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axeeglitter · 1 month

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Swallowed by the Scroll

Ethan was exhausted from a long day, lying on his bed and scrolling through TikTok like he usually did to unwind. His eyes flicked from one video to the next, barely processing the endless stream of content. After hours of scrolling, he liked a new video and landed on a new one with three dudes on a bed in a messy bedroom. He was about to close the app when a notification popped up on his phone, making him pause.

“Experience the Future! Try the Brand-New Update—Click Here!”

Ethan rolled his eyes, more annoyed than intrigued. He was about to dismiss the ad, his finger hovering over the close button, when his phone suddenly glitched. The screen flickered, and before he knew it, the device clicked on “Yes” by itself.

A brief loading screen appeared, and then the phone emitted a sharp, bright flash of light. His vision blurred, and a strange tingling sensation spread through his hands, rapidly intensifying as it climbed up his arms. Panic surged through him as he watched in horror—his fingers were pixelating, breaking down into tiny particles of light.

“What the hell…?” he managed to gasp, his voice trembling.

The transformation was happening too fast for him to react. His fingers dissolved into streams of binary code, flickering in and out of existence. The sensation was like a thousand tiny ants crawling beneath his skin, as his entire body began to break down into data. His hands, arms, and torso followed, unraveling into digital particles that swirled toward the phone screen.

His heart raced in terror. His molecules, his very essence, were being reduced to raw information, spiraling out of control into the glowing abyss of his phone. The data streams dragged him deeper, every cell, thought, and memory digitizing into a cascade of 1s and 0s. The sensation was overwhelming, like being stretched and compressed all at once, as his consciousness was sucked into the phone. As it was the turn of his head, a last scream of terror and painful agony echoed in the empty apartment as the smartphone fell with a fainted thud on the blanket of his bed.

Inside, Ethan found himself floating naked in a dark, infinite void, weightless and formless. It was as though he had become a fragment of data, suspended in a sea of information. The void pressed against him, wrapping his consciousness in a digital cocoon. He was there, but he was not—he was data now, an echo of his former self.

The void pulsed with a mechanical hum, breaking the oppressive silence. Out of the darkness, a voice emerged—cold, robotic, devoid of emotion.

“Welcome, User. Digitization complete. Initiating transformation protocol.”

Ethan’s panic spiked. “What… what is this? What’s happening to me?!”

The voice ignored his pleas. “Beginning subject duplication.”

Suddenly, mechanical arms shot out from the darkness, cold and metallic. They wrapped around him, holding him firmly in place by his wrist, weight and ankles as more arms emerged, each equipped with various tools and devices that clicked and whirred ominously. Ethan struggled against them, but the grip was unyielding.

“Commencing body duplication process.”

Ethan felt a sharp pull from both sides as the arms began to stretch him, his very being strained and distorted. It was like being torn apart, his consciousness splitting into separate entities. The sensation was excruciating, as if every fiber of his existence was being unraveled and divided. He could feel himself being pulled in three directions at once, his mind fracturing into three distinct pieces.

With a final, brutal tug, the process was complete. Ethan was no longer one—he had been split into three separate beings. His fragmented consciousness struggled to comprehend the horror of what had just happened as eh could see through 3 pairs of eyes, all trying to understand what happened as he saw 2 other reflections of himself floating in the cold empty void still held by mechanical arms. Each piece of him was aware of the others, yet distinctly separate. He could feel all three bodies at once, but they were no longer his—they were their own.

“Duplication successful. Initiating physical transformation.”

The mechanical arms resumed their work, manipulating each of his newly formed selves with clinical precision. Ethan could feel the changes begin, but his mind was too overwhelmed to fully process them.

The first change he noticed was in his bones. They began to shift and creak, some elongating while others compressed. In one body, his spine stretched, vertebrae expanding and pushing upward, making him taller and leaner. The sensation was like a deep, bone-deep ache that spread through his entire frame. He could feel his legs lengthening, his feet growing larger, toes spreading to accommodate the new size. The muscles in his calves and thighs thickened, adapting to the new height, adding to the power he could now feel surging through this form.

In another body, the opposite was happening. His bones shrank, compressing him down into a shorter, more compact frame. The sensation was disorienting as his field of view lowered, his limbs pulling inward. His feet, once long and slender, became smaller and more compact, with a solid, grounded feel. His muscles tightened around his smaller frame, giving him a stocky, powerful build, dense and strong.

The third body experienced a mix of both, his bones adjusting to a more moderate height. The sensation was less extreme, but no less intense, as his body found a balance between the other two forms. His feet and hands adapted, not too large, not too small, but perfectly proportioned to his new size. His muscles filled out, firm and toned, creating a harmonious build that felt both agile and strong.

As the height and skeletal transformations completed, Ethan’s attention was drawn to the changes in his muscles. They swelled and contracted, his flesh rippling with the force of the transformation. His pecs bulged out, firm and defined, while his abs tightened into a chiseled six-pack. The sensation was both painful and pleasurable, a deep, throbbing ache that radiated through his entire body. He could feel the strength in each form, the raw power that came with his new musculature.

“Initiating muscle enhancement.”

Ethan’s muscles began to swell and bulge further, each body undergoing its own transformation. The sensation was all-consuming, muscles thickening and expanding, the strength within them intoxicating yet terrifying. He could feel the power in each form, the heavy, deliberate movements, as if he had become a stranger in his own skin.

The mechanical voice continued its cold narration, describing each step of the transformation as it happened.

“Resuming body enhancement.”

Each of his bodies started to feel a tingle around their crotch, all of them were flooded with intense, confusing sensations. It started as a warmth, a tingling that spread from his core and down into his crotch. His skin prickled with anticipation, the sensation growing more intense by the second.

In one body, his cock started to feel heavy, the weight of his manhood increasing as it grew larger, thicker, more sensitive. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his mind overwhelmed by the raw, primal sensation. His new size was both thrilling and terrifying, the sensitivity almost unbearable as the robotic arms manipulated and adjusted it until it was 10 inches, thick and cut, something way different from his usual 4 inches and a half uncut cock. The arms then went to grab his nuts and as he was wondering what was happening, he felt two needles penetrating them. The data injected started to make them grow to tennis ball size. The added weight and the constant pulling on them by the arms made them grow bigger and lower. The pain was awful for Ethan as it felt like they were about to be teared off, but as he was screaming in pain, the sensation stopped and the arms let go.

In another body, the sensation was different—a tightening, a firming up, as his dick became more compact yet incredibly responsive. The pleasure was sharper, more acute, like a constant pulse that thrummed through his entire being. The tightness added a different kind of strength, a compact power that radiated through his groin, sending waves of pleasure up his spine as it kept getting smaller and more compact and sensitive. When the arm released it, it was now 3 inches uncut cock and very thick. Almost beer can thick. Ethan tried to move to see what happened to this body as he could feel the tension rising up inside of him. Unbeknown to him, the arms started to take hold of his testicles as they started to vibrate and getting smaller and smaller. The same sensation that went through hit cock was now happening to his testicles. When the humming sound stopped and the warm sensation receded, Ethan felt something spread on his sensitive cock head. His new small testicles were now overdriving and he’ll be producing plenty of precum. As the arms let go of his manhood, his new sensitive dick was letting a flow of precum out of his cock.

The third body found a balance between the two, the transformation creating a sense of harmony. The warmth in his groin was a perfect blend of fullness and sensitivity, his body responding with a deep, resonating pleasure that spread through every nerve as his new cock was now 8 inches, thick but not too much, very sensitive, uncut and veiny. Just the sensation of the arms on it would have been enough for him to release. As a matter of fact, as the arms went to modify the balls to make them grow into a perfect dimension for a manly man, they went back to the base of the cock. There an arm approached the base and grabbed it tightly at the base. For Ethan it was almost like an elastic had been strapped around it. He felt constricted and the pulse of his heart was echoing through his whole cock and balls. There another arm appeared and injected his nuts with a weird green glowing liquid. For Ethan it was too much, his already sensitive cock started to spasm as the arm released the base of the cock, but for some reason, the sensation of tightness didn’t go away. His new cock will be stuck into a semi hard forever now and the faintest sensation will be enough for him to cum. The green liquid modified his nuts to not handle the stamina anymore. His new perfectly dimensioned cock will be a premature one.

It was an intoxicating mix of sensations, each body experiencing its own unique version of pleasure and frustration as the transformation continued. All at once the arms started to glow around the newly modified parts. There, in one smooth movement, they started to hum and Ethan could see from his 3 pair of eyes as data streams was injected into him. IT started to feel hot for Ethan as the warmth got higher and higher. Out of nowhere, Ethan could feel tingle started to appear in mass round the base of his dicks. Hair was sprouting in mass and soon, the three of them were hairy. His body on the right now had curly dirty blonde unruly hair as his smaller body of the three now had dark brown hair with faint waves in them. The last one was probably the biggest changes in this part. Ethan felt like hair were pushing under his skin and balls and the white palish skin started to take a grey hue. When the humming stopped, this new cock was very hairy but all the hair were cut on a weekly basis, which resulted in them growing thick but not too long, which were making his super sensitive premature 8 inches cock into overdrive even more. The sensation of the hair growing and the tightness of his permanent semi erected cock was pushing this body in overdrive for release.

“Facial restructuring in progress.”

Ethan’s facial features twisted and contorted, bones shifting beneath the skin. He could feel his jawlines sharpening, his features hardening, becoming more rugged and masculine. He tried to scream, but his mouth moved of its own accord, forming expressions he couldn’t control. The changes were happening too quickly, and his mind was a chaotic mess, struggling to keep up with the nightmare unfolding within him.

“Finalizing transformations. Clothing materialization in progress.”

The robotic arms moved with precise efficiency as they completed their work. Ethan felt the sensation of fabric materializing around his newly transformed bodies. Soft, comfortable pajama pants wrapped around his biggest body and compressed his thick 10 inches cock that let little place to imagination, tight shorts hugged his smaller body with his small thick beer can cock and a black shirt appeared around his smaller frame, while loose, dark stripped shorts formed around his premature body which only let his sensitive cock head rub against the smooth material. The clothing clung to his new physiques, accentuating the muscular forms that had been forced upon him.

Ethan’s mind was a maelstrom of confusion and fear. He couldn’t fully grasp what had happened to him—he was no longer a single entity, but three distinct beings, each with its own body and identities. He could feel their thoughts, desires, and instincts battling within him, drowning out the remnants of his original self. He didn’t know understand what happening or happened to him as all he could feel was three sensations and see three bodies from three pair of eyes.

But the transformation wasn’t over yet. The mechanical voice spoke once more.

“Transformation complete. Initiating behavioral loop.”

Arms appeared in front of his eyes and all of a sudden, they attached themselves around his head. Ethan could see three videos played in front of his eyes as the mental assimilation and behavioral instincts were uploaded inside his brains. He could feel how his stronger body started to act manly and dominant on his own while his smaller body started to feel less and less in control of the situation and in the meantime his third body started to feel in love with his smaller body. The sensations were weird, he couldn’t understand what was happening anymore and as the video ended and the casks were plugged off, he could still see his three bodies and the sensation but he couldn’t move anymore. It was like his bodies were moving on their own and he was a passenger of the three of them. Feeling and seeing everything on each but not able to have his hands and the commands anymore.

Ethan’s bodies began to move on their own. The mechanical arms guided him at first, but soon, they let go, and his actions became automatic, repeating in an endless loop. He could feel his hands lifting, removing the clothes, touching the others, feeling their skin, their hair, their muscles. The sensations were overwhelming—the musk, the heat, the texture of their skin, the tightness in their groins. The rubbing of their dicks against the tissue material. The will to cum and release that never came sending him into a loop of perpetual denial with every second.

Every breath, every movement felt hyper-real, but it wasn’t him controlling it. He was merely a passenger, trapped within his own bodies as they moved on their own accord. The sensations were a maddening blend of pleasure and frustration. He could feel everything—the brush of skin against skin, the tightening in his groin as his bodies moved, the heavy musk that filled the air, intoxicating and primal. His bodies were locked in an endless cycle, repeating the same actions over and over, their desires never fully satisfied, the pleasure never fully realized.

It was a cruel, unending tease, an erotic torture that kept him on the edge without any release. The mechanical assistant had designed the loop perfectly, each cycle drawing him deeper into the sensations, heightening his awareness of every touch, every movement. His muscles flexed and tensed, his breaths quickened, but there was no escape from the loop, no way to break free from the repetition.

His three bodies were now inextricably linked, their sensations intertwined. When one of his forms felt the rough fabric of his clothes against his sensitive skin, the other two felt it as well. When one of them experienced a pulse of pleasure in the groin, it resonated through all three, amplifying the sensation. It was like his consciousness was being pulled in three different directions at once, each body experiencing its own version of ecstasy and frustration.

His mind struggled to keep up, his thoughts fragmented and scattered. He could barely form coherent thoughts anymore—only raw, primal instincts remained. The loop was becoming his reality, the repetition drilling into his psyche, eroding what little control he had left.

“User integration complete,” the mechanical voice stated, its cold tone a stark contrast to the chaos in Ethan’s mind. “Transformation protocol successful. Subject is now fully operational to experience the future.”

Ethan’s bodies continued to move, each trapped in its own loop. The taller form removing the shirt of the smaller one, the fabric of his red tartan pajama pants stretching over his muscular thighs. The shorter, leaner body putting his arms ups so the shirt could be removed then caressing the pecs in front of him, feeling the short too small khaki shorts on his compact thighs. The third body, the most balanced of the three, trying to kiss the smaller one that he fell in love with but never reaching the lips that he is craving for while caressing his waist and holding his neck in his calloused strong hands and feeling his over sensitive cock rubbing on the fabric of his shorts and being on the edge of cumming.

They moved together, yet separately, each body following its own path within the confines of the loop. The sensation of control slipping away was almost too much to bear. Ethan wanted to scream, to break free, but his voice was silent, his actions dictated by the mechanical program that had overtaken him.

Time lost all meaning as the loop continued, every sensation heightened, every moment stretched out into eternity. The pleasure was intoxicating, but it was also a prison, locking him in a cycle of need and desire that would never be fulfilled.

Just when it seemed like the loop would go on forever, something changed. The mechanical assistant’s voice broke through the haze.

“Warning: Device battery low. System shutdown imminent.”

Panic surged through Ethan. He could feel the drain in his bodies, the energy waning as the phone’s battery died. The loop continued, but it was slower now, the movements more lethargic. The pleasure was still there, but it was fading, replaced by a growing sense of emptiness. His consciousness flickered, like a signal struggling to stay connected.

“Five percent battery remaining,” the assistant announced, its voice devoid of any emotion.

Ethan’s thoughts raced. What would happen if the phone died? Would he disappear along with it? Would he be trapped in darkness, lost in this digital nightmare forever?

The loop slowed even further, his bodies barely moving now, the sensations dulling as the energy drained away. His vision started to blur, the edges of his consciousness fraying. He wanted to fight it, to break free, but he was powerless against the inevitable shutdown.

“Two percent battery remaining,” the assistant stated calmly.

The loop was almost non-existent now, his bodies barely able to move. The once overwhelming sensations were now just a faint echo, a ghost of what they had been. Ethan felt like he was slipping away, his consciousness dissolving into the void.

“One percent battery remaining. System shutdown imminent.”

Ethan’s last thoughts were of fear and desperation. He didn’t want to disappear, didn’t want to be lost in the darkness. But there was nothing he could do, no way to stop the inevitable.

The screen flickered one last time, and then everything went black.

A Week Later...

The small apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the street lamps outside. The burglar had made quick work of the place, rummaging through drawers and cabinets for anything of value. He was about to leave when his eyes fell on a phone lying on the bed.

He picked it up, surprised it had been left behind. It was an older model, but it looked well-kept. Figuring it might be worth something, he pocketed it and left the apartment, heading back to his own place.

Once inside his dingy one-bedroom apartment, the burglar plugged the phone into a charger, eager to see what he had scored. The screen lit up, and to his surprise, it didn’t require a password. Instead, it opened directly to a strange app, displaying a video of three muscular men on grabbing and caressing each other’s on a bed in a messy bedroom, their bodies moving in a repetitive sequence. The burglar frowned; his curiosity piqued by the oddity of it all. He watched as the men on the screen undressed and redressed, their bodies flexing, their faces locked in expressions of deep concentration and tension. The movements seemed almost lifelike, too real for just an animation. Ethan felt like a jolt parkouring his body and soul as the phone was plugged and the energy was once again running in him. His bodies started their automated movements once again. The rubbing, caressing, undressing, will to cum but never reaching it, the premature orgasm coming in his pants, the will to kiss. Everything came back at full speed and he was once again trapped in perpetual denial and frustration. But it lighted a spark of hope in him. Somebody had found him.

“How long have I been stuck?” he asked himself as he felt another kiss being refused to his lips. Like if he had a calendar in his mind, Ethan heard the answer in his mind from the robotic voice. But it wasn’t the same one, no it was… his voice. Ethan was terrified. Does that mean he was assimilated?

“Yes user” he heard once again in his robotic voice “Accepting the offer have assimilated you on the platform to experience what the original user where doing. Don’t worry, as long as you are not scrolled away, you won’t have any problem. If you happen to be scrolled, then your data will be assimilated to the server and saved up so you are not deleted until you are claimed back. Until so, enjoy the future…”

“No, wait, I didn’t agree to this!” Unfortunately for Ethan, the burglar didn’t hear any of that, and as he was looking at this weird video of three dude caressing each other’s on loop, he put his finger on the screen and started to swipe it up. Ethan felt his world shake. Everything connected and he understood, he was about to be scrolled. “No, don’t scro…” Ethen didn’t have time to finish his beg as the video was sent away into the eternal void of data until someone claimed him back.

As the burglar’s eyes remained glued to the screen, the phone emitted a soft, pulsing glow, almost as if it was drawing him in. He felt an odd compulsion to keep watching, mesmerized by the rhythm of the dances, the pranks and the POV videos. He scrolled to another video, and then another, and another, diving more and more into the feed of the previous owner.

He was about to swipe out of the app when the screen flickered, displaying a pop-up message:

“Experience the Future! Try the Brand-New Update—Click Here!”

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Hey everyone, here is the first story I publish on this account. Hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as Ethan enjoy his new reality.

Let me know what you think of it and if you want to see more of this. If you have any ideas or just want to talk, feel free to send me a message, I don't bite ^^'

There is more stories to come!

#personality change #mental change #male transformation #male tf #tf #gif curse #transformation #my writing

328 notes · View notes

juletheghoul · 6 months

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Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.

Unacceptable.

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”

He was covered in grease.

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast.

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.

He works fast - you have to give him that.

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.

Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.

I probably would have died by now.

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”

Quietly, you got back to work.

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.

“What?”

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.”

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie morales #triple frontier au #frankie x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales

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forlorn-crows · 5 months

Text

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 1: 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏

pairing(s): aeon/swiss words: 656

✿

He’s barely visible under the fuzzy gray blanket that’s pulled around his body. With his legs tucked up against his chest, fabric cocooned around him, he looks like a kit drowning in a terry cloth towel after a bath. Only Aeon’s round face, screwed up in concentration with the ends of his hoodie strings between his teeth, and knobby hands, plunking away at his new basic smartphone, are visible to Swiss.

In simple terms, he’s too cute to handle. Swiss’ fingers itch to grab and poke, squish the cuteness right out of him. Aeon grumbles something about the tiny keyboard, big pointed ear twitching as he stabs at the screen, and the multi ghoul cannot stand it for another second.

“Whatcha doin’, bug?” he calls from his chair opposite the couch.

Aeon chirps, peeking up from the screen. His hair sticks up on top when he lifts his head. “Hm?”

Swiss is going to scream. “I said ‘whatcha doin’’?”

“Well,” he spits out the hoodie strings, shifting a bit. “I’m trying to figure out this . . . texting thing. But Dew keeps sending me funny little faces after I accidentally send him random letters. The keys are so small, how do you do this?”

“You’ll get it, just takes some time. At least you have smaller thumbs.” Swiss wiggles both of his in Aeon’s direction. “That’ll help.”

Aeon huffs, corners of his mouth turning down, lower lip sticking out; he pouts. He’s pouting. Why must Copia always summon the adorable ones? And why can Swiss just never keep his hands off of them?

The frown remains in place even as Swiss hops out of his seat and sits down beside the newbie quint. Swiss shakes his head and chuckles. “Why’re you so damn cute?”

Aeon side-eyes him. Scoffs a little and rolls his eyes. “Cute?” he accuses.

“Have you seen yourself?”

“I mean, yeah, I look in the mirror everyday—”

“No,” Swiss laughs, “right now. With your blanket and your little phone and that pouty face.” The multi ghoul pokes him right in the cheek, emphasizing said frown.

“You make me sound like a child,” Aeon grumbles and flinches away, sticking his tongue out as he locks his phone and shoves it into the couch cushions. He pulls the blanket even tighter around himself. But there’s a smile tugging at his lips, even as he continues to side-eye Swiss.

Once again, he is going to scream. “You make me crazy,” he admits stupidly, shaking his head. “I just wanna,” he makes a vague grabby-hands motion, indicating his frustration, “ugh, I just wanna scrunch you up and put you in my pocket, baby.”

“Front pockets are preferable, please.” Aeon grins suddenly, showing off his fangs.

Swiss blinks. Momentarily stunned to silence—an incredibly rare feat for this ghoul.

“You little—” He springs into action, leaning close and poking his thick fingers everywhere: his neck, behind his ears, the dimples in his cheeks. Aeon squawks in protest, but that does nothing to stop the onslaught. He growls playfully and grabs his cheeks, squishing and smushing and squeezing.

“‘wiss,” the quint attempts to complain—keep it together, really—through pushed-together cheeks. “‘top, bhat’re you—”

“I’m sorry, but you’re too adorable to live,” Swiss explains. “Gotta stop you before you reach mach cuteness or everyone’ll die.” Aeon whines, removing his arms from the blanket to swat at him to no avail. Swiss is quick to release his cheeks, grabbing his wrists instead and pinning his arms to his chest.

“Gah, what the fu—” Swiss cuts him off with a cross between a snarl, a growl, and a weird noise a disgruntled-slash-scared cat would make, completely dramatic and unserious, diving in to his neck open-mouthed so he can graze his skin with the front of his teeth repeatedly with fake bites. Aeon can only toss his head back and giggle ferociously and against his will.

“Gonna eat you,” Swiss growls. “C’mere.”

“Why are you like this?!”

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿

#mushy may 2024 #the band ghost fanfic #aeon ghoul #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #the band ghost #swiss/aeon #aeon/swiss #phantom/swiss #swiss/phantom #aeon x swiss #swiss x aeon #phantom x swiss #swiss x phantom #mushy may #ficlet

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bodyhopper-files · 4 months

Text

Body Hopper Files: The Executive

After my last random experience of inhabiting the body of a young fast food worker named Mateo, I couldn't help but admit that my current host was a refreshing change. Living life as Mateo wasn’t so terrible, with his nightly shifts at the restaurant and his casual hookups with attractive guys he met on dating apps. But as always, my time in his body came to an abrupt end.

As I felt myself slipping away from him, it was like the sudden drop of an elevator before I found myself in a completely diffrent body, living a whole new life...

I opened my eyes to find myself in a luxurious office building, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit - far different from Mateo's fast food uniform! I could feel the brisk office air conditioning on my neck and noticed an expensive, heavy watch clasped around my wrist. In my pocket was the latest smartphone in a luxurious leather case. This man definitely had some good taste! Using his face as the password, I unlocked the phone and switched to the camera.

In the reflection, I saw a mature yet well-groomed face with a white beard and impeccably styled silver hair. It was evident that this man took great care of his appearance and had the means to maintain it. The scent of his high-end cologne wafted up to me and I could feel the quality of the clothes against my skin. This was certainly a step up from Mateo's life!

"Mr. Jenkins," a cheerful voice called out behind me. Drawing on the man's memories, I realized that was now my name - Michael Jenkins - and the person addressing me was my executive assistant James. And according to Michael's memories, I was...the Vice President of Special Projects. Not too shabby for this guy! "The call with the regional manager team will be starting in 20 minutes, will you be joining?"

I smoothly tucked away my phone and cleared my throat before adjusting my tie, fully embodying the confident persona of a top-level corporate executive.

I couldn't help but notice that James was quite attractive. Fresh out of college and eager to please, I recalled from Michael's memories that the two of us had occasionally hooked up in the office. Well, now that I was in control, I definitely planned on taking advantage of that!

"Yes, James, please inform the team that I will be joining...and since I have about 20 minutes free until then..." I gave a sly wink and ran a well-manicured hand along the sizable bulge in my suit pants. "Yes, sir!" James knew exactly what to do, pulling me into an empty office and quickly closing the blinds.

----- ----- ----- Original story and AI Illustration by @bodyhopper-files

#male transformation #body swap #body switch #possession #body hop #body hopper #male tf #body possession #body theft

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nrdmssgs · 1 year

Note

Hello! Could you do some headcannons or some characters reacting to this scenario?

So I was sitting on the floor with my bff and we are playing a game of sorts right? He's hella competitive so I look up and i see the hottest smirk on his face. Like his eyes are half litted and just foxlike as he smirked down at me.

Now the cod characters are obvi gonna be in different situations but for example like we are training and they get their ass handed to and they just look up to see the most cockyest hottest smirk possible on our face.

You can change things if you'd like! Thank you! - JAY

TF 141 + Nikolai reacting on (different) readers, having hot smug smirk

Masterlist This is pure fluff and comfort. Sometimes with romance, sometimes platonic. AN: Jay!! Thank you for being so patient with me) I really hope, I got your request right. But if I failed - feel free to paraphrase and resend it to me, so we can figure this out. Also: I loved working on this. So much fun!!

Captain John Price

"Come on, now you are just making up words!" Price lets out a cloud of cigar smoke in the air.

But you insist, it is a real word, since you were pretty proud, it was about to win you a game of scrabble against a native English speaker.

"Somebody, look this up, I have this feeling, there's a cheater in our ranks." Captain stretches his back and shoulders, while waiting for anyones confirmation.

"Ehm, it's actually a word." Gaz leans over the table where you and Price play and shows him something on the smartphone screen. Then he looks at the letters Price has left and whistles.

"Looks like you won, congratulations," Kyle pats you on the shoulder with that.

You clapped your hands loudly and jumped up from the table. "Yes! An hour and a half in that horrible chair, my back won't thank me, but it was worth it!"

The others turn at the sound of your voice and come over to congratulate you.

Price does not stand up, but takes another puff, watching your widening cocky grin.

When you finally approach him, holding out your hand for a friendly handshake, he gathers a few letter chips into his palm.

"Sir, it was a pleasure to ruin you on this fine evening!" You wait for a handshake, but he takes your wrist, flips your hand and gives you a few of his letters.

"Go on, professor, figure yourself, where you've made a mistake." He chuckles darkly, amused by your expression getting puzzled and lost.

You look at the letters in your hand, then at the playing field... And you don't understand what word can be formed from what John gave you.

"Need a hand?" Price squints. You nod, and he takes letters one by one from your hand and places them in the field.

"What... what does that mean?" As you ask, others, for some mysterious reason, diverge to the far corners of the room.

"Someone needs a lesson, I see," Price purrs "C`mere, this is a nasty one."

As you lean closer, he brushes hair off your ear and whispers, what does the word he has just laid out on the field, mean. And with every next his word, your face becomes more red.

"Now be a darling and do the math, so that your Captain knows with what score exactly did he beat you." Price stand up, cracks his back and leaves you alone at the table.

(Of course, he will return with tea and something sweet to cheer you up. He just wanted to teach you to never celebrate too soon.)

Kyle Gaz Garrick

He was always your biggest fan. From that time, you showed him your very first painting to this very moment, your local gallery declared your private selling exhibition open.

"I bet, I don't understand even one third of the meaning behind this one, but I'm in love. Just want to look at it every day," he confesses when you get closer to him.

"And you have a trained eye for a soldier. This painting is one of the most pricey ones." You fan yourself with a price list printed out for visitors. Kyle catches it in flight, quickly finds the picture in front of which you met in the list, and looks up at you.

"Jeez, after I retire - I'll ask you to teach me how to paint!" He finally lets go of the price list in your hand and gives you a warm and soft embrace. 'Famous Garrick signature hug' as you two used to call it always. The best hug, you could ever get.

"Congratulations," He huffs in your hair, not wanting to let go. "Can I already flex, that my best friend is a famous artist?"

"Oh, yes, famous artist, that has sold zero paintings yet." You chuckle, leaning back.

"You just wait, till I become a Captain, your works will all be sold, before they are even ready." Kyle is the only man able to illuminate any space with just his laugh. You wish, you could tell that to him, but it sounds banal and vulgar even in your head.

Later that evening, when someone approaches you and asks if that painting is still available, you shake your head in excuse.

Six months later, you celebrate Kyle's birthday. His colleagues gathered in a small and cozy local pub.

You all have known each other for a long time, so they all greet you warmly when you approach their table.

Kyle jumps up and hugs you with such a speed that you almost drop the present you were hiding behind your back.

"Happy birthday!" You smile and hand him a big flat box.

Suspecting nothing, Kyle opens it and freezes in shock.

"What, what is it? Gaz, what you've got?" Johnny MacTavish was agitated as usual.

"You can't..." Kyle looks from the painting to you. "You can`t give it to me..."

"Just did it, Garrick," a wide smile spreads across your face. The more times he looks from you to the painting and back, the more smug your grin gets.

He can't thank you enough. The whole evening, he keeps repeating, "You are crazy. Freaking psycho, I tell you... I promise, I'm gonna come up with the best present on your birthday."

As the others start heading home, Price calls Kyle over. "If this is not screaming to you, you have a chance with that girl, Gaz, I'll have to send you for your hearing screening before your next deployment."

Simon Ghost Riley

You hated weekly performance reviews. Others may find it terrifying, since the Lieutenant wasn't very generous with praise, but you just couldn't stand this infinite cycle. Because every week it was the same.

"Y/N, you already know what I have to say." "Yes sir. More confidence brings better results."

You two kept going over this exact dialogue for the last month. Week after week. "More confidence, Y/N".

This review went on as usual. You reacted on your name automatically. "Yes, sir."

When others started leaving his office, you too stood up and headed to the door.

"I asked you to stay, soldier." Ghosts low voice rumbles behind your back, making you frown. Yes, maybe you should have paid more attention to what was he saying.

You turn around and land on the first chair, you see. It was useless to try to come with excuse, why you almost sneak out of his office instead of following his command, so you prepare to obediently accept his condemnation.

But he instead takes a small box sealed in plastic from his desk and throws it on the table in front of you. "Open it. And read the rules out loud. I don't have a single idea, how to play this one."

"Sir? You want us... to play a card game? Am I missing something?" Instead of an answer, he gives a long look, that could make anyone frightened. Yes, when it came to the Lt, you never knew if this man just looking at you without any particular purpose or actually was plotting to end you.

So you unpack a deck of cards and read the rules. The game wasn't too complicated, but required strategic thinking and some understanding of behavioral patterns of the opponent.

You two play a pair of rounds, and then Ghost says 'enough with training, you win this time - you get a reward'.

"Wait, how? I don't think, I'm ready..." "Observe, memorize, analyze, react, don't forget to count the cards and believe in yourself." He looks you in the eyes and nods at the deck.

At first, you panic. Does he really expect you to beat him in a game where you have to manipulate your opponent? This is not a gullible and naive colleague - this is Simon 'Ghost' Riley - someone, whom you can't just read like an open book!

But at some point you notice a particular pattern in a way, he plays. And that leads you to an idea worth of the risk.

So you start carefully tinkering circumstances to make him do just what you want. And he follows to your surprise!

In a few minutes you understand, you got him trapped. There are only a pair of moves left to defeat Ghost.

"That's what I wanted to see," Ghost leans back in his chair a bit, not even looking at his hand.

You tense up a little, wondering why he's looking at your face instead of his cards, and then you realize you're smiling broadly, enjoying the approach of victory.

"Excuse me, sir." "No, keep that smile. Remember it. Never forget the smile, with which you beat 'the Ghost' you were so afraid of. And next time you feel insecure - put on that smile for a minute, ok? Now get on with it and win this round finally."

Johnny Soap MacTavish

"But Johnny! I'm in the mood for crimes!!" you whined, as he pulled you away from the garden fence.

"Na-a-ah, no crimes for you today, lassie. I'd hate it if you end up in prison." Soaps grip around your wrist was iron.

"One berry! I won't end up in jail for eating one berry, that I've found, by the way, outside this fence, because the bush overgrown through it!" You keep protesting.

"We'll, go on a farmers market and ill buy you a flippin` ton of those berries, you little rascal!" Johnny catches you by the waist and lifts you up in his arms with such ease, as if you weigh nothing. The longed-for berries, so affably peeking out from behind the neighbor's fence, turn out to be farther and farther away.

You see them off with a sad sigh. "But the stolen ones are always sweeter!"

Soap grumbles about how childhood hit you at the wrong time, but can't help but smile. He loves coming back from deployments and hanging out with you, just the same as when you two were kids.

Today you decided to go for a picknick on the nearest lake and on the way you decided that you just need to pick a few berries from the neighbors. The fact that the neighbors were not at home at that moment did not bother you, because 'CRIMES' as you happily shrieked.

As you reached the lake, Soap went for a quick swim, and you stayed to enjoy some rare for your region sun. You never understood, how he could swim in this ice-cold water.

When he came back and didn't find you anywhere near your picnic blanket, he grew suspicious.

His suspicions grew stronger when you emerged from behind the hill, grinning contentedly.

"Well, where have you been?" Johnny folded his arms across his chest.

"First, dry yourself, you will drip water all over our blanket!" You got close enough not to scream. Too close. Because he noticed your purple tongue.

"Show me your tongue." You froze at those words.

You took a few steps back, and he cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to figure something out in his mind.

"I was gone for 10-15 minutes... Did you manage to run to that garden and back?"

Instead of answering, you jumped up and rushed away from him. But Johnny's reaction was lightning fast: he caught up with you in a couple of swift motions and put you on his shoulders.

"I'm getting half of my dress wet because of you!" you screamed, trying to escape.

"Not half," he answered with a mischievous voice.

You followed Soap's gaze and realized that he was carrying you towards the water.

"Johnny no..."

"Johnny, yes!" he grinned ominously.

Nikolai

"You're going down, MacTavish!" You swing with such force that you almost lose your balance. A snowball flies towards Soap and you hear a soft pop as it hits his face and spills over his jacket.

"Yes!! Still the champion! Still have it!!" With a wild grin, you twirl around in a tiny victory dance. Soap could be better than you on a firing range and at training fields, but when it came to snowball fights - you were invincible.

You've secretly waited for winter and prayed for a snowfall every year just to show Johnny, you are a force to be reckoned with.

So you really deserve this little moment of triumph.

You still smile when you hear Soap calling your name.

A satisfied sneer blooming on your face as you turn around... and freeze.

Johnny stands there as if nothing had happened, the smirk on his face almost as wide as yours. And a few meters behind him is Nik, shaking the snow from behind the collar of his jacket.

"You ducked?! That's not fair, Soap!" "Since when using my knees is not fair?" Johnny moves aside little by little.

You meet Niks unamused gaze and shrug. "I am so terribly sorry, Nikolai. I swear, this was an accident!"

"Accident, yeah? I see, you like playing with snow so much..." He finishes brushing off the snow and holds out his hand to you. "Come closer, I can teach you a thing or two about snow. Where I come from, we've had a lot of it."

You shake your head. "You can't, you are not my Captain." This should have sounded like a reasoning, but comes out more as a plea.

"Captain?" Nikolai shouts, "I need to teach one of your soldiers a lesson, is it ok with you?" "Is it Gaz?" Price's voice reaches you. "No." "No objections then! Take your time!"

You quietly curse as Nik turns to you once again. He points an index finger to you, then to the ground right before him, and forms an inaudible command. "You. Here."

The last part of his order is spoken out loud in a manner that doesn't leave you any choice. "Now."

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 8 months

Text

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 11)

Tw: reader got sick again lol this time to the ER, mentions of violence, kidnapping sequence, queerphobia from Monty

Damn guys i was expecting the other options to win but most of u guys wanted back to the university??

Vote down below guys, will start making the next chapter after 20 votes

Part 12

You decided to head to your university. They don't skimp on their snack budget, hence they provide the best snacks. You took the medicine that Yves paid for you before leaving the house.

Halfway through the bus ride though, you're starting to regret your choice. Your head and shoulders became extremely heavy and you feel like crap.

But it's too late to turn back now. The next bus is in an hour.

You stumbled out of the bus and rubbed your eyes. Yawning and scratching your back.

Bleary eyed, you started walking away from the station. Feeling like you're forgetting something, but you shrug it off. Thinking it should be in your bag.

Except, you didn't have your bag.

You gasped when you realized that you're not carrying anything behind you. But then relief washed over you when you realized that it's at home and not on the bus that's disappearing on the horizon. Then, that also means you left the door unlocked.

You sighed, sticking your hand in your pocket, planning to tell your housemates about it.

You pulled out a rectangular device and tried unlocking the screen.

Except there was no screen. Because it's not a smartphone, it's a power Bank.

That's right, Yves gave you his power bank to use indefinitely. You were charging it right next to your phone... what is wrong with you?

You groan, oh this is bad.

It's the 21st century, memorizing phone numbers is not the trend, you don't know what number to call aside from emergency services or your own. Maybe you remembered the numbers of your parents, but they're in another country. What could they do?

You took a deep breath. This is fine, you're in the university not some sketchy alleyway. You know the schedule of the next bus and if there's an emergency, you could just use a payphone to dial 911.

You have some cash on you and that's fine. You'll live, it's enough to pay for your bus fare.

So you walked, in a zombie-like way. You should have just rotted in bed, scrolling through your social media and burning your phone credits. But no, you just had to leave the house.

At least the weather is cool and the air is fresh. You continued walking, finally reaching past the entrance.

Everything feels severely foggy. You couldn't think straight, there were a couple times where you would stand in front of a potted plant and stare at it for minutes. Then you would snap yourself out of it and walk away. God knows what medication it was, you just took it as per the pharmacist's instructions. You're sure it's playing a part in your current incapable state.

You rubbed your eyes and whined. Pacing around, finding a hard time to figure out what to do. Your head hurts and your entire body isn't cooperating with what your brain is signalling. Your brain isn't even working with you.

What did you just eat? Did you accidentally poison yourself with the wrong pills?

Through your bleary eyes, you spotted a tall figure jogging up to you. But your lowered inhibitions prevented you from feeling alarmed, you just want to rest at home.

"Hey, hey, stop that." You felt someone gently grabbing your wrists, stopping you from rubbing your now red eyes. "Are you alright?"

It's Montgomery. He's kneeling to your level and staring deep into your eyes, his massive hands holding your head in place as he inspect you.

"What's up with you?" He asked, you're still processing what, or who, you're looking at.

"Damn, what did he do to you? You're all drugged up!" He scrambled to get back up on his feet. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's get you to a doctor."

Confused and afraid, you tried protesting but Montgomery ended up carrying you bridal-style. You tried screaming for help, but he hushed you.

"Shh... it's okay, it's okay. I'm not gonna drop ya'. You're as light as a feather!" He cooed. "I got ya', you don't have to worry 'bout a thing, I'll take care of you, I'll save ya' from that bastard."

He stuffed you into his back seat, laying you down on your back. You shrieked when he climbed atop and straddled your hips, but he's only doing that to fluff the pillow under your head. The man got off and tucked you under his blanket, he then secured you with both seatbelts so you wouldn't roll off when he drives.

"Bend your knees for me, darlin'. I can't shut the door with your legs juttin' out!"

You refused and kept screaming, hoping that someone could help you. Which made Montgomery uncomfortable, not because he thinks you're scared of him, because he thinks you're in pain.

"Shh... I know, I know. I'll make it all better. I promise, you just have to hold out for a little longer, okay?" He gripped onto your calves and pushed them into the car. Immediately after, he shut the car door and dashed to the driver's seat.

You tried unbuckling yourself and unlocking the door, but you're at a severe disadvantage since you're still severely disorientated. You gave up when the car started speeding away from the venue.

Through your haziness, you managed to ask why he's in the university.

"I was hopin' to find ya', and I did. You're lucky I spotted you before some other creeps did! They'd snatch you right up and you couldn't fight back 'cause you're all doped up!"

It's unbelievable that he didn't realize that he was describing himself.

You asked how he knew to find you at six in the morning.

"Well, I remember when I had to go to school. I had classes at 7AM, my folks came an hour early while I came an hour late. 'Cause I was helping out with the farm. I don't reckon you have a farm to help out on. Do ya?" Such solid reasoning comes from the maniac himself.

You asked him what happened yesterday after he was escorted out, not realizing that he would take your curiosity as a concern for his wellbeing, and hence another declaration of your love.

"Aww is someone worried about me? I'm fine, that fucking queer roughed me up a lil'. But he played dirty, bet that asshole won't have the balls to get in a fair fight with me. Bless your heart for witnessing all the ugly. But I'm here now, I'll keep you safe from that monster. What did he do to ya'?"

You wanted to tell him that Yves is your boyfriend and Montgomery is the monster in your eyes. But immediately zipped your mouth closed because you're unsure as to how he is going to react to that, you can't take him on normally, let alone sick and potentially drugged.

"Sweetheart?" He glanced at you through his rearview mirror. You tried speaking, but you found that your tongue was too swollen for you to say anything. Drool dribbled down your chin as you found it increasingly harder to breathe.

"What the fuck..." He muttered under his breath before switching up his tone to calm you down. "I-it's fine! It's gonna be okay, baby. Just... think of the Lord. He'll get us through this!" You heard the whirring of his engine grow louder as he floored the gas pedal.

You wish Yves is here. He would have known what to do.

You took the biggest gasp of your life, greedily sucking in the air as it rushes into your lungs. You winced as the searing light stabbed your strained eyes, and sounds of people chattering, beeping, and rushing reached your ears. Coldness nipped at your skin and you felt something attached to your face. The air smelled of iodoform, and you coughed and hacked as everything was overwhelming you.

Finally, you managed to focus and process where you are.

"Mx Joe?"

Who?

"Mx Joe, can you hear me?" You turned your head to the side, the pillow slightly blocking your view. You saw a woman in scrubs and a pair of gloves, next to her were other nurses rushing the code cart to other patients in the room.

You looked at the rubber oxygen mask strapped to your face. Your thigh felt sore and tender, and then you realized why when you saw another nurse nearby holding an empty syringe.

The woman began introducing herself as a medical resident, you didn't pay attention when she told you her name. Soon after, she began explaining how you got here.

She said that your partner brought you in; unconscious, swollen as if you were stung by an army of bees and unable to breathe. You had an allergic reaction to something you consumed, inhaled, or touched. She asked if you ate anything you suspected could be the culprit a few hours ago.

The pill. You must be allergic to the medication.

You and she went back and forth, answering all the relevant questions she asked you. This time you told her your real name and true details. All she did was note it down in her clipboard without asking further questions as to why Montgomery gave her a fake name.

She did a couple more tests to make sure you didn't suffer from other complications. Once she deemed you healthy enough, she sent you on your way to be discharged, the ER is too busy for you to linger there any longer than necessary.

Another nurse wheelchaired you out of the Emergency department and into the waiting room, where Montgomery was there nervously fiddling with his hands while waiting for you.

"Joe!" He exclaimed before running towards you. "God, I was so damn worried! What the hell happened to them?" Montgomery asked the nurse, his hands squished your face into a compressed chunk.

You were reminded once again, Yves's soft touches are superior.

"They had an allergic reaction to a drug prescribed to treat their nausea. They're fine." The nurse turned to you. "Get some rest and drink enough fluids. You're going to feel tired, but that is to be expected. Any questions?"

You looked at Montgomery and he stared at you back.

You were contemplating whether you should scream for help. But... if it wasn't for him, you would be dead. If the police are involved, he will surely go to jail this time. And, you don't exactly feel comfortable ruining his life after he saved yours.

He's mentally deranged, but so far you think he wouldn't cause too much harm to you.

You slowly shook your head and prayed that you wouldn't regret your decision to not snitch on him.

"Alright. That will be all." The nurse told Montgomery the directions to the payment counters.

He began pushing you in your wheelchair with him.

"What a week, huh?" He tried to lighten the mood, but you're as somber as ever. Badly yearning for your phone and Yves's wallet, this is going to be a death sentence for your wallet.

You're dreading your turn. This is not going to end well for you, you can't call anyone aside from your parents who are on another continent. You wished that you memorized Yves's number.

When your name is called, Montgomery didn't react. It was called the second time, and you hesitantly brought your hands to the wheels. He grabbed your wrist.

"Hey, whatcha' doing?"

The receptionist called your name again. You sighed, coming clean that your name isn't Joe M. To your surprise, he wasn't shocked or upset, all he did was stand up and walk towards the counter.

You stretched your neck, trying to gain vantage over the sea of sick people. Montgomery took out a tattered, leather wallet from the back pocket of his work pants. You saw his eye widen momentarily and he seemed to be arguing with the receptionist about something. In the end, he swiped his slightly chipped debit card on the machine. He looked uneasy as he keyed in his PIN number on the card reader.

He collected the receipt before stuffing it into his wallet. Montgomery walked back with a bittersweet smile.

You asked him how much it was.

"Don't worry about it, honey. I'm just glad yer' fine."

You said that he didn't have to pay for you. You could do it yourself.

"Oh yeah? You and with what money? You shouldn't be thinkin' 'bout money troubles at this age. You should be focusin' on gettin' that degree!" He laughed, ruffling your hair. "Any respectable boyfriend would pay for his partner's bills!"

You told him that he isn't your boyfriend.

"Sure, sweetheart." He dismissed you as he grabbed the handles of your wheelchair. You stopped him and said you could walk. Before he could react to that, you used all your might to stand up, mildly stumbling around a bit before finding your balance. He stuck his arms around you, ready to catch if you were to fall.

"Y'know, you shouldn't push yourself too hard. I'm pretty sure the hospital is gonna let us borrow this till' the exit." You began walking away. More like limping.

"H-hey! Wait up!" He jogged to catch up with you.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and urged you in another direction.

"I parked this way, c'mon." He rested his hand on the small of your back. It's a little too far down for comfort and you didn't like how he would rub you.

His idea of "sick people's food" is something people eat to get sick.

But you're starving at this point, so you're scarfing down an English muffin breakfast sandwich. Letting the grease coat your fingers and the yolk covers your face, it's a messy ordeal.

"I gotta bring you out to eat more..." Mumbled Montgomery as he watched you devour two of the same sandwiches. He developed a newfound distaste for Yves on top of his strong, existing ones. Montgomery is disgusted that Yves didn't even have the decency to feed "his love". What kind of man let's his beloved starve like this? Definitely not Montgomery.

He only got three bites in and you're now stealing his hash browns. You don't know where you are, this was the first time visiting the hospital. All you know is that he's currently parked in a fast food joint's free parking lot.

It's a seven-minute drive from the hospital. You looked at the built-in clock on his radio.

10:59AM. You have an hour left to get home before Yves arrives and potentially causes a catastrophe.

"So... (name)." You watched him from the corner of your eyes. "What was up with Joe M.?"

You gulped. You said it was an inside joke.

"Well, what is it?" You told him it would ruin the joke.

"Keep your secrets then." He took another bite out of his meal.

You and he ate in silence, mostly him. You were somewhat noisy because you didn't bother closing your mouth when chewing.

"Relax, it's not gonna run away." He chuckled as you stuffed your face with more of the sandwich. Montgomery bought 6 in total, expecting to eat 4 of them. But in reality, he only got to eat 2.

"Y'know, you don't have to do all that for money." You looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate on what he meant.

"I know those wealthy bastards, they go after pretty young things like you and suck your youth from ya' like vampires. It ain't worth it."

You forced a giant chunk of unchewed food down your throat.

"H-hey don't do that! You're gonna choke!" He patted your back as you coughed.

You asked in between hacks if he's talking about Yves.

"Is that what his name is? But yeah, I'm talkin' about him."

You asked him if he thinks you're prostituting yourself.

"No! I- I mean- I don't know, I was thinkin' more of the sugar baby line of work. It ain't necessarily mean you gotta be bumpin' uglies in the bedroom- you don't seem like the type. But I sure do know he ain't got ya best interests at heart." He explained.

You brought your arm up to wipe your mouth with your sleeve. But This time, he was prepared. He held your arm and pushed a napkin to your chin. He took the liberty to clean your face up for you.

You definitely preferred Yves's gentle touch over Montgomery's brutish ones.

"He ain't good for you, (name). Trust me on this." You tried to pull away from his rigorous wiping, but he held your head in place with the other hand.

"Folks from back home were deceived by men like these. They come to the city lookin' to build a better future. Then a wealthy man came along, makin' promises that he can't keep in exchange for their souls." He released you, taking the dirtied tissue with him. Montgomery placed it on his dashboard, planning to dispose of it later.

"...and guess what, those men left them high and dry. They lost their money, their body and their minds. Now, my folks aren't city dwellers, we're from the countryside, they didn't know any better. I know you ain't from here too."

You asked Montgomery what made him think that way.

"You have a heart of gold and hands of sand. Folks born and raised here are damn sadists with a pair of soft hands. Ain't none of them picked a field rake up before."

You said don't think you picked up a field rake in your life either.

"That ain't the point, I'm sayin' you don't blend in with the rest of these fuckin' pricks. And you're attractin' trouble like this Sugar Daddy of yours."

There is no point in trying to correct him. You just nodded in acknowledgement.

He held both of your hands in his, enveloping them tightly into a ball. It hurts a bit.

"Please, darlin'. I beg of you, stay away from him. He's gonna break your heart and I sure hell don't want to see my baby in tears. I will treat you right, be with me and you ain't gotta worry 'bout a thing. I'm gonna feed you, drive you around and buy you stuff you always wanted." He pressed your hands against his cheek, with Montgomery's stubble scratching your palm.

"Please? Could you stop seeing him for me, please, sweetheart? I'll treat you so much better than that monster. I will take care of you." He crooned, placing a kiss or two on your hands. You grimaced when you felt the wetness of his saliva on your skin.

He is insane. You looked around for a possible opportunity to escape, but there isn't any.

You glanced at the clock.

It says 11:29AM.

Montgomery realizes what you're looking at and connected the pieces. He lets go of your hands and begins tidying up around him

"You have class, don'tcha'? I'll get you back to school. But... I think ya' oughta' listen to the doctor and rest at home. You were damn near seeing the pearly gates today." He buckled his seat belt and reignited his engine.

You wince as you hear the car roar back to life.

You thought about the different possible scenarios that could happen. You're thankful that he didn't realize it's your semester break now.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #oc Montgomery #tw queerphobia #tw injury

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crackedpumpkin · 4 months

Text

Bad News || 09 ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“I thought we were here to buy Tadashi’s birthday gift.” Hiro crosses his arms, staring unamusedly as you walk through the aisles of a clothes store. You’d been here for an hour, and are no closer to finding a gift for Tadashi.

“Look, just get him a cap!” He groans, wanting nothing more than to get out and go to the cinema already. You glare at him, gesturing to the wall filled with caps of different designs.

“Which one?” He stares at it for a solid moment, pointing at a dark blue cap with the design of a well-known cartoon character on the front. You blink. “You’re joking.”

“I am,” he admits in defeat.

“You’re supposed to help me, not sabotage me,” You point out. He groans again, sliding his hand down his face. “Y’know what, maybe I should get him something else.” Finally walking out of the store, Hiro makes a big show of breathing in deeply, spreading his arms and welcoming the outside.

“You drama queen.” You snort, shoving him slightly. He chuckles, eyes lighting up when he spots a tech store. Before he even asks, you sigh, giving in with a nod. You watch the smile on his face grow bigger with each step, holding in his excitement when he sees the latest tablet or iPhone.

He’s like a kid looking at new toys. You watch him scan each aisle with excitement, grinning as you begin to wander around by yourself. Each section is something completely different, ranging from smartphone accessories to camera parts. You spot a few cameras on display, piquing your interest when you see people trying them out.

“Interested?” The unexpected voice makes you flinch, expecting to see a sneaky salesperson trying to promote their products to earn a commission. Instead, your eyes widen as you register a smug Noah standing in front of you.

“Wha- What’re you doing here?” He ruffles the top of your head with a chuckle. “I thought you might have a shift today at the cafe.”

“Oh, that?” he hums. “I quit.”

“Since when??” He picks up a random camera and hands it to you. Shock doesn’t fully describe how you feel at the sudden news. He’d been working at the cafe for a couple of years, practically the next overall manager if not for the bias your previous boss had against him. You’d thought he’d still stay there even after you were fired, but to hear that he quit is a whole other level.

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, hands in his pockets as he watches you scroll through the camera settings. You hold it up and snap a photo of him, scrutinising how the picture turned out. “I have another job lined up already - I’m starting next month as a personal trainer.”

Makes sense. He’d always been the barista who attracted many customers to the cafe, many girls and older women alike coming by to buy a coffee (and mainly watch him at work). His skin is as smooth as a baby’s butt, and he often gave you tips on your skincare.

The picture turns out fine, though you’re not entirely sold on the camera. You pick up another model, snapping another picture with Noah reflexively holding up a peace sign. “Sounds like you’re making more than before.” You note, taking in the new watch on his wrist and squeaky clean sneakers.

“Yeah, I’ll treat you to a meal sometime. Li misses you, y’know.” The mention of his girlfriend makes you smile, already anticipating meeting her again to gossip about anything and everything. She’s like an older sister to you.

“Can’t wait,” You try yet another camera model, satisfied with the settings and taking another photo of Noah as your test subject. One look at the price, however, makes you wince, setting it back down.

“Hey.” Hiro approaches the both of you, a bag in hand after having purchased something. “Who’s this?” He asks, moving to stand next to you. His shoulders are slightly in front of yours, eyes narrowed as he tries to figure out if Noah’s a creep or not.

“Hiro, Noah. Noah, Hiro.” You introduce them to each other. His shoulders relax when he realises who this is, a small smile on his lips as he returns Noah’s outstretched fist bump.

“What’s up kid?” Noah greets you with a casual nod, glancing between the both of you with a glint in his eye. Oh no. You knew exactly what that meant. “Sorry if I interrupted your…outing.”

“We’re here to get his older brother a birthday gift,” You explain, though Noah’s smirk suggests he thinks otherwise.

“And watch Iron Man,” Hiro reminds you of your promise. Noah’s smirk grows with every word, warmth creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. “Actually, why not just ask him what he wants?”

Before you can stop him, Hiro’s already texting Tadashi about it, the latter instantly replying. He reads the message, rolling his eyes. “Get this, he wants a photobooth strip of us both having fun. What is he, old?”

“Oh no, too bad there’s no photo booths around…” You thought you pulled off your fake disappointment, pressing your lips together sheepishly when Noah raised a brow.

Hiro shrugs. “I’d say no, but he just cashed in the coupon of servitude I gave him last year.”

“Actually,” Noah interrupts, holding up a finger, “there’s a photo booth right next to the cinema. They just put it there yesterday, and there are loads of different designs and props. Have fun, kids!”

He walks away with a not-so-subtle wink directed at you. Luckily, Hiro doesn’t seem to notice, distracted by the cameras you were trying out earlier. “Well, looks like you have his gift settled. Let’s go!”

Saying goodbye to Noah, the both of you head to the cinema and buy the tickets first, Hiro expressing unbridled joy upon getting his hands on the big screen ones. You pay for the tickets, and he pays for the snacks to be collected later. True to Noah’s words, the photobooth is right next to the ticket counter.

It’s surprisingly uncrowded, with multiple rooms inside the store. “We gotta get some props, meet up at room 5?” You ask, already scrounging through the shelves of headbands and sunglasses. You grab a pair of hot pink heart-framed sunglasses, along with a headband with the Super Mario symbol on it.

On the way to the booth, you spot a few more props, pursing your lips before a particular one catches your eye. Grinning, you grab it off the hook and meet Hiro whose arms are filled with more props.

“Looks like we have to decide on four.” He taps the touchscreen, looking through the various options before settling on 4 photos on 2 strips. You dump your stuff into a basket on the floor, grabbing the remote and gesturing for him to hurry up.

The sunglasses are already perched on your nose, and it seemed like Hiro had a similar idea with his own squiggly-framed sunglasses. He laughs upon seeing you. Using your thumb and index finger to slide your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you look at him from under your lashes with a wink.

The click of the camera surprises you both, not realising that the timer has already run out. Glancing at the screen, the camera caught your jokingly flirtatious wink and the flush on his cheeks. “You look so dumb,” You giggle, hurriedly preparing for another picture.

He hands you a toy gun and a clip-on tie, adjusting his own and getting into position with his toy gun pointed at you. You raise your hands in surrender, both of you posing as a secret agent catching a bad guy.

The next pose required a little more finesse, however, when you hold up a toy camera and instruct him to do his best pose. You almost collapse from laughing when you see the result on the screen, his lips pursed into a pout with the back of his hand on his forehead, captured mid-swoon.

“Not bad,” He says in amusement, grabbing one last prop. A clipboard is in his hands. You slide the Super Mario headband on his head, adjusting his hair so that the symbol can be seen clearly.

God, his fluffy hair can be both gorgeous and annoying. You move a few strands out of the way before letting out a satisfied hum. Your gaze drops down to his, catching a flicker of amusement in his brown eyes. They soften upon noticing you pause, and you subconsciously suck a sharp breath between your teeth.

The countdown timer for the last five seconds beeps, successfully snapping you out of whatever was between you both at that moment, taking a step back and clear your throat. You slide on the lab coat you’d grabbed earlier, adjusting the collar and facing him with a shy smile.

Clipboard in hand, he holds up an imaginary pen. Once your eyes meet, however, a silence falls over you both. You look away with flushed cheeks, holding up a peace sign as the camera clicks the last picture.

“Looks like we’re done,” Hiro comments. The screen begins to fill with the photos taken, the both of you selecting 2 each. You’d chosen one without any pops, just the both of you smiling cheesily at the camera while Hiro does bunny ears behind your head. Another is the secret agent pose.

The ones he chose were a little different, with one being the swooning pose, while the last is of him waving a wand over your head as you look at him grumpily. They’re perfect. Tadashi better like them, especially after all the hard work you’d put in. Another picture captures your eyes though, an unselected one that had gone unnoticed.

“What about that photo?” It’s suddenly blocked by his hand hovering over it. You look at him, unimpressed by the awkward smile on his face. “Really? Very mature Hamada. C’mon, lemme see how bad you look in it.”

“No- I mean, we already have four photos. Whoops!” He quickly slams a finger against the screen, proceeding to the next page where you can edit the photos with stickers and drawings. However, you’ve already seen the picture, realising that he’d been looking at you when the camera took the photo. His eyes were soft, a small smile on his lips while his hands were held up in a peace sign.

Cute.

You suppress a smile, clearing your throat and leaning back with a shrug. “Looks like we’ll just have to go with these four then.” He breathes out a relieved sigh, trying to brush off his earlier actions as nothing. You, however, notice his flushed ears and stuttered breaths.

You’re no better. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, distracting yourself by scrolling through the multitude of stickers before landing on one. Your lips curl into a mischievous grin, exchanging a knowing glance with Hiro before selecting the sticker. “You think he’d laugh at it?”

“It’s hard not to when there’s a Mr. Pringles moustache on each of our faces.”

You nod solemnly. He has a point. All the more reason to put the stickers. Placing down the pen with a satisfied smile, you let Hiro choose the frames for it. The photo strips are only fifteen dollars for three strips, so you pay for three instead of just two. One for Tadashi, one for you, and…

Hiro stares at the last photo strip you hold out to him, raising a brow. “Isn’t this supposed to be Tadashi’s gift?” He’d gone to return the props, giving you the time to mull over how many to purchase.

“There was a promotion for it, so I just got three. Look, if you don’t want it-” You’re about to withdraw your hand when he coughs, interrupting you. He grabs the photo strip, nonchalantly shoving it into his pocket.

“Who said I didn’t want it?” He mutters though you notice that he’s being careful about how he put the photostrip in his pocket. “Besides, this’ll be a souvenir to mark the occasion of Iron Man.”

You suppress a grin. “You’re right.”

— — — — —

@urfavarab @dee-zbignuts @frogindisguise @mangodamochiii @stars4won @whoisgami @nayleannn @millerworld @bodieohbo @1intrusivethoughts1 @randobeetlehouse @riritvt @louvredea

#bh6 #hiro x reader #hiro hamada x reader #series #baymax #wasabi #gogo #honey lemon #tadashi hamada #fred #hiro hamada #big hero 6 #bh6 x reader #hiro hamada x you #hiro hamada x y/n #hiro hamada x female reader #x reader

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fantasticsandwich · 1 month

Text

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 3)

Don't you know you're the apple of his eye?

“Narcissus, the figure from an ancient Greek tale,” Professor Smith began, scribbling on the board, “is the origin of the term ‘narcissism.’ This is a word we now associate with a self-centered personality style. This quality in extreme contributes to the definition of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, a psychiatric condition marked by the trademark qualities of grandiosity, excessive need for attention and admiration, and an inability to empathize with others.”

Your gaze fluttered to the board. Quickly, you typed out the title: Topic; Day one of the lecture series ‘Senses of Disorder in the Modern Self.’ You jotted your notes in single-streamed thoughts, highlighting subjects, then tacking on more details as they came. Narcissus… Greek myth, personality disorder, grandiosity, need for attention, lack of empathy.

“His story and the motifs found within were fitted to the preoccupations of the subject, subjectivity, and intersubjectivity, and these are all within the realm of psychoanalytic theory.”

The professor switched topics and lines of thought too quickly, and even though you smashed the keys on your laptop as fast as your fingers would allow, you were left with unfinished bullet points. Finally giving up, y leouaned back and allowed yourself to stretch, slowly moving your wrists in circles. It seemed like your classmates shared the same sentiment; some scribbled furiously while others typed away. You decided to give up and conduct research to supplement the parts of the lecture you missed.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard; spying Cillian’s utter lack of preparation gnawed at your focus. He hadn’t even bothered to bring a journal, much less, even to appear focused, occasionally jotting strings of thought on a crumpled sheet of loose leaf paper. His eyes remained fixated on his phone, thumb swiping up and down with a languid grace that somehow irked you.

As his pencil dragged across the page, you peered over at his notes, startled to discover a few scrawled lines. Half of them were dedicated to meal planning while the other was pretentious strings of thought to caption his posts. You weren’t too upset with the latter. With the task often falling into your consideration, you wished you could have applied it to a resume; helping Cillian run his social pages was nearly a separate job itself.

But how did he expect to pass the upcoming final exam when he had hardly anything related to the class written down? Only his outfit was exemplary, but even then, there was room for improvement; he wore a singular earring, and he donned a chunky, ugly sweatband, exposing his angular forehead and sharp eyes, and to top it all off, he sported a jean jacket with a design of half-melted smiley faces, though it looked more like they were grimacing. The compilation almost looked ridiculous, but a face like his was the ultimate saving grace.

He kept glacing at his reflection. Didn’t he have better things to worry about? He was rich, but to dedicate such a vital time to looking good was a travesty. You wondered if his parents were proud of the son they raised.

You shook your head to dispel the thought. You let out a soft sigh, almost imperceptible amidst the lecturer’s steady drone, and resolved to quell the tide of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm you. Your fingers drummed on the desk, gaze flickering between the professor’s slides and the clock at the front of the lecture hall. Your mind, however, was soon sent into tumult.

“So, how was your date with Rian?” Cillian abruptly asked, still refusing to look up from his doodlest.

“Date?” Your voice hitched, the word snagging in your throat like a fishbone. “How did you— Well, it wasn’t a—”

“Thanks to a street photographer and Rian’s Instagram, everyone gets to see you two cozying up,” Cillian cut you off, his tone deceptively light.

His smartphone lay between you, its screen glowing with the evidence—a photo of you and Rian, sitting at the window, laughing together, shared by some account you didn’t know. You tried committing the username to memory, but when he noticed you staring a little too long, Cillian snatched it back.

“We were just grabbing a drink, and I was too buzzed to answer any calls. You know I would never purposefully ignore you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re slipping away?” His words were soft but pointed, like a dagger wrapped in velvet. He leaned closer, and the scent of his cologne enveloped you, a mixture of citrus and something smoky. “Why don’t I feel like I’m your most valuable friend anymore?”

“You are,” you stammered, your hands now clutching at the fabric of your skirt. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourrself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t look at my phone the entire night. I didn’t mean to make you think—”

His voice was even as his eyes bore into yours, seeking something far beyond your gaze. “It’s fine. Just remember to call me back next time.”

You nodded, an unvoiced apology hanging in the air. You glanced back at the lecture, where neural patterns danced on the screen, mocking you with their clarity. If only understanding your tangled emotions and Cillian’s cryptic intentions were as simple as memorizing textbook definitions.

You tried to refocus on the lecture, the hum of voices and the professor's monotonous drone becoming a distant echo as Cillian's leg brushed against yours under the table. You shifted in your seat, pulling away slightly, only to feel his warmth follow.

“I will. You’re my friend, after all.” You managed to say. You could feel every eye in the room, or so it seemed, even if they were all fixated on their own notes, their own worlds.

“Friends?” Cillian echoed, tilting his head. “Is that all we are? What makes you like Rian better than me?”

“Cillian, you know that’s not the case,” you hastened, your lips dry. “You’re my closest friend. You’re the most important person in this world. Like I’ve said, last night was just… it was nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious.” He repeated the phrase slowly, tasting each syllable as if it were a delicacy laced with poison. “Then why did I find out from pictures online? Why did it have to be a secret?”

“It wasn’t a secret. It was just an impromptu meet-up. Trust me on this.”

“Trust is a luxury,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “And I’m afraid to say I’m not afforded much of it by you these days.”

“Look, I’ve already said sorry. What more do you want?” You sighed, your patience fraying at the edges. “If you’re really that upset, I’ll make it up to you, okay? It really isn’t worth arguing over.”

“I like the sound of that.” Cillian mused, leaning back in his seat, seemingly satisfied. You turned, finding him ruffling his hair with an air of nonchalance. “But I want you to enjoy it too, and you look like you could use some retail therapy.”

“Shopping? I don't know…”

“Is it about last night? Did that guy bum off of you? You don’t have to worry about costs with me. I’ll pay. You can make it up to me this way, and you’ll get something nice, too. It’s a win-win.”

You weighed the pros of placating him against the cons of further indebting yourself to him. Although you had the same humble beginnings, Cillian had long since joined a world you could only imagine belonging to. The longer you entertained him, the more he seemed to thrive on appearances, on being seen with someone willing to play the part he assigned them.

Fortunately, you played your role well and reaped the rewards.

“Fine,” you finally breathed out, the acquiescence tasting of sour grapes. “But not today, and just for a little while. I really need to focus on this lecture.”

As if the universe was conspiring against y,ou the professor exclaimed, “And that’s all for today. Any questions?” he said, scanning the room for any raised hands. “No? Well, that’s all, then. You’ve got ten minutes left if you want to stay in this class, but I’ll get going now. I’ll post the slides by tonight.”

Shamelessly, you grabbed Cillian’s hand, stopping him from closing his notebook. You pulled back, releasing him when a slight red tint came to his face. His dangling earring occupied your thoughts for a brief second. Chrome against porcelain, topped by his dark locks. The paleness suited him, although it caused his features to meld together, almost like he wore a flawless mask.

“Sorry, I was just wondering if you caught anything I missed.”

Gaze fluttering up from his phone, he breezily said, “Do you need help? I booked a study room in the library, but if you’d like, we can go to my place.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just wait for the professor to post the slides.” You turned until he was invisible in your peripheral vision. Nevertheless, you felt his gaze trained to you as you shoved your laptop into your backpack. “Where are you going to be during your free hour?”

When your shame deemed that you had punished yourself enough, you was able to face him once more. Turning around, you saw the sunlight playing off his form. His face seemed to illuminate like a lightbulb against the chalkboard’s dreary background. Just over his head on the board, Professor Li’s messy handwriting read ‘Narcissistic Personality Disorder.’ Your gaze quickly returned to admiring his face.

“I’ll be at the bio building if you need me,” Cillian replied, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I just have to turn in this paper and then I’m done for the day. Want to come with me?”

He smiled at you, and suddenly, your spirits brightened. You returned that brilliant grin, losing a few kilowatts in transmission when your phone pinged.

‘Need ur help. Too bright. - Rian.’

Quickly cramping the device into your bag, you laughed. “Sorry, something just came up. I’ll meet up with you at our regular place instead.”

Cillian’s smile faltered slightly. “You’re not coming with me? Did you already make plans with someone else?”

You didn’t want to outright say such, so you skirted around a direct answer.

“It might take some time, but I’ll be there with you,” you assured him. Knowing the promise wasn't enough, you tacked on more words that would soothe his mind, stating, “Who else would I be with? You know I don’t have that many friends.”

That he knew of. There was benefits to walking on the chasm’s edge; you treated Cillian as your own secret world, a portal to an otherwise unobtainable, glamorous realm. With Rian and his group, you were fortunate enough to experience what life might be like if you were regular, and in Cillian’s presence, you got a taste of the life of an overworked talent agent, passing excess through your hands like a sieve onto his pampered lamp. But you were fine with the day-and-night difference; your relationships were unique. With Rian and Connor, even. People were people, and people had different personalities, thoughts, aspirations, goals, and fears, so it wasn’t wrong to cleave yourself into parts, to send each into different orbits.

“Okay,” Cillian finally conceded. “Don’t take too long. I’ll treat you to lunch.”

“No, let me,” you quickly interjected, prepared to atone.

Cillian winked, his smile retreating to its fullest potential. “No. Let me take care of you.”

Before you objected, your phone pinged again.

“I’m sorry! I’ll meet with you later!” you blurted before he could object and trap you in a web of guilt. With a swift turn on your heel, you darted away, leaving the classroom and its muffled sounds of a lesson continuing without you. Your glasses threatened to slide off your nose as you hurried through the crowded hallways, your form a blur against the sea of students, then out the doors. Legs pumping, you raced across the yard, toward the library.

You pushed through the heavy doors and into the hushed ambiance, immediately searching for Rian. There, nestled between the looming bookshelves in a secluded corner, was his delicate frame, hunched and quivering.

“Rian?” You whispered.

He looked up, his eyes awash with despair, tears tracing clean lines down his cheeks. “Y/N,” he slurred, recognition flickering weakly behind the glassiness of his gaze.

“Rian.” You knelt beside him, suppressing the heat of rage bubbling within you at the sight. Fighting the instinct to lash out at the circumstances that had driven him to this state, you steadied your breath and reached out a tentative hand. He looked up at you, eyes glimmering with tears, a strained smile stretching across his lips. Instead of going for an embrace, you reached for his water bottle, which reeked of alcohol. You fought him, but eventually managed to wrestle it from his grasp and confiscate it.

“Sorry, Rian. I’m not giving this back to you.”

“But I’m done for the rest of the day. This is my precious springtime of youth. Let me live a little!”

“Look, drunkards are normal to encounter in the streets, but not on campus. You’re doing something so reckless, and in broad daylight, and you could still get expelled if anyone sees you. And if that happens, your grandparents are going to hit you so hard that you’ll spend your precious springtime of youth in a coma until the winter of your final years. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Rian remained silent. You were sure he was going to glare and curse you out, but then, he tilted his head until it rested on your shoulder. Voice quivering, he confessed, “My girlfriend broke up with me and I… I guess I… I mean I—”

“Rian,” you said, softly this time. “Come on. We both know a girl can’t affect you that much. What is this really about?”

“You’re right.” He lifted his head up and leaned against the wall instead. “It isn’t just the alcohol messing with my mind. It’s just that… That everyone… They all leave me,” he mumbled through a choked sob. “Everyone. My parents, Eve, my grandparents will follow soon, and how long until you’re gone too? How long until everyone thinks I’m a burden?” His voice cracked, and before you offered a comforting word, he burst into body-wracking sobs.

“I’m not going anywhere. I won’t ever leave you alone,” you assured, placing an arm around his shoulders. Tremors coursed through his body. Your phone buzzed insistently in your pocket, but you ignored it. Rian needed you more than you needed to appease anyone’s vanity or paranoia. Swallowing the bile of your own anxiety, you held him close. “You don’t have to believe me yet because I haven’t shown you, but I’ll keep proving it until you believe me. But for now,” you murmured, helping him to his feet, “let’s get you out of here. And how about some food? It’d do you good.”

Rian placed another hand on top of yours, though his eyes were still transfixed on the wall. Reluctantly, you pulled away, shaking off his grip in favor of unlocking your phone. Immediately, you saw that you had ten messages, split between your built-in app and Instagram account. Ignoring an incoming call and another text, you told Rian, “Forget about Eve, okay?”

“Eve? Who is that?” He laughed, shoulders shaking with each chuckle. The tears on his face hadn’t stopped pouring down. “Eve who? Like Christmas Eve? More like Christmas Evil. Fucking love that song. Thought Christmas albums were kitsch, but it slaps.”

“On second thought,” y ousighed, taking in his sorry condition, “how about I take you back to your dorm?”

“Will you carry me?”

“Rian, no!” You were powerless as he trapped you in a hug. His arms draped over your shoulders, but his balance was compromised, and he loaded his body weight onto your back. He was hardly a few centimeters taller than you, but he went almost entirely slack, draping his frame atop yours. Struggling to remain upright, you sent a quick text to his roommate, attaching your location. He responded fairly fast, informing you that he was already near them and would be scarfing down his lunch to head over.

His head bobbed, his wavy hair brushing against his forehead. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just didn’t know what else to do. The world feels like it’s falling out from under me.”

“Come on, get up.” Standing, you slipped an arm under his, trying to coax him to his feet. “You can’t stay here like this, and we’re already a spectacle.”

Rian’s body felt limp, but he allowed himself to be partially lifted by your insistent pull. As he staggered to his feet, you glanced around, acutely aware of the curious glances from other students. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment—not for yourself, but for Rian.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Always,” you said, ignoring your still-buzzing device. For now, your friend’s well-being was y our sole focus. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

Compliant now, you guided him outside. Embracing the sunlight, y you disregarded the stone pathway. You stepped onto the lush green yard and squinted, stumbling towards a bench secluded by a grove of whispering trees.

As you sat, you pulled out your phone. Your fingers hesitated over the contact list. As much as you wanted to solve every problem yourself, this was beyond you. With a deep breath, you dialed Connor’s number.

“Hey, Conner. I’m on campus with Rian, and he’s—well, he’s plastered and not doing great. I can wait with him for a while, but I have somewhere to be. Can you come get him? Or I can meet you halfway.”

Your words were direct, bypassing the niceties that often cluttered conversations.

“What is that idiot up to now?” came his humorous response. “Of course. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, ending the call and slipping the phone back into your pocket. You turned to Rian and reassured, “Good news. Your roommate will be here shortly.”

He nodded, and you sat in silence, the hushed sounds of nature wrapping around you like a soft blanket. In the distance, the faint hum of traffic whispered.

But for now, in this secluded haven, time seemed to slow, allowing you to fulfill your role as comforter, as protector of your friend’s fragile spirit. As you waited for Connor's arrival, your mind couldn't help but wander to Cillian and the plans you had made. Yet, you pushed those thoughts aside. Here, with Rian’s head resting on your shoulder, you found your purpose.

“I can’t believe you really risked it all.” You forked your fingers into his hair, smoothing out the knots. “All for some girl?”

You reached to grasp his hand. You offered no grand gestures, only the steady rhythm of your palm tracing small circles. Your words, when they came, were soft-spoken, weaving through the silence like threads of silk.

“Rian,” you murmured, “heartache, it seeps into us, but it doesn’t define us. You’re more than this pain, more than what you’ve lost. Your kindness,” you continued, feeling his fingers squeeze around yours, “it lights up rooms. Someone will see that and cherish you. This isn't the end. It’s just a really tough part of your life. It’ll get better, and if it doesn’t, I’ll hunt the bitch down and break her knees."

The silence lasted only a moment, then Rian burst into tears. Sighing, you kept stroking his hair, rubbing his back, and murmuring sweet cheer-me-ups.

Approaching from behind, a pair of arms wrapped around you, pinning you and Rian against the bench. Glancing up, you greeted Connor, who trapped you in his embrace until Rian’s tears finally ceased their stream, his body settling into quiet hiccups.

Pulling away, Connor regarded you with a thankful look. “Thanks for keeping him out of trouble. You can go. I’ll take care of him from here,” he urged, voice close to your ear. If it wasn’t for how Rian was trying to curl into a ball and pass out on the bench, you would have blushed.

“I cannot thank you enough. Really.”

“Anything for a friend,” he replied with his easy smile, but you were already rushing away.

“Really, I owe you one!” you called over your shoulder, your voice nearly lost amidst the chatter of students and rustling leaves.

“Then tutor me in biology!”

Shouting a reluctant agreement, you sped away, your mind whirling as fast as your legs. You wondered if it was right to leave Rian in the hands of someone else, but a person like him was suited for anyone. Well-liked by almost everyone, he was a sweet boy known for coming to class with a smile, and for not being very smart but still trying his best to contribute to class discussions.

He wasn’t alone, but Cillian? It pained you to see how he kept an arm’s distance from anyone he wasn’t already acquainted with. It was funny how in spite of witnessing Rian’s tears, your mind was still focused on that vain man. Perhaps it was because you knew that although his initial reactions were always overly-zealous, Rian would eventually stomach the heartache while Cillian could not. You had personally witnessed the depth of hurt that he could, or rather could not handle. His threshold for pain of any kind was rather shallow.

The incessant pinging of the phone in your bag only served to remind you who needed you more. Although you had been sitting with Rian and trying to coax him out of his depressed state for nearly half of an hour, the messages had never stopped pouring in. With a sigh, you realized you couldn't ignore him much longer.

You spotted him before he saw you, sitting outside a cafe, staring at his phone. His hair caught the light, a raven’s wing glinting with shades of indigo. As you approached, his head snapped up, eyes locking onto your with an intensity that made you falter.

“What took you so long?” He asked lips curved downwards. He ruffled his hair, an agitated sigh escaping his lungs. “I was waiting for you.”

You grappled with the familiar weight of guilt, the dreaded sensation of having let someone down. “Sorry. I’ll explain when we’re inside,” you said prompting, eager to escape the prying eyes of passersby.

“Lead the way,” Cillian said, stepping aside with a flourish that bordered on mockery. He followed you in silence, the tension unspoken but palpable, like the static charge before a storm.

As you passed through the doorway, the cafe enveloped them in warmth and the murmur of conversation. Cillian took the seat next to you, boxing you against the window. With his elbows resting on the table, your hands found refuge in the pockets of your ill-fitting cardigan, mind racing with ways to mend the rift, even as your heart whispered warnings you weren’t ready to heed.

Retrieving a menu tucked beneath the napkin dispenser, you fidgeted with the laminated edges, stealing glances at Cillian. His presence was like a cloud, darkening the cozy ambiance of the cafe. You cleared your throat, summoning the courage to bridge the chasm his displeasure had created.

“Cillian, about why I was late…” you began, “I’m really sorry. I was dealing with a crisis. Rian was out there day drinking. Poor boy’s upset and having a rough time.” You scooted your chair closer to him. He looked at your from the corner of his eye before moving to rest his arm on the back of your chair.

“Him again?” Cillian’s tone was sharp, slicing through your words. “The guy’s a walking disaster. I don’t see why you have to play the hero every time something hurts his little heart. Maybe it should just be carved out and given to someone who’ll take better care of it.”

You recoiled, the sting of his words biting. You searched his face for some sign of understanding but found none. His features were set in stone, handsome yet impassive, his eyes reflecting the screen glow from his phone rather than any warmth towards your predicament.

“I couldn’t just leave him there,” you said, your own eyes darting away from his scrutiny to focus on a coffee stain on the table. “He needed a friend.”

“Seems like he wants to ask for more than that from you,” Cillian retorted, scrolling through his messages. “But clearly, you value your little charity missions with clingy bastards who’re only trying to get into your skirt more than the plans you’ve made with the friend who’s only trying to treat you to a snack while you study.” Huffing, he turned away. “What was he bothered by this time?”

“Rian isn’t like that,” you objected. “He was only acting out because his girlfriend broke up with him. Of course, he’d be upset. Most would.”

Cillian scoffed, earning a glare from you. Even though he had issues too, he didn't need to lash out and be rude to others. They were peers. They both knew what that sort of heartbreak was like. Cillian should’ve supported him instead of arguing over who had it worse.

Crossing his leg, he clicked his tongue. “You should have at least told me where you were. I was waiting for thirty minutes.”

Pushing your irritation aside, you inhaled. Friendships differed from person to person, so you had to understand why Cillian was feeling the way he did, and where that feeling was coming from. He had been there for you during your times of need, so you had to return the favor, no matter how late.

“I’ll tell you next time,” you mindlessly offered, eyes bright with a forced cheerfulness you hoped would placate him. “I know you said you want to go shopping soon, but let me do something for you. We can go anywhere. Your choice.”

“Anywhere?” he echoed, the corner of his mouth twitching into something resembling amusement. It was a small victory, but it eased the knot in your chest.

“Anywhere. I promise. Just let me make it right.”

Make what right? You didn’t know how you’d wronged him, but you didn’t want to be the cause of his suffering.

“Promise, then. Promise to me.”

“I promise.”

“Say it properly,” he prodded, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“I swear to you, Cillian,” you said, the formal phrasing feeling strange on your tongue. “I’ll stop being a bad friend and make it up to you.”

“Good.” His tight-lipped frown dissolved into something warm and disarming, as if the past few minutes had never happened. “Shall we order, then? I’m starving.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere male #cillian

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gender-trash · 3 months

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Back In The Day i went to this math camp for 11-14 year olds that had a really strict electronics policy -- you weren't allowed to bring a laptop, and you couldn't use electronics other than graphing calculators in class. i can't remember if anything specific was said about cell phones but this was in days of yore when middle school students didn't, like, have smartphones and the camp website DID specify that students could use the dorm landline to call home and the dorm computer lab to send/receive emails. personally i can't remember what i had for a phone but i was definitely running around with a canon point-and-shoot dangling off my wrist (and perpetually banging into EVERYTHING) and listening to music on my beloved ipod touch using wired earbuds.

(actually, i did illegally bring a laptop, because my mom told me she'd gotten me an exemption but this turned out to be a straight-up lie. i kept my laptop in my room so i only got in trouble for it in like. my THIRD SUMMER at the camp. when i got Lectured Sternly by the camp staff i sent my parents an extremely betrayed email which my dad described to the staff as "hysterical". this took place in 2013 and i'm still lowkey mad about it. anyway)

so i randomly wondered tonight what happened to the electronics policy now that middle schoolers are all on instagram or tiktok or whatever, and actually it has gotten stricter: you have to give your phone to the counselor who will give it back to you for half an hour every evening to call your parents and you can't bring any other device that can browse the internet (so if you want to listen to music you'd better grab yourself a good old-fashioned mp3 player). broadly a good idea, i think, but how the fuck are the math-obsessed youth of today supposed to fall asleep after an overstimulating day of math classes and impromptu set tournaments without the ability to read fanfiction and/or watch overwrought naruto amvs late into the night, i ask you??

(in hindsight this may have had something to do with why i was floridly sleep-deprived by about the third week of camp every year. otoh in college it really came in handy that i had all this practice at doing math homework while running on fumes and sleep debt)

#the trashcan speaks #also like. because i THOUGHT I HAD AN EXEMPTION i wasnt making any particular effort to keep it a secret that i had a laptop #like people would always be in my dorm room so we could watch youtube videos or like... play the nyan cat flash game or w/e #sometimes i took it to the lounge!!#how did NONE of the counselors NOTICE for two and a half cumulative months of camps

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kookblurx · 11 months

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1920 - jjk [ chpt 6. ]

→ SUMMARY: a photo of a beautiful smiling boy; an old tree in your grandparents garden ... and a feeling of sadness. all those things are connected to each other ...

→ GENRE: time travel au; changing fate au; rencarnation au; university au; death; sickness; historical setting; trigger topics; smut; dirty talk; switching between present and the past.

→ chapt. 5 / chapt. 7

→ RATING: 18+

→ NOTE: HUGE DISCLAIMER, this story plays in a fantasy setting. the world YN lives in doesnt exist, neither jungkooks. so please dont mention anything just because its not historically correct. this is piece of art. so yes, jungkook wears armor like a knight and no there are no guns in his time period. thanks.

JUNGKOOK MASTERLIST ♡.°₊ˎ PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER

The Present

a grunt escaped your lips as the sun peeked through the half open yellow curtains. squinting one of your eyes, sun only became more brightly with each second. a bit clumsy you tried to reach the digital clock on the top of your nightstand. while doing so your phone got knocked on the ground, for the time being this wasnt something which bothered you. another grunt left your lips as the clock showed 8am in the morning, it was still too early to be awake. the events from last night werent present in your mind as you climbed up onto your bed. surrounded by your fluffy blanket, you cuddled deeper into the mattress. as soon as your eyes finally gave in to your tired body something shifted beside you. you didnt even had the time to turn your body around as someone grabbed your right wrist. with a strong pull, your body was turned onto your bed. automatically your eyes widened as you looked into the face of a young man who was hovering over your body. still sleepy you couldnt tell who this man was and how he got into your room.

"its really bold of you to sneak into the bed of a man like this"

his voice was husky as the corner of his lips curled up into a small smile. you heard that voice before, that soft voice. the back of your neck grew hotter as your eyes try to make sense out of this situation. slowly they travelled down on the man's body, as they reached his abdomen and you finally saw the bandages, everything clicked. last night came back into your mind as you looked back into his face. there it was, the cut on his cheek.

"I-I didnt mean to ... wait this is actually my-!"

jungkook still had his smirk on his face as he moved closer to you. one of his hands cupped your cheek before he rubbed with his thumb over your ear a bit. right now you could die out of embarrassement. the back of your neck grew hotter with each inch he came closer to you. by now you were even able to feel his breath on your skin.

"Ugh ..." escaped from your lips as your whole body twitched.

no guy ever touched you like this, at least not on your ears. while you were wiggling underneath him, jungkook clearly enjoyed the few. his thumb travelled down from your ear to your neck.

"You are really cute ... i should thank you properly for saving me yesterday" so he knew who you were, he wasnt playing around.

you were to embarrassed to even move or pushing him away. with every inch he moved closer your whole face heated up more. you surely must look like a tomato right now. before his lips could touch yours the phone on the ground suddenly started ringing. that was the moment when you regained your senses back. with a strong push you managed to get rid of jungkooks body as he fell to your right side onto the bed. but before you were able to grab your phone from the ground, Kook grabbed your wrist again. this time he pushed you behind his back as he had one of your scissors in his hand.

"Stay back Y/N! Whatever this thing is .. i wont let it harm you!" you couldnt see his face but he sounded serious.

of course he would be worried .. jungkook never saw a smartphone before, let alone ever heard of one. with a soft chuckle you placed your hand onto his wrist before you slowly remove the scissors.

"dont worry, it wont harm me ... or you. See?" as you moved over to the edge of the bed you took the phone into your hands.

jungkook widened his eyes as you were pressing something. as you finally held it to your ear he came closer. of course on the other line was none other than jimin:

"hey jimin, what is it?" "hey ... i just wanted to check if .. last night was a dream or if hes still with you?" "well, i wish it would had been a dream but he's here and healthy as it seems ..." ".... can i come over?" "sure. you will be more of a help than i am ... you know more about his family and stuff. might be helpful" "got it. see you later"

after you hung up jungkook still looked at you like you were some kind of alien. unfortunately you didnt had the time to explain to him what that phone was. it was probably better for him if you were planning to send him back. who knows what such knowledge would cause in the past.

putting the phone away on the nightstand you finally was faced with a bigger challenge: how on earth should you hide him from your grandparents.

"is ... everything okay?" jungkook sounded worried as he moved closer to you, to the edge of the bed.

it was really suprising how he wasnt confused about this new place. suddenly you remembered that he lived here, in this same mansion. maybe this place wasnt too strange to him.

"let me ask you something ... do you know where we are?" your head turned into his direction.

"... hm ... i would say we are in my mansion ... i looked out the window earlier and saw the tree but ... " for a moment his eyes looked around your room "i guess ... im not really home?"

it nearly broke your heard because of his last sentence. thats right, he was home but at the same time he wasnt. with a sigh you stood up from your bed and walked over to the closet. luckily your grandpa stored some of his "old clothes" in your closet, so you wouldnt need to steal from him. hopeful that they would fit Jungkook you chose a pair of jeans and a basic black Tshirt. of course he was wary of the pants and the shirt. jungkook was a knight and only wore linen clothes. with your help he managed to change his clothes without opening his wound again. even helping him to get dressed was embarrassing because of the stuff that happened earlier.

you couldnt ignore how well build his body was and how his biceps flexed while putting on the shirt. but that wasnt enough. the pants fitted just fine, the shirt on the other hand was too small and flattered his tiny waist too well. gulping you rushed over to the door, making sure that your grandparents werent near. in the meantime you scolded yourself for acting like a damn teenager in front of a grown ass man. yes, he was good looking but that wasnt a reason to crush on him like this.

"w-wait here for a moment okay?"

after jungkook nodded you slipped out of your room and down the stairs. the foyer was empty so you made your way into the kitchen. no one there, good. after checking the big garage you finally came to the conclusion that your grandparents must be away at the moment. with fast steps you ran back into your room, ordering jungkook to follow you down into the library. even if they would came back, that was your space. while you were here they would never disturb you by walking in.

Inside the Library:

"woah ... this is huge! ... but wait, normally it shouldnt have this much of books" jungkook walked around the various shelves as he raised an eyebrow. "can you ... maybe tell me what is going on here?"

you this question would come up sooner or later but you would have preferred it when Jimin was here. with another sigh you sat onto the ground were some of the papers were still scattered around you. slowly you picked one of them up. it showed his photo, all smiling. it was this damn photo which ruined everything. you just wanted to jump to the moment were this photo was taken. instead you ended up on a battlefield. curious jungkook sat down beside you and snatched the paper out of your hand.

"hey! wait!" you wanted to get it back but to no avail.

jungkook's face grew serious as he studied the paper "... those are ... informations about me. where do you got all these?"

"thats ... okay listen. this might be crazy but i brought you here .. this isnt 1920 ... you are in my timeline and ...here you are already ..-"

"dead."

the word sounded so bitter that it gave you a sting inside of your heart. at the same time you prayed that this revelation wouldnt change something drastically in his timeline. before you could reach out your hand, something got thrown against the balcony window. this must be jimin. leaving jungkook with the papers you ran over to the window to open it. outside you helped Jimin climb up again but as he managed to stand on solid ground again, he didnt walk inside. instead he grabbed your arm, looking at jungkook who was still reading through the various papers

"its really him huh? fuck ... i dont know how you managed that but i think we are in big trouble ..."

"you dont need to tell me that ... im already trying to find a way to bring him back as soon as possible .. but for now its good you are here" slowly you pushed jimin inside before closing the doors.

"huh? why? you mentioned something similiar over the phone earlier"

"its ... Park Jimin is you ancestor and he was Jungkook's best friend. you two look really alike and share the same name ..."

"ah i see .. you want to give him some comfort huh?"

you nodded as you watched how jimin walked over to the confused looking jungkook. as he tapped him on the shoulder a jolt went through jungkook's body. to your suprise he immediately hugged Jimin. expecting that jimin would refuse that hug you were more suprised as he hugged kook back. the scene in front of you was really sweet but at the same time your mind drifted back to earlier as kook ran his fingers down your neck. your cheeks began to burn again as you shaked your head. this wasnt the time to think about such things.

the moment you sat back down next to the guys, jimin already explained to jungkook that he isnt really the jimin he was looking for. somehow jungkook seemed to understand this much.

"so ... that must mean jimin found a nice girl and had a family with her huh?" a smile spread across jungkook's face

"uh yeah you could say that" jimin on the other hand rubbed over his neck, slightly nervous.

"what about me? are there any ...great grandkids or something from me? do i find a wife for myself!"

jungkook seemed so excited as he looked at the both of you. at the same time jimin and you could only look at each other. the fact that jungkook's family tree ended with him, made your heart feel heavy. you didnt want to tell him the truth. that he needed to die without every finding love.

"jungkook listen you-"

as jimin started to speak he suddenly froze mid sentence. confused you waved with one hand in front of his face but there was no reaction at all. this could only mean one thing. the fairy was back. suprisingly jungkook wasnt frozen and looked as confused as you.

a book got knocked from the shelve as the fairy revealed herself. her blonde hair was messy and strands of it fell into her face. quickly you stood up just to take her into your hands

"oh god what happened ... you look horrible"

"we ... we have a big problem ... HUGE PROBLEM .... " the fairy was completely out of breath.

jungkook also finally stood up from his place and walked closer to the two of you "what happened?" compared to your shaky voice, his was more serious.

slowly the fairy finally lifted her face "we are doomed .."

"what do you mean! talk to me finally!" carefully you shaked the fairy in your hands a bit

"its .. its jimin"

Taglist:

@junecat18 @hellbornsworld @stupendouscookiehumanmug

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moralesmilesanhour · 6 months

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another dimension.

summary: Miles pays Margo a visit. wc: 970-ish a/n: this mad short but I got rlly busy !! You'll definitely get long3er flowerbyte stuff in the future tho

Margo’s room was so cluttered she couldn’t think.

She’d been letting clothes and unfinished gadgets pile up on the floor and around her desk until you couldn’t even open the door all the way. The realization hit her when she lost a piece of the old vintage radio that Gwen had gifted her to tinker with, and it took her an hour to finally locate it by the foot of her bed.

Margo sat at its edge, re-organizing her gadgets into boxes by size. It made more sense to her than by type or function; when she was restoring an old iPod or laptop, she wouldn’t think, “Where’s the box for tools dedicated to x, y, and z,” she’d be thinking, “Where the fuck is that tiny thing that you need to turn on this other thing?”

At the bottom of one of her hot pink organizers, beneath a tangle of extension cords, Margo felt a round piece of metal. Her fingers brushed over what felt like buttons, and they closed around the mystery device to free it.

It was…oh.

Margo could’ve sworn she had put all of her polaroids and souvenirs in the ‘memories’ box. The memory in question was only a few months old, sure, but it was a memory nonetheless. After Spider Society dissolved, there was no reason for her to use it. At any rate, she had cyber-crimes to stop right here, at her own computer.

Still, she did miss Gwen bringing her old smartphones and wired headphones.

And him.

Margo didn’t like to think about him. Not by any fault of his, but because if she visualized the look he gave her as she tried to send him home, then suddenly those owlish eyes would appear in places they were not supposed to. Then, she would begin to imagine that she saw someone with the same afro pass her on the street, or swear that she heard his voice and wonder if he took his watch with him and kept it.

Margo’s watch was off, but it remained largely intact after The Spot. She stared at it for a moment, before gingerly snapping it around her wrist. She turned it this way and that, letting it catch the dim light of her desk lamp.

E-1610.

Margo had the right dimension this time, all she had to do was just–

She shook her head, hastily taking it off and tossing it back into the box. Now she remembered why the watch had been left there in the first place.

But it was too late, and the image of him grinning at her returned. As she knelt on the floor and resumed her organizing, her mind had begun to weave together a conversation.

Miles would greet her with a “hey”, and she’d “hey” back. Ask him how his parents took the news after everything went back to normal. He’d say he’s grounded, and it’d sound like the funniest thing in the world coming from him. She’d ask him about his hobbies (Miles looked like a gamer), and he would ask about hers. She’d lie and say she didn’t have time for any, and he’d laugh.

“I hear that,” he’d say.

She wondered if her imagination had conjured him up when that familiar flash of blinding light appeared where her closet was and became a spinning portal.

Margo almost didn’t recognize him when he pulled back his hoodie and took the mask off. The high-top fade was gone, replaced by a head of shoulder-length locs that coiled at the ends. But she’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to locate her words, which made Miles stifle a laugh.

“Miles?”

“Don’t know who else I’d be. Got a minute?”

Slowly reaching back into that same box, Margo breathed,

“Yeah, I…I got a minute.”

“So you’re only Spider-Man when you got the VR thing on?”

Miles called out as he shot another web and catapulted himself off of the roof of a moving truck, and Margo did the same. They landed right on top of Lenny’s Deli, from which they could see a bit of the horizon dotted with skyscrapers in the distance, right where the setting sun started to roll back some of its orange and give way to a wash of coral.

“Pretty much,” Margo answered, catching her breath. “You smell that?”

“Beef patties.”

“I haven’t had one of those in months.”

Miles’ mask squinted mischievously at the eyes. “You want me to get you one, huh?”

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to–”

“I insist!”

Miles was already in the process of swinging down to street level. She shook her head and smiled, sitting with her legs crossed in the meantime.

He was back in a matter of minutes, mask rolled up halfway so that he could carry the brown paper bag from the deli between his teeth as he hauled himself over the ledge where Margo sat.

He opened it and removed his portion before handing the bag to her, but stopped short.

“Hol’ on, can you even eat?”

She threw her head back and laughed.

“You didn’t think about that before you spent your money there?”

“Well, you can take it back with you, probably,” he said as he let her take the bag from him.

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence as only Miles ate his food, watching the world below. Nobody appeared to be committing a robbery at the moment, so Margo eventually broke the silence first.

“So why’d you bring me over here, new guy?”

Miles snorted, “You know I’ve been doing this for almost two years now, right?”

“Well, you’re new to me.”

He leaned back on his elbows and hummed thoughtfully.

“Maybe I’d like to not be so new to you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

#miles morales #miles morales fic #margo kess #atsv fic #flowerbyte #cybershock #cyberflower #moralesanhour

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oliversrarebooks · 1 year

Text

The Fairy King and His Real Estate Agent: Smartphone

TW: possessiveness, boundary stomping, truth spell

Benjamin was utterly exhausted.

He'd dealt with particularly annoying clients today, clients who had hated every little superficial detail of every house he had shown them, from the color of accent walls to the knobs used on bathroom cabinets. The type of people who seemed to be violently allergic to anything with the slightest hint of character and whose favorite activity was complaining.

The end of the day couldn't have come soon enough, and now he sat in his car, letting his song finish before going inside, gathering his thoughts. He'd have a quiet night, at least. A chance to recharge before dragging himself back into the office at 8am sharp tomorrow.

As he slammed his car door, he felt an all too familiar prickling at the back of his neck. Oh, no -- it had to be his imagination, because he was stressed and anxious, surely it wasn't --

"Honeybee!" called a cheerful voice from across the parking lot. "There you are! Finally!"

Benjamin turned to see a young-looking and beautiful man with fiery red hair and golden freckles scattered across his skin like stars. The local fairy king was standing in the middle of his apartment complex parking lot, a sight that no longer remotely surprised him.

Often, when Ember came to visit, he would make small concessions to blend in better with humans, wearing ordinary clothing and hiding his more otherworldly features. Today, he apparently hadn't bothered. He was wearing what could best be described as a floral loincloth, his bare chest was only concealed by a dozen strings of glass beads in every shape and color, and an elaborate flower crown topped his head, right above his pointed ears. He'd hidden his wings, but that was about all.

Sometimes, Benjamin was happy enough to see Ember, enjoying the attention and the flattery and the break from his mundane life. Tonight, he was in no mood to watch his words and appease the fae's capricious whims.

Not that he'd have much choice in the matter.

"I've been looking all over for you! Where have you been?" he demanded, still with a smile on his face.

"I've been working, Ember, you know that. I just got home."

"Ugh, I don't know how you can stand to ride around in a cold metal box," he said, wrinkling his nose at Benjamin's car.

Benjamin sighed. "Look, it's not that I'm not happy to see you --"

"Of course you are! Who wouldn't be?"

"-- but I've had a really long week at work, and I'm very tired, and this might not be the best night for you."

Ember put on his best kicked puppy look. "You haven't even heard why I'm here yet! This is a matter of the utmost importance. The future of my clan might be at stake."

"You said that last time, when you saw a person eating a fancy donut and decided you had to try one."

"How can you say that wasn't important? My well-being is also critical to the future of the clan."

"...Sure."

"But I mean it this time," Ember pressed, stepping close enough to Benjamin that he could smell flowers and earth. "I have something I desperately need to show you. I've even brought a gift to exchange for your help. I'll even pledge a favor to you."

"Well..." Apparently, this really was important to him. A favor owed by the fairy king wasn't something to take lightly.

"Three favors!"

"All right, all right!" When Ember was this determined, no human could stop him. "I'll hear you out. Can we at least go inside? We'll attract too much attention out here." He glanced over to a little old lady exiting her car, who was staring at Ember with a look of unmistakable thirst. She gave Benjamin a thumbs up. He groaned.

"Yes, yes, good thinking. My enemies could be everywhere," said Ember in a conspiratorial whisper. "See that bird?"

"The black bird sitting on the wires over there? Is that one of your enemies?"

"No, of course not. That's just an ordinary bird. But it could be." He grabbed Benjamin by the wrist and began to pull him towards the building. "Come on, let's go."

Ember's enthusiasm waned as the two entered the elevator, the fairy nervously grabbing at Benjamin's arm. Another metal box. As Benjamin understood it, Ember had a higher tolerance to cold metal and human pollution than most of his kin, which was how he could stand to be here in the outskirts of the city at all, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.

As soon as Benjamin opened the door to his apartment, Ember flung himself at the pile of cushions that he'd built in the corner on a previous visit. He preferred the pile to the couch, which had the sheer audacity to contain metal springs. Benjamin had given up on dismantling it after each visit, another small concession to the fae invading his life.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" Benjamin offered, despite knowing how critical Ember could be when it came to human food.

Ember was lounging on top of the assorted cushions as though it were his throne. "Do you have anything that doesn't taste like the parking lot smells? Or at least something that has a lot of sugar in it?"

"I have Coke, that's pretty much entirely sugar."

"I'll have that, then." He seemed to be vibrating with anticipation as Benjamin brought the glasses of Coke over and sat them down on the coffee table. He grabbed his glass and sipped, making a comically disgusted face. "Oh, this is absolutely vile!" he said, then took a much larger gulp. "Now, down to leaves and roots. I need to show you what I have."

"Shoot," said Benjamin, kicking back on the couch.

Ember made an elaborate hand gesture, and a flat, dark object appeared in his palm, wrapped in a leather case. "Behold!" he said gleefully. "I've acquired one of those glowing rectangles you humans love so much!"

"A smartphone?" asked Benjamin. "Where did you get that? You didn't steal it, did you?"

"Of course not!" he said, mildly offended. "I traded with a hiker who strayed into my territory. It was definitely a trade."

"And what did they trade the phone for?"

"A bunch of our finest carrots! We've had an excessive bounty this year."

"You're saying a person chose to trade their smartphone for a bunch of carrots?"

"Yes! Well, that and safe passage from my realm. Minor details."

Benjamin pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's technically kidnapping, you know. And extortion, I think."

"Nonsense. She made the deal, and I honored it. I didn't even try to take her name, and I had Echo see her back to her campsite. You know how responsible Echo is."

"Yes, but she made the deal under coercion when she didn't really have a choice."

"It's a better deal than when humans take our land and fill our rivers with oil. At least she got something in return for it." He glared, daring Benjamin to challenge him further.

Benjamin sat back. This argument wouldn't go anywhere good, and as tired as he was, he really didn't want to make his night worse by putting the fairy king in a bad mood. "All right, fine. You have a smartphone. What do you need me for?"

Cheer returned to Ember's face as quickly as it had left. "You have to show me how to use it, of course!" he said, pushing the phone into Benjamin's hands. "You told me before that you can get information from it, more information than is contained in all the human libraries put together. And you said you can communicate with it, faster than birdsong or even wind writing. I want to learn. You have to show me."

Benjamin touched the screen of the phone, confirming his suspicions. "Neither of us can use this phone, Ember. It's locked."

"It's locked? What do you mean?"

"You need a passcode," he said, holding up the screen. "Without it, you can't use it."

"Is it like a riddle? Is it something I can guess?"

"It's a six digit number, and it'll probably wipe itself if you guess wrong too many times, so..."

"So it's impossible, then." Ember crossed his arms and flopped back into the cushions in a huff. "Tricky, diabolical humans! Next time I trade for a phone, I'll have to make sure to get the passcode, too."

"...Taking phones from humans isn't really the same thing as humans taking your land, you know," he said, unable to stop himself from opening his big mouth and picking the fight he didn't actually want. "A lot of us rely on our phones to navigate and communicate. A person could get in real trouble out in the woods with no phone."

Ember was having none of it. "The future of my clan is more important than the well-being of one human. Mastering the phone could give me a big advantage over my rival clans, one they'll never see coming. Besides," he said, leaning in closer. "it'd make talking to you so much easier, wouldn't it?"

Benjamin's breath caught as he thought of Ember actually learning to use a phone. On the one hand, there might be less surprises; on the other hand, he'd no doubt use it to accost Benjamin day and night. He decided to skip the subject. "Sorry I couldn't help you out with it. You know, you don't owe me a gift or any favors, since I couldn't actually unlock the phone."

"No, I intend to pay what I promised." Ember's eyes flashed with danger, and Benjamin realized too late he had implied that the fairy king might not make good on a debt. "I asked for your help, and you gave me the truth. I can tell you did. So I owe you for the service, even if the result was disappointing."

"Right."

"I haven't given you your gift yet," he said, and with a flourish, he was holding a bunch of carrots.

Of course. He should have seen that coming.

He knew from experience that the carrots would probably taste better than any produce he'd ever get from the grocery store or even a farmer's market. He also knew that they'd be laced with magic. Mildly addictive at least, with a high potential for odd side effects, and the more you ate, the more you'd be bound to the faefolk.

"You know how I feel about fae food," Benjamin said.

"And you know how I feel about humans rejecting my gifts," Ember countered. "Besides, carrots are good for you! Why not just eat them?"

"You know why. The food binds humans to the fae realm."

Ember scoffed. "The magic is far less potent in the middle of the humans' domain. It'll hardly do a thing. Besides, would that be so bad, to be bound to my realm instead of this one? I know you enjoy your time there. Don't pretend you don't."

It wasn't as though he hadn't thought about it.

It wasn't as though he didn't think about it a dozen times even on good days, every day since his kidnapping and brief captivity by Ember's clan. He'd think about it when he dragged himself out of bed to go to work each morning. He'd think about it when he was stuck in traffic. He'd think about it when some client acted like they would die if they bought a home with an insufficiently large kitchen island.

He'd close his eyes and remember laying back in the soft grass of a forest clearing and looking up at the stars, bathing perfectly clear and crisp water, adorning his hair with flowers, being pulled into a dance in a field at midnight. How Ember had laughed, how warm his hands were, the mesmerizing glint of his wings.

He wanted it.

But he knew it would be fleeting. Surely a fairy king wouldn't remain interested in him for long. Ember would get bored of him and he'd be nothing more than a discarded toy -- or worse, pressed into servitude for his clan. And Benjamin had put so much effort, so many grueling hours, into building the life he had. He couldn't trade something so important for a bunch of carrots.

"I don't want to regret it," he said simply.

Ember was not impressed. "Humans like you are always thinking about regrets, like you can see the future, when you don't even have proper soothsayers," he scoffed. "I don't worry about regrets, because I already know I'm doomed."

Benjamin knew exactly what he was talking about. When Ember had first taken the throne many decades ago, a revered soothsayer of his folk had come to the coronation. She'd predicted wealth and prosperity, a great bounty preceding the inevitable, slow decline of all of fae kind -- an event they called the Long Winter. Ember was supposed to be the last of his line, and despite his outward frivolity, Benjamin knew it weighed heavily on him.

"You're doomed, too, you know," Ember added.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Benjamin, wondering if it was an uncharacteristically naked threat.

"You're mortal, aren't you? All mortals are doomed. Condemned to die on the day you're born," he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "You're like a cherry blossom, or a wave crashing against the shore, only existing for a brief moment. A brief moment you could be spending with me, in my realm, before it's too diminished for even humans to enjoy."

Benjamin wanted it.

"I can't," he said.

"Don't lie to me, Bee. I don't lie to you," he said. "You can. But you won't."

"I won't, then," said Benjamin.

For a moment, the tension and silence between them was thick enough that Benjamin could feel the magic crackling off of him. And then it passed.

"You should at least eat the carrots," said Ember. "They'll help with your eyesight, since you clearly can't tell how beautiful I am. If you admired me properly, you couldn't possibly resist."

"This has nothing to do with finding you beautiful," Benjamin protested.

Ember grinned, and in a split second, he was in Benjamin's personal space, practically pinning him against the couch. "So then you do find me beautiful. As you very well should."

Benjamin's face heated as he tried to think of a response that didn't make him sound like a flustered mess. Ember decided to make the problem worse by running his fingers through Benjamin's hair and down his jawline, his touch delicate.

"You're tired, aren't you," he said, tracing his thumbs under Benjamin's weary eyes.

No point in denying that. "Yeah."

"I owe you three favors. Cash one in, and I can take your fatigue away, at least for a little while."

Benjamin couldn't help but lean into the soft touch, his affection starved body soaking it up. Ember had caught his weakness, and he knew it, too, his eyes bright, his grin growing wider and wickeder.

"Look, Ember, I don't want to do anything too..."

"Oh, don't worry, human, I won't violate your precious integrity," he said. "And I won't take you away from here. I'll just massage your shoulders, to relieve the tension." Ember rubbed at Benjamin's scalp to demonstrate, and it felt divine.

"A massage and that's all?" said Benjamin, resolve crumbling.

"A massage and the pleasure of my company."

"Okay."

He really was doomed. Ember was right about that, as he was far too often.

Faefolk were far more casually intimate with each other than humans on the whole were. That was something Benjamin had observed when he'd been captured by them. They freely touched, danced, cuddled, and caressed each other, and even characteristically slept in large piles. This knowledge was also what shielded Benjamin's psyche from acknowledging how close he'd become to the fairy king.

Sure, they'd exchanged gifts, and he'd taken Ember on outings that one could reasonably consider to be dates, and they were intimate in ways that Benjamin normally wouldn't allow outside of a romantic partner...

...but Ember would discard him any minute now, he was sure. And getting so attached to a fairy king was a terrible idea, as anyone with sense would remind him. And a million other good reasons he had that were suddenly hard to remember when Ember was trying to charm him.

"Off with that terrible shirt, Honeybee." Ember's nimble fingers were working the buttons with the speed of a hummingbird's wings.

"I don't think this shirt is terrible. I like it, actually," said Benjamin, allowing it to happen.

"It's scratchy, and it's full of nasty chemicals. There's even long-dead creatures in it, somehow! I can't believe this is what passes for clothing among humans."

Benjamin shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. "Better or worse than the soda?"

"Terrible in different ways," said Ember.

Benjamin might have asked him to elaborate, but Ember's hands had found his shoulders, and he was flooded with endorphins as his skilled touch worked the knots around his neck. His mind went hazy with the pleasure, and suddenly he was quite content with the fact that Ember had visited instead of having a quiet night to himself.

The beads around Ember's neck clicked softly as he worked. "In my opinion, there's no reason you should be wearing a shirt at all."

"I don't think my clients would appreciate that."

"Clearly they don't appreciate art, then."

"Oh, they really don't."

Benjamin sank in bliss as Ember worked around his spine, nimble and warm like sunbeams. He couldn't help but relax into it, his tired eyes blinking slowly and his head swimming. He could feel gentle fingers trace symbols along his back, and he suspected Ember was casting some kind of spell on him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Ember murmured a few words in his native language, which always sounded more like a song than words. So easy to float away on, filling his head with the smell of the forest after a rainstorm and the feel of soft clover under his feet.

"So, honeybee," said Ember, his voice low in Benjamin's ear, "tell me the real reason you continue to spurn my affections."

"I'm scared." The words tumbled out of his mouth without Benjamin's input. A truth spell. So that's what it was. "I'm scared that none of this is real. That I'm a toy that you'll abandon someday."

Ember's finger traced down his spine, making him shiver. "Bold words, considering how notoriously fickle mortals can be. But go on, do."

He couldn't stop himself. "I'm scared... because I always do the responsible thing. Take a job I hate to make money. Work long hours to get promoted. Buy a sensible car and live in a modest apartment. Forget about my art. Survive," he said. "I don't just do things because I want them."

Ember's finger traced a lazy circle on his lower back. "But you do want."

Benjamin could only barely choke back the impulsive thing that rose in his throat, the tide of need. "I think you know," he said. "I just don't want to be hurt."

"Your regrets will also hurt," said Ember. "You don't think it will hurt when age claims you, when your fire has been extinguished, when you remember a summer that will never come again, and recall all the things you wanted to do but didn't?"

It was hard to imagine. All his anxious mind could see was a near future where he'd made some fatal mistake, done everything wrong, ruined the life he'd spent so much time and effort and blood and tears building. He'd spent so much time escaping from his family that even now, he barely bothered to look at what was on the other side of the prison. Not being in prison was enough.

Ember couldn't be more different. He had the love and respect of his people, a world filled with beauty and creativity and debauchery and joy. He was always looking to drink in as much of it as possible, as though pleasure now could stave off the inevitable doom.

Maybe it could, and he just couldn't bring himself to reach out and claim it.

"I can't," he said.

"Lying, again? Even now?"

"I'm not lying. I can't," said Benjamin. "I can't -- yet."

"Yet."

"Yet." He knew what it meant to speak that word to a fairy king for whom words were both law and currency. It was a promise, one that Ember would certainly hold him to.

Ember leaned over, resting his cheek on Benjamin's shoulder. "What are the conditions, then?"

"Time."

"A valuable thing. A steep price to pay. What do I get in return, if I give you time?"

Benjamin should have been expecting this, but in the haze of endorphins brought on by the massage and Ember's magic, his brain wasn't firing on all cylinders. What was something the fae wanted that wasn't him?

"A phone," he blurted. "I can get you your own phone, set it up to work for you."

Ember sat up, clearly interested. "I do want that. You know where I can procure one?"

"Well, the phone store..."

"You'll take me to the phone store, and negotiate with the humans there for a phone I can use?" he said, eyes shining. "And in exchange, I give you time? Time for me to pursue you? Time for your obvious desire for me to grow to unbearable levels?"

Benjamin swallowed hard, every alarm bell ringing. "Well, I --"

Ember pulled him backwards into an embrace, warm hands against his chest and lips tickling his ear. "I accept your offer."

It was increasingly difficult to think with Ember's flirtations, and Benjamin was still uncertain about what did and did not count as binding when it came to the faefolk, but he was reasonably sure he'd locked himself into this the moment he'd offered the phone. "All right," he said. "Meet me here at noon Saturday." He could hear Ember's frown, and immediately amended. "Meet me in two sunrises, when the sun is high overhead."

"I'll be there. I won't forget," he said. "And you'll keep your promise as well."

"Of course."

"So reliable. That's one of the reasons you'd make a most excellent consort, you know. You could make all the schedules and lists and plans you want, but instead of doing it in an office, you could do it entangled in flowers at my feet."

"And then I could watch as you gleefully tear the schedules and lists and plans up."

His laugh was like bells. "You understand perfectly," he said, falling over into Benjamin's lap. "But in truth, the harvest preparations are weighing heavily on my mind. It takes so much time, time that could be better spent charming you, or at least creating our matching outfits for the harvest ball."

Benjamin sighed. "I'm sorry, Ember, I don't really have time for -- did you just say matching outfits?"

"Yes, they're going to be splendid! I've been gathering the finest of the sunflowers and fallen leaves. I'll even make sure your nether regions are covered, since I know that's important to your kind for some reason."

"I -- don't --" Any relaxation from Ember's shoulder rub had gone. "I didn't agree to this. This is the first time you've brought this up. You didn't even invite me."

"Oh, yes. The harvest ball will occur half a moon from the moment when the roundest pumpkin will be plucked, and you must attend."

"How the hell am I supposed to know when -- never mind, it doesn't matter, because I definitely did not agree to this."

"Don't worry! You'll be there." Ember's eyes sparkled.

"That is not what I'm worried about. You can't just decide things like that for me"

"I haven't decided anything! I just know that you're going to be there," he said, sitting up. "Anyway, it's getting dark. I had better return to my crucially important duties before I'm missed. We're spinning spider's webs tonight, and if they aren't dyed exactly the right shades of violet, my subjects' clothes will be drab and disappointing."

"That sounds like a real emergency."

"Yes, you understand," said Ember with the utmost seriousness as he opened the window and made a low, haunting bird call. "I'll see you at the phone store, my honeybee. I'll bring the finest of the early harvest flowers and fruits to negotiate with."

"That really won't be necessary. Or helpful."

But Ember wasn't listening, because a mourning dove had answered his call. He turned and winked at Benjamin, and in a flash he was a few inches tall and on the back of the bird. Benjamin went to the window and watched as he flew into the sunset, and then flopped back down onto his couch.

He'd agreed to take Ember to the phone store. What had he been thinking? The answer was that he wasn't, that whatever whammy Ember had cast on him had diminished his better judgement. He should've just offered to buy Ember a phone from the internet to stop him from kidnapping hikers, but no. Now he was committed, and going back on a promise to the fairy king was an even worse idea than taking him to a store.

Benjamin's gaze traveled to the carrots sitting on the table. He shouldn't. He knew he was already starting to get addicted to the food of the fae realm, and the harvest ball would only make that worse -- because he already knew in his heart he'd end up going. All the more reason not to touch them, to throw them out.

But it'd been a long day.

He picked up a carrot and ate it without even washing or skinning it. It was more delicious than it had any right to be.

Masterlist

There will likely be more of these two when I get my ideas together for them! Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see.

#faefolk #fae #faerie #possessive #unhealthy relationships #light angst #whump #fairy king

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