, however. Emmett would be returning with dinner any minute.

“Then, Captain Kirk, I bid you farewell.”

Tanir did not suggest that Jim live well or prosper before he left. His obvious frustration at not being allowed to do his job distracted you effectively enough that you almost forgot to shout, “Tell him I’ll be there right away! Just as soon as I’m done with this last problem!”

One wave of the hand without turning told you Tanir heard. You could breathe again knowing that Emmett would not come running in at the most inopportune time available. Perhaps bringing him along with you to Yorktown had been a mistake. After all, you had been well aware Jim would be there, too, long before you boarded your shuttle there.

“Is that really what you think of me?”

Jim, of course, had not left with Tanir. He remained precisely where you’d left him: a continuous pain in your ass. The way his lips curled into a sardonic smile caused a long-buried, quavering feeling to unfurl inside your stomach. Thirty looked good on him. Or was that the Starfleet uniform? Before you could give this disturbing thought the attention it deserved, the man lifted himself from his stool just enough to reach forward and tap you on the forehead.

“Hey. Earth to [Name]. You still in there?”

Perhaps you didn’t need to swat his hand away so forcefully. Perhaps you did. It was all up to interpretation, and your interpretation was that Jim had a lot of nerve touching you like that after all these years.

“Yes, Jim, I’m still here,” you said, “and I’m still wondering why you sent away my second in command when he is perfectly capable of giving you the information you want. Which is why, yes, I think you’re a problem.”

“Well, that should be nothing new. I’ve always been a bit of a problem, haven’t I?”

“Do you have to look so pleased with yourself? Being captain of a starship hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“Because Starfleet’s done such a perfect job of ironing out all your imperfections.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “I really have somewhere to be.”

“Got a date?”

“Yes. I do.”

One blink set his face to a completely foreign blank mask. “Oh. Well, I guess I shouldn’t keep you then.”

“That would be…nice.” It would—but that didn’t stop your words from coming out confused. All this hassle for him to let you go just like that?

“Right. So, how are things going for the ship? Are you making progress?”

“We’re making progress with the disassembly of the U.S.S. Franklin,” you allowed.

“But how’s the Enterprise?”

Again, all of this was something that Tanir could have explained to him—or Mr. Scott or Jaylah, both of whom spent most mornings observing your work. “That’s a little more complicated.”

Jim scoffed.

“Something funny?”

“No. Nothing’s funny at all. I just knew I shouldn’t have let you continue the work.”

“Because I haven’t been able to combine two ships from vastly different eras in a matter of four days?”

Shaking his head, he got up. “No. Because you can’t see things through. You never have, and you never will.”

“That’s not true!”

Why did it matter to you? What James Tiberius Kirk thought of you hadn’t mattered to you since you were sixteen years old. Just because he was handsome—just because he was successful—just because he’d managed to convince an entire crew that he was something special didn’t mean that you, too, needed to concern yourself with your reputation in his eyes.

But if any of that were true, why did it hurt so much when he looked back just long enough to say, “You’ve never seen anything through for me”?

******

Trust Jim to barge back into things the minute you made a lick of progress on his ship. You had not heard from him once in the two weeks since he’d accused you of having no ability to follow through. Mr. Scott probably relayed any relevant information to him after his and Jaylah’s daily visits, and not seeing Jim suited you just fine. Having to listen to more of his smug, veiled references to your shared past did nothing to help your already sky-high stress levels. You had better ways to spend your free time than hashing out old arguments with your ex.

First dinner, now homework. What was the man going to pull you away from next? Your frustration must have shown plain on your face as Yorktown’s artificial sunset beamed across it. All manner of sentient beings hastily stepped out of your way like you were a Klingon on a warpath. If only such an expression could cow Jim into leaving you alone—but you already knew from experience your anger would only delight him. He obviously wanted you angry, or else he wouldn’t have insisted on a personal visit when he could just as easily have gone straight to your lab himself.

When you arrived at his quarters, no sounds issued from within. A parade of unwanted memories flashed through your eye. You shook your head to clear it of them. No, if Jim were in bed with an Orion or a Caitian or a Kelpien, there would have been a lot more noise. It was with great trepidation all the same that you pressed the buzzer beside the silver door.

“Enter,” called a familiar voice.

This did not exactly unclench the muscles in your stomach. Terrified of what you might see in the room beyond, you slapped a hand over your eyes before you stepped over the threshold.

“Is there a reason you’ve covered your eyes like that?” asked a new voice, this one wholly unknown and with a strong Southern accent. More surprisingly, the voice belonged to a man.

Removing your hand revealed a completely normal sitting area. It matched the one in your own quarters, all the way down to the low glass coffee table and a sleek black couch. Two men sat on the last: Jim and an older white man with thick brown hair and eyebrows to match.

“Oh, hello,” you said a little awkwardly. “I didn’t realize Jim would have company.”

“But you clearly expected him to. Don’t worry. All the times I’ve seen him naked have been purely medical in nature.”

“Dr. McCoy here is my ship’s doctor,” Jim explained.

“Much to my everlasting chagrin,” said Dr. McCoy.

“Bones, this is Commander [F Name] [L Name]. She’s…overseeing the building of the new Enterprise.”

“Please to meet you.” He grasped your hand briefly, stood, and looked right at Jim. “Well, seeing as you have a visitor much prettier than I am, I think I’ll take my leave. Goodnight, Jim. Commander.”

Neither of you protested his going. Jim would probably have insisted on you giving your update in front of both of them if Dr. McCoy didn’t vacate the premises himself. Normally you wouldn’t have minded an audience, but considering what aspersions Jim would probably cast on your work, you’d have preferred to present your ideas alone. Even after Dr. McCoy exited, though, Jim didn’t say anything. Not for a long time.

“How was your date?” he asked at last.

Needless to say, you had not expected that question. “What are you talking about?”

“Your date. The one you said you had last time you and I talked. How’d it go?”

“Oh! Oh, that.” Not the kind of date he thought it was, but all the better for you. “It went fine. Thank you for asking.”

Again, Jim said nothing. His eyes wandered away from your face. You held your breath. What on earth was going on in that man’s head? This was a puzzle you didn’t have the time to ponder. A prepubescent boy eagerly awaited your return. Whatever was bothering Jim, he would have to work through it on his own.

“Look, are we going to get started on the Q and A or what?” you asked.

He answered with a question of his own: “Do you want to take a walk?”

“A walk?”

“Yeah. A walk. I can’t stand sitting in here one more minute. Can you give me your update while we walk instead?”

Well, that did sound a little more like the Jim you knew. Iowa didn’t provide a lot in the way of distraction for a maladjusted guy like him, so there had been plenty of road trips (mostly of the unsupervised variety) made just to occupy him.

His return to something resembling normalcy forced your hand. A single nod indicted your acquiescence. He stood, then motioned for you follow him back out onto the walk. All of the artificial sunlight had vanished by then, leaving the both of you underneath a transparent roof full of unfamiliar stars.

Not a word passed between you as you walked along. A few people recognized Jim and called out greetings to him. Each of these he acknowledged with a smile and a quiet “hello.” To you he said nothing at all. It occurred to you that you would have to be the one to begin if you wanted to get back to your quarters anytime soon.

“I’m sure Mr. Scott told you we’ve finally got a working model of the new ship,” you said. Jim continued walking without so much as glancing at you. “We’re not going to be able to use much of the Franklin. A few of her noncritical systems can be installed—you can keep the music player, for instance—but I’m afraid that, other than that, the best we can do is melt down the Franklin’s hull and combine what’s left with the alloy for the new Enterprise.”

Still his eyes did not move toward you. They moved downward to his boots instead. This forced you to look at him in profile longer than you would have liked. There really wasn’t any angle he wasn’t beautiful from, which wasn’t fair. All those stunts you’d pulled together as kids should have aged him just as quickly as they had you.

At last, Jim chuckled. “I bet Jaylah loved hearing that you want to melt down her home.”

“She didn’t. But she’s an exceptionally smart woman. I let her tinker around with my program for a bit, and she agrees that this is the only way we can properly integrate two ships of such vastly different time periods. Now Jaylah’s just glad we’re not sending the Franklin to a junkyard somewhere she’ll never see any of it again.”

You’d reached a swell in the pathway. Below, on another tier of the tangle of paths that made up the station, sat a fountain spewing silvery wet sparks into the air. Here Jim stopped, pulled away from the crowd, and leaned forward against the metal railing. Was he even listening to you? He never really had, but why ask for an update that night of all nights if he didn’t want to hear it?

“Jim, if I’m boring you, we can always do this another time.”

“Hm? What? No. No, sorry.” He took a deep breath, fixing you once more with his beautiful eyes as you came to stand beside him. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to tell you.”

“You wanted to tell me you don’t care where we are in the process of building your ship?”

“No. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For what I said the other day, about you not having any follow through. Clearly that’s not true. I was thinking about something that happened, what? Thirteen years ago? I was out of line.”

All you did was stare at him—not only because he remained just as handsome as he had been those thirteen years ago (maybe even more so), but also because of what he was saying. An apology? Coming out of his mouth?

“I really surprised with that one, didn’t I?” He looked delighted with himself.

“Shut up,” you said. “I’ve just never heard you say that you’re sorry to anyone, except maybe Sam.”

“We’ve both done some growing since we last saw each other, huh? Well, maybe you didn’t need the growing. You always knew what you were doing.”

“I was sixteen and scared. I still had a lot of growing up to do myself.”

“Still, you made the right choice. We wouldn’t be the people we are today if you hadn’t, and I like who I am a hell of a lot more than who I was. So, thank you. Maybe it’s time to let bygones be bygones.”

Every inch of your being screamed for you not to shake the hand he offered you. Jim was not above deceit or temper—not to mention that he was completely wrong about everything. But in the end, you did take his hand and say:

“I’d like that. Does this mean I can finish my work on the Enterprise without further interference?”

“Yeah, yeah. Spock was right all along. Like usual,” Jim said with a rueful grin.

“About what?”

“About how I shouldn’t let personal feelings interfere with the plans for our ship.”

Together, you both fell silent once more. It was almost a comfortable silence—like the kind you used to spend together in rural Iowa, gazing up at different stars and doing your best not to think about what awaited either of you when you finally sneaked back to your respective homes. Almost. Unfortunately, all those years without Jim there stretched between you too loudly to allow you much comfort.

“Does he know?” you asked. “Mr. Spock?”

Jim shook his head. “No. I haven’t told a soul. You?”

“No, I—”

“Mom!”

One word. One word was all it took to set ice down your spine. One word was all it took to get you spinning away from your view of the fountain. One word had Jim looking over to see the exact same thing you did at the exact same time: Emmett, beaming, racing through the throng of evening pedestrians and right toward you.

“This is a nightmare,” you murmured.

Why was Emmett outside at this time of night? Where was Tanir? Yet Emmett threw his arms around you in a snug embrace far too solidly to be some terrible dream. He nearly knocked the wind out of you with his enthusiasm.

“I finished my homework, Mom! You said that once I did we could go get some ice cream. Remember? You promised! And you left ages ago so I had to come looking for you, or by the time you got home you’d probably tell me it was too late for dessert.”

Very, very slowly, you lifted your head to look over at Jim. Standing so close to each other, Emmett and Jim’s resemblance was unmistakable: same eyes; same nose; hell, they even had the same jawline. Your mind raced to find some excuse, some lie that Jim might swallow—

But it was too late. The moment your eyes met, Jim turned around and walked away.

******

The following morning brought with it one of the worst headaches you had suffered since early adolescence. Any amount of synthetic sunlight felt like a phaser set to kill blasting through your frontal lobe. Your nausea was somehow worse. Getting Emmett out of bed, fed, and ready for his classes after your night of binge drinking took Herculean effort on your part. You had no intention of going to work that day. As soon as your son was out the door, you told the computer to dim every window, and then you settled miserably onto your couch.

Work found you anyway—or rather Tanir did. What was the difference? You did not answer the shriek of the buzzer, but he just came right inside anyway.

“Commander. May I inquire as to why you have chosen to remain on your sofa instead of coming into work on the Enterprise?”

“Because I’m hungover,” you groaned. “What does it look like?”

“A hangover is no excuse to shirk your duties. You knew very well that you had an obligation in the morning when you chose to drink yourself into a stupor.”

“The only thing happening today is the framework going up. It’s a standard Excelsior-class design. Surely you’re intelligent enough to oversee that on your own for a day.”

“My leadership capabilities are hardly relevant. What concerns me is that you believe hiding in your quarters and feeling sorry for yourself is a good solution to your problem.”

Tanir saying something like that twisted the bat'leth further into your gut. He had been the one to find you in the Yorktown bar, trying to convince the reluctant Bolian bartender to give you just one more glass of Saurian Brandy. You didn’t think you’d revealed the cause of your bad decision making to Tanir during the course of his getting you to your quarters safely, but surely that was the only way he would know about it.

“It.” Your son. Your son and his prodigal father. Would Jim really tell anyone else? When would he have had the time?

You could not very well leave the room in a huff in your present condition; the pounding in your head prevented you from so much as rolling over on the couch. To avoid having to look at Tanir, you closed your eyes. He didn’t take the hint, of course. Hints flew well over the head of most Vulcans.

“Emmett is Captain Kirk’s son, is he not?” he asked.

You nodded weakly.

“You never told either of them?”

Your eyes opened only wide enough to allow you to glare at him. “They didn’t need to know. If you hadn’t let Emmett run off last night after you helped him with his essay on the history of Human-Vulcan relations, no one else would know at all.”

“I am not a babysitter.”

You flinched—not at the way his voice sliced through your head, but because he was right. Tanir usually was, but on this matter he was more right than ever, and the vaguely hurt twinge in his words was deserved. If you had not been so afraid that doing as much would literally have caused your skull to split in two, you would have started crying right then and there.

“What I am is your coworker,” Tanir went on, “and your friend. And as your friend, I must inform you how monumentally foolish it was to bring your son here when you knew his father would be here as well. In fact, it was uncharacteristically foolish of you. I suspect you only did so because you wanted Captain Kirk to discover the truth.”

“After thirteen years, you really think I’d want to tell Jim about his son? I’ve worked too hard to build a decent life for myself and Emmett to just throw that all a way. Jim’s worked too hard to throw it all away!”

“I do not suggest you made the decision consciously, merely that you might consider that it was your choice going forward. This discovery might do him more good than harm.”

Which “him” Tanir referred to—Jim or Emmett—you never got the chance to ask. The noise of the front door sliding open (without so much as a buzzer to announce the newcomer) left you and Tanir staring at each for a split second before Jim himself stalked into the room.

“Captain,” said Tanir, “to what do we owe the—”

“How. Dare you,” Jim said.

He had eyes only for you. So great was the intensity of his gaze that you couldn’t be sure he even realized that Tanir had tried to greet him. What startled you more was that Jim wasn’t drunk. He looked as though he’d spent most of the night pacing and pulling at his hair, but he definitely hadn’t gone on the bender you had.

When you made no attempt to answer him, Jim spoke again:

“You told me you weren’t even going to have him.”

“I told you what you wanted to hear,” you said.

“Excuse me,” Tanir interjected, but this time, Jim did notice him.

He pointed right at Tanir’s chest. “If you want to stick around and listen to this, I’m not going to make you leave, but I’d appreciate it if you kept any logic-related remarks to yourself.”

Both of Tanir’s dark eyebrows rose, then he looked to you as though for permission. Perhaps he worried what Jim—a captain well-known for using old-fashioned fisticuffs more often than not—might do if left alone with you. You motioned with your head toward the door, despite the pain doing so caused you. Jim would not strike you physically. He’d had occasion to before and never had.

“Then I shall leave. Commander, I will ensure things go as planned today, but I expect you back to work tomorrow. Otherwise I will have to report your continued absence to Utopia Planitia.”

With that, he left. Not a single word passed between you or Jim until both of you could be sure that Tanir wouldn’t turn right back.

“That’s a load of shit, [Name].”

Every sentence he had spoken remained at the same volume, though his voice quavered enough to make his feelings clear.

With great effort, you heaved yourself into a seated position. “Which bit?”

“I told you that I’d take care of you. I told you that I’d be there for my kid.”

“And how were you planning to do that, Jim?”

“What?”

“How were you planning to 'take care’ of me? You weren’t going anywhere. You didn’t have any plans. Hell, you didn’t even have a job. All you wanted was to keep making trouble in Iowa until one of your stunts got you killed.”

“I…I would have figured something out,” he insisted.

“Sure you would. Meanwhile, what was I supposed to do? Do you think for one second my family would have helped us out? Or yours?”

Your vision pulsed around the edges as your tone grow higher pitched. Through this, you could see Jim’s wide-eyed, red face. He could be as angry as he wanted to, but after all these years, you were finally telling the truth. If he hadn’t wanted to hear it, he should have just minded his own business until he could get back on the Enterprise and fly right out of your life again.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I got this far, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t start at Starfleet Academy until after I’d already graduated. And you were mad at me for signing up to go to begin with!”

“Because you left me!” At last, Jim’s voice rose to meet yours, and as it did, it cracked. “You left me, and there was nothing that mattered anymore once you were gone. And now I find out you took my son from me, too?”

With a jolt, you realized his eyes were wet. “You said last night that I made the right choice.”

“That was when I thought you had an abortion.”

“I was going to. I just…couldn’t do it in the end.”

“So you decided that you wanted to be mother, but you didn’t give me the opportunity to be a father.”

“This is insane. We wanted different things!” Your shout caused your stomach to flip over inside you, but you swallowed away the nausea. “I couldn’t stay in Iowa another month, let alone as long as it would take to raise a child. You weren’t going to leave. Something had to give, and it was easier for you to go on thinking I took care of the problem.”

“That wasn’t your call to make.”

“If I hadn’t told you I wasn’t going to have Emmett, we wouldn’t be the people we are today. You like who are you are today,” you reminded him. “Isn’t that reason enough for me to do what I did?”

“Emmett,” Jim repeated in a whisper. “His name is Emmett.”

You didn’t like his tone one bit. “Jim,” you began, but he had already leaped toward the door.

“I’m going to talk to him.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Whose going to stop me? You? You couldn’t stop an unhosted Trill symbiont right now.”

The churning in your stomach surged in strength; Jim’s shadowed outline seemed to blur around the edges. He could do it. He could run off this very instant, find Emmett, tell him everything. All your careful planning, all those difficulties endured as a single parent at the Academy, could come to ruin in the blink of an eye.

“I didn’t tell him either,” you said, and there was a pleading edge to your words that you couldn’t entirely quash.

Horror washed over his features. That was what bothered him the most out of all of this? That you hadn’t breathed a word to your son over who his father was? Not that it mattered. If that knowledge prevented Jim from seeking him out, so much the better. Did it, though? You couldn’t tell. He swallowed, opened his mouth, then closed it again to walk out the door.

As soon as you were alone, the nausea overcame you. Your shaking legs forced you to your feet…but too late to avoid vomiting all over your feet and the carpet.

Just one more stellar moment in this stellar life you’d just claimed was for the best.

******

Four weeks later, the newest Enterprise floated complete inside the spacedock. It had a taken a lot of staff doing a lot of work to get it ready—countless hours of testing, tweaking, and transporter modifications—but there she was: gleaming and gorgeous, ready to set off for the first time (technically) into the vast frontier.

You and Emmett stood together in your cleared-out laboratory. There was a party going on inside the ship beyond the transparent aluminum. Soon, someone would eject a bottle of champagne at just the right trajectory for it to break against the ship’s oddly-colored hull. It wouldn’t be long after that the Enterprise and all her staff would be gone again, far out of the reach of anyone on Utopia Planitia.

Emmett stared straight ahead. He refused to look at you. That was nothing new, but that didn’t mean you weren’t hurt by his behavior. His growing arms hung stiff at his sides, making him look all the more awkward in the nice clothes that he had donned for the occasion.

“Emmett,” you said.

“What?”

“It’s time to go.”

When he snapped his attention to you, his jaw was set. You’d seen that look a thousand times on a face that did not belong to him. Another flip of the stomach had you wondering if you were making the right call here. It had been four weeks. Before that, it had been thirteen years. Did anyone have the right to cause such an upheaval after so much time had passed?

You would lose your nerve standing around like that—your nerve and your designated transporter time. One sweeping motion of your arm got Emmett moving. Poor kid. Though he still refused to look at you, you could see him trembling. His skin (the color of which he had inherited from you, if nothing else) took on an ashy cast as he stepped onto the waiting pad. If you could have done something to comfort him, you would have. Boys his age were not interested in hugs, you were learning, and boys his age that were angry with their mothers were even less so.

“Two to beam up, Enterprise,” you said.

“Aye, I got you,” Mr. Scott’s voice said over the audio connection. “We’ll be seeing you soon.”

The lab dissolved before your eyes into a glittering stream of silver and white. Your body—or rather lack thereof—prickled like someone was rolling a cactus from the bottoms of your feet all the way up to your hairline. Then the worst part came: the darkness of non-existence. After that, sensation returned to you all at once. The prickling stopped and sight returned. You and your son stood together in an entirely different room, on an entirely different transporter.

Mr. Scott came around the monitoring station with a grin.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to get on it if you weren’t the one that installed this thing,” you said breathlessly.

“Well, Chekov helped. But he’s needed on the bridge, so I’ll do in a pinch when someone wants over. Are you here for the party?”

“I was actually hoping to see Jim. Would that be all right?”

Mr. Scott’s smile faded a little. Then his eyes went right to Emmett. “I don’t see why not. Hello,” he added to him. “I’m Montgomery Scott. And you are?”

“Emmett [L Name].” At least he wasn’t so mad at you that he had forgotten his manners. He gave Mr. Scott’s hand a firm shake before looking at you for direction.

“Good to meet you. Your mother speaks very highly of you. So does Mr. Tanir.“

"Thank you, sir.”

“Turbolift’s down at the end of the corridor. Just tell it you want the bridge and it will take you right there. Well!” He laughed. “Why am I telling you this? You built the damn thing!”

You offered your thanks as well. Then you and Emmett left the room. Color had crept up the back of his neck at Mr. Scott’s compliment, but it did not seem to have thawed him at all toward you. The quiet that sat between the both of you for the duration of the lift ride was as icy as one of Neptune’s moons.

This came to a grinding halt the minute the doors opened onto the bridge. A party was in full swing there. So many people were crammed into the room that it was a wonder any of the people carrying trays of drinks and foods of a dozen different cultures could get around them.

You looked immediately to the chair in the center…but it was vacant. Heart sinking, you took another look around you, only to this time gain the notice of Tanir, Spock, and a very pretty dark-skinned woman in red.

“Hello, Commander,” Spock said. “It is a pleasure to have you here for the ship’s christening. Mr. Tanir informed us you had a prior obligation.”

“That is what she told me,” said Tanir.

“No. What I told you was that I didn’t want to come, but I appreciate the cover story,” you said.

“It was no story. Your prior obligation was being elsewhere in consideration of your own mental health.”

The woman with them tried to a hide a dazzling smile behind her flute of synthehol champagne—no real alcohol was allowed on board with a warp so close at hand—but she did not do so well enough to avoid catching your eye.

“Sorry. You just don’t see Vulcans covering for their bosses very often. I’m Lieutenant Nyota Urhura, by the way. Communications officer. You and your staff did a fantastic job with this ship.”

“Thank you.”

Being inside the ship afforded you an entirely different view than your blueprints and designs ever could. Without a doubt, this new Enterprise was the closest thing to a work of art you’d ever been a part of. Mixing the Freedom-class starship with enough of a Constitution-class to remain familiar to its crew, all stuffed into the newest Excelsior-class framework made it entirely unique. No one was about to dub the new design an Enterprise-class considering just how unfeasible mass production would be, but you were proud of her nonetheless. You doubted anyone would notice how outdated the stereo was unless they were informed of its age by the crew.

“I take it this your son.”

Spock’s voice drew you from your admiration, reminding you that you were not here to bask in a job well done, but to make some much-needed amends.

Emmett stood behind you just as quiet as always. Normally he was so outgoing…then again, he was outgoing among the Utopia Planitia staff that had watched him grow up, not among a group of people that thought they already knew him because he looked familiar—or maybe he was being so shy because of Lieutenant Urhura. This was not a comforting thought for a mother that had given birth to him not much older than he was now.

“Yes,” you said. Gently, you took Emmett’s wrist and pulled him forward. “This is Emmett James [L Name]. Emmett, this is Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Urhura.”

“Good to meet you,” Spock flashed him the Vulcan salute, then added, “If you have half the mind your mother does, I expect we’ll be seeing great things of you.”

“Oh. I don’t know about that,” Emmett said. Color climbed from his neck to his ears.

“He’s twice as smart as I am,” you put in proudly.

“Perhaps more. I’ve read his papers. Certainly he is the most logical of the family,” said Tanir.

Lieutenant Urhura couldn’t take her eyes off your son. “Did you say Emmett James?”

“Yes. Speaking of, I really hoped to speak with Jim—I mean, Captain Kirk—before he left. Is he around anywhere?” you asked.

“Last I checked, he was in his quarters. I could call him up on comms if you’d like.”

“It is odd for the Captain not to be on a time for a social engagement,” said Spock, “but he has been uncharacteristically closed off for the past few months. Do you suppose he decided to take the vice admiral position after all?”

“No, Spock. Let me talk to him. I’ve got a pretty good idea why he’s been hiding so much lately. It was a pleasure to meet you, Commander, Emmett.”

You bid her farewell before she strode off to her communications desk. Spock followed her. Your heart hammered in your chest. Was Lieutenant Urhura right? Could Jim be closing off from his friends and coworkers because of you? Or were you just assuming the universe revolved around you as you always had? Some pathetic sun you were.

“Mom,” Emmett whispered. He looked stricken. “What if he doesn’t come?”

How could you even begin to answer that? If Jim didn’t come, it would be a long time before he got back into communication range again—if he would be willing to communicate with either of you at all. And if Jim never spoke to Emmett, never got to know the son you’d kept from him, it would be all your fault. You had kept Emmett’s existence a secret all these years. You had forbidden Jim from speaking to him when he found out. You had chosen to not tell Emmett the truth until the Enterprise was nearly ready to leave.

“If indeed Captain Kirk has become so upset by your mother’s actions as to turn into a recluse, it is highly unlikely that he will make an appearance after being informed that she is here,” Tanir said.

Emmett blanched; you glared at Tanir, though this had its usual lack of any effect. Before you could open your mouth to ask him to kindly keep such observations to himself, he went on in that same level voice:

“However, if the reason he is upset with her is because she has forbidden him to know you, there is no reason to assume that he will not come when he finds that you are here. Captain Kirk is not above bending rules he finds burdensome, and such a rule seems like it has become quite a burden.”

Your son relaxed a little. As much as you appreciated Tanir’s attempt to cheer Emmett up, you thought it would be best if you got the two of them away from each other sooner rather than later. Tanir could just as easily dash hopes as raise them, and his reasoning would be perfectly sound either way. The way Emmett looked up to Tanir would only exacerbate the former’s feelings.

“Here, Emmett, let’s find you something to eat,” you said, as one of the servers carrying a tray of some Orion delicacy passed. Emmett loved trying new food…or he did, when he wasn’t so upset with the world at large.

“I’m not hungry,” he said stiffly.

“Don’t be silly. You haven’t eaten all day. You’re a growing boy.”

“Mom. Don't—”

Whatever he wanted to tell you, Emmett broke off without finishing. His blue eyes froze on something behind you. Tanir’s gaze followed his until it, too, came to a halt. Slowly, you turned around to see what they were looking at.

Jim himself stepped out of the turbolift. The high color in his cheeks indicated that he had run from his shipboard quarters to the lift and still hadn’t quite caught his breath yet. His hair, on the other hand, had been immaculately combed, his uniform pressed, his boots polished to a high shine. All that remained perfectly in place.

Your stomach turned over, but it wasn’t from having too much to drink this time. You hadn’t seen each other, hadn’t spoken a single word, since that terrible fight a month before. What was he going to say when he found you standing on his bridge, bold as brass? What was he going to do?

Worrying about that turned out to be unnecessary. With Emmett standing just a little off from the captain’s chair in the center of the room, it didn’t take much searching for Jim to spot him. Their eyes locked and remained riveted on each other so thoroughly that you might as well have turned invisible. You didn’t mind (being invisible to Jim was probably preferable to the alternative), except that neither of the men seemed capable of breaking the silence between them, and crew and party-goers alike were starting to stare.

“Perhaps you ought to say something,” Tanir suggest in an undertone.

An excellent idea, but it was already too late. The quiet grew so unbearable that one of Jim’s crew apparently felt it his duty to break the ice himself: A young white man with curly brown hair and a yellow uniform jumped up from where he sat at the helm to shout, “Captain on the bridge!” in a thick Russian accent.

His words did the trick. Jim thawed enough to notice just how many people in the room were watching him with great interest. For once, he looked a little abashed at the attention, though perhaps it was only your memories that made his smile appear so sheepish.

“Thank you, Ensign Chekov!” he called, and several people in the room tittered.

“Happy to help, Captain,” Chekov said cheerfully, then plopped himself down next to a Japanese man who had a little girl sitting in his lap.

Jim waited for most of the onlookers to return to their previous conversations before he took a breath so deep you could see him taking it from several feet away, then seemed to force himself to cross the remaining distance to your trio.

“Hey,” he said, once he was in speaking range.

Hey. Hey? Thirteen years, a guilt trip the size of a gormagander, a thirty-three day-long cold shoulder, and the most Jim could manage to say to his son was hey? You couldn’t help the disbelieving snort you let out, unfortunately. It caused Jim to snap out of his daze long enough to notice you standing there next to Emmett.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, but his tone was not the same as it had been upon your first reunion. It was softer somehow, maybe even curious.

Nonetheless, your instinct was to rail against him. He might have been captain of this starship, but you were that ship’s architect. Who cared that he outranked you in Starfleet hierarchy?

Seeing Emmett watching you with glistening eyes reminded you that you had not come to this party to have another big blowout with his father. You took a deep breath before planting your feet more solidly onto the floor.

“I came to say I’m sorry,” you said.

“You…”

“I really surprised you with that one, did I?” No, that tone would not do. You tried again, this time with a more sincere tone: “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m sorry that I lied to you about Emmett, and I’m sorry I kept you from him all these years. I’m even more sorry that I told you you couldn’t talk to him now. And I’m sorry to you, too, Emmett. I should have told you about your father a long time ago.”

Jim looked thunderstruck. Emmett looked nearly just as surprised.

“Four accurate statements in a row. A new record,” Tanir said.

“Thank you, Mr. Tanir,” you and Jim said in unison.

To your surprise, Emmett laughed. He cleared his throat when he caught the two of you goggling at him. “Hey. It’s…it’s really good to meet you—er, Captain?”

“I think it would be okay if you called me 'Dad.’”

The grin on your son’s face could have lit up an entire solar system. “It’s really good to meet you, Dad.”

“Likewise, Emmett.”

Oh, no. There came the waterworks. Seeing your two boys like that, standing face to face, made your eyes mist up. It was a good thing that neither of them seemed in a hurry to do more than stand there face to face, or you might have missed something important while you tried without success to find something to wipe your eyes with.

“I believe in situations such as these, a hug would be the next appropriate course of action,” Tanir suggested.

“Don’t be a voyeur,” you said.

“It is being a voyeur now to suggest humans partake in a typical familial action in front of me?”

“They just met. Don’t rush things.”

Unfortunately, while this hushed exchanged took place, Emmett and Jim did awkwardly embrace. By the time you realized it was happening, both men had sprung apart.

“That was a little weird…right?” asked Jim.

Emmett nodded. “Weird, yeah.”

“Maybe it would be less weird if you two got to talk a little bit by yourself,” you said.

A sharp intake of breath from Emmett’s direction indicated he knew what you were suggesting. For the first time in his young life, you were about to leave him alone. No Tanir to fall back on. Just him and a strange man wearing his face. But you had had Emmett for nearly thirteen years now. You owed Jim much more time than that he would be able to eke out before the Enterprise left again on its five-year mission.

“Wait a minute,” said Jim. “You mean by ourselves without you?”

“I trust you, Jim.”

“That’s new.”

Maybe it was. Jim hadn’t ever given you a lot of reasons to trust him growing up. Other people’s belongings—other people’s hearts—were never something he’d been careful about. The point remained that Jim Kirk had changed. He’d grown up just as your son had in the years since you’d left, probably a lot more than you had yourself. Your decision to leave with Emmett might have been the right one, but the many decisions until then refusing to let either Emmett or Jim know the other existed was not.

“Hey,” Emmett said, “I’m not a kid. It’s not like either one of you has to look after me.”

“Nice try. You think I don’t remember what it was like to be a thirteen-year-old boy?”

“Welcome to having a father, Emm. I never experienced the boy part, but he sure did,” you said.

Slowly, Jim shook his head. “No. I don’t think it’s going to be enough.”

“What?”

“An hour today isn’t going to be enough. I’ve missed so much. I can’t let you just walk off the ship out and out of my life again—”

“Jim!”

“—so I’ll do you one better. How would you like to stay on the Enterprise with me for a little while?”

Emmett’s mouth fell open. “Stay with you? Here?”

“I don’t know about him staying with you that long,” you said. Jim rolled his eyes, so you cut him off quickly, “Your mission is going to last a really long time. What about school? What about being around other children?”

“It’s not as though we never have any children on board. Just a little while ago, a whole group of them nearly took over my ship with the help of a Force Ghost. And anyway, we have to stop at starbases for supplies. He could leave at one of those, easy.”

“Easy? You expect a thirteen-year-old boy to get all the way back to Mars on his own?”

“Of course not! I expect that his mother will be able to help him get back to Mars when she decides she’s had enough of living on a starship herself.”

For what seemed like enough time for the Enterprise to get all the way back to Earth at impulse speed, you could think of no way to answer Jim’s suggestion. Your mouth opened; it was just that nothing came out of it. A million different thoughts flew through your mind, none for long enough for you to grasp. Was this a test? Was Jim playing some cruel trick on you? Or were you overthinking what he had intended to be a joke?

“[Name]? You still with us?” he asked, with that same familiar tap on your forehead.

“Yes. I’m sorry. This is just…quite a shock. You don’t want me out there with you.”

“Sure I do.” He eyed Emmett speculatively, then stepped right up to you—so close that you could smell his cologne, so close that you could have kissed him right there without giving him time to move away. Not that you considered doing that. “You were right about one thing: I don’t know the first thing about being a father. If Emmett’s going to stay, I need you here.”

What was it about the way he spoke that made your knees go weak? You were a grown woman, a commander in your own right, a major figure at Utopia Planitia, and still all it took was for this one man to say he needed you? Disgusting…and yet his offer was tempting. Emmett should stay, but you didn’t think you were quite ready for him to be light years away from you for months (perhaps years) at a time.

“A lovely sentiment, Captain. However, I think you are overlooking an important detail. The Enterprise, even in its updated condition, is not setup to accommodate families,” Tanir said.

Jim waved his concern (and eavesdropping) away. “We’ll figure something out. You both can stay in my quarters for all I care.”

“Please, Mom!” Emmett said. It had been so long that he spoke to you without anger that that was nearly enough to convince you. Almost.

“I’m expected back to work as soon as I can find a shuttle to take me there,” you hedged.

“Mr. Tanir can look after things for a while, can’t he?” asked Jim. “And Mr. Scott can always use an extra hand in Engineering. We won’t have you sitting around all day every day.”

“Emmett has to get back to his regular classes.”

“Oh, come on! You really think that his teacher will refuse to give him any credit if he’s with me?”

“Yeah, Mom! Mrs. Onaira won’t mind if I’m on the Enterprise! Especially if I’m with both of you.”

Forget the combined pressure of two Vulcans. How could you ever possibly say no to Jim and Emmett when they joined forces like that? You turned helplessly to Tanir, who only gazed, as always, placidly back. He hadn’t rejected the chance to go back to Utopia Planitia in your stead, you noticed. There was no question that he’d would do a fine job…

Something warm on your hands forced your attention back to Jim. He had taken them in his own, causing your heart to leap all the way into your throat. You couldn’t breathe. This sensation only increased when he leaned in and very gently pressed his forehead against yours. Until that very moment, you had forgotten how comforting that gesture on his part was. No way would you decline his offer after that, but he added:

“I wasn’t what you needed me to be then. But I’ve grown up. Now I’m ready to leave Iowa, and I’m ready to go with you. Just give me a chance to show that to you. Or at least a chance to get to know you and my son. I won’t keep you here if you decide to go.”

“Okay.” Your voice cracked around a sob you hadn’t noticed had been lurking in your throat. So surprised were you to find yourself crying that you couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, you win. You both win. I have a feeling that’s going to happen a lot from here on out.”

“I’m counting on it,” said Jim while Emmett cheered.

Throughout this ordeal, you hadn’t quite forgotten how many people were around you. You tried to back away from Jim before more of his crew could find you together. Before you could take so much as a single step away, he leaned down and kissed you on the mouth, hard enough to bring all those Milky Way stars right back into view.

It was over as soon as it started, but for good reason. As your mind finally caught up with reality, Jim grabbed Emmett’s arm and pulled him into a hug with you. You pulled Tanir in not long after. There, tangled up in the limbs of every person you truly cared about, you realized just how much you’d missed over the past twelve years and just how much you had to gain in all the years to come.

[absentcaryatid]

I Love It When You Tell Me About Your Fish

A Block B Taeil fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

The gender neutral reader returns home from a disaster of a date to be consoled by roommate Lee Taeil. He too is hoping to find a partner, and the friends discover they have more in common than they realized.

1.9K words, Content note: gender neutral reader, no pronouns used, age gap with older reader, both Taeil and the reader have some autistic traits, reader is lied to (not by Taeil), food, polyamory mention, social skills therapist mention

Inspired by videos of what Taeil is looking for in a girlfriend and a tour of his fish tanks.

~

The date ended quickly once the man of the evening admitted to being sixty. You could understand a well-worn face making someone seem older than they really were, but when too many of his cultural references sounded like your parents' generation you had bluntly asked his age and gotten the surprising result. Tossing your napkin to the table roughly, your firm voice carried in the quiet restaurant. “I am forty years old and specifically said on my dating profile that I was only looking for someone within ten years in either direction.”

“Everyone tells me I seem younger than I am,” the older man pleaded.

Standing suddenly, there was one final thing to say before walking out. “They must mean you are juvenile. You lied by omission and this date is at an end.” Too steamed to appreciate the light applause from a few of the staff as you made your way outside, you made sure to leave a decent hunk in the tip jar by the register as you exited. Their reaction to the show made you wonder if your would-be Romeo pulled his little trick often on dating apps.

If this inexpensive family restaurant was his regular date spot, they had probably seen multiple people sit through a wasted evening with the lout. The very idea that a stated boundary was seen as negotiable to some people made you wonder if you were better off single than trying again and again to find a partner. A short walk home worked out some of the adrenaline from the stressful interaction, but your shoulders still carried far more tension than before the ill-fated date.

The ring of keys clattering into the bowl by the door alerted Taeil to your presence. He popped out of his room before you even had shoes off and took in your mood with a glance. “Short date. Didn't go well, I take it?”

“You could say that.”

“Need to talk about it? Or we can drown your sorrows in root beer and monster movies if you would rather block it all out.”

Taeil's maturity often took you by surprise. Looking perpetually younger than his early thirties, you still thought of him like a young cousin until moments like these when he skillfully tended to your emotional needs. You felt lucky to have found such a good friend in a roommate, and his caring presence had already begun to lighten your mood.

Taeil shepherded you to the couch then left briefly for refreshments. While he was wrangling the popcorn popper, you opened the dating app to block tonight's jerk then sat there wishing you could leave a rating to warn others of his boundary crossing behavior. He wasn't even the first guy to think he would be an exception to your clearly stated age range rule.

While looking over the site for such a feature, you accidentally hit the button bringing up people meeting your criteria sorted by geographic proximity. Pretty much the last thing you needed after tonight's debacle, but what came onscreen gave you pause. There as the very first suggestion was a suspiciously familiar man in glasses with blunt cut bangs and shy smile. The username 'CorydoraLife' cemented it. With multiple tanks in the apartment and rented space in the back room of a marketplace, nobody else on the planet could be as into those fish as Taeil was.

This was certainly your roommate, and after a furtive glance toward the kitchen where you could just begin to hear the machine warm up kernels, you opened the profile before even thinking it through. The first thing to greet you was some attractive pictures of the man you were more familiar with in casual attire.

It was fair to say even in sweats you had caught yourself admiring your younger roommate from time to time, but he really cleaned up well. Turned out he had a body hidden under those baggy sweaters you saw him in all the time. His soft belly silhouetted in a fitted shirt looked particularly huggable.

Scrolling further you decided to read his description, just as a lark of course, and you appreciated how accurately he conveyed a sense of his charms. While the plentiful tattoos did not show in his pictures, Taeil was also upfront about them as an important aspect of his personality.

He was honest to the point of talking quite a bit about his special interest in fish. While you thought it probably was scaring some potential dates away, his insistence on being himself would save wasted time meeting people he could not click with and the approach, intentional or not, made sense.

All in all, Taeil's dating profile really did convey the man you knew. And when the facts about him were gathered together like that, he sounded pretty attractive in a way not really considered before. You were further lost in thought upon hitting the comment that he was pretty open to dating people older than himself, as long as they were not beyond his parents' age.  

“You didn't pick a movie yet, need some quiet time instead? I can always go back to my room.” The sudden voice at your side startled you. It was lucky the popcorn was not in your hands yet or it would have flown into the air at his words. Settling in at your side on the couch, Taeil could see he had unintentionally added to your stress. “So sorry about that. I can give you a shoulder massage to bring them back down from your ears if you would like.”

This was not an unusual offer from your roommate as you truly were that comfortable around each other. As tempting as the thought of his hands on you again was, given your own experiences with truthfulness tonight it seemed like speaking up would be the right thing to do. “I need to tell you, I found your profile on the dating app I use.”

Taeil squirmed a little. “That was fast, I just made the account while you were out, as short as that lasted. I figured as long as you were looking for somebody, I should be too.”

“Honestly, I wouldn't recommend the process if my lamentable dates have been anything to go by.”

He shifted away from your body. Looking to you then back to his lap, he quietly admitted, “I am going to keep it up. Been hoping to get my mind off someone unavailable.” He stiffened in a panic. “I should not have said anything. Please don't tease me about this.”

One of the many things you admired about Taeil was his guileless nature. In some ways he seemed like a fluffy yellow chick, innocent and naive as if new to the world, but there was a lot of yourself in that animal comparison too. Perhaps that was why you got on with him like nobody in your life before, other than that autistic cousin of yours and some delightful oddball friends online who lived scattered across the globe.

Unlike the others, this friend was here now, and needed a mood lift just as he had been offering to repair your own day. “I would never knowingly tease in a way that would hurt, Taeil. In fact, I think it is sweet you like somebody and I truly hope it works out in your favor.” The way you continued to ramble came from a place of affection, “Take heart, people can break up, and even someone in a good relationship might be polyamorous so maybe there is a chance for you after all. I can't imagine someone not being interested in you, unless they don't date men of course.”

“Thank you, but if it hasn't happened with them yet I don't think it will at all, and I will not press.” Taeil slumped down, making his slight frame seem smaller than usual. “Not really feeling in a movie mood anymore so if you don't mind, I'll go back to my room.”

You sat there stunned in his absence. That poor man. All this time you had been caught up in your own romantic woes and never thought to ask how your roommate was doing in his own life. Some friend you were, quite the dunderhead. And then it hit you with a glance at the screen. Were you possibly the one Taeil had on his mind? It did not seem likely given your age gap, and no indication of interest on his side. But maybe? You had been pretty oblivious about plenty of things before. The next appointment with your social skills therapist was going to be full of questions.

In the meantime, you acted impulsively and took the risk of clicking the button on Taeil's profile to convey an interest. Even if you were not the person he had in mind, you felt it important to let him know where your mind was when it came to your roommate and that you considered him dating material. The realization that you might be a little in love with him already could wait for a positive response to your app activity.

Taeil must have had his phone out and seen the notification live for he came busting out of his room in an instant. “Do you really mean it?” Waving the phone bearing your profile, he added, “You have always seemed so mature to me. I figured you could not want a younger man, especially after all my hints went unanswered.”

You took a hand, drawing him down to the couch again. Taking his phone, you scrolled down to the section on who you would consider and showed him the age range certainly included himself at thirty-one. That cleared up, you had a question of your own. “What hints, Taeil? I am completely clueless.”

He detailed a litany of kindnesses performed since moving in, none of which had said anything to you other than what a thoughtful man he was. But now taken into consideration, from what you had seen of him around others, Taeil did not seem particularly perceptive about the needs and tastes of acquaintances, except when it came to you.

Thrilled by his finally openly expressed interest, you answered, “I would love to give us a chance. I have never gotten along with anybody as well as you. Nobody else listens to my infodumps for one thing, and that is a big deal to me.”

Taeil broke into a grin. “And you always let me ramble all I want to about the corydoras.” He laughed, “Not even my family puts up with that.”

“Your fish facts are always interesting to me, Taeil. How could they not be fascinated?”

His smile at this news was brighter than you had seen before. “Now how about that movie?” Cuddled closer than ever with his legs flung across your lap and arm in arm, Taeil watched adoringly as the movie flickered across your face. He could get used to this change in your friendship, which was exactly the same thought you had.

Taking none of the movie in, your mind was completely consumed with the dear man at your side and the dates you were planning to take him on beginning tomorrow. If all went well, you figured there was a good chance of couple tattoos in your future.

~

Masterlist

[starshipsofstarlord]

Single ladies

stephen strange x reader / masterlist

summary; you and wong get tickets to your favourite singer, and drag the sorcerer supreme along for the concert / warnings; bad humour, it was a random idea that just came to me, brief mention of imprisonment, swearing, hinting at sex,

“A Hunk of Hulk of Burning Fudge please.” You smiled at the woman behind the booth, splaying change upon the counter, as you watched her scoop the delicacy into a small and travel safe pot, oozing the green ice cream with a caramel like sauce. “Thank you.”

“You order the same thing every time that we come here.” Stephen rolled his eyes lightly, quirking one of thin brows at you. Rather than denying it, for you both knew that fact was true, you simply shrugged, putting a portion of the avengers flavoured desert into your mouth, with the plastic spoon that accompanied your purchase.

“I am consistent. I think that’s what you were trying to say, and I don’t think you should complain considering my regular pattern of things keeps you... motivated.” Your gaze sternly drifted down to his crotch as you raised your forehead suggestively at the covered body part, sending the message directly to the sorcerer.

“Yes, that is what keeps me motivated. Surely not the need to protect our reality from negative forces that could cause it to plunder into a catastrophe.” In reply, you hummed, a smirk ridden on your face, before your phone beeped. “Who is it?”

“Wong, he’s pissed that we went to get ice cream without him.” Was your answer, as you drifted your gaze over to the counter as you prevailed in thought. “I better get him something, otherwise this weekend is gonna feel like an imprisonment from Surtur. And trust me, I am well versed with what that situation is like.”

“What is happening this weekend?” He asked bluntly, as though he felt left out on some big plot. A grand, rather intoxicating smile danced upon your face, almost cracking the surface like a piece of glass wear.

“We’re going to see Beyoncé!” It practically left you as a scream, your excitement clearly having got the better of you. As passersby walked past, you waved lightly at them, delivering them an embarrassed apology, before attaining your attention back onto Strange. “We have a spare ticket, my friend Darcy kinda pulled out, something about her friend Erik going bonkers again, but... you could come?”

“Me?” He had to repeat the offer, pointing at his chest where the eye of agamotto was hidden beneath his casual attire. It was no secret that you and Wong practically praised the earth for birthing such a beloved icon of the modern age; in fact it was him whom had introduced the singer to both you and Wong.

The pair of you didn’t get that reference, until the two of you delved into some coordinated research online. A part of him regretted ever making a reference about her, since the pair of you were practically obsessed. He was not sure that he’d survive a concert with the two of you, nor that the two of you would live through the performance, it was a rather mundane occurrence for the pair of you.

“No, of course not. I’ll just go and invite the other Stephen Strange; he wouldn’t dare say no to one of my... offers.” You smiled deviously, shovelling more of the fudge flavoured treat, sucking seductively on the cheaply made utensil, batting your eyelashes up at your master.

“Fine.” Stephen sighed, causing you to sigh, and pat the man on the shoulder. He rolled his head back, as he thought of the possible disaster his inclination to say yes would be.

“I knew you’d come around Stephie.” You spoke, handing him the pot of your slowly melting ice cream, pausing a finger upwards in the air, as you began to trail backwards. “Imma get Wong one of those, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“If i was a boy, even just for a day!” At the pitch that you wailed, Stephen winced. Wong was driving, and he was in the passengers seat, he had quite the suspicion that it was indeed not a bottle of water that you had brought along to the show. “Hey, I was listening to that!” You yelled, your voice being targeted at the driver as he fiddled with the track.

“I’m surprised you could hear that over your American Idol audition.” Stephen spoke, watching as your face crinkled, and the song of Wong’s choice had began to play. The sorcerer admittedly had quite a decent time accompanying the two of you, there were no days off with the tasks that you were given the responsibility to protect. Though, there had been a way around that worked out, and thus here the trio of you were, on the way back home.

The beginning of the song Single Ladies bustled from the CD player, and Wong inherently turned it up, watching amusedly as you pouted through the rear view, and crossed your arms. “If you don’t stop insulting me, then you will be a single lady Strange. I can find someone else to put a ring on it.”

“What was that?” He lightly smirked, turning in his seat to face you, as your skin crawled with the remarks of embarrassment. “Did you just admit that you want to marry me?” The man teased, watching as you shook your head, denying his claims that he had clearly heard.

“Nope.” The word popped from your mouth, as you leant against the restraint of your seat belt. “I don’t trust you with purchasing jewellery, you can barely keep track of the items that you wear.”

“I wear the eye of adamotto, the ancient one entrusted me with it. I- where the fuck is it?” His hands raked his chest, scratching the surface of skin below his shirt to find the item. It was gone. One of the most powerful weapons in the universe was lost, and worst of all, at a concert for normal people.

If one of them were to find it, they’d either think it nothing more than garbage, or a sick statement piece that they would brag about to their friends. Or worst of all, they would sell it, for less than it was even worth, since it was priceless, and some big bad would discover it on the shelf on an antique store.

“Language.” Wong muttered as he slipped his gaze only momentarily to the man sat beside him. His face remained void of emotion, but his eyes told another story. He was conflicted whether he wanted to shout at the sorcerer, or try his hardest to remain calm.

“You have to turn back!” The qualified doctor exclaimed, and all of a sudden, Wong performed a U turn, steering in the direction that you all had just come from. “Are you trying to kill us?!” The images of his own accident flashed through his mind, that fault of his own had ended him here, in a flurry of panic.

“If Beyoncé is wearing the eye around her neck, we are forcing her to use it as the cover for her next album. We’ll take some pictures, and then take it.” Wong stated, watching essentially as the man beside him began to bicker, his eyes wide and shocked by Wong’s priorities.

They were supposed to protect the reality, not shape it to their own whim. As they snapped at one another, you felt succumbed by the alcohol that you had subtly consumed, raising your hand to your chest, feeling a chain and a large, sideways diamond shaped pendant against your chest, below the material of your clothing.

Thinking nothing of it, you shut your eyes, and fell into a sleep slumber. Least to say, when you finally awoke with a raging hangover, after they had searched the extents of the stadium, neither of the men were impressed when they saw a familiar shape pressing through your top, mocking them as they established their fury.

“A part of me wishes Beyoncé had worn it.” Wong sulked, as Stephen went to remove the piece from you, but decided otherwise. If anyone could protect the artefact better than himself, it was a very pissed off and hungover you.

[mememanufactorum]

Shit I’ve Said This Month (December 2021) sentence starters

Just a collection of things I’ve said to friends in DMs and whatnot this month.

* FEEL FREE TO SHARE AS YOU PLEASE, NO CREDIT NEEDED. CHANGE PRONOUNS OR ANYTHING ELSE AS DESIRED.

Meanwhile I just give (name) every excuse in the world to judge me right now.

It doesn’t count unless I can eat their hearts to gain their courage.

DON’T MIND ME JUST TESTING THINGS AND ABUSING MY POWER AGAIN.

WOW I WISH THAT WAS A MOOD.

I WANNA SLEEP AS MUCH AS (name) DOES.

I think my body is actually busted.

I just tried to look up “sad christmas cookie” hoping to find, like, a really badly made Christmas cookie.

NO I JUST WANTED SOME REALLY BADLY MADE CHRISTMAS COOKIES, NOT SAD GINGERBREAD MEN.

I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS.

Someday, you’ll stop being accident prone.

SAME AS IT EVER WAS.

MY FISTS SUDDENLY DON’T WORK BECAUSE I CAN’T TALK.

Try hitting your hands.

I’m about to put my ass down and make it stay down.

No, your kind of gacha would be a sweets gacha.

I DON’T BELIEVE ME EITHER.

I wish I could be affected by the cold but instead its HOT.

Please do not scree.

I MUST BE STRONG.

I WILL NOT GET HEALTHIER BY BEING WEAK FOR ONE DAY.

But my body says, “No, you fucking get up.”

You’re being a gremlin again.

How do two metaphysical entities even date?

This is a pump action. You can tell it’s a pump action by the fact that you have to pull the pump.

This is a lever action. You can tell it’s a lever action because you have to cock the lever.

Spinning the lever is entirely optional and not recommended for newer shooters due to the risk of breaking your own fucking hand and basically smashing a heavy hunk of metal against your own fingers.

It takes a certain level of skill and physical toughness not to break your own goddamned hand doing that trick.

I can’t wrap my head around the physical logistics of a “one handed pump action”.

I just got reminded (name) exists again.

Do you want me to show you a dog video?

And now my mostly dead brain desires ancient memes.

I don’t know, how do you deal with me?

HOLY FUCK THIS IS SO FUCKING KINO.

“EVENTUALLY” SHE SAYS AS SHE LEAVES TO CRAFT.

WILLINGLY IS DIFFERENT FROM “ON ACCIDENT”.

You expect me to just keep popping on and off my gloves?

Must you always be spiteful?

I could have, but then you would’ve gotten mad at me sooner because I doubted you, and then you would be even more mad once you finally saw I was right, because spite, so I figured the lesser of two evils was to incur less (name) angy.

Oh my god damn it.

And before you ask, “(name) why the fuck are you still awake did you even sleep at all?”, No and because shit got good.

God fucking shitting damn it fuck.

Wait a minute. I CAN MAKE MONEY.

WERE IT NOT FOR SLEEP DEPRIVATION KICKING MY ASS, I REALLY WOULDN’T WANT TO STOP PLAYING AT THIS POINT.

I’m gonna bully you if you keep doing this.

It’s all going in the vault. It’s all being noted.

AND THAT WAS WHEN I NOPE’D THE FUCK ON OUT OF THERE.

THERE ARE MANY THINGS YOU MUST WITNESS JUST A LITTLE FURTHER AHEAD. YOU ARE NOT READY FOR THEM I GUARANTEE.

OH THAT’S FUCKING SICK.

Why do I feel like I’m being attacked while asked about this?

“SHH” DOESN’T ANSWER MY QUESTION.

Stop hissing at me.

DON’T APOLOGIZE TO ME.

Is that a goddamned Kingdom Hearts reference?

MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST FUCKING COME WITH US IN THE FIRST PLACE.

HOW STIFF ARE THOSE FUCKING COOKIES THAT THEY JUST PERFECTLY SNAP IN HALF?

Motherfucker I’ve been down this narrative road before. You can’t fucking trick me. The feelgoods are all just a fucking setup.

(name) has every right and no right whatsoever to be that fucking precious and I don’t care if that sounds weird.

I watched a cat eat a hamburger.

I now understand why the grapes are a fucking disgrace.

It’s because they put that budget to more important things, like proper hamburger physics.

Behold, I’m not loaded down with a bunch of food anymore.

I like how my brain functions like a faulty autocorrect lately.

Are you going to become babushka now?

Imagine exerting such authoritative mom energy that you even make the big bad antagonist flinch and mind his manners around you.

I mean mom energy so strong that it knocks all the smug out of the antagonist and makes him stop acting like a shitter for AT LEAST a few moments.

If this isn't exactly the brand of off-color, fecal funny sense of humor you expect out of me by this point, then I'm sincerely sorry because I have lead you to believe some very incorrect things about me

But I’m shitposting with PURPOSE.

WHEN DO YOU EVER NOT GET SICK?

STOP SCREAMING AT ME I’M TRYING MY BEST.

YOU WANTED ME TO DISAGREE.

Would it make you feel better if I disagreed?

Did you actually summon me awake?

Turn into actual final boss status.

Real healers: “I learned every facet of human anatomy so I could learn the best way to kill someone if I have to. Try me, bitch.”

YOU CAN’T GET ANY MORE NAKED THAN BEING BONES.

In space no one can hear you scream. Conversely, in space, everything can hear you scream.

Silence? All I hear is VIOLENCE.

If this is some reverse psychology shit to get me to stay up longer, IT WON’T WORK BECAUSE I WAS ALREADY GONNA DO THAT ANYWAY.

I will call a bluff even if it means burning myself in the process.

Don’t make me grab the John Cena gif again.

HECK ALL YOU LIKE, IT WILL NOT CHANGE YOUR FATE.

You underestimated me yet again and you have paid the price. Reflect on your mistakes.

When I’m doing what, BEING RESOURCEFUL AND HELPFUL?

I can’t believe you enabled (name)’s calling in life.

God bless the internet sometimes.

BECAUSE THEY’RE PETTY DICKS.

The timeline where broken clocks also exist.

It’s been enough time that all that drinking should be catching up with her. Now, I say “catching up with her,” but the more accurate way to paint this is that it’s probably getting ready to slam her like a goddamned semi truck.

You should have stopped taking shots 5 shots ago.

It’s starting. It’s starting and it’s over at the same time.

You know what happens sometimes when a Pokemon tries to attack while inflicted with confusion? Because that’s what you’re doing right now.

Tell him the reddit gold has been added to his account.

I’m inclined to agree with the initial statement, if only to argue that it deserved worse.

Listen closely, you can hear the sound of Eddie Van Halen spinning in his grave.

I think the simulation’s breaking.

Please don’t call things “steaming hot”.

There’s no turnips on the moon. Only carrots.

I can’t believe you have headache already when the real headache starts now.

No, what they’re saying is, you should eat the model kits.

Fuck this. Fuck all this bullshit over here. Fuck every last bit of it.

What the fuck is that moon creature?

HE HAS NO STYLE, HE HAS NO GRACE, THIS CACTUAR IS A FUCKING DISGRACE.

Today is a day of many disappointments.

[blorboverse]

Chapter 3: Rodney

The world I portal into next is a bit of a shock. 

The field world and the ocean world were at least semi-familiar. I’d seen pictures of the beach and of fields before, so I at least had some sort of frame of reference. Not here.

I’m standing on something flat– that much I can tell. Surrounding me is darkness, but… colorful darkness, if that makes sense? It’s darkness that keeps flashing pink and green and white, but it doesn’t stop being darkness, if that makes sense. Yeah, the whole effect is kind of blinding, so I screw my eyes shut and try to adjust. 

Blinking rapidly, I take a step backward– and tumble over something onto my ass.

“Ow, shit!” I exclaim, propping myself up onto my hands.

“I’m hungry,” says whatever I tripped over.

What? I pull myself into a crouching position to get a better look at it. I’m only able to distinguish it from the pulsing background because it seems to pull all light in. Sort of like a black hole, I guess. It only comes up to my knee, and has stubby little arms and legs, with no digits. In terms of features, it has one red and white eye, and nothing else.

It blinks slowly at me. “I’m hungry,” it says again, from no visible mouth.

“Oh.” I was able to buy some rations on the ocean planet with the fish that Koii caught. I don’t have much, but– “Do you want a sandwich?”

It blinks at me again and doesn’t say anything.

“Or, I mean, I could just give you some meat and cheese. Or some nut butter on bread? What do you eat?” That’s probably a question that needs to be asked. This world is so alien from my own– how do I know that he’s not going to eat me?

“Haven’t eaten. Long time,” it says in a small voice. It strikes me as almost childlike– like someone should be taking care of it. “No one comes.”

My heart breaks for this impossible little creature. “I’m Can. I’m here to visit.”

“Rodney,” the creature says.

“What do you want to eat, Rodney?” I ask it. “I have salami, salmon jerky, some hard cheese, some bread, honey, and nut butter.”

Its eye darts away, considering its options. “Some bread. Honey and nut butter.”

I put my backpack down on the ground (or what feels like the ground, anyhow) and rummage through it for my bags of food. I was able to get a pocket knife in the ocean world. I use it now, to saw off a hunk of brown bread and smear nut butter and honey thickly across the top. I’m not sure if it’s just mimicking my last words, but I’ll give it to it anyway.

When I’m finished preparing Rodney’s bread, I look up to hand it to it– only to get a shock. A perfect little round table with two chairs has appeared out of nowhere in this pulsing void. It looks like it was copied and pasted from a cute cafe. It has two place settings, two teacups and saucers, and a teapot in the middle of it.

“How’d– how’d you do that? Where’d it come from?”

Rodney’s eye smiles, seemingly pleased that it’s taken me off-guard. “Tea?”

“Uh, sure,” I say, not knowing what else I can say. I put its bread on one of the plates, and Rodney climbs up into its chair. I take the chair across from it, which is a little too small for me, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to complain.

We sit there in silence. Rodney doesn’t touch its bread. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore, and ask, “So, Rodney, what are you?”

Rodney cocks its head and doesn’t reply.

“Like, um. How did you make that table appear?”

“Dimension’s mine.”

“The dimension’s… yours? What happened to all the people? Or the environment?”

“No people. No places. Was empty. Found it. Now it’s mine.”

“You can do that?” I ask in disbelief. “Just… find a blank dimension and claim it as your own?”

Rodney shrugs. “Lot of dimensions.”

“But where were you before?”

“Eternal womb of the infinite dark sun.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what that means, or what to say to that, so I change subjects. “The table’s nice. The place setting is very well composed.”

Rodney brightens up. “Thank you! Like the finer things. Like it when it’s pretty.”

“I’m jealous,” I say. “I wish I had the eye for it.” I study my teacup. It has a pattern on it that reminds me of the purple flowers that Roxan grew.

“Glad you like! Want tea?” Rodney gestures with its stubby hand, and the teapot levitates over to my cup.

“Oh, um, sure!” I say. When the teapot tilts, the liquid that pours out of the spout is the same kaleidoscopic colorful not-dark darkness that makes up the rest of the dimension. I watch it fill the cup trepidatiously. 

“Is, um, is that safe to drink?” 

“Safe to drink,” Rodney assures, filling its own cup. “Good for you.”

I pick up the cup, raise it to my lips, and then stop. “Are you sure?”

“Sure.”

And so I take a sip.

The warm liquid travels down my throat and burns in the pit of my stomach. I feel a chill run through my body as it warms my very bones up. My muscles relax, and the taste hits my tastebuds– Mountain Dew Voltage.

I shudder, as sense memory kicks in. When was the last time I tasted that? Maybe on one of the late nights– crouched in the hallway, laughing– 

I open my eyes.

“Crying,” Rodney observes.

“I–” I blink away the tears. “I just– it tastes exactly like blue raspberry Mountain Dew.”

Rodney blinks slowly at me.

“I just– I used to live in this facility where they were studying us. It wasn’t all bad, but the tests and training would run late. And whenever I got the late shift, I had this friend who would show up every time with a Mountain Dew Code Red for her, and a Mountain Dew Voltage for me, out of one of the vending machines. They were so bad for us, but I always liked blue things, and she knew that.” I shake my head. “Sorry. Um. I just haven’t had one in a while.”

Rodney holds out its little stubby hand across the table, and I take it. Its form is solid, and hums with energy. “Can,” it says seriously.

“Yeah?” I look up.

“Thank you for food.” Its plate is empty. I didn’t even see it touch it. 

I sniff. “Don’t worry about it, bud.”

“Drink more tea,” it says. “And cry.”

I do so, and it sits across the table from me, watching and holding my hand.

(OC by @fireball-me​ )

[craziest-in-the-guild]

Point Rain

Chapter 3 of the Long Night series

Word Count: 5251

C/W: 18+ Description of severe injuries; medical treatments. Sex, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m and f giving/receiving), cream pie. Alcohol use.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this far! This one picks up on the action, both on the battlefield and behind closed doors. I did use vod in a way that I'm not quite sure is correct, feel free to leave notes on that for me to reference in the future. Hope everyone enjoys it!

_______________________________________________________

The assault on Geonosis was being initiated to regain control of the planet and destroy the new droid factory. Generals Skywalker, Mundi, and Kenobi were leading a three pronged attack in hopes that the factory could easily be taken.

Our forces were under fire as soon as we launched. The noise from the laser blasts, other ships, and our own gunship was excruciatingly loud. I put a hand to my helmet in discomfort.

“Here, let me help you adjust the sound filtering,” came the modulated voice beside me. Rex took my helmet, adjusted something and handed it back.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, much, now I can hear myself think,” I laughed nervously. The sound filtering had dampened the blasts and roar of the gunship.

The gunship beside us was hit several times by cannon fire and exploded, rocking our ship. I could feel my heart rate speeding up and I tightened my hold on the grab bar above.

Our ship was the next to be struck by a blast, causing it to lurch sideways. I lost my balance and fell into Rex. I quickly returned to a standing position and he placed one arm around my waist to help me brace. I could see smoke and flames streaming past the side door. The pilot yelled over the comm for everyone to brace themselves; we were going down.

The ship picked up speed as we hurled towards the ground. We struck hard, enough to knock the breath out of me. Once the burning hunk of metal came to a stop, I scanned quickly to see if everyone was ok. No one was down and we all evacuated.

“Are you good, Doc?” Rex yelled over the noise.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little shaken!” I yelled back, ducking as laser blasts flew overhead.

“Draw your blaster and stay with Fives, Jesse, and Tup, I’m going with the General and Commander.”

“MEDIC! Man down!” cracked across the comms. That didn’t take long.

“What’s your location?” Jesse asked.

The injured clone was close, so we diverted to his location. His vod had dragged him behind a rock outcropping for cover. He had been hit with three blaster bolts to his left arm.

“I can’t move my arm,” he said frantically.

There was little bleeding from the wounds. I removed his armor and cut the sleeve of his blacks to get a better look. His radial pulse was strong, a good indication that no major circulation had been disrupted. I wrapped the injuries with bacta impregnated dressings.

“Clankers incoming!” Jesse yelled. Tup pushed me further behind the rock outcropping just in time to dodge a blaster bolt that ripped through the rock where we had been standing.

I drew my blaster and we both peeked around the edge of the rock. I had a clear shot at a few droids, so I took it, taking out three of them. Tup congratulated me.

Overhead, a severely damaged gunship streaked by, hit the ground, and rolled, coming to a rest not far from our position.

Tup and I ran to Fives as he and Jesse fired on the last of the droids. We advanced towards the gunship crash site.

As we approached, we could hear the screams of pain. Called over comms for additional medics and a tank for evacuation. There were none available, everyone had suffered heavy personnel and equipment loss.

A trooper approached, pointing me in the direction of an injured brother.

“Is anyone else alive?” I inquired.

“I don’t think so, sir,” he said.

I reached the trooper and swiftly pulled my backpack off, reaching for two tourniquets. One leg had been fully amputated just above the knee and the other leg was partially amputated below the knee. Blood was pouring from both legs.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

“Jesse, I’m going to need you to help me so he doesn’t bleed out. Put this one on the left leg and I’ll take the right leg.”

I slid the tourniquet on and yanked the strap tight before cranking the windlass. The trooper screamed in pain.

“I know it hurts, but it’s going to save your life,” I said.

Jesse and I both got our tourniquets secure and the bleeding quickly stopped. I dressed what was left of his legs with two large bacta trauma dressings.

Next, I pulled out a syringe filled with pain medicine.

“This is going to help the pain, but make you sleepy. We’re going to get you out of here. You’re going to be ok,” I assured him. I removed his helmet and his skin was pale, clammy, and cool. His carotid pulse was thready. I pulled the IV kit out and started a like in his jugular vein. This would have been a great time to have blood or plasma, but fluids and bacta would have to suffice.

“Jesse, he’s going to need evaced now or he’s not going to make it.”

“I’ve already called for them to come get him, they finally have a tank in the area and it should be arriving any minute,” he said.

I hadn’t looked up from my patient until now. I wish I hadn’t. A couple meters away laid a trooper that had been completely transected. I continued scanning the area, seeing dead trooper after dead trooper.

My concentration was broken by the sound of moaning. I got up and started searching for the origin. I found a trooper who’s arm had been completely amputated and a large piece of metal debris was crushing his lower half. Judging by the amount of blood on the ground, he was close to exsanguination. I knew there was no saving him. I removed his helmet and was surprised to find he was still semi-conscious. His carotid pulse was barely palpable and his chest rise was short and shallow.

“Help….me...p..p..please,” he pleaded, in between gasps for air.

“I will, don’t worry. It’s going to be ok.”

I pulled out another syringe of pain killer and injected his neck, in hopes of easing his transition to the next world. I removed my helmet so that the last things he would see would not be cold, unfeeling plastoid. I held his head on my lap and gently stroked his hair watching his honey colored eyes struggle to stay open. A few seconds passed and his eyes closed and his chest was still.

I felt a hand under my elbow, pulling me up.

“C’mon, Doc, there’s more of my vod that will need you,” Fives urged in a somber tone.

For hours, Fives, Jesse, and Tup took me from injured trooper to injured trooper, dodging and fighting the clankers and bugs. I was exhausted and covered in blood and dirt and vomit.

“Rex needs us to join up with General Skywalker, he needs help taking down the wall,” Fives said. “It’s going to be tight in that gorge, so you need to keep your head down and stay right beside me.”

“Understood. Let’s go,” I replied.

__________________

General Skywalker’s forces were pinned down in the gorge by the laser blasts coming from numerous guns mounted on an insurmountable wall. It would need to be destroyed so that we could advance and meet the rest of our forces at Point Rain.

We took cover with the General, Commander, and Captain Rex. I was relieved to see that Rex was unharmed.

“Ahsoka and I will go to the top of the wall and destroy it from within. Rex, you and your men keep their attention down here,” General Skywalker ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Rex responded.

Rex came over to me.

“Are you doing ok?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, just living the dream,” I replied with a weak smile as I motioned to the mess on my armor.

“Good, stay here where it’s safe,” he ordered as he left cover to lead his men.

There were so many clones being shot down, but I could not reach them safely.

“Fire on the droids on top of the wall,” came Rex’s order over comm.

I looked out around the rocks I was behind to see General Skywalker and Commander Tano fighting the droids on top of the wall. The Jedi were mesmerizing to watch. I then noticed someone else had joined them. It was Rex.

“Take cover, the wall is about to blow!” He yelled over comms. Then I heard him scream. All I could see was three bodies falling from the top of the wall. The explosives detonated and I quickly took cover. I wondered if Rex had survived the fall.

As the smoke cleared, I noticed there were considerably less laser blasts. I started checking on the wounded troopers. There were very few survivors.

I patched up what injuries I could before we advanced.

After another intense firefight, we finally made it to General Kenobi’s position at Point Rain. The General was injured, but had already been given a bacta injection. I moved on to help load and evacuate the rest of the wounded.

I was kneeling, wrapping a trooper's head wound when I felt a presence behind me. It was Rex. I was relieved to see he was uninjured.

“I know there’s a lot to be done here, but we’re ready to move out and start the direct assault on the factory. We’re going to need you,” he said.

I finished securing the dressing.

“I need to restock my bag, but I’m ready,” I said wearily.

Rex reached out a hand to help me up. I took it, my aching joints thankful for the assistance. He led me over to two lifeless bodies.

Unfortunately, there had been two medics who had not survived. I hesitated next to them momentarily.

“Go ahead and resupply from what they have left. It’s all we have,” Rex said.

I took their supplies and got ready to move out.

_________________________

Unfortunately Rex was right, they did need me. General Skywalker led an assault straight to the front doors of the droid factory, in an effort to distract the droids while Commander Tano and another padawan destroyed the factory from inside. The plan worked, but it left many casualties in its wake.

I worked with the other medics well into the night. We were exhausted by the time the last gunship left.

I shuffled back to camp, in search of somewhere to rest. There were a number of fires with troopers sitting around them. Some groups were boisterous, others somber.

Then I saw him, sitting alone by a fire that was separated from the others. I made my way to Rex.

“This seat taken?” I asked

“Nope, sit down and rest,” he said as he patted the seat next to him. The seat being the ground with rocks to lean on.

“You look awful,” he said as he scrunched his face.

“You don’t look so great yourself,” I quipped.

Rex smirked.

“You’re no longer a shiny after today, but that doesn’t mean you need to be covered in blood and vomit, either,” he retorted.

He took me to the deconn area and helped me scrub away the reminders of the day.

“You had a busy first day.”

“Yes, too busy.”

I put my clean armor on and we returned to the fire. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, watching the flames dance and listening to the cracking of the fire. I was somewhere between exhausted and unable to sleep. I had seen bad injuries in med bay, but nothing like I’d seen today. I needed time to process everything.

Rex touched my shoulder and I was jolted out of my spaced out state.

“C’mere,” he said, beckoning me to lean up against him. He removed his chest plate so I could rest directly on him and not on plastoid.

I was so tired that I didn’t hesitate. I sat down between his legs and snuggled into his chest. It was definitely better than laying on the ground.

_________________

He watched her stare at the fire blankly for some time. She was no doubt replaying the events of the day. She’d held her own, but he could see it had taken a toll. He knew the feeling all too well.

Rex wanted to comfort her; let her know she wasn’t alone. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he offered her to rest with him.

She came to him, laying her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. He wondered what it would be like to actually hold her without all the kriffing plastoid between them. She quickly fell asleep.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he whispered into her hair.

————————————

The faint, pre-dawn light on my face was enough to wake me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to bring the blurry world into focus.

No one else was stirring, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. I thought it best that the Captain wasn’t caught snuggling the medic.

“Rex, Rex wake up,” I said quietly as I gently touched his face. His facial features were striking. His cheeks, chin, and jaw were perfectly defined. I held his face in my hand and ran my thumb over the slight stubble that had grown in.

“Hmmm?” He inquired.

“Rex, it’s nearly dawn, everyone will be awake soon.”

He squeezed me closer.

His voice was still gruff from sleep.

“Kriff. Better not get caught like this,” he rubbed his eyes and we both stood up. “We should be shipping back to the Resolute today. Do you want to, uh, meet me in my quarters later? We can debrief and, uh, have a drink.”

Rex looked a little sheepish, which was funny to me, since most of the time he was a brave, tough, clone.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” I smiled and left to see what needed to be done before departure.

——————————

We were back aboard the Resolute in the early evening, just in time for dinner. I sat with the boys, listening to them discuss how many clankers and bugs they killed. I hadn’t seen Rex since arriving on the ship. He was probably stuck in his quarters working on reports.

“I took out 70!” Fives boasted.

“Yeah? Well I took out at least 100, probably more!” Hardcase stood up and pretended to be firing his rotary blaster cannon.

I was sipping my caf and enjoying the banter.

“Did any of ya bother to ask our new medic how many clankers she took out?” Jesse asked.

“Oh, uh, well, it’s nothing compared to your counts,” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

“Tell us!!!” Hardcase coaxed.

“Ok, I took out...three.”

“Woooo! Hell yeah!” They all started cheering and giving me high fives.

“That’s pretty good for a shiny medic who’s not even trained for combat. Makes my heart proud,” Hardcase sniffled, pretending to wipe a tear.

“Doc ain’t shiny after that battle,” Fives pointed out.

“Sure isn’t. To Doc!” Hardcase said as he raised his glass in a toast.

Everyone followed and raised their glasses.

“To Doc!”

I smiled, raising my cup of caf.

“Welcome to the family, vod,” Fives said, slapping me on the back.

“Thank you, my vod,” I smiled. I knew what an honor it was to be considered one of their vod.

I caught something out of the corner of my eye and looked towards the mess hall entrance to see Rex standing in the hall, just far enough back from the mess entrance so that it was unlikely his men would see him. We made eye contact and he tilted his head, motioning me to come to his quarters. I could feel the butterflies stirring in my stomach.

I pushed back from the table. “Well boys, I’m going to hit the fresher and call it a night.”

————————————

I stopped at my quarters to grab a change of clothes to take with me. I hoped he would be fine with me using his shower. I had become quite attracted to him, but I was afraid if I delayed meeting him, I might lose my nerve.

I made my way to his door and rang the buzzer. He answered the door in just his blacks. I couldn’t help but notice how well they clung to him. It was nothing short of glorious.

“Would you like to come in, or are you going to stand in the hall all night?” He asked, breaking my trance.

“Yes, I’d love to come in. Can I use your shower?”

“You can. I’m going to finish up these reports while you shower.”

His fresher was much bigger and nicer than mine. I took off my armor and my dirty blacks and turned the water on. I was still grimy from the mission and eager to get clean.

The first drop of hot water touched my soul. I didn’t mind being on a mission, but not being able to shower was unpleasant. My hair was caked to my head, tangled, even though it had been braided. Thanks, helmet. The water at my feet ran grimy with dirt, sweat, and blood. I scrubbed until the water ran clean.

I dried off and reached for my clothes. I saw a robe hanging on the wall and changed my mind. My heart was racing and the butterflies returned as I stood there, thinking about wearing Rex’s robe, and only his robe.

“Be bold, you can do this,” I whispered to myself.

I made up my mind and grabbed the robe. It was soft, but not plush. It stopped just below my knees and the sleeves extended to my fingertips. I tied it shut and opened the door.

Rex looked up from his reports with one eyebrow raised. He laid the datapad on the table.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked as he moved to the small liquor cabinet in the corner.

“Yes, please,” I said as I sat down on the couch, knees to the side.

“Whiskey fine? It’s really all I’ve got.”

He handed me the glass and sat down beside me. I swirled the amber liquid and took a sip. There were notes of vanilla, caramel, dark fruit and wood and it finished with a slight spice of pepper.

“This tastes expensive”

“It is, but I thought this evening was the perfect time to share it,” he brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping. It was then I noticed how the whiskey matched his brown eyes.

His hand was laying in the space between us. I reached my hand out and laid it on his, gently stroking. Rex took my hand and raised it to his lips.

“Come here, mesh’la.”

I straddled his lap. Maker, his cock was already hard beneath me.

He brushed my hair behind my ear and then pulled my face to his, kissing me. His mouth tasted spicy, yet sweet, from the whiskey.

He moaned and thrust his tongue into my mouth as I rocked my hips back and forth against his erection.

Rex loosed the tie at my waist and pushed the robe from my shoulders. He gently moved me into an upright position.

Rex’s eyes trailed up and down my naked body, stopping every so often to linger. His hands moved from my hips to cup my breasts.

“Last night while I was holding you, I tried to imagine how soft and warm you were beneath the cold, hard plastoid.”

His thumbs lazily passed over my nipples, demanding the soft flesh to stand at attention.

“It’s better than I imagined, cyar’ika.” His hands slid down and squeezed my ass.

I pulled his shirt off and ran my hands down his solid chest and abdomen to the waistband of his pants. A deep “V” ran from his hips to somewhere below the waistband. I traced it with my fingers, leaving goosebumps in my wake. I glanced up from my work to make eye contact. He understood my unspoken request and lifted his hips from the couch, sliding the pants down, cock springing free from its confines.

I wrapped my hand around him, admiring the girth. I used my thumb to tease the head as he had teased my nipples. The leaking precum aided my hand in sliding over his length.

I stood, then knelt on the floor between his legs, taking his cock into my mouth. It was rock hard, but the skin was silky. Rex let out a sharp inhale as my tongue flicked against his sensitive head. He squirmed as I took him fully into my mouth, deep into my throat. I cupped his balls and his hands shot to the back of my head, grabbing my hair. He was gentle, but needy, thrusting into my mouth.

After a few minutes he stopped and pulled out.

“My turn, mesh’la.”

He stood and led me to his bed. I laid down on the edge and he quickly pushed my legs apart. His hand slid down to my swollen clit, rubbing slow circles.

“Maker, you’re already soaking wet,” he said as his fingers moved lower, sliding up and down my slit. He thrust one large finger in, causing me to grab the sheets.

“That ok?”

“Yes, it’s…wonderful,” I said breathlessly.

He curled the finger up, easily finding my g-spot. I pushed my hips into the bed. Rex smiled as he lowered his head to my clit. Shockwaves pulsed through me as his tongue licked my clit while his finger pushed and rubbed my g-spot.

“Gonna...cum,” I squeaked out.

He sped up the pace, pushing me over the edge. A white hot warmth ripped through my abdomen and my walls clenched tightly around his finger. He didn’t let up, causing me to orgasm in waves. All I could see were flashes of light behind my clenched eyelids. I reached for his head, looking for something solid to grasp. My fingers clawed, trying to find a hold, but his hair was short. The last wave was more like a tsunami and I squirted onto his chin and into his upturned palm.

“Mmmm,” he moaned.

He slowed his pace and finally stopped, removing his finger from my sensitive slit. He licked my squirt from his hand.

“Maker, I’ve never known anyone to do that,” He complimented, pleased look on his face.

“Takes someone special to make me do it,” I answered.

“Ready for more?”

“Mhhmm.”

He flipped me over onto my stomach and entered from behind. His girth alone nearly made me orgasm again. I took several short breaths in an attempt to hold back. He thrust fully into me and I whimpered.

“Too much, mesh’la?”

“No, just, sensitive. Maker, you fill me up.”

He started thrusting slowly until he was certain I was ready for more. His hands gripped my hips, sliding me forward and back on his thick cock.

The thrusts intensified and the waves of orgasm washed over me again.

“Mmpph,” he groaned behind me, struggling to move against my spasmining.

My orgasm let up and I could feel his thrusts becoming more urgent and sloppy. I pushed my hips down and back repeatedly.

He moaned loudly, filling me with warm cum. Rex leaned on top of me, hands reaching around to hold my dangling breasts. My thighs and midsection were still tingling with aftershocks.

Rex placed a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades and stood, withdrawing his cock. I could fill the hot stickiness of his orgasm dripping out of me. I could see him watching, before he disappeared to the fresher and returned with a towel.

Rex laid down on the bed while I finished cleaning up. I couldn’t help but to stand and stare at him laying there, naked, eyes closed, one arm above his head. He looked like an ancient sculpture of some tragically handsome warrior. I tossed the towel to the side and crawled in beside him.

————————-

I laid with my head on his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“Bzzzzzz,” came the annoying noise of the doorbell. It was followed by a voice.

“Captain? It’s Fives.”

Rex sighed. Fives was going to be the reason he had a stroke one day.

“I’ll go to the fresher so he doesn’t know I’m here,” I said. It was better to keep things concealed for now.

“Grab my spare pair of blacks out of that drawer so you don’t have to wear your dirty ones,” he said as he pulled on his pants.

I hoped up and grabbed the shirt and pants and headed for the fresher. I couldn’t leave my armor behind, so wearing my personal change of clothes wasn’t an option.

Rex crossed the room to the door, wearing only the lower half of his blacks.

“Yes, Fives?” He sounded slightly annoyed.

“ Have you seen Doc anywhere? One of the men has a shoulder out and was hoping to see her and avoid med bay.”

“Shit,” I whispered. I started getting dressed as quietly as I could.

“Did you check her quarters?” Rex asked.

“Yes, sir, she’s not there, the mess, or med bay. Not answering her comm either.”

“Uh, give me just a minute to get dressed, and we’ll go find her,” Rex said.

————————

Fives waited outside the door while Rex dressed. He smiled and chuckled to himself. Rex was smart, but he’d forgotten to move the second whiskey glass off the table. Fives was certain he knew where she was.

He was proud of his captain. Rex never let himself have fun, and Fives knew he needed it. Fives was just wondering how he’d manage to land her when his own charm in med bay had never won her heart.

Rex came to the door, now fully dressed.

“What’s funny, Fives?” He inquired, squinting his eyes in suspicion .

“Uh, nothing, sir. Let’s go find her”.

——————————————-

As soon as they were gone I dressed at lightning speed. I opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Thankfully it was empty, since it was late at night.

Now, where should I go? My comm flashed and I turned it on. It was Rex and Fives talking.

“Let’s check her quarters, the med bay, the hangar, and the mess again, in that order,” Rex said.

I took that as my sign to make my way to the mess. That would give me enough time to get there, grab some caf, and come up with a story.

The mess was once again empty, which was good as there’d be no one to say I had just come in.

I grabbed a cup of caf and found a comfortable seat, trying to act relaxed.

About five minutes later, Rex and Fives entered the mess.

“Hey guys, want to join me?” I asked, pretending to be surprised to see them.

“Where ya been, Doc? I thought you were headed to the fresher and turning in hours ago?” Fives asked, squinting at me.

“Oh, well I got cleaned up but couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk around the ship and then decided to stop here for some caf.”

“Uh huh,” Fives was not convinced. “I’ve been trying to get you on comms for an hour.”

“Ummm damn thing must have been malfunctioning, I never heard a thing,” I shrugged my shoulders.

Rex decided to interject, before Fives could interrogate me further.

“Fives says one of the men has a shoulder out and wants to see you. Go with him to the barracks and see what you can do,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

I followed the pair to the door. Rex turned to head back to his quarters.

“Sweet dreams, Captain!” Fives said in a sarcastic tone, waving ridiculously.

Rex didn’t even turn, he just held up his middle finger.

I stifled a laugh until he was out of sight and then Fives and I both laughed.

We composed ourselves as we headed towards the barracks.

“So, you and the Captain, eh?” He elbowed me.

“I have no idea what you are talking about? Me and the Captain what??” I tried to sound offended but the heat in my cheeks was giving me away. Fives could see right through me.

“I saw the second glass on the table in his quarters. It’s the only reasonable place you could have been since none of the clones on watch saw you. You and the Captain are bad liars,” he had a sly smile, as if he’d just uncovered a major separatist plot.

I looked down at the floor, embarrassed that I’d been so transparent and that I’d forgot to move the glass.

“It’s no big deal, Doc. I won’t tell anyone your secret. You two don’t need to go to such trouble to hide it. I’m just glad to see the Captain getting some ass!” He laughed and I socked him hard on the shoulder, the pain in my knuckles making me instantly regret my decision.

“Don’t be mad, cyar’ika, it’s all in good fun.”

“I’m not mad, you just deserved it for being a cheeky bastard,” I gave him a sly smile.

“You know you love me,” he grinned from ear to ear as he put his arm around my shoulder.

“So, whose shoulder is out?”

“Tup.”

“And how exactly did he manage that?”

“Hardcase.”

I placed my palm on my face in exasperation. You’d think the battles were enough fighting for them that they wouldn’t need to rough house in the barracks.

We arrived in the barracks to find an injured Tup, sitting on his bunk, guarding the injured left shoulder.

“Ouch, Tup, that’s definitely out of socket,” I observed as I palpated the injury. “Sure you don’t want to do this in med bay with a sedative?” The muscles were spasming and I knew it was extremely painful.

“Nah, I’ll be alright,” he grimaced.

“Ok, will you boys help him lay on the floor, please?”

“I thought a lady would prefer to do it in bed,” Fives quipped.

“Fives, you’re on thin ice,” I joked as I gave him a fake serious look and the “I’m watching you” motion with my fingers. He just laughed, as did his vod.

I worked to manipulate his arm, hoping the shoulder would pop back in with little resistance.

I rotated his arm 90 degrees at the elbow, rotating the shoulder outward as I gently pushed. After several minutes, I felt a pop as the humeral head relocated.

Tup breathed a sigh of relief and sat up. We helped him back onto his bunk.

“Thanks, Doc, that feels a lot better.”

“I’m going to give you a bacta injection to reduce the inflammation. I’m also going to put a sling on that arm tonight to give it time to rest. You should be good as new by tomorrow.”

The clones that had gathered to observe had started to disperse now that the excitement was over.

“Alright, Tup, I think you’re good to go. Try to get some rest, but comm me if you need me. As for the rest of you, try not to get hurt between now and revelry; I’m tired,” I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

I made my way back to my quarters, stripped, and flopped down on my bed. I just closed my eyes when my comm started beeping. I sighed and started to get up, assuming someone needed something.

“Might as well answer and get it over with,” I grumbled as I pressed the answer button.

“Nuhoy pirusti, cyar'ika.”

Sleep well, darling.

[buttsmasher]

You’re Not Safe Here

Warnings/Tags: Death by Orgasm, Teasing, Straight to Gay, Gay Anal, Male Succubus, Public Sex

[Want to read this with the reference picture? Head on over to NewTumbl using this link]

You’re sitting around bored at your apartment watching another dumb YouTube video online when you finally get the inspiration to do your college assignment. Grabbing your camera gear and car keys, you jump into your car and head to Fountain Park to get shots of the sunset. You’ve always thought the sunset looked prettiest here and you figure it’s probably the best spot around town to get the pictures.

 You pull your shitty car into the empty spot and notice that there’s barely anyone around. Just two other cars are in the parking lot but you don’t see them around. You assume they're probably walking around the trail like all the locals do. You get out of your car, pick up your camera bag and start to head towards the spot you know the sunset always looks the best at. 

 As you walk you pass a sign that in big bold letters say: FOR YOUR SAFETY, DO NOT STAY OUT PAST SUNSET. Sadowski county is not responsible for any accidents that may occur.  You ignore the sign knowing this is the one place that you’ll get those shots.

 You make it to the clearing and you stare in awe of the beautiful scene in front of you. You quickly assemble your camera, adjust some settings and take multiple pictures of the beautiful sky. The sky is purple and orange and you turn slightly to take pictures of the sky when you nearly bump into a guy.

 “Oh sorry man.” You say pulling your camera down to see a young blonde haired man with a ball cap. 

 “You know you shouldn’t be here late at night.” You don’t know why but he seems familiar. Maybe he goes to the same college as you. 

 “I think I’ll be fine.” You snark as you raise your camera again to peer through the viewfinder. 

 “Yeah, you’d think that.” The light giggle grabs your attention and you lower your camera again. “There’s demons in this park that come out at night. If you’re not careful, they’ll take your soul.” His voice gives you slight chills, but demons, seriously?

 “Is that so?” You say unamused. “Well, the sun is still visible, so I’ll probably be fine.” His smile shows a bit too much teeth for your liking.

 “Sure, give it 15 minutes. You’ll wish you took my advice.” He gives you a wink before walking away, heading towards the direction of the parking lot. You take a picture of his back as he’s walking away.

 “What a creep.” You mumble to yourself. “You shouldn’t be here late at night.” You mime as you go back to taking photos of the wildflowers, trees, and the sunset. Before long you notice that the sun has officially set and it’s getting dark. You decide you’ll try to get a few shots of the moon before you go, but unfortunately, it’s being blocked by large clouds.

 You take a look at your Fitbit watch before deciding you’ll head out since there’s much else you can do here. You take apart your camera, putting it safely back into your bag. “Run.” Someone whispers in your ear. You quickly turn around expecting to see someone next to you, but no one is there.

 “Been smoking too much weed.” You rub your forehead and start to head back to your car. As you’re walking you notice the other two cars that were there before are now gone and only your 90’s Honda remains. Someone out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and you turn to see a figure walk behind the restroom building. You figure it’s a ranger locking up the restrooms for the night and you run over to take a piss before he closes.

 As you get to the door of the building, you hear giggling behind you. “Hello?” You say turning your head to look behind you. “Is someone there?” You listen, but there isn’t a response, just the wind blowing. You’re thoroughly creeped out but you rush into the restroom to do your business all the same.

 You walk past the mirror and notice that your shirt is slightly ripped. You loudly huff, annoyed, and you go to the urinal to take a piss. You hear scratching, but you pawn it off as the trees rustling against the building. 

 When you go to wash your hands however, you see someone has written in, what looks to be dripping blood red letters. You’re Not Safe Here. You use your index finger to touch it and it feels like it was just written. “What the fuck?” Confused, you begin to exit the bathroom. You stop in place to ponder whether that warning was there when you entered the bathroom or not.

 You turn back around and find that the warning is gone, instead replaced with a poster. You immediately walk back so you can read the poster. What you see is unexpected.

 A missing poster, with the young guy you saw earlier has replaced the warning. Nehemiah Wyatt - Missing. It says he went missing five years ago at the age of 18. Last seen in the park that you’re in right now. “Hello?” You look around the bathroom again but don’t see anyone and all the stalls are open. Underneath the poster it says, They Got Him in the blood red letters. 

 You decide that this is a little too creepy for you and you’re going to head for your car and get the fuck out of here. You shoulder your camera gear and walk quickly out of the restroom where you bump right into Nehemiah. You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips. “Fuck man, you scared the shit outta me.” You huff. 

 “People say I do that.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. 

 “Uh,” You glance at his hand. “You know you’re missing right?” Your eyes meet his, and you swear for a second his eyes were pure black. 

 “Yeah, but I think you found me.” He moves his hand sensually down your chest. 

 You clear your throat and pointedly step away from him. “Well, uhm, you should probably tell the cops or someone you’re okay.” You walk past him and you readjust your camera bag. You look over your shoulder to make sure he’s not following you, but he’s not there anymore. You reason he probably just went into the restroom. When you turn around again, he’s right in your face.

 “Fuck!” You exclaim as you jump backwards. 

 “Where you going so fast?” He grabs your arm and moves your hand so it’s holding onto his ass. “How about we have some fun.”

 “You know, uhm,” You take a gulp. “I’m good. I’m just going to head home.” Nehemiah keeps your hand on his ass. 

 “You sure? I hear I’m a good fuck.” The way he licks his lips reminds you of someone just about to eat a meal. 

 “Yeah, totally, I’m good. I’m straight dude.” He just giggles.

 “You’re straight huh?” His hand cups your dick. “You might want to tell that to your dick.” You look down and he’s right, to your surprise you’re sporting a hard on. 

 “What the…” Nehemiah uses the palm of his hand to push your face back up so you’re looking at each other. He leans in and starts kissing you nice and slow. Your eyes flutter closed as you get into the makeout session. Your hand squeezing his nice ass. You can’t lie, it’s not a bad kiss, probably one of the best you’ve ever had. Your eyes widen immediately when you remember that his other hand is stroking your hard cock in the very public park. 

 You quickly push him away. “What the fuck are you doing? We could get arrested!” He just giggles.

 “I don’t mind. Come on, don’t you want some of this?” His lips hover next to your ear, making you shutter. You don’t react quick enough so he drops to his knees in front of you and mouths at the outline of your cock. The friction feels great and your thoughts get jumbled. Then you remember, you’re straight and this is extremely illegal. You pull yourself away again.

 “That’s not the-I do not-I am straight.” You struggle to get out a coherent sentence. He licks his lips again as he stands back up. He grabs your arm again but you pull away. “Don’t touch me man.” He just gives you a cocky smirk and you push your way past him.

 You quickly walk towards your car only to see a naked Nehemiah sitting on the hood of your car. You turn around to see that he’s gone from where he just was. “Tha-that’s not possible.” You say confused as you slowly turn back to look at your car. 

 Nehemiah is now putting on a show by bending over your car and shaking his hairless ass. Your mind gets overwhelmed again, this time by thoughts of you impaling him with your fat cock. “I’m straight. I’m straight. I’m straight.” You tell yourself over and over. 

 “Come on big boy, let me feel your fat cock in me.” He makes it a point by sliding two of his fingers into his hole without any resistance. The moans that he lets out are so intoxicating that you feel yourself take a step forward. “I’m so horny,” You can hear him moaning lewdly. “If only there was a straight hunk to come fuck me.” Another step forward.

 “Fuck.” You say to yourself as you feel your dick pulsing in your jeans. 

 “Come on big boy, give me a ride, show me how good of a fuck you are.” You feel a bit warm and you take a few more steps closer. Your hands move down to the fly of your jeans and you start to unzip. “That’s it, come over here and fuck me daddy.” He pulls his fingers out of his ass and instead uses his hands to pull his asscheeks apart giving you a perfect view of his hole. 

 Your mind goes blank with the only thought of, Need to fuck now. You fish your fat dick out and stroke it giving him a show. “Just a little closer.” You close the distance between the two of you and easily slide your fat dick inside of his tight hole. “There you go.” He moans as he bottom out again his ass. 

 “So tight.” You pant. 

 “Yeah? You like that?” He pulls himself off your dick before pushing his ass back against your balls. 

 “Mhm.” Is all you can manage to get out. 

 “Better than any pussy you’ve ever fucked?” His hole flexes around your cock making you shiver.

 “So much...better.” You slowly thrust in and out, amazed by how good this is feeling. 

 “I thought so.” He laughs below you. “Can’t wait to feel you load my ass up.”

 “Fuuck.” You can’t even get a coherent thought out. Just in and out, in and out. The only thing you can think of is how perfect his ass is. “You’re so tight baby.” 

 “I know daddy.” He keeps eagerly pushing back against you every time you thrust back in. You’re starting to speed up when he pushes you off him.

 “Baby…” You moan as the cold air blows against your dick.

 Nehemiah turns around and grabs you to pull you into a passionate kiss. He's moaning against your lips and pulls you down so he’s laying on the front of your car.

 You lay on top of him continuing to hungrily kiss him, your dick is leaking precum like a faucet. He wraps his legs around you and uses his flexible frame to pull you tightly against him. Your dick slaps against his dick and the friction makes you moan. “You like that daddy?” He says seductively against your lips and all you can do is nod your head. “Good boy.” One of his free hands reaches down and lightly carrasses and strokes your hard cock.

 He adjusts your cock so it’s pressing against his hole and you can’t stop yourself from pushing in. Your whole body shakes as you enter his warmth again. There’s nothing you’ve ever felt that can compare to his tightness. “Ooh daddy, you’re so big.” He throws his head back against your car as you hump away against his tight ass. You have no problem bottoming out into him again.

 The moans he’s making under you are so lewd it makes you thrust harder and faster. “Yeah right there, hit there again daddy.” You do as he says and thrust hard against the same spot making him moan ever louder.

 “You like that?” You say out of breath. “You like it when daddy fills you up?” Nehemiah smiles underneath you.

 “Yeah fill me up daddy, fuck my ass, feed my greedy ass.” You barely miss his eyes turning black as you lean down and lock lips again. You can feel your humps getting more erratic and you know you’re not going to make it much longer. “Daddy, I need your cum.” He moans against your lips.

 “You want my cum?” You whisper breathlessly. 

 “Mhm, I want you to cum in me.” His ass works your cock and you can feel yourself starting to get close. “I want you to fill me up so much that I’ll be leaking your cum tomorrow.”

 “Fuuck.” You moan as you feel yourself starting to tighten up. “I’m close baby. I’m going to load you up”

 “Do it. Cum in me!” He yells out and you seat yourself fully inside of him. Torrent after torrent of cum shooting out of you giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever had. You groan out as you lay your head on his shoulder. You keep shooting your load and you absentmindedly think that it probably should’ve stopped by now and your body is starting to become over sensitive. “Fuck yes, it feels so good!” Nehemiah moans out loudly. You start idly rocking your hips against him, still unsure why you haven’t stopped cumming yet. 

 And as you continue you shoot load after load into him, you start to feel weak. You look at your hand that’s on the car and notice it’s severely wrinkled. “What’s happening?” Your voice sounds foreign to you, like an old man. Your cock still getting milked by Nehemiah’s tight hole that’s flexing around your cock. 

 When you look at Nehemiah his eyes are black and he’s giving you the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen and you watch as your hand begins to turn to dust. “Thanks for the meal daddy.” He rubs his cum filled stomach. “Best meal of 2021.So far.” He laughs and you scream in horror as you turn to dust. 

 “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” Is the last thing that you hear as you disappear forever. 

[retrievablememories]

a strange love | yuta (m)

title: a strange love pairing: alien!yuta x black!reader genre: sci-fi/fantasy, fluff, angst, smut request: “I read a good chunk of your NCT work and really liked them. Would I be able to request a fic where a black female reader meets an alien (can be Yuta or Jungwoo) and they're both coming to terms that they're attracted to each other and have to come to terms with being attracted to someone of a different species? Can be smutty and don't be afraid to give the alien a less human biology if you don't mind.” word count: 13.1k warnings: alcohol use, cursing, near drowning experience, lots of mentions of water so this one might not mesh well with people w/ aquaphobia, non-human biology/body horror, extraterrestrial sex, lots of cum, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle dick, unprotected sex, creampie, please heed the warnings because this is an alien smutfic lmao a/n: giving the shape of water teas. i’ve actually never seen that movie 😕 but i will at some point. forgive me in advance for the nerdy references in here.

It’s funny how things happen when you least expect it. You never would’ve thought you’d be sound asleep when your entire world changed.

The night the UFO crashes in your city, you’re awoken by the tremors of its landing. The vibrations feel akin to an earthquake, and they make picture frames and other trinkets fall off your shelves and hit the floor in a clatter of noise. You jump up from your pillow at the racket, your heart pounding. You glance at the things lying on your floor and quickly register that the room—your entire home—is trembling.

There’s not much you can do at this point but ride it out, so you huddle down in your covers and hope the roof doesn’t cave in on your head. To your knowledge, your particular area isn’t known for earthquakes, which makes all of this even stranger. What could be causing one now? Is the world finally ending?

Eventually, the tremors stop. By now, your shelves have been emptied of nearly all their contents, but you’re still alive, which you’re grateful for. You wait a few more minutes to see if the shakes will begin again, but they don’t, so you climb out from the warmth of your covers to clean up your floor.

Police and ambulance sirens start blaring through the city not long after you get out of bed. That’s nothing unusual; there are usually injuries and casualties with natural disasters like these, and you expect many poor souls will be needing rescue tonight. You sigh and look at your closed blinds, watching them be sporadically illuminated by the lights of the emergency vehicles rushing past.

Once you’ve cleaned up your room and gotten back in bed, you think about checking social media for what people have been saying about the quake. There’s no doubt that the city’s residents have taken to Twitter and Instagram to document it. However, your eyelids are already starting to droop, and you’d probably fall asleep in the middle of scrolling, so you decide to tuck in and wait until morning.

Waking up the next day almost seems like a normal Sunday until you look at your blinds again and are suddenly reminded of last night’s flashing lights. Right. The earthquake. Throwing the covers back, you stumble out of bed to turn on your TV. You flip through the channels until you find a news station for your local area. You go to open the blinds, keeping your ears open for reports on the earthquake.

“Last night, we experienced unprecedented seismic activity throughout the majority of the city, caused by what appears to be an unidentified flying object, otherwise known as a UFO—”

Huh?

You turn to the TV, thinking this must be some kind of ridiculous hoax. You get ready to reach for the remote, thinking you must have turned it to one of those parody news channels by accident, but you freeze at what you see. Video footage of the city center—or what used to be the city center—plays on the screen. In place of the large historical monument that used to stand there, there’s a huge...silver and black spaceship. Or at least you think it’s a ship. It apparently sustained major damage in the landing, and now it looks more like a hunk of melted metal. The area around it has been blasted clear in every direction. Instead of green grass and pavement, there’s nothing but dirt.

The area is blocked off with yellow tape, though hundreds of people have gathered at the location to check out the object and take pictures and videos of it.

“What the fuck…” you whisper to yourself.

“We’re currently unsure where this UFO originated from, though we can confirm that it is not affiliated with any aircraft fleets owned by the U.S. military. Researchers and scientists from top universities across the country are being called in to assist in identifying this craft…”

“There’s no just way,” you mutter, grabbing your shower cap and pulling clothes out of your closet for your morning shower. “A UFO...guess that alien invasion is coming sooner than we thought.” You would like to believe it’s all just someone playing a terrible prank, but pulling off this level of theatrics is impossible.

After you get out of the shower and start making breakfast for yourself, you get a text from one of your coworkers, Alex.

10:30 A.M. Alex🍸 You seeing this shit on the news right now?

10:31 A.M. Obviously! It’s fucking wild. Do you really think it’s true? OR some elaborate government hoax? Anything’s possible. I’m betting “true,” but...

10:33 A.M. Alex🍸 I honestly don’t know. that’s why me and some of the others from work are about to head over there now. Wanna come?

10:34 A.M. The hell! I’ll pass. There could be all types of radiation n shit, I’m not tryna turn into the Green Lantern or the Hulk or somebody.

10:35 A.M. Alex🍸 lmFAO. Suit ypurself. If I gain superpowers don’t be surprised if I fly over to your house today.

10:35 A.M. You’re a mess. 💀

You spend breakfast watching more news reports and scrolling through Twitter feeds for firsthand information. People who visited the site, including your coworkers, have uploaded pictures of the UFO from various angles, inciting a frenzy of conspiracy theories and warnings that the world is about to end.

You don’t know what to make of the situation, but it stays on your mind throughout the day as you leave the house and go about completing your usual errands. The city center has been blocked off to all vehicles other than those belonging to people who’ve been called in to help, which means that traffic is sky-high everywhere else—even for a Sunday.

Sitting in a mishmash of cars, you roll down your window and sigh, looking out at the red traffic lights, and beyond that to the horizon. Things are about to get very weird for the next few weeks. Maybe months. You can only hope you’re prepared for it.

You don’t know why, but the air seems strange tonight.

It’s been 2 days since the UFO crashed. There haven’t been many more answers apart from what everyone already knows due to the ship’s destroyed state. The city has professionals out for that sort of thing, but they’re taking their sweet time analyzing the ship—though you can’t really blame them. Jumping straight into unknown alien tech seems like a death wish.

Your life has been pretty much the same as usual, though you know a few people at work who have been more directly affected by the events. One girl, Sooyoung, who lives in the neighborhood near the crash site claims the officials are thinking about having that entire area evacuate, though you don’t know why they’re beating around the bush about it if it’s true. Whatever radiation or chemicals they’re worried about has probably already leached into all the surrounding homes, and now you’re just waiting for someone to walk into your workplace with antlers or purple skin.

Admittedly, you’re morbidly curious about the case and what all of this could mean for Earth’s future, but you keep your fascination lowkey. You don’t need any of your coworkers thinking you’re the next alien-obsessed Mulder from X-Files. But then again, you’re not curious enough to visit the actual scene, so maybe you’re not the crazy one here.

You feel fine when you get home from work that day, but as you get washed up and settle into your usual evening routine, you can’t shake the eeriness gripping your subconscious. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling, either, just...foreign. Like an emotion you’ve never felt before, though you didn’t know there were even still new emotions to discover. Shaking your head, you figure maybe you should lay off the alien stuff for the rest of the week.

Before you head to bed that night, you go around the house making sure all the doors and windows are locked as you normally do. You pause at the backdoor for a reason you can’t explain, and the strange feeling grows stronger. At this point, you’re a bit frightened about what this is all about, but you can’t go to sleep without knowing. Curiosity takes over as you open the blinds and stare into the darkness of your backyard.

You don’t see anything right away. There are trees, bushes, your potted plants, and lawn chairs...everything looks normal. It’s only when you lean closer to the glass to squint that you see a figure lying in the grass. You jump once you catch sight of it, terrified that some monster or murderer has found their way onto your property. There was nothing there earlier when you closed the blinds, so whoever or whatever it is must’ve recently showed up.

You’re about ready to dial 911 when you realize the figure is curled in the fetal position and unmoving...almost like they’re unconscious. Or dead.

This is ridiculous. You feel like one of those people who always dies first in the horror movies because they went into the room the killer was obviously hiding in, but you’re overcome with the strong impulse to step outside. You grip the doorknob tightly, debating whether you should unlock it or not.

“...Fuck. Don’t let me regret this.”

You open the door with your phone in hand, the device serving as your flashlight. There’s still the screen door to get through, which you pause at for a moment. The figure remains unmoving even with the sound of the door opening.

“Hello?!” You call out to the individual, but there’s no response. Your phone’s light can’t reach them from there, which forces you to open the screen door and step out onto the porch. They’re still feet away, but from this closer distance, it seems like they’re wearing a sort of armor or full-body suit...maybe like a cosplay?

“Hope this isn’t some weirdo weeb passed out on my lawn…” you mutter, cautiously stepping onto the grass. As you approach, you can see now that the figure is likely male, though their back is to you so you can’t be totally sure. “Um, hello there? Can you hear me?” No response.

By now, you are only a few feet away from them. The person looks to be an Asian guy, with long blonde hair haloing his face. His features are angular and smooth, and he is indeed wearing some kind of body armor, its color unlike anything you’ve seen. Instead of being all one hue or even a few, it reflects the light from your phone and glows with a rainbow-like phosphorescence. The material itself looks translucent, but you can’t see through it; it creates a mind-bending optical illusion.

Your stomach suddenly drops to your feet. Is this who was in that UFO in the city center? It seems too out-there to be true, but your intuition is telling you otherwise. This can’t be fucking real.

You kneel on the wet grass next to the man and try to look for signs of life. You can hear his breathing, so he’s thankfully not dead. But he doesn’t look to be in good shape, either. He definitely won’t be able to get up on his own; he probably used the last of his energy to drag himself into your yard.

“Damn.” You turn the flashlight off and slip your phone into your sweatpants pocket. It seems like there’s no other options right now. You could call the police, but they’d probably accuse you of being in cahoots with this weird dude and drag you off to jail. Or they could cart him off for government experimentation, which sounds equally terrible. So with those things in mind, you gently maneuver his upper body until you’re able to hook your arms under his armpits and drag him towards your house.

You just really hope none of your nosy neighbors are seeing this right now.

He’s surprisingly light, and you get him inside the house fairly quickly. Once you’ve locked the door again, you pull him over to the living room so he’s propped against your couch. He still isn’t fully conscious, but his head and lips move as if he’s dreaming about something.

“What was that…?” You lean closer, trying to read his lips for some sort of clue. Surprisingly, you can make out the word water, which he mouths over and over again. “Water…” You run into the kitchen to pour a glass and bring it back to him, making sure not to spill any on the way over.

You press it to his lips, unsure if he’ll be able to drink, but to your amazement his muscles respond and he drinks quickly as you tip the glass. Soon, the water is all gone. You set the glass to the side with your palms sweating and watch as his face flutters even more. 

“Can you...hear me?”

His eyes open only slightly. This movement seems to cause him some pain, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe he has a headache since he was dehydrated? You scramble to turn the overhead light off, not wanting to make matters worse. He still doesn’t try to open his eyes any wider, though.

“Who are you? Were you...did you crash here?” You feel a little bad about asking so many questions, but you’re dying for answers as to what the hell is going on.

The man licks his lips, and his mouth parts like he’s going to answer. But his throat is still dry, and it hurts to talk.

“...Shit.” You get him another glass of water and let him drink until it’s gone again. He seems a little better after that.

“Th-this...” He clears his throat a couple times and tries again. “This is E-Earth, right?”

Now you’re the one lost for words. Although you already figured he couldn’t be from here, hearing it out loud makes your blood rush and your heart race. “Um, yes...this is Earth. Was...the UFO yours?”

He sighs, and his head falls back against the couch arm. “Yes.”

“It’s destroyed,” you say, and then feel silly about it. “But you already know that.” 

He doesn’t answer that. He just slowly glances around your living room instead, looking as if he’s never seen a stranger setup. The quietness is awkward, and you almost feel like he must be judging your taste for interior design. “Do you have a name?”

More silence. You decide he probably won’t answer until he finally says, “You can call me Yuta.”

“Yuta.” You tell him your name too, and he just nods, almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t say much without prompting, which makes it hard for you to know how to approach the situation. You don’t want to overwhelm him with questions, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to speak unless you do. “How did you end up here? I mean, in my—uh, my yard?”

Yuta shakes his head and then winces. “I crashed, and then...I just ran. The ship was melting. I just ran. I hid...I went from place to place, hiding. Don’t know how I got here.”

You wonder how he made it all the way from the city center to your home without being spotted, especially with that armor. You can only conclude that he must be stealth at hiding. Or maybe someone did spot him and the feds are about to bust down your door any minute. You take a shaky breath and try to push that anxious thought to the back of your mind.

Suddenly Yuta fixes you with a suspicious glare. “Will you reveal that I’m here?”

You try not to get offended, because you’d honestly be thinking the same if you were a newly-landed alien in a foreign land. “No. I don’t have any reason to do that. I just want to help. I’m not looking to be on anyone’s 6 o’clock news or cheap tabloid. You probably don’t believe me, but you can have my word for it...if that means anything to you.”

He’s quiet again, though you can tell he’s still skeptical.

“Um, do you need anything? More water?”

He sits up straighter at the mention of that. “Water.” You reach for the glass again, but he frowns. “Not that. I need…something more than that.” He looks around again, but when he doesn't see what he’s searching for, he attempts to stand only to slump down again.

“Slow down there, I don’t think you’re gonna make it like that. Can I help?”

You end up slinging his arm across your shoulder and letting him lean his body against you while you lead him to the bathroom. That’s the biggest source of water in the house, and you assume he must be wanting a bath or shower or something. Even aliens have their hygiene needs, you guess.

You turn the bathroom light on and have Yuta sit on the toilet lid as you turn the bathtub faucet. “Is...this what you meant?” He nods, and you put the plug in and let the tub fill up.

“Just water. Nothing else. I need to recharge,” he says, and before you can ask what he means by that, he starts undressing in front of you. 

At first, your reaction is delayed; you’re struck with surprise when you realize the armor isn’t actually a whole bodysuit, but more like...connected panels of material that can be taken off. You don’t understand the material at all, it doesn’t resemble anything on Earth you can think of—but of course, it’s alien tech. It conforms to his body as he’s wearing it but takes on a more rigid form once it’s peeled off, like actual armor.

Then, he gets ready to take the bottoms off and something finally clicks in your brain that oh my God he’s about to get naked in front of me.

“Whoa!” You spin around and cover your eyes for good measure, glad that your brown skin hides the way your face is burning right now. You step towards the open door. “Uh, I’ll just leave, sorry—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, what?”

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Yuta says, pulling the last of his suit off. He steps into the tub and sits down in it, putting his hands underneath the stream of water rushing out of the faucet. The skin on his hands seems to ripple, like it’s readjusting itself, and the hairs stand up on the back of your neck at that. You forget to be embarrassed at his unclothed state as you watch it happen.

“What’s going on with that? And why did you need the water?”

Yuta splashes his face before answering, and he turns to look at you, the droplets of water sliding off the ends of his hair. “I’m part of a Water Race. Water is my home. Our bodies have adapted to be built for living in water, and it’s dangerous to be without it for too long.”

“Adaptation? But you look like a regular human.”

“It’s just a skin.”

“A skin?” You echo in horror, a sudden flashback to Silence of the Lambs popping into your mind. “Someone else’s skin?” 

Yuta gives you a look that seems to say he can’t believe you’re asking such a stupid question. “No, it’s my skin. It’s just not my natural form.” To prove his point, he holds his hand out, and right before your eyes his human skin pulls back and morphs into something much more scaly and green. His fingers are actually more like talons, with long black nails on the ends, and there’s translucent webbing between each one.

You gasp and step back, trying to catch your breath at the sight of something so very not human. The skin reforms around his hand—you assume he has to be willing it with his mind somehow, because he doesn’t even move—and his digits look just as human as ever.

“How the hell do you hide your nails under there? Isn’t it just like...wearing a bodysuit?”

Yuta shakes his head. “No. Once the skin is on, it becomes...part of me. My hand becomes a human hand. I’m not hiding anything, it just is. It’s hard to explain.”

“Have you been to Earth before? Is that why you have a human skin, because...adaptation or some shit? This is all so wild.”

“I can shift into different skins if I want, if I gather enough genetic information on certain species’ inhabitants...but there are limitations.” That doesn’t exactly answer your question, but you figure maybe it’s best if you didn’t know. You can at least assume he’s been in contact with humans before.

“I see…” You fidget for a few seconds before speaking what’s on your mind. “Okay, one last thing...you said there are limitations. Does that mean you can’t transform into, like...a dung beetle or something?”

Yuta gives you another are you serious look and you put your hands up. “Just wondering. It was worth a try.”

You feel awkward just standing there, and you feel like maybe you should give him some privacy even if he doesn’t care much, so you leave the bathroom to find something for him to wear.

You’re not sure if you’ll find anything that fits him, so you end up settling on a light pink bathrobe and decide he’ll have to work with that for now. You slip back into the bathroom to leave it on the sink, averting your eyes from his nude form in your bathtub. “Um, here’s something to wear...not sure if anything else will fit, this is all I have for now. Sorry.” You don’t wait for him to respond— he probably won’t anyway—before slipping back out.

It’s nearing 1 A.M. at this point, which is late considering you still have work tomorrow. You sigh and curl yourself up on the couch, hoping you won’t have to stay up for very much longer.

You’re not sure when you drifted off or how long you were out, but you wake up to the sound of footsteps and see Yuta coming out of the bathroom wearing the robe you’ve given him. You have to laugh a little at the sight of him in the light pink material, though you think it suits him in a way.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need some clothes.”

Yuta raises his eyebrow. “I still have my suit.”

“Yeah, but...don’t you want something else to wear? Your ship is pretty much gone, so you’ll probably be on Earth for a while...and if you don’t want anyone realizing you’re not from here, you’ll have to wear regular clothes.”

Yuta visibly upsets at the idea of his ship’s destroyed state, even though he knows there’s not much he can do about it. “I guess. I shared which planet I was heading to before I left, but...Earth is a very big place. And my trackers were destroyed with my ship, so…”

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know how much comfort that can be. “We can look for some clothes tomorrow. It’s probably better for you not to leave the house right now, but...that’s what online shopping is for.”

“Online shopping…?” Yuta seems puzzled by the concept, but he doesn’t ask any further. Then he looks around the room again. “Is there somewhere I can rest?”

“Oh, yeah, follow me.” You get up from the couch to head upstairs where the guest bedroom is. The house isn’t huge—it was your grandmother’s before she passed it on to you—but it’s more than enough for you alone, and it should fit one more just fine. You open the door and turn on the light, illuminating the small room. “It hasn’t been used in a while, so excuse any dust. I can fix that tomorrow, but it’s getting late...” you stifle a yawn, “...so we should probably go to sleep now.”

Yuta looks at you and nods. 

“Um, well...goodnight.” You wave at him from the doorway before closing it.

As you make your way down the stairs, a sudden weariness and apprehension comes over you. An alien in your home? Escaped from a recently crashed UFO? Wearing one of your bathrobes? You’re almost positive you haven’t thought this through deeply enough, but you’re in it now. Might as well see where the rabbit hole leads to.

The next morning, you prepare yourself to go to work like you usually do. For a while, the house is so quiet that you almost forget Yuta is there until you see him standing in the kitchen entryway, still wearing his pink robe, and you almost jump through the ceiling.

“Jesus, you came out of nowhere,” you gasp, holding your heart.

“Where are you going?” Yuta asks. He steps into the kitchen and tentatively sits down in one of the dining table chairs.

“To work,” you say, and then pause. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to leave a freshly-landed alien at home alone. “Will you be okay here by yourself? I could come over on my lunch break…”

“What am I supposed to do here the whole time?” Yuta asks, sounding displeased at the thought of being abandoned for hours.

“Well...you could watch TV? There’s the on-demand channel...the fridge is available for you too, just try not to clean out my—wait, do you even eat human food?”

Yuta shrugs, crossing his arms. “Not really. It’s not a big source of nutrients for us.” 

You nod awkwardly. “Huh. Well, that’s...interesting.” The stress of the situation is already making your head pound and you haven’t even left for work yet. “Uh, yeah—I think I’ll just come over later and check in...come on, I’ll at least show you how to work the remote before I leave.”

You bid Yuta goodbye once you’re about to go, though you feel more than a little hesitant about leaving him there. There isn’t much other choice, though; you can’t afford to take a day off on such short notice.

The extraterrestrial sighs, sprawling across the couch and looking at the ceiling. The TV is already playing the channel you left it on, and Yuta turns to the screen and watches as a group of humans make weird food dishes he’s never seen before.

“This is stupid.”

The rest of the week with Yuta manages to be an adventure even though he never steps foot outside the house. 

Yuta doesn’t take a liking to human food, which means he opts for spending most of his time in the guest bathtub instead, claiming that the water gives him more nourishment than meals can. You don’t know how true that is, but you’re not going to fight him on it. Less food you have to prepare, you reason...although you often end up making extra anyway and getting him to try a few bites. It feels odd to not see him eat.

Living with someone from outer space is not really as weird as you expected it might be, which surprises you. Yuta stays in his human skin whenever he’s around you, and you steer clear of the guest bathroom when it’s occupied lest you walk in on something crazy. 

You’ve taught Yuta about new concepts he didn’t know before or wasn’t overly familiar with. He’s particularly intrigued with online shopping, and you ended up buying him a bunch of outfits that you both thought he’d look nice in. He doesn’t seem to be big on technology, which surprises you considering how advanced his UFO looked even its ruined state, but maybe human tech is more primitive than what he’s used to. He’s quite fascinated with the microwave, though, and how it can heat anything up in minutes.

With you uncovering new bits of information each day, you continually wonder how different his homeworld must be from the Earth. You can’t pull much out of him about it, for whatever reasons he has for keeping the information close, but you try to let him talk about it at his pace without pressuring him.

You could probably get used to living like this. 

Maybe not your wallet, though. You’re definitely not loving how your water bill is going to look once it comes in the mail.

None of your coworkers or neighbors know—not that it’s any of their business anyway. You don’t know how long Yuta is going to stay, or what the hell you’re going to do when his people finally catch wind of his whereabouts and land a UFO in your backyard, but you figure you’ll get to that part when it comes.

On one Saturday morning, you wake up to the sound of tapping on your door. You try to ignore it, thinking it’s just some woodpecker setting up shop outside your window, but you’re proven wrong when the door swings open.

You pull the covers away from your face for a moment to see Yuta standing there looking at you. You stare at him for a few seconds before sighing.

“Why are you up so early? It’s the weekend,” you groan, pulling the covers back over your head. 

“Why do you sleep so late?” Yuta retorts, still standing in your doorway. You don’t know whether he expects you to get up and do a trick, but it’s not happening. You peel the blanket away so it’s just below your eyes and look at him.

“What?”

“It’s not fun being here alone all day, you know,” he says, crossing his arms.

“So...what? Do you want me to play with you or something?” You can’t stop your sudden laugh, but you feel bad about once it’s out. He has just lost his ride home and has no foreseeable way back until someone notices his absence. Plus, needing to stay hidden and cooped up like a criminal can’t be enjoyable.

Yuta rolls his eyes at your response and starts down the hallway again, but you jump out of the bed and follow him. “Wait, Yuta, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I know it can’t be easy living like this. I’m not sure if I can make it better, but I’m willing to try.”

Yuta pauses in the hall and turns back to look at you. “I’m tired of being in here all the time....no offense. But there’s only so much I can take. I know I’m supposed to be in hiding, but it’s not like anyone can tell the difference. Even you couldn’t. Can’t we go out for one day?”

You think about it for a moment and figure he’s right. You both were trying to be overly cautious at first, but there’s no real way anyone would notice anything unless he shifted. “I guess we could...as long as we don’t go anywhere with a lot of water.”

“I have more self-control than that,” Yuta scoffs, though his words trail off as he’s already heading back to his room to get dressed.

You and Yuta walk around downtown for a little while, although you can’t shake the lingering nervousness you feel. You both decided not to head back to the city center any time soon; there’s not much left of the broken ship anyway, with scientists carting off pieces of it for research. Just as you thought. It’s too big to transport all at once, but you’re sure the remaining parts will be gone within the next couple weeks.

Yuta is continually surprised by how many new and unfamiliar things he spots along the way—things he actually gets to see up close and in detail. Kinda hard to focus when you’re running and hiding for your life.

Eventually, Yuta slows down as you walk past a small and colorful restaurant. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing up at the sign. You stop to turn around and see what he’s gesturing to.

“That’s just a hamburger joint...you won’t wanna go in there,” you say, raising your eyebrows. Because you don’t eat food. Despite that, Yuta still seems curious about the restaurant and he hesitates to walk away. Realizing that you aren’t going to get anywhere, you go to stand next to him and peer inside. There are a few people already inside, sitting at scattered tables and eating their food. “Do you want to go in, or…? ‘Cause you have to eat something if we do. This is your idea.”

“I’ll eat, let’s just go,” Yuta says, grasping your hand and pulling you into the restaurant.

You wave at the person behind the counter who greets you as you walk in, while Yuta is busy scanning every inch of the place. You let him look over the menu for a little while, but with so many options available he isn’t sure what to get—especially when he’s not sure if he’ll like any of them—so you end up picking for the both of you.

When you finally get your food, you take it to one of the tables. You watch attentively as Yuta takes the first bite of his hamburger, and you try to stifle your giggles as you watch his face go from nonchalance to bewilderment to shock.

“This is actually...good.”

“Wait, this is really the first meal you’ve liked? Are you saying my cooking is bad? Damn.” You chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I’m not answering that.” Yuta laughs along with you, which is probably the first genuinely happy expression he’s shown since he’s been here.

Yuta has a very pretty smile, you realize. You’re a little taken aback by it. You haven’t seen much of it since you met him, but it’s here now and striking in its genuine quality. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside...which you mainly attribute to the satisfaction of doing something nice for someone else. Of course. Who wouldn’t enjoy a nice meal they didn’t have to pay for?

Things go smoothly for a while as you both eat and pretend to make boring small talk since you can’t talk about him being an alien in public. However, you feel sweat on the back of your neck when you see your coworker Alex walk through the door with his boyfriend. This city is too small for its own good sometimes. 

You try not to call attention to yourself and Yuta, keeping your gaze on your food, but he spots you anyway and waves enthusiastically. Alex gestures for his partner to go ahead and order while he comes over to your table.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s great to see you! Too bad we missed you at the UFO wreck today, though; we went out again one last time before they take the whole thing away,” he rushes out in one breath. Yuta’s eye twitches at the mention of his ship, and you’re suddenly on edge, hoping the situation doesn’t turn sour.

“Oh, uh, wow, that’s...cool!” you choke out, pinching your straw between your fingers. Before you can think of a way to divert the subject, Alex turns to Yuta.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alex! Who’s this? Your boyfriend?” The last few words are directed at you. Alex gives you a playful grin, and you toss him an embarrassed smile back.

“Uh, no, he’s my friend! Yuta.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yuta says, though you can recognize his tone is a bit dry.

“Pleasure’s all mine!” Alex’s boyfriend calls him from the other side of the restaurant, and he turns to respond before taking his leave. “Ah well, looks like we’ll have to cut it short, but it was so great to see you guys. Enjoy your lunch!”

You let out the breath you were subconsciously holding once he leaves.

“Boyfriend…” Yuta murmurs.

“What?”

“That would be really weird. Wouldn’t it? We’re not even the same species,” he says, lowering his voice. It’s not like you don’t agree, but you admittedly don’t appreciate the way Yuta screws his face up at the thought. You prickle with embarrassment.

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Well I’m not exactly eager to date an overgrown fish, so…” You almost expect Yuta to fall into another one of his moods at your words, but he actually chuckles a bit, which surprises you.

“Then it’s mutual!” Yuta sticks his tongue out and you roll your eyes.

The warm and fuzzy feeling, you soon find out, is not a one-time thing.

You don’t quite know what to make of that. You wouldn’t like for Yuta to go back to his initial broody state, of course, but you’re starting to believe this feeling can’t just be attributed to your charitable actions. You can’t stop thinking about the more playful side of Yuta you saw at the burger place that day, and the way he’s been gradually more open with you since then.

Yuta usually spends his nights splashing around in the guest bathtub, but one night he wanders into the living room and sees you putting your afro in plaits. He becomes weirdly fascinated with the process, watching you carefully and asking occasional questions. Amused by his interest, you answer all his questions and even offer to let him do one section. 

“It’s probably not the same, but I used to braid my friend’s hair often…” he says wistfully as he settles in behind you. “We did a lot of things together.”

Your ears perk up. “Oh? You sound like you were very close,” you say, resting your chin on your knees.

“Really close,” he affirms. His hands are gentle in your hair, as testament to his words. You close your eyes and relax into the sensation, and before you know it, that warmth is spreading through your chest again. You even allow yourself to wonder what it’d be like for him to do this all the time, tending to your hair and telling you about his homeworld, before you open your eyes again and quickly pull yourself out of that reverie. You probably shouldn’t get too used to this, you reason with yourself. “I think she’s what you’d call a mermaid...except the look is a bit...different.”

“Different?” you echo, wondering if you’ll get an explanation.

“They don’t have human arms or anything like that...it’s more like tentacles.”

“Ah,” you try to imagine that, though it’s hard. “That’s certainly unique.”

“Maybe you’d like it...my planet, I mean.”

“You think I would? Why?”

“I dunno, just a feeling…”

“If only I could breathe underwater,” you laugh. “You’d take me back, though? Hypothetically, of course. I’m not too human for you?”

“Will you ever let that one go? It’s probably the least I could do after setting up residence here. Maybe we’ll get you an alien costume, though, so you’ll fit in.”

“How nice of you to think of me in all my humanness. God, the universe is something else…”

You start when Yuta’s hands leave your hair. “I think I’m done?” he says, sitting back on his feet. You grab the mirror from the coffee table and look at the braid you let him do.

“Oh wow, it looks good.” You purse your lips to hide the grin about to break across your face. “Do you wanna do the rest?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Go ahead then, my hands needed a break anyway.”

You sit back and let Yuta finish the rest of your hair, listening quietly as he tells you more about his friend from his homeworld. Her name is unpronounceable to you, but it sounds pretty all the same. They grew up together, he says, and have been on lots of adventures over the years, though he still keeps that same vagueness he always has when describing his life. He ends up getting you to tell him more about your life, which you do; you figure he probably doesn’t know a whole lot about you, either.

Yuta hands you the mirror when he’s done, and his head pops up next to yours in the reflection. “Good?”

“It’s great!” you say, and you really mean it.

You discover that, strangely enough, Yuta has an affinity for sci-fi movies. Go figure. He especially seems to like the campiness of alien films; then again, everything is campy to him because of how different it is from how extraterrestrials actually live.

You are in the middle of watching The Fly when it comes to one of sex scenes, and you try not to sweat. It’s always a little awkward to watch sex scenes with other people, but doing it with an alien gives the whole thing an extra layer of weirdness.

“Human sex is so funny,” Yuta says out of nowhere. You just barely avoid choking on your drink.

“Uh, o-okay. Do I want to know what that means?”

Yuta only shrugs and leans farther back onto the couch, looking completely unbothered about what he’s just said. “It just is.”

“...I’m sure your people must procreate some kinda way?”

“Yeah, but it’s not quite this. But when I’m in this form, I can do it as humans do.”

That makes you pause, and you’re not sure what to do with that information. Actually, your mind has already decided for itself and is trying to go to a place you don’t want it to, and you’re mildly horrified by that revelation. There’s no real reason why you should be curious about it. And yet...

“Hummm...have you done it before? In this form?” You keep your eyes glued to the screen, which is now showing a shirtless Jeff Goldblum doing acrobatics—but that’s still less awkward than looking over at Yuta right now.

“There was one time.”

There is a twinge of something in your chest. Fascination? Sure. Revulsion? Maybe not that. Dare you call it anything close to jealousy? You immediately throw that one out the door, sink further into your seat, and try not to think about what your life has come to.

“Okay, since you still won’t tell me directly if you’ve been here before, at least tell me this; did it happen here on Earth? With a human?”

Yuta shakes his head. “Some other aliens have weird fetishes. I only did it because she asked and was really adamant about it.”

“Ooookay, you know what…” You get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen, laughing awkwardly all the way. You don’t have any particular reason to go in there, but you have to do something with the nervous energy that’s about to make you jump out of your skin. You pretend to shuffle around in the fridge for a minute so you don’t look too silly getting up for no reason.

After taking a moment to calm down, you turn back to Yuta. “Okay. Hypothetically, if you wanted, could you actually…? With a human? In your natural form? Or would the parts be incompatible, or...”

“Maybe...I’m not sure. It’s not like I’ve ever tried. Why?” Yuta gives you a look that’s partway between curiosity and incredulity, and you wave your hand in dismissal.

“It’s just a question.”

Yuta leans forward on the couch, barely concealing his own amusement at whatever he’s cooking up in his mind. “Are you saying you want to try it with me?”

“You’re not funny,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way your skin is burning at that suggestion. “Remind me not to ask you anything like that again.”

When you get home from work one weeknight, you roll your eyes at the mass text sitting in your inbox, forwarded to you from Alex. Another after-work party, which means another event where someone will run through the sprinklers naked and everyone will pretend like they don’t remember it the next workday.

You don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, especially with Yuta, who will likely want to go if he finds out, so you decide to just come out and say it and see what happens.

“Hey Yuta…” You slide up behind him where he’s sitting on the couch. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be at home for a few hours on Saturday. I’m going to a party this weekend. It’s a friend’s party, someone from work.”

Yuta looks at you forlornly. “The same person we met at the restaurant?”

“No, but he’s gonna be there too. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I really don’t know if it’s safe for you to go…”

“That’s not fair, the last time at the restaurant went well,” Yuta argues.

“Yes, but this guy has a pool and he’s a dickhead who likes to push people in and what if you get caught off guard and change unexpectedly?”

Yuta’s response is as straightforward as you expected it to be. “Then I’ll punch him in the face.”

You laugh at that and shake your head, coming to sit beside him on the couch. “Ugh. As satisfying as that sounds, I don’t need the extra stress of dealing with the aftermath. I don’t know, Yuta...do you think you’ll be okay? God, I feel like an overprotective mom or some shit.”

“Y/N, it’ll be fine, stop worrying. I can take care of myself,” Yuta insists, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. He’s a little closer than you anticipated, which makes your heart rate increase a little. You chalk that reaction up to his invasion of your personal space and shift away, groaning.

“Fine, I’ll bring you. But if shit goes down, I can’t promise an easy way out. Let’s just keep things lowkey, alright?”

“Of course I can do that! I’ve been doing it so far haven’t I?” he says, but somehow you’re not entirely convinced.

The party is filled with people you know from work and a slew of unfamiliar faces, probably your coworkers’ friends. It’s mostly a backyard party, like you already knew, although there are some people mingling within the house.

There are already a few people lounging in the pool. In any other scenario, it might be inviting to you, but now you just look at all that water with a looming sense of anxiety. Yuta sticks close to your side, saying nothing but studying everyone around him.

“Y/N!” your coworker David shouts from the backdoor of his house. He holds up his beer in salutation and you wave back at him, mildly annoyed that he’s brought everyone’s attention to you both. He hustles over to you and claps you on the back strong enough to make your bones rattle, and you wince. “Hey dude!” He reaches across you to pull Yuta into a handshake, and Yuta also winces when he grips his hand a little too tight. “Make yourselves at home, I’ve got everything you could ever need—including the booze and babes!” You both nod awkwardly before David goes off to greet someone else who’s just pulled up. You roll your eyes once he’s gone.

Yuta’s eyebrows draw together. “That was…”

“Annoying,” you finish for him.

“You don’t seem to like him. Why did you decide to come?”

“Workplace politics, if you’re the only one who doesn’t come it’s awkward, ugh. It’s just bullshit. Let’s not get into it.” You walk towards the house and Yuta follows, and you nod at a few people you know along the way.

You find Alex in the kitchen, where he offers to make drinks for you and Yuta. You cast a glance at Yuta, wondering if he’ll take up the offer; you have no idea how he’ll react to alcohol, or if they drink any equivalent of it on his homeworld.

“Um, I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh okay, straight-edge guy! That’s cool too,” Alex grins, making just the one drink for you. As you and Alex talk, the girl from your department whose neighborhood was about to be evacuated sidles up to your little group.

“I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?”

“Oh...it’s Yuta.”

“Yuta? How cool, I’m Sooyoung.”

Little did you know that that one introduction would expand into them having a half-hour long conversation right there in the kitchen. You really don’t know how Yuta is pulling this off without spilling the beans, but then again, you do; he’s good enough at manipulating the conversation to make it seem like he’s sharing personal info when he’s really not. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he throws in things you taught him every so often.

Alex notices your changing demeanor and follows you as you walk into the living room, finally exhausted with playing third wheel. “Hm, someone seems a little spicy.”

You cough. “I’m fine, it’s just cramped in there, David should really invest in a bigger house..this place could use a remodel.” You throw a glance around the living room, not wanting to see the mischievous look in Alex’s eyes.

“Well, remodel aside, it’s not really my business, but you certainly seem to have a little green monster brewing here.”

You give Alex a long look. “Don’t. He’s my friend. He’s not even—” You have to stop yourself before you expose anything, and you shift nervously on your feet.

“Not even what? Your type? I don’t know, he’s handsome enough to me. You can’t go wrong with a pretty boy. Don’t tell Xavier I said that, though.”

“Lord, let me get the hell out of here…” You leave Alex to cackle to himself while you go out into the backyard again, holding your drink and mulling around the edges of the activity. Too busy wrestling with your own emotions, you don’t realize how close you’ve drifted towards the pool.

“Hey, Y/N?” David says from behind you.

“Yeah?” You go to turn towards him, but before you can, you feel a huge shove from behind and the next thing you know your feet are off the ground and you’re in the pool. It all happens so fast that you can barely catch your bearings, and for a terrifying moment you’re convinced you’re about to drown.

The seconds feel like minutes, and you can’t even open your eyes to tell up from down. The next thing you register is an arm around your waist, and somehow you’re being pulled up even though you’re too panicked to even control your limbs. Your head pops above the water and you cough and sputter loudly, trying to take in air. You try to blink the water out of your eyes, though it drips off your hair and makes it even harder to see.

You’re still not sure what the hell is going on until you’re hauled out of the water and sitting on the ground. Someone hands you a towel, and you hear a female voice saying you’re such an asshole, David.

You wipe the water off of your face and then you’re finally able to see; Yuta is crouching in front of you, just as soaked as you are and staring at you with a worried expression. You look back at him, disoriented and a little dumbfounded at his still-human state.

“You didn’t…”

Even though you’re still trembling with the fear of almost drowning, you’re unable to look anywhere but at Yuta for that moment—at the pure concern on his face.

“Nice going, David,” someone else says sarcastically.

“It was just a bit of a prank! No hard feelings guys, come on. Y/N?” You realize David is standing on your left, and he tries to come closer, his hands open in an apologetic gesture. You jerk away from him, holding the towel to your shaking form.

“Get the fuck away from me. You’re a fucking idiot!” you shout. “All you do is ‘play pranks’ and then you wonder why no one likes you!” That draws a few barely concealed laughs out of the people standing nearby, though you don’t think any of it is funny. David steps back, unsure how to respond and looking truly embarrassed for once in his life.

Filled with anger, you try to get to your feet but you’re still unsteady. Yuta puts his arm around you again, lifting you up and encouraging you to lean your weight on him.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You don’t have much to say on the way back home. You insist on leaving right away even though Yuta suggests you sit and wait until the tremors subside. He obviously can’t drive you back home, so it’s all he can offer, though it doesn’t make you feel much better.

The silence itself isn’t particularly awkward to Yuta, but he is uncomfortable anyway because he knows it stems from your own discomfort. At a red light, he turns to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and then he speaks again. “I know you’re mad about the pool, but...it seems like there’s more than that. Did...you not like me spending so much time with Sooyoung?”

You scoff. “You can’t be serious. I don’t care what you and that girl do.”

“You’re not a very good liar.” You’re too worn out to argue, so you merely give him a sidelong glance. Yuta sits back in his seat and watches a few cars zip past, their tail lights looking like clashing stars against the night. He’s not used to so much...manmade stuff. There was his ship and his trackers, of course, but he still has a hard time adjusting to be surrounded by so much iron and steel. His own planet is ruled by nature, by the vast oceans in all their unpolluted original essence, but Earth—or at least this portion of it—is much, much different.

He means to glance back at you, but his eyes linger for a while longer than intended. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because your outfit is a pretty color, or because the coils of your hair look shiny reflecting the light. He’s never put much thought into human beings before, and his limited experiences with them were mostly better left unremembered. Taking a human form was no huge deal for him; just a move that was necessary at the time.

But now, he’s seeing humanity—and most specifically, you—in a different light, and he’s uncertain what to do with this realization. People have feelings, thoughts, and dreams, like his own species, or like any other. He’s beginning to care what you think of him, how you react to him, even though he doesn’t know why this matters.

“You look pretty,” Yuta says. The compliment is the last thing you expected from him. It seems especially random after what happened at the party; here you are, soaking wet and incredibly uncomfortable. You’re a little late to put your foot on the gas pedal once the light turns green, and someone behind you honks.

“Pretty? I thought humans were weird to you.” Your mind goes back to The Fly and the subsequent conversation you had, and your hands tighten minutely around the steering wheel.

“You are. That hasn’t changed.”

“Good to know.” You don’t want to laugh, but this does make you crack a smile. “But...thanks. And...thanks for that, at the pool, you know. I should...probably trust you more.”

The rest of the ride is a little more talkative after that, and Yuta is happy that he could lighten your mood if even a little bit. Although he wouldn’t tell you, he’s becoming accustomed to your smile, and he’s more displeased than he thought he could be when it’s absent.

The thunder booms so loudly that it makes your window frames shake. It almost reminds you of the day Yuta’s ship fell out of the sky. You pull the covers tighter around yourself as if they alone could protect you from the storm’s fierceness. Storm clouds have been brewing all day, but the skies didn’t open until you and Yuta went to bed. Now, the rain and lightning is in full force. The rain pounds against your window, sounding more like hail or even bullets.

You’re startled for a second time when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in?”

The door opens slightly and Yuta appears in the small sliver of space. “Sorry, but...can I sleep here? The storm...” He gestures to the window, where a crack of lightning strikes right after. He’s wearing a sleep shirt and loose pants, and his blonde hair is disheveled. 

“Uh, sure.” You shuffle over to make room for him. “I guess this isn’t your type of water, is it?” He huddles underneath the covers with you, facing you with his arm tucked under the unoccupied pillow.

“Not when it’s so intense like this.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “It’s scary. Does rainy weather make you think of your homeworld often?”

“Often,” he repeats. “But...I think I’d be worse off if I weren’t here.”

“Here...on Earth?”

“I mean, here with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say. It’s a surprisingly personal confession, though you are grateful you’ve become someone so important in his life already, even if it’s only because you’ve given him shelter. That familiar warmth spreads through you again. 

Warm and fuzzies = gratefulness to a friend, the feeling you get when you pet a cute puppy. Right. It’s not the sensation you get when you think you might have feelings for your extraterrestrial friend, you try to convince yourself. “I’m...glad you’re here. Maybe not under these circumstances, but still.”

Yuta nods without speaking, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from you. You think he must be waiting on you to say something else.

“What?” you ask quietly when he keeps staring at you. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” Your joke does little to clear the air, and the tension keeps rising. You should probably be the first one to look away, to end whatever weird game this is and go to sleep, but you can’t. It’s unexplainable.

Yuta props himself up on his elbow, and you’re about to ask him where he’s going when he slips his hand onto your bare shoulder. You’re already covered by the blankets, but you suddenly feel even hotter with his hand on you, sliding up from your shoulder to the side of your face. “Y-Yuta…?”

You don’t know what to say or do, but you don’t object when he leans closer. Your faces are only inches apart now, like he’s hesitating and wondering if he should cross the line. The thunderstorm is intense, but this moment feels much more suspenseful than that could ever be. And then, it’s suddenly satisfying when his lips are on yours.

The kiss starts gentle. He’s careful as if he’s afraid to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s soft and sweet. Things get more heated when his tongue prods against your lower lip and enters your mouth. You don’t know when his hand made it from your face to your side, but he pulls you close with his fingers pressing into the flesh just below your breasts, and you tremble at the proximity.

When you pull away, both of you are breathing harder and unable to look each other in the eye.

“Should we be doing this?” you whisper.

Yuta shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it feels good.”

At those words, you pause for a moment before moving to kiss him again. His lips respond deftly to yours, his body crowding you in and making you feel hot and enraptured with desire from where you still lie under the covers.

His hair is very soft when you slide your hands through it, though you can’t push away the thought that suddenly manifests in the back of your mind. This isn’t really his hair, or his lips, is it? It’s all a mask to cover whatever is underneath, which is something you still don’t entirely know, yet are increasingly curious about.

Yuta’s hand drifts up just high enough to caress the underside of your breast—all still over the cover of your clothes. Abruptly, that thought forces its way to the front of your mind, making itself unavoidable, and you have no idea how to reconcile it. This is all so...very unfamiliar. And undeniably scary.

You pull away from him, your face creased with conflict, and his hand stills on your body. “S-sorry, I…um...this is...”

Subsequently, he pulls his hand away from you, though some part of you doesn’t really want that to happen. “I-it’s fine.”

You both settle back into the sheets, the tense aura from before replaced with one that’s thick with unease. The storm continues on outside, unknowing and uncaring of anything else but its own nature.

Though you would like to pretend it isn’t so, things become strained after the night of the storm.

You and Yuta don’t talk about the kiss. You expected him to say something about it that morning after, but he didn’t acknowledge it, and so you figured you just forget about it, too. What are you thinking, anyway? You’re literally from two different worlds. You don’t have the first clue about what a connection would look like between you, whether it be just sex or a relationship.

Why couldn’t you just fall for a coworker and have a bit of office drama like everyone else? Even that would be simpler.

Why did you have to let your thoughts get the best of you? You don’t have any answer for that, except for maybe your own need to come to terms with your attraction. People have never been very skilled at accepting others different from themselves, you know that much. But that usually counts for people of different ethnicities or cultural backgrounds, not two entirely different species.

You spend the whole week afterwards tearing your mind up with this monologue and trying to figure out what you should do next, because you’re quickly growing weary of coming home to a tense atmosphere. Alex can only give so much advice—not that you’d really tell him the entire situation—without knowing just how complicated everything is.

Where he used to hang out with you and help you with your hair, Yuta spends more time up in the guest bathroom again. You wonder if he thinks you’re disgusted by him. You’d probably think the same if he reacted the way you did.

Unbeknownst to you, Yuta is facing the situation with a similar amount of inner turmoil as you, wondering if he’s gone too far. He’s done many silly things in his life, but he doesn’t know how to undo this mistake. The mistake of kissing you? The mistake of seeing you as more than just another human? The mistake of knowingly flying in a faulty ship? Maybe all of it.

He feels guilty about freezing you out and pretending as if nothing happened, especially with all you’ve done to make him safe and comfortable in your home. But, at the same time, he is equally frightened to face you and discover the real reasoning for why you pulled away that night. Because you’ll never see him as someone you could like? Or maybe even love?

If that’s your truth, he’d rather leave it unsaid.

There aren’t many choices left but to face it. Whether this idea is smart or not is yet to be seen, but you suppose you don’t have many solutions left. And you are sick of being cooped up in the house.

“You sure this is safe?” Yuta asks as he stares at the scenery whizzing past. “You were all freaked out about me being near water before...now you want to go to a lake?”

You glance over at him. “Yes, it’s my parents’ lake property. It’s private, Yuta. No one will be there but us. I think we could both use a mini vacation this weekend, yeah?” 

“I guess, sure.” Yuta shrugs. His demeanor is more closed off than it was before that dreaded kiss, but you can still tell that he’s interested in the idea of getting access to a bigger body of water, even if he doesn’t outwardly express it.

The lake house is two hours out of your city. It hasn’t been used much in the past few years with both you and your parents being busy with work and life, but if there was ever a good time to use it, it’s probably now. You just hope there aren’t any squatters of the furry variety; the last thing you need is to be fighting raccoons or squirrels after stepping through the door.

Luckily, there’s really no one but you two once you reach your destination. The lake is big and pretty like you last remembered it, sparkling under the sun and throwing the rays back in your eyes. Yuta is automatically captivated by it.

“Here it is!” you say, walking along the sand and spreading your arms out towards the body of water. “It might not be much compared to your homeworld, but I hope it’s enough.” You carry your bag up the stairs to the house and turn back to Yuta, who’s still standing by the shore gazing across the water. “You can go in, you know? Get comfortable!”

That seems to snap him out of his trance, and he turns back to you, following you up the steps. “Not right now...I’ll go later.” You’re a little disappointed at that, but you simply nod and open the door to go in.

You spend the day getting increasingly more restless as you and Yuta hang out together. You go on the pier, walk around the entirety of the lake, and even take your dad’s boat out on the water, but he still doesn’t get in.

You eat dinner together later that night, although you’re the one doing most of the eating, and there isn’t much conversation to be had. You’ve both run out of things to say that don’t center around the kiss or why he refuses to get in the water.

Yuta spends a few more moments watching you push your food around your plate before leaning forward. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks.

You sigh heavily. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do, but…” he hesitates. “Can you answer my question first?

You raise your eyebrows. “Okay, well. I brought you here because...I don’t know. I figure you deserve to have somewhere bigger to swim around in than my guest bathtub.” You laugh nervously.

He seems unconvinced. “Is that it?”

“I’d say so! Why won’t you even take one swim, is the better question? I want you to relax and be yourself.”

He furrows his eyebrows as if he doesn’t know how to reply. “You...aren’t you...repulsed by it? I just figured you wouldn’t want to see me in my natural form. Especially since…” He trails off at the end, and your palms sweat a little.

“No! I know I was weirded out at first, but...I-I guess that was the point of this whole trip, to show you that…” You grapple with your words for a moment, unsure if now is the time to fully confess what you’re feeling. “Look, I want to try, alright? I want to see it at least once. I want to accept you as a whole being, and that means, you know...all of you.”

Yuta smiles gradually at that, and you feel swept up with a sudden wave of affection you weren’t expecting. You are still a bit scared, but you don’t want to turn back now. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you reply, clasping your shaking hands together.

Yuta nods and stands up from the dining table, gesturing for you to follow him. It’s late now, with the moon shining brightly and the last vestiges of dark blue sky giving way to black. The air outside is cool, but not uncomfortably so. You follow Yuta to the pier and watch timidly, your stomach flip-flopping, as he sheds his clothes, leaving them on the wooden deck. Then he slips into the water, disappearing underneath its still surface.

You crouch down, looking intently at the rippling water and anticipating whoever is going to resurface. The sounds of croaking frogs and crickets press in from every side, ringing in your ears so loudly that it’s hard to think straight.

You gasp when Yuta lifts from the water, his human skin gone and completely transformed into something that’s more...amphibian, if that’s any accurate way to describe his appearance. His skin is still scaly and green like you saw that first day, but in the moonlight it seems to glitter and reflect a spectrum of colors like his armor did. There are two fins on the either side of his face, translucent and shining a pale green. They slowly move back and forth as he treads on the water, as if they’re conveying an emotion to match whatever he’s thinking, and you watch them in fascination.

Yuta floats on his back in the water, the long gills on either of his sides catching the moonlight. You watch in fascination as they move with his breaths. Using the pier post to keep yourself stable, you reach out to touch them. They’re slick under your fingers, but not in a slimy or gross way. Your hand drifts to the rest of his skin, across his torso and along his sides, and every portion has a strikingly smooth texture. His alien eyes stare at you silently as you do, glittering big in the moonlight.

��What do you think?” his voice is quieter than you expected, as if he’s afraid of your reaction. He doesn’t break his gaze, though, studying your face carefully.

“You’re...amazing,” you say breathlessly. “Incredible.” 

His lips, which are green like the rest of him, form a small smile, and then he dives underneath the water. He does a few laps as if he means to impress you, his lithe marine form sparkling just below the surface of the water. You keep your hand suspended over the pier as you watch him, your fingers sliding against his body every time he passes by. You smile at his display, a laugh coming out of you at his impromptu performance.

When he’s finished, Yuta climbs up onto the pier with you and kneels in front of you, much like he did that day he saved you from David’s swimming pool. His feet are webbed like his hands. Droplets of water slide off of them onto the wooden boardwalk while others linger on the clear webbing like tiny jewels. Your hand is magnetized to his face, drawing across the scaly skin and tracing over his lips, which are just as smooth as the rest of him.

Before you can think twice about it, you lean forward and capture his lips with yours. Did you expect it to be fishy? Maybe. But it’s not that at all. He still manages to taste distinctly like Yuta, even though you’re not sure what that taste is. It’s a flavor that makes you feel...held. Yuta is surprised for a moment, but he responds to your kiss, one of his webbed hands inching close to your face. He doesn’t touch you at first, a little reluctant and yet wanting to let you lead the pace so he doesn’t scare you off.

You welcome his touch, carefully brushing your fingertips across his hand and bringing it to make contact with your skin. His own skin is still a bit cold from the water’s temperature, but it doesn’t bother you much.

The kiss soon grows more intense, and a mounting desire makes itself known in you. You won’t pretend like you’re 100% confident about all of this, but you don’t want to shun it anymore, either.

Yuta’s hand drifts to your neck, his long nails pressing into your skin ever so slightly. You dare to explore his body more, sliding your hands across his chest and over his side gills, feeling the way they contract under your hands, and farther down still. You haven’t looked down there yet, and you’re nervous over what you’ll find. But you keep going until your fingers meet something slick and hot and throbbing, seeming vaguely like a regular penis, though you quickly realize it’s more of a tentacle.

Yuta shudders and draws away from the kiss, and you feel alarmed, wondering if you’ve gone too far without thinking.

“If we’re going to do this, I should...probably shift back—”

“Don’t,” you blurt out. Yuta looks at you questioningly. “I...you should if it makes you comfortable. But...I don’t mind.” He’s quiet for a few seconds—seconds that feel much longer than they really are. You’re apprehensive of what he’ll say, but you keep your eyes on his face.

“Okay,” he agrees. “If you’ll accept me like this...okay.” 

Neither of you bother with moving to somewhere more comfortable like the lake house or even the sandy shore. Instead, Yuta peels your clothes away right there on the pier, covering every new bit of flesh with his strange and lovely mouth, his head fins ghosting across your collarbones and breasts like moths’ wings.

You tremble and grow wetter under his soft caresses, which are much gentler than you’d initially expect with his sharp black nails. His hands leave streaks of water across your body, which cools your burning hot skin.

Yuta carefully maneuvers your lower body at the same time as he bends his graceful head, bringing your sex close to his mouth and licking deeply into you. Your back presses hard against the pier, the wood scratching your skin as you cry out into the night air.

“Oh God, Yuta!” You soon realize that his tongue is much longer than any human one, and it reaches to a spot deep inside of you that makes you twist around in his grasp, your fingernails scrambling for purchase on the surface below you. He uses his tongue to pleasure that spot continuously, drawing moans and ever more wetness out of you as if he were controlling the waves in the ocean.

You find yourself coming apart on his extraordinarily long tongue, your legs shaking and then going limp with the pleasure flooding through your body. Your breaths come fast and hard. Yuta lifts his head from between your legs and pulls you carefully into his lap so his slick tentacle is pressing against you. It’s not hard like a dick would be, though it is clearly responsive to your body, and you momentarily wonder if it can even go inside you.

“Is this gonna work?” you ask, a tremor in your voice.

“It will work,” Yuta replies, and you’re not sure how, but you decide to trust him on it. 

It does, to your surprise. With your legs crossed tightly over his lower back, Yuta presses into you, wet and warm and very unexpectedly soft. It doesn’t feel like anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s not a bad sensation, though—far from it. His tentacle is similar to his tongue in how it flexes and throbs inside you, pressing tight against that spot again and making you shiver in his arms.

You both quickly find a rhythm that works, your bodies moving together in an otherworldly combination of two beings, two species, two souls.

Yuta’s long nails scrape gently against your skin as he holds your back, guiding you on his sex and pushing his hips up into you. You sigh into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, feeling the cool scales underneath your lips. You seek a firm grip on his slick skin, bringing your body as close to his as possible.

“Yuta…” You moan his name. His hand slides to the back of your neck so he can bring your face to his again, kissing you deeply. There’s a wet squelching sound as your bodies connect, Yuta’s tentacle slipping in and out of you and pleasurably stroking your walls.

“Y/N…” Yuta whispers into your soft hair, pushing into your spot repeatedly, his thighs tensing under you as his pace increases. You grip his arms as you feel your orgasm swelling up in your abdomen. You tip your head back and Yuta’s mouth goes to your neck and farther down, his heavy breaths warming your skin and making you overheat from the inside out.

You tighten and cum around him, your voice stuttering out of you in broken gasps as he keeps thrusting into you, drawing your climax out. He pulses inside of you, which sends little shockwaves up your spine; you know he’s probably close, too.

When Yuta comes, there’s a lot more of it than you expected. His cum overflows and drips out of you with a consistency like syrup and a transparent color like precum. It makes the inside of your thighs sticky and shiny.

Yuta pulls out, and more of his cum spills out of you, leaking onto his lap and staining the pier underneath you.

“That’s not gonna get me pregnant, is it?” you say quietly, half-jokingly.

“Probably not,” Yuta chuckles.

“Probably!?”

Yuta carefully gathers you in his arms and stands to his feet, walking you off the pier and back towards the lake house. Your clothes are still on the pier, but you’re quickly getting sleepy and aren’t very worried about it; you’ll get them in the morning.

“What happens now?” Yuta murmurs as he walks up the front steps. You already know he’s referring not just to your relationship in this present moment, but to every event that will make up your future. Does he need to continue hiding, or is it really safe? How long will this last?

You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest. “We stay together.”

Yuta’s arms tighten around you as a silent affirmation of your words.