#calling him delusional or just waving him aside

[lunastars21]

Since were all freaking out over the Fang miniseries...This song reminds me of if Bark and Bean left, Fang tried to apologise, and was rejected:

https://youtu.be/WxGqp5sobok

Omg this is a bop!

Definitely does click with fang too

I'm glad I'm not the only one freaking out about this comic series, even if it's a small majority of people.

[seaslugfanclub]

These Aren’t the Candy Stripers, but They’ll Do

Hades, Jafar, Captain Hook x Sick!Reader

————————————————————————

“Uuuuughhhh”

“Wh- ew, the hell’s wrong with you?”

Hades stared down in mild disgust at (Y/N)’s collapsed body, Hook who was knelt besides them petting their hair, looked up at the god,

“The poor dog’s sick, that’s what. Pallor as a corpse and twice as clammy.”

“Oh. Yeeesh kid, why even bother showin’ up today?”

“Well I asked them the same thing, and all I got in response was them mumbling something about ‘attaining bread’… their fever must’ve made the poppet delusional.” Hook lifted (Y/N) up from beneath their shoulders, their body now limply resting against his own.

Hades rubbed the back of his neck, a slight pang of worry sparking in his chest as (Y/N) hacked into their arm. He remembered how mortals used to keel over from these types of things….

“Searching for sourdough aside, they can’t be here.”

“You don’t say?” Hook cooed sarcastically, “well what do you suggest we do?”

The flames atop Hades head flickered, the god hemming and hawing, before snapping his fingers.

“Why, we take ‘em home of course!”

Hook stared, his thin mustache twitching as he tried to conceal the sneer threatening to overtake his face. (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably at Hooks tightening grasp.

“Blow me down, that’s just a marvelous idea! We’ll just tell the management that we’ll be leaving company grounds, driving a car that neither of us know how to use to (Y/N)’s home that we don’t know the location of! Brilliant old sport!!”

Hades looked down at the foppish pirate, nonplussed, before spreading his arms out

“James- pal—“

“You don’t get to call me James.”

“…James, pal— I think you forget the company that you’re in. We just happen to be amongst some of the slimiest, conniving, intelligent schmucks ever dreamed up. Here- pick ‘em up and walk with me.”

Against Hooks better judgement, he obliged to the god. Lifting the delirious attendant in his arm and following Hades down the hall.

“Me and a few others ‘ave been speaking about this for a while, y’know— letting bygone be bygones and getting our Σκατά together.”

“And why haven’t been included in these… ‘discussions’?” Hook asked, feeling slightly offended at being un-included

Hades waved his hands, “Ah, not important! This isn’t about you, it’s about our sweet (Y/N) getting proper home rest.”

Looking away from Hades after his dismissal of Hooks question, he realized where the god had been leading the trio, the door to Jafars room slightly open.

Hades, not even considering knocking, swung open the door to reveal Jafar, who was sat at his work desk and buffing his turban.

“WHA— Do you ever knock!?!?”

“What are you, a teenage girl? C’mon. (Y/N)’s sick and we’re taking ‘em home, time to do what we talked about.”

Jafar looked past Hades broad figure at Hook, then down at (Y/N) in his arms. Even in their feverish state, they managed to raise their arm in greeting. The irritated look across his face softened a bit.

“Ah, well then. Give me a moment”

Jafar stood from his seat, grabbing his turban off its stand and placing it back on his head. He then reached down to pick up his staff that rested beside him.

“Who is it we need to persuade?”

“Persuade? Just what in Neptunes name are two blithering about!?” Hook finally interrupted, his patience already strung thin.

“Patience Captain, it will all be explained in a moment~ Now Hades, please lead the way.” Jafar walked toward the trio, joining them in the hallway. He leaned over (Y/N), eyes furrowed as he watched sweat roll down their forehead.

“Oh, they really don’t look good.”

“Exactly, that’s why we need to have a talk with their shift supervisor about taking them home.” Hades began down the hall, not waiting for the others to catch up.

————————————————————————

“Are you two positive this will work?”

“I didn’t become the royal vizier through sheer luck. It’s best you have some faith in me.”

The group stood outside the (Y/N)’s shift supervisors office. Hades rested against the wall with (Y/N) in his arms, Hook needing a break after carrying them for at least an hour.

“They’ve been here long enough, let’s get them the rest they deserve.” Jafar said, rapping his knuckles against the door, “Watch a professional at work.”

The office door opened, the supervisor failing to hide his shock at the sight of the villains.

“Oh! Uh—Jafar? What’s up?”

Jafar gestured towards (Y/N) with his staff, the motion hiding the ruby eyes of the cobra beginning to glow.

“Your hardworking employee, (Y/N), has fallen ill. You will let them off early and give them a fully paid sick leave.”

The supervisors eyes glazed over, the red glow from the staff reflecting off his irises.

“Sick?….of course…they deserve rest..”

Hook stared in shock, having never seen Jafars powers up close before. Hades didn’t care to look, a satisfied smirk growing on his face as he used his heat to keep (Y/N) from shivering.

Jafar grinned, stifling a chuckle as he held his staff closer towards the shift supervisor’s face,

“We will also be taking our darling attendant home, so clear our schedules as well.”

The man muttered something incoherent, turning stiffly towards his work computer, most likely to log (Y/N) sick leave.

Jafar closed the door, turning around to the mildly horrified Hook and a very pleased Hades.

“Look at you, stretch face! Seems like you still got it!” Hades praised, adjusting his hold of (Y/N) to give the sorcerer a flaming thumbs up.

“Yes, now that the… ‘official’ side of this has been dealt with, let’s get the dear home. Are their keys in their locker?”

“Ooh~ way ahead of ya!” With a flick of his wrist, plumes of smoke accumulated in his palm, before disappearing to reveal (Y/N)’s bag.

“Here, catch.” Hades threw the bag at Hook, who fumbled to grab it with his hand, still very much in shock.

“Wha— how- You can use your magic!?” Hook manage to get out, following behind Hades and Jafar towards the exit of the studio. “I thought they left your magic behind when they brought us all here!?”

“Yeah, so did we. That was actually true for a while, but a few weeks back Maleficent sprouted a thorn bush through the floor during one of her fits.”

A slightly yellowed exit sign hung over the back doors of the studio, the employees parking lot visible through the glass of the doors. With a push, Jafar opened the exit doors, letting Hades crouch through the doorframe, Hook following suit, the pirate quickly thanking Jafar.

“So— of course she told us all, and after a few tests ourselves, some of our magic was returning.”

“But not in full, that little trick of mine back there used up all my energy. But it was more magic compared to a few weeks ago,”

Jafar turned to look at Hook, a near manic smile on his face,

“We’re getting our power back.”

————————————————————————

They made their way down the rows of cars, each of them still unfamiliar with modern day technology.

“So, which one of these machines belongs to (Y/N)?” Jafar asked, playing with the feather atop his turban

“If I had to guess, it’d be that beast there.” The Captain gestured with his hook towards a specific car. The car displayed a strange custom license plate, with stickers of (Y/N)s favorite media covering the sides of the trunk window, one specific sticker proudly reading ‘I���️dilfs’.

“Yep, that’s the one.”

Hook opened (Y/N)’s bag, rummaging around before pulling out a lanyard at least 2 pounds heavy with the amount of keychains on it.

“Oh, for the love of—”

Combing through the keychains finally reveals a set of car keys.

Hades took the keys from Hook and pressed the button to unlock the doors.

“Alright get in. Here—Jafar, you sit with (Y/N) in the back. James, you get passenger seat.”

After some glorified hot potato with (Y/N)s body, everyone got into their seats. Their attendants head resting on Jafars lap as Hades and Hook fiddled with the dashboard. Hades put the keys into the ignition like he’d seen on Tv, but anything after that stumped him.

“This isn’t like any boat I’ve ever steered..”

“No kidding, this isn’t exactly a chariot ride either. But that’s where I put my title of god to good use.”

A look of concentration passed over Hades face, his brows furrowed as he gripped the steering wheel. After a minute, tiny blue flames traveled down Hades arms and across the steering wheel and dashboard. In a flash of heat, the car started, engine rumbling and lights on.

“YES! Hades rules!!” The god cheered, pumping his fists and singeing the roof of the car.

Hook flinched at the sudden movement, gripping the leather seat and slightly tearing it with his hook.

Hades turned towards the men, moving his eyebrows,

“Check this out~”

The car began to slowly reverse, Hades hands nowhere near the wheel. The car steered itself out of the parking spot and began to drive out of the employee lot.

“Incredible…” Hook whispered to himself, even Jafar was silently impressed.

Somehow, (Y/N) broke through unconsciousness, looking around blearily,

“I didn’t buy a plan ticket…?”

“Don’t worry (Y/N), this puppy already knows where to go. Just hold tight and rest up.”

“Ah.. just wake me up when we land..” they mumbled as their fever overtook them.

“I forget (Y/N) has a life outside of us,” Jafar mused, “I wonder what little hovel they call home..”

————————————————————————

When Jafar called (Y/N)s home a Hovel, he had only been partly joking, he didn’t expect his darling to live somewhere like…this.

The car had managed to drive the forty five minute long journey to (Y/N)s house without incident, save for the confused looks from drivers in passing cars. But as closer the car grew to (Y/N)s home, so did the men’s concern.

“Blimey, I’ve seen pirate coves in better condition..” Hook grimaced.

“Yeah no kiddin’… I thought for a second that this car took a wrong turn into the underworld.” Hades chuffed, squinting out the window at a raccoon making off with what seemed like full pack of beer.

The car slowly pulled into a parking lot of a dingy apartment complex, stopping neatly between some other cars and turning off.

“Well— let’s get ‘em home.” Hades ordered, everyone getting out of the car and walking towards the complex. It seemed like no one was outside their apartments, but the villains didn’t want to take any chances, quickly hurrying to a partially covered area.

Hades looked down at (Y/N)s body, which was now being carried by Jafar, and began to slightly nudge their shoulder.

“Babe— Kid, wake up.”

(Y/N) coughed, blinking away sleep to look up at the god.

“We’re here. What’s your apartment number?”

It took a few minutes for the question to be processed before (Y/N) finally responded, the number just barely being whispered out before falling back asleep.

“I don’t like how unresponsive they’ve been, we need to get them to bed.” Hook murmured, taking the lead.

Hook read each individual address before stopping at the correct number. Hades fished the keys out of his chiton, and unlocked the faux wooden door, revealing (Y/N)s home.

The men gaped at the interior. The inside of (Y/N)s apartment was a polar opposite to the filth and chintzy neighborhood. Sure—the apartment was a glorified broom closet, but (Y/N) had managed to work with the space, decorating the interior as tastefully as their budget allowed.

The walls were covered in art prints and photographs of (Y/N)s family, and every surface was covered in trinkets. Even the air smelt like them, a mix of natural musk and their favorite detergent.

For a moment, the villains felt like they were intruding on some sacred space, never having been surrounded by so much… (Y/N), before.

Jafar pushed past the others, walking towards (Y/N)s unmade bed. The rested the attendant down on the mattress, taking their shoes off and pulling the covered over their body.

“Well at least they’re in a proper bed,” Jafar mused “I’ll check the washroom for anything to break their fever.”

Hook looked down at (Y/N), whose pained expression had now softened at being in bed. He strained his mind to remember what his mother had done when he was sick, everything before Neverland was a blur, but through hazy scenes and faces he remembered a blurry bowl of soup being presented to him.

“They’ll need something to take the medicine with. I’ll look through the dears kitchen for something to cook up.” The pirate spoke up, looking up at Hades for confirmation before walking into the small kitchen across from (Y/N)s bed.

That left Hades alone, standing at the foot of (Y/N)s bed. For a moment he just watched the rising and falling of their chest, the sight of a living body being almost uncomfortably unfamiliar.

A shine caught Hades eye, his attention turning towards the picture frame on (Y/N)s bedside table. Other than an empty glass and some medication bottles, the photograph was the only thing noteworthy near his park attendants bed.

Hades leaned down, taking the photograph into his hands for a closer look, only to nearly drop it when he realized what this photo was.

It was the picture that (Y/N) had taken of all the Villains in the studio, after the 100th year anniversary celebration. Each Villains expression a range of confusion and joy. Thinking back to that day, Hades was sure that was the first time any of the Villains were actually happy since they were brought to ‘life’.

And here it was, neatly displayed in an expensive looking frame.

“Geez kid… we-” Hades paused, for the first time in his miserable existence, he was at a loss for words.

“We really mean something to you, don’t we?..”

————————————————————————

The feeling of something cool against their head was what woke (Y/N) up. They cursed at their consciousness, being met with a headache.

For a moment they just stayed still, trying to remember why they were asleep in the first place.

They knew that they woke up with a fever, and tried to push through it, but everything after that was a blur. All they remember was the sensation of being carried, and….being on a plane?

(Y/N) opened their eyes, rubbing the crust away before reaching towards the wet sensation on their forehead. Pulling away the object, they saw it was an old washcloth.

“What…”

Groggy and a little anxious at not being able to recall most of their day, (Y/N) sat up, now realizing they were in bed…back in their apartment.. still dressed in their work clothes..

“Poppet!”

(Y/N)s eyes darted towards their kitchen, mouth falling open in shock at the sight of Hook in their apron, holding a ladle. The man had a rare smile, furthering (Y/N)s confusion.

“James? Wh—am I still dreaming?”

Hook gave them an odd look, before shaking his head and disappearing into the kitchen.

“Oh no, dear. This is actually the first time you’ve woken since we brought you home.” Hook spoke before calling out, “They’re awake, men!”

Shuffling was heard beyond (Y/N)s bed, Hades and Jafar rushing towards their attendant.

“Kid!! How’r ya feeling?”

“You had us worried half to death, I had half the mind to begin blood letting to release the bad humors myself.”

(Y/N) just stared at the men, processing everything that is happening before croaking out,

“I’m pulling through…but what the hell??”

“You collapsed at work (Y/N).” Hades spoke, using (Y/N)s real name to relay his seriousness. “Hook found ya in the hallway with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. We took it upon ourselves to bring you home!”

“…Okay…” (Y/N) nodded, “how?”

“We drove you home, of course!” Jafar grinned. “We’ll tell you all the details later, long conversations aren’t fitting for a fever.”

“Aye, that’s why we’re here, who best to take care of you than the greatest minds ever drawn?” Hook finally walked into the bedroom, holding a steaming bowl. He cut through the others, placing the bowl into (Y/N)’s hands.

“Here, love. You need something in your stomach to for the medicine to take effect.”

(Y/N) managed to break their eyes away from the men, taking the bowl and bringing it to their lips, lightly blowing before taking a long sip.

The soup was… edible. (Y/N) could tell Hook had used measly ingredients left over in the kitchen. The soup being a strange amalgamation of tinned fish and wilted herbs, but still, it sat warm in (Y/N)s stomach.

“Thank you for the soup, James” (Y/N) spoke, their voice now clearer from the warm broth, “I’m already feeling better.”

Hook preened, ignoring the withering looks from Hades and Jafar.

“No, seriously. Thank you, guys. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up, I know I’m not that popular amongst the rest of the staff, so if it wasn’t for you I think I would’ve driven my self home. That, or crawl my way to your lounge like a leper.” (Y/N) looked down at the bowl, a little embarrassed at their genuineness.

“If I didn’t have snot running down my nose right now, I’d give you all kisses to show my thanks!” They grinned, trying to break the tension.

The men all had varying degrees of reaction, each of them shifting between flustered and disgust.

“Save the sap for later, kid. We’ll figure out how you can repay us tomorrow, as well as give you all the exhilarating details on how we got you here.” Hades ruffled (Y/N)s hair, ignoring their groans in protest.

“That’s right darling, just worry about breaking that fever. We’ll be here until you’re well again~” Jafar mused, giving a wave of his hand and turning towards (Y/N)s couch, planning on making the most of their extensive movie collection.

“Aye, especially since our schedules have been cleared! We might even have us a day for you to show us around! I’ve always wanted to see the beaches here…” Hook readjusted the covers on (Y/N)s body.

Hades and Hook left (Y/N)s side, going to join Jafar on the couch, leaving their attendant tucked into bed.

…

“Wait—what do you mean our schedules are cleared? WHAT DID YOU GUYS DO—!?”

————————————————————————

Yay!! This has been in the works for a while! I’ve been wanting to iron out the timeline of the Villains, and if they still had their powers after being brought to reality. I headcannon that Disney took away there powers, but after a while the Villains got them back.

I had Covid a month ago (The day I had to help my sister move), and when I was sick in bed all I wanted was to be doted on, so this is super self indulgent

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Seventeen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] warning: suicidal ideation no smut this chapter sorryyyy

Info: the boy is going through it. [diary entries from Ani {dates are odd but I promise it’ll make sense later}] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

September 9th, 11:53 pm

Anakin immediately reacted to your sudden, startled jolt. The gasp you’d inhaled had him momentarily concerned you may have hurt yourself in some way, it sounded pained and although he wasn’t sure what it could’ve been, that didn’t mean he could dismiss the idea entirely.

”You okay babydoll? What happened?” He asked, setting aside his Xbox controller to give you his full attention.

”Yeah!” You squeaked, nodding your head quickly, though your movements were perceived as slow by you. “Yeah, just uh, one of those weird ‘almost asleep but suddenly I’m falling’ things.”

”Oh…” He nodded, relaxing a little bit. “Do you need me to get you some water or something? That kind of thing is stress induced you know.”

”Yes.” You swallowed hard, fighting a lump in your throat that just refused to diminish. “I know, uh I think maybe I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

“Well, alright.” He said, giving you a critical once-over before waving you off and returning to his game.

Scurrying off to the bathroom in the most awkward way you possibly could, you shut the door with a bit more strength than anticipated, causing Anakin to call out and check on you. One forced ‘all good’ later, you were sitting on the closed toilet lid with your head in your hands. The initial panic was beginning to fade now that you’d removed yourself from the situation, making room for fear to frost over your skin and halt your critical thinking.

Ghost could be anyone, logically you know that. So there is no reason to fly off the handle and accuse someone you care deeply about of committing many, many crimes. There isn’t any way for you to peacefully have such a conversation without it feeling like an attack. In the event you are wrong, such an assumption would no doubt spell the end of the one and only stable, loving relationship you’ve ever had.

If you’re right… well.

But you’re not. Of course you’re not, how could Anakin be capable of some of the things, any of the things Ghost has done? He’s a gentle giant, the guy who would rather scoop up spider in his bare hands to set it outside instead of squashing it. He makes you feel special and adored, your moments with him are calm and caring. He’s practically the polar opposite of Ghost.

Ghost has his moments, few and far between, where he is more than the mask. The moments when he’s less grey and more moral. Less animal and more man. He’s what you’d expect a jar of licorice would be like personified. The candy no one likes, the one that gets over looked and outright hated on. But the people who actually like licorice, they defend it until their dying breath and it seems like you’ve become quite fond of the bitter sweetness and the tough to chew exterior. Once you get past it, it’s really not so bad. Just like Ghost.

you shook yourself out of the stupor you were in, standing up to turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, hoping to startle some sense back into yourself. After patting the sensitive skin dry, you pulled out your phone and promptly brought up your own contact info, dialing the number to call Ghost. It rang, once, twice, three times before disconnecting. He had hung up on you.

He had never hung up on you before this moment. While you knew he had every right to ignore you, perhaps never even speak to you again… you couldn’t let this go. So you tried again and again and-

‘What do you want?’ The text chimed through just before you could hit the call button one last time.

‘I think we should talk soon.’

’Why the fuck do you want that? You’re calling me this late for that? You should be groveling for forgiveness.’

‘This is me groveling?’ You audibly huffed at his response, waiting for him to send a follow up or not.

‘You can do better than that. I’ve seen you beg for cock, you know how to grovel.’ He responded.

‘Does it matter?’

’yes.’ Was the simple reply, short and sweet and read in his voice he uses when he snaps at you.

‘Nevermind.’

’fuck off.’

’Really?’ Outwardly scoffing at the text when it popped up on your screen.

‘Oh no, did I hurt the baby’s feelings?’

‘I should be meaner.’

‘But I won’t.’

Three texts in a row, three texts all containing completely different tones. Sarcastic, irritated, and ‘pissed but i still love you’. You thought about replying, started typing out a message but erased it, only to do it again. Finally you decided against replying at all, turning off your sound and putting the phone back into your pocket, flushing the toilet for appearances sake and running the water again.

You planned to head back to the living room, but saw that Anakin was cleaning up… sloppily, but still. He was straightening out the throw pillows and blankets, returning his controller to its spot beside the tv and pushing all the stuff on the coffee to one side, then calling it finished.

“Anakin. Are you alright?” You asked, standing in the entryway to the very short hall.

“Yes.” The word short and clipped.

“You sure?” Your voice was meek, timid, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want to sound… nit-picky or anything; it’s just that your cleaning habits seem to have changed and I know how you are about having a clean space.”

“The first thing you say to me after coming back from the worlds longest piss is ‘hey why’s your house messy?’ Really?” He scoffed, his eyes flickering down to your hands, your pockets.

“I don’t mean it like that.” You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together in a show of frustration. “I’m just worried that’s all, you never leave stuff like this, especially before bed.”

“No, no.” Anakin waved your half-apology off like he didn’t care to hear anymore from you. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get right on it.”

“Hey, it’s late. Don’t-“

“Shut up alright? Just… just go to bed.” Anakin snapped, shooting a glare over his shoulder at you.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?” You asked quietly, your face morphing into something resembling disappointment. He’d said that to you jokingly plenty of times, but this time, you knew without a doubt he meant it. The way it was delivered spoke volumes to how he was feeling.

Anakin sighed, turning around to run both hands through his hair and ruffle it up frustratedly. His arms crossing over his chest tightly, clenching his fists with his jaw set firmly, the muscle rolling beneath the skin when he gritted his teeth.

“I am sorry.” He said enunciated every syllable, almost looking through you rather than at you.

“Is it because of the pill?” You asked, meaning only to understand the situation better, though causing it to worsen.

“What an astute observation baby!” Anakin sneered, throwing his hands up frustratedly. “Wow. Now if only you could poke your cute little head a bit farther out of your ass. Yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Questioning him didn’t seem like the best option currently, but what else were you supposed to do?

“It… it really doesn’t matter.” He grumbled, spinning away from you to walk toward his kitchenette. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll feel better if I clean up. I’ve just been so stressed.” He hissed the last word, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Can- will you let me help at least? It’ll get done quicker.” You offered, trying to be helpful might distract him and you from everything else.

“No.” He sighed, his hands laced behind his head, his shirt riding up just a bit as he leaned backward to stretch. “No, I want to do it. Just go to bed. Please?”

“Kisses?” You asked quietly, clasping your hands in front of you awkwardly.

“Yeah, yes of course.” Anakin softened, coming toward you with open arms and an odd expression on his face.

Pretty, clear, sapphire eyes rake over your visibly anxious body. He seemed stuck between barreling past you to lock himself in the bedroom, scooping you up to hold and console you, maybe even smacking you if you spoke a few more tart words.

He did none of those. Instead he gingerly touched your face and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his expression unchanging in an uncomfortable way. His gaze piercing straight through you, burning upon entry and icing over at the exit. The muscles all relaxed save for the few pulling the corners of his mouth downward in a subtle frown. You hated it when he went blank like this, his emotions were completely unreadable, his skin taking on the properties of stone to stay cemented in place. A physical example of someone taking brick and mortar to their heart and mind.

“C’mon. I’ll put you to bed.” He said softly, nodding toward the closed bedroom door.

Turning the handle and pushing the door open, he led you into the cozy space that you were so hesitant to enter earlier. You braced yourself to have your fear confirmed, thinking you may find a hair band that didn’t belong to you, a false eyelash, the scent of someone new on your pillowcase. But as you walked to your side of the bed, stepping over a few stray clothes in the floor, you surveyed the nightstands, his was uncharacteristically crowded with cups and a collection of gum wrappers, yours was just the way you left it.

Technically, your ‘nightstand’ was really just half of his dresser. What wasn’t occupied by his large and ever growing hoard of shiny chains and oversized jewelry, rings, belts, wrist cuffs and the like; was home to a few of your things. It was mostly just for convenience sake, you did live just across the hall. All you really needed here was a little pink basket with your name sharpied on it that he’d bought for you containing all your ‘girlish possessions’.

Hair bands, bobbi pins, a scrunchie and a large hair clip tucked away in a small, clear plastic case that lay at the bottom of the basket. He even got your brand of mascara, concealer, foundation, blush and lipgloss in a cute heart shaped makeup bag. Among the other items he’d gotten for you were a hair brush, perfume, deodorant, a phone charger, your very own reusable water bottle (so you’d stop crawling over him and chugging his water at 2:00am), and a pink shark plushie that only slept in his bed when you were there.

You’d added your own items of course, your favorite shirt of his, some clean underwear and a pair of shorts and socks. Sometimes you just can’t be bothered to walk across the hall for such trivial things. It’d be nice to have a drawer like he has at your place, but the poor boy has so many clothes the things hardly close at all. So your basket serves you just fine.

After grabbing the charger and scrunchie you climbed in bed, already in pajamas. Already in pajamas. You moved from the mattress like you’d been burned, searing, scorching guilt licking at your palms to make them sweat. Anakin had been to distracted by picking up his dirty clothes and tossing them in the laundry basket tucked inside his closet to notice your knee-jerk reaction to the reminder that you were still in the clothes, still in the panties, that Ghost had lovingly peeled off your lustful flesh.

The panties that still had a little wet spot in the crotch, the ones he’d taken off just before your confession. The ones he threw at you in grieving anguish as he left you behind for the night. Thank the gods for those extra clothes, you grabbed them and swiftly went across the hall, passing a befuddled Anakin who watched you as you walked with purpose to the bathroom.

You couldn’t sleep next to him in that sinned in fabric. Even if he was being a complete ass, he didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. So you freshened up and changed clothes, rolling the dirty ones into a tight ball as if it’d squeeze out some of the shame before you tossed it in his laundry basket. Tying up your hair loosely to keep it out of your face, you brushed your teeth and then returned to the bedroom, opening the closet and dropping the clothes into the laundry basket without a second glance.

Anakin was laying face down across the foot of the bed with his arms limp at his sides, lifting his head to rest his chin on the blankets when he felt your weight subtly pushing down against the soft memory foam. His eyes flickered a shade lighter than before at the sight of you, though they quickly returned to the flat, unfeeling eyes you rarely saw.

“Why’d you change?” He asked, his voice rumbling tiredly in his chest.

“Just… wanted to feel clean before bed I guess.” You answered, looking down at your lap where your hands rested palms up.

“Clean.” He scoffed, nodding his head. “Okay.”

“What?” You snapped at him, irritated by his tone or perhaps feeling a bit agitated by being questioned on such a sensitive topic.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He sighed, giving you a lopsided, half-hearted smile. “Let’s get you to sleep.”

You didn’t verbally respond, not pleased with his response or the way it was delivered. Simply pulling up the covers to your chin while Anakin situated himself atop the blankets with an arm tossed over you, groaning because he realized the lamp was still on. So he rolled to his side of the bed, reaching out with his right arm to pull the chain. He audibly hissed as though the movement hurt him, turning your head to watch as he rolled back over with a scowl on his face. Not one of anger, but one of swallowed pain.

“You okay?” You asked softly, shifting to face him as his left hand snuck under the blanket to lace his fingers with yours. There was just enough light filtering through the open bedroom door for you to see the annoyance flash over his features.

“I’m sore.” His tone flat again. “Pulled a muscle or something I think.”

“I can rub your back if you want?” You offered quietly, reaching out to gently feather your fingers over the fabric of his tshirt.

“Appreciate the thought darlin’ but I don’t think it’d help. It hurts to touch.” He said, a genuine appreciation in his voice. It was nice to hear some real emotion from him, it relaxed you, knowing he might be coming out of whatever emotional episode he’d fell into.

“I’ve been putting Arnica on it.” He added, scrunching and wiggling his nose like it itched.

“Arnica? Like the stuff for bruises?” You asked confusedly.

“No.” He said sharply, rolling his eyes. “I mean, yes but no. It helps with swelling too.”

“Oh,” You nodded, taking his word for it to avoid anymore upset. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help.”

“Well, you can’t.” He said. You didn’t take it as a jab, although the words fell hard from his lips, you knew he probably just meant it as a matter of fact statement, so you nodded in acceptance.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over his forearm.

“Once I get everything picked up.” He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Listen… today has been a train wreck, I have been a train wreck. I really am sorry.” He whispered, true emotion finally shining through in both his words and his expression.

“It’s okay. It’s just a bad day. Everyone has bad days.” You said softly, looking at him with sympathy. “I haven’t helped the situation I know.”

“I could’ve handled it better.” He sighed.

You shrugged. “Let’s not play the blame game. No one wins that one.”

“True.” He gave you a small but meaningful smile accompanied by a squeeze of your hand.

“Will you wake me when you come back?” You asked, your eyelids getting heavy after Anakin’s release of emotion, it calmed you, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed upset.

“Sure, why?” His eyebrows knitted together as he smoothed out a loop in your loose ponytail.

“Just cause.” You said quietly, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “I want to know you’re here.”

“Cute.” His voice affectionate as he let out a little chuckle. “I love you too.” He whispered.

“I know.” You nodded, still unable to say it.

You just couldn’t. You couldn’t before, you definitely can’t now. You’d already confessed it to someone else, someone who you probably should’ve ran from, got a restraining order against and begged until they locked him away. But that’s just love isn’t it? It makes you do crazy things.

Crazy things like betraying your dutiful and loyal partner with lustful trysts that should’ve never happened. Wild things like getting railed more times than a two dollar whore in the span of 24 hours by two separate men, one of whom being completely anonymous. Your sister would be appalled if she ever discovered that you were fucked with so little respect that you���d been sliced open and loved every second of it. In actuality, you wouldn’t mind doing it again.

All the things love tricked you into doing, you continued to allow and you would do so until the idolatry buried you alive.

Insanely deranged things like killing a man. Your panicked shooting indirectly causing another’s death by your lover’s hands. Perplexing things like the remorse fading in less than a day, the grief of extracting a human’s soul like that should’ve haunted you for life. But if it weren’t for your fear of being caught, you might’ve forgotten it by now.

Even if you could let those words slip through your soldered lips, you’re not sure that the barbs on your tongue would stop you from confessing more than just your love.

Or is it even that?

What if it’s not love and simply security and a devotion to the stability Anakin provides? What if you’re taking advantage of his kindness and trust in you, using him for the best of his qualities and his unwavering faith in you? Could you be so cruel and callous, is it possible you may feel indebted to him in some way and your heart is misinterpreting that for love?

Maybe it’s your subconscious, your self-preservation trying to crack through the deliberately placed cage in your mind. The dank corner of your mind where you squirrel away unmentionables, undesirables and guilessly horrid thoughts and memories. These days it’s getting fuller and fuller, the barrage of incoming files seemed never ending. The curator inside must be struggling, grasping at the iron bars in hopes to come out with only a few paper cuts. If just one of those bars bend, a flood may come running out and you’re positive that sort of unloading might turn you toward madness.

Diary Entry: September 9th

You’re finally asleep. God I wish I knew about your sleeping pills. Then I could’ve just popped one between those soft lips and you’d have went to sleep so much faster but you haven’t told Anakin you take them. I felt like I had to wait for hours, staring at your pretty face. I loved the view of course, however I didn’t love the way your lip kept twitching like you were upset as you were falling asleep. You’re still upset.

You’re just going to have to get over it. I won’t do it again. It was a moment of weakness and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t take it back anymore than I can’t make the memory of it go away. One pill. That’s all. Forget it.

I cleaned everything up. I even scrubbed the kitchen floor just to get some tension out. I’ve ruined my scrub brush, the bristles are all bent out of shape now.

When I went to check the bathroom and see if anything needed tidied up, I noticed my drawer hadn’t been closed properly, I know I didn’t open it. So it must’ve been you. Nosy bitch.

Well. I need a new hiding spot. Or maybe it’s just time to let that shit go. It’s not like I need twelve pair of panties and the other little trinkets I’ve stolen from you. I can take things and not have to hide it anymore.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 9th continued

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I never knew what i was doing but now i just feel like I’m paddling through shit creek with my bare hands and a wooden barrel for a boat.

My world is falling apart and I have no one to pray to because my goddess is just as rudderless as I am. How did i fuck up so badly and how the hell am I supposed to fix it when I just keep making it worse? I feel like I’m losing it, actually, truly losing it. I need guidance and the one person who has always been able to give me that is more lost than I am. I’m not meant to be a leader.

How can I bring you back from the dark when you are my light?

Is it even possible to atone for the things I’ve done or should I do worse and hope it cancels it out? Obviously I won’t try that because you can’t really get much worse than what I’ve done without doing some truly heinous things. See? I am capable of listening to the voice of reasoning I so often ignore.

You ignore yours too. I know you do or else we never would’ve made it this far. I used to think it was because you’re just a fucking idiot. I’ve come to the understanding that you are willfully ignorant.

I can’t even blame you. I can’t, not when I’m the one who set us up for this. It’s my fault and I’m just waiting for the window of your soul to chop me in half like a guillotine the next time I try to crawl through. You gave me such a slim opening and I was barely able to wrench myself away in time to only lose a few metaphorical fingers. The me inside my mind has yet to staunch the flow from the loss.

I know now why you won’t say it. Because you did say it. Just not to me, not to the me I made for you. I don’t know how to feel… relieved maybe, but I can’t help imagine it’s a bit unhealthy. For you I mean. I’m perfectly fine being the way I am, though I never meant to share the worst parts of me with you. Despite knowing, witnessing, participating in such a thing; you still chose to tell Ghost you loved him before you told Anakin.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

Then, you went and confused me even farther and denied me the only organic opportunity to tell you who I am. I’ve already shown you. That was the whole point of continuing all this. I could’ve stopped when we started dating but I didn’t because I didn’t want to. I realize now, you didn’t want me to either. You’ve seen the me I curated and molded into perfection. The me that you deserve. You’ve always had the option to take him and leave the rest behind but you still haven’t and I can’t foresee a future where you will.

Do you love Ghost because he is real? Is he real? Am I?

Have I always been him and never Anakin? Sometimes I think yes. Others I wholeheartedly believe I made them both just for you. Deep down i know its not true, I know who I am. I am an undeserving man. It doesn’t matter what way you spin it,. It doesn’t matter how many me’s I create, I will never be good enough for you. You know that, don’t you?

Can you tell that it’s a half-truth? Is that why you can’t tell me you love me? You know there’s something missing, it’s an incomplete file. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve known all along that I’m a fraud. You’re the only one. Other than my mother of course and don’t you dare make some sort of Freudian joke, that’s just clichè.

You are the only person I haven’t been able to fool. Further proof you are who I believe you to be. A goddess. They have some sort of ‘all knowing’ ability, yes? I’ve compared you to the Greek’s Artemis and her sister-goddess Diana from Rome, Goddess of the hunt. And hunt you have, even on those wobbly legs of a fawn. You hunted, hungry to learn and grow until you’ve turned into the beautiful, powerful doe I knew you were destined to be. My Doe. My Goddess.

You wanted to see me and you did. So why wouldn’t you let me tell you?

Are you afraid? I am.

I’m so afraid I tried to numb myself. Though like the savior you’ve become so good at being, you saved me from myself again. How is it that you can appear at just the right moment? I would’ve taken that second pill had you not come out to stop me. I might’ve even taken all your sleeping pills. Because I am afraid, and what do cowards do when they are afraid? They take the coward’s way out, it’s called that for a reason.

Diary Entry: September 10th

I hate lying to you. I hate hiding things from you.

I hate myself for doing that. I know I didn’t have to but I felt like I did.

I hate myself.

Diary Entry: September 13th

God I’m so fucking frustrated. Why are you being like this!? I don’t deserve this. You tell me you love me, you stop me from showing you my face, and I got pissed so I left. I gave myself blue balls but I’m going to blame you for it because it’s your fault after all.

We’ve kissed, we’ve touched, you’ve straddled my hips and rubbed your warm, wet panties all over my boxers but you won’t let me fuck you. You won’t let me make love to you. You won’t even let me get a finger beneath those pretty panties that I paid for.

There’s only so much my hand is capable of.

What are you afraid of? Telling me you love me? Probably. Last time you fucked someone it slipped right out. What a shame it would be for you to say it to me again.

Date

September 15th

You scrubbed at yourself in the shower, contemplating the man troubles that have plagued you ever since that night you finally made up with Anakin. He’s been grumpy, overly asshole-ish and so unbearably stubborn for the past few days that he’s on thin ice, holding a heat gun over the weak spot. Nothing you say seems to help but it also doesn’t seem to hurt, so you’ve been in a perpetual game of hot potato. As long as you keep going around the circle you won’t get burned.

Ghost hasn’t spoken to you in over a week and you’re beginning to think he may never make an appearance again. He hasn’t left a message, a note, a gift. He hasn’t even been inside your apartment. Ghost had never ever been so neglectful. It’s to the point that you might call and report him missing if you were certain of who he was.

The cameras in your home had been so well hidden that you didn’t think you’d ever find them, turns out they’re pretty easy to spot when theyre low on battery and the damn thing flashes red while you’re trying to sleep. You had always assumed he had a camera in your room, but to have it confirmed and see that it’s directly above your bed… was one of the more uncomfortable aspects of the odd relationship between you.

It was so tiny you couldn’t believe that it actually functioned as a camera. You plucked it from the hiding spot on your ceiling fan and put it in your jewelry box along with all the other things that Ghost had left for you. It was kind of entertaining, like a weird game of eye-spy to see if you could find the others now that you knew what to expect. You hadn’t found them yet, but you knew it wouldn’t take long for the rest of them to need charging too.

Oddly enough, it made you a little sad to think that he might’ve stopped watching. You always imagined that when or if Ghost ever left your life that you’d be relieved. If you would’ve told the terrified mouse who’d woken up to a stranger with a knife all those months ago… that she’d be sitting in the shower floor mourning the loss, well, she’d send you to the fifth floor without hesitation.

You’d wracked your brain over and over again, grasping at any idea that seemed remotely plausible in hopes that you’d conjure up some elaborate plan to fix everything. No grand scheme had revealed itself yet, aside from faking your death and moving out of the country, but Luke would hold a grudge against your faux corpse. You had promised that he would be allowed to die first because he couldn’t bare the idea he might outlive you.

Luke.

Maybe it was time to tell Luke. You wouldn’t have to share all of it, you could even lie a little, make it less rapey and more romantic. Sans murder and add a dash of sweetness. It’s not like you’ve lived a single day of your life for the past few months without telling a handful of lies a day. What’s a few more?

Maybe you should threaten warn Ghost first. As a courtesy of course. He should know if you’re planning on spilling your guts to your best friend, it’s only fair. What’s Ghost going to do? Roll up to Luke’s apartment and duct tape your mouth shut? No.

You sighed, stepping out of the shower, half expecting to see Ghost sitting on the sink again, unfortunately he was not. Unfortunately.

You didn’t have time for this. You didn’t have time to mope about, you’re a girl with a job that you neglected for days on end and they were kind enough not to fire you. So long as you were okay with being on probation; you were of course. Finding another stable job in a city like this on such short notice would be nightmarish. Thank the gods you’re their best waitress.

Ever since you returned to work, Sara has forced you to wear a ‘trainee’ badge and all your regulars have bullied you endlessly for it. Those little old men may seem sweet and harmless but the moment they find something to poke fun at they turn into a pack of jackals. Today you’d be back to serving them coffee sans the trainee badge of shame. Unless of course you are late.

Hurriedly dressing in your uniform and fixing yourself up enough to be presentable, you sprinted out the door and down the steps, quick walking to your car. You’d be late if you leisurely walked to The Bluebird like you normally did. You’d made a habit of parking right next to Anakin’s vehicle, so you had to walk past it everytime you climbed in to yours. You’ve not used your car since you returned from your weekend getaway and Anakin’s car hadn’t been there when you arrived.

You hardly glanced at it anymore, being so used to seeing it there. It always looked the same. He always parked it the same, always backing it in to the spot. So you weren’t expecting anything different when you bent down to pick up the quarter next to his driver side door. It must’ve fallen out of the overflowing change cup he kept in the door pocket.

You smiled, seeing it was face up, taking it as a good luck sign. You needed some good luck, so you picked it up. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed something different about Anakin’s car. The tire.

Dirt. Real dirt. Not the city street gunk or the sand and gravel mixture in the back parking lot of The Cerulean. It was dark earth and grass, trapped in the grooves of the rubber. Where had he gone that he might’ve needed to drive over actual dirt?

——————————————————————————

“Hey doll.” Anakin’s deep voice appeared suddenly to your left, his hand on your back as he walked past you to take a seat at the counter while you finished up taking your table’s order.

You gave him a smile and trudged off to the kitchen, clipping the order slip to the line above the stovetop. As you came back out of the kitchen, you shoved your pad and pen back into your apron pocket, surveying your tables to make sure everything was as it should be before you stopped to talk with Anakin.

“What’s up Ani?” You asked, leaning on your elbows against the counter.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows, tonguing his labret piercing distractedly while he picked at his nail polish. “Oh, uh I just wanted to come say ‘hi’ before I had to go to work.” He said, giving you a little smile, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

“What’ve you been up to today?” You asked, turning around to get him a Pepsi, watching the liquid pour out and bubble up in the cup.

“What’ve you been doing?” He countered, taking the glass from you hesitantly, looking you over like he was searching for something.

“Just been at home and here.” You frowned, unwrapping a straw and popping it in his drink for him.

“Got plans or anything after work?” He asked, taking a sip through the straw.

“No? Sh-should I? Did I forget something?” You asked worriedly.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head, eyes flicking down to his drink and back up to you. “No I just want you to stay at my place tonight.” He said quietly.

“But you work tonight.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m aware.” He said with a snort, looking at you with a flat affect.

“I- I mean I’ll definitely stay.” You nodded. “I just guess I’m surprised.”

“Why?” He asked, curling up his top lip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at your place when you’ve been at work before.” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“You haven’t.” He confirmed, unfolding a napkin in front of him and laying it flat, ripping off tiny pieces.

“Well, first time for everything then huh?” You smiled, hoping to break him from the reeking attitude he was carrying around with him.

“Come out to my car with me.” Anakin wasn’t asking, not even instructing. He was demanding.

“Oh-okay just a second.” You nodded, walking toward the kitchen doorway. “Vigo! Anakin is here, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Yeah sure.” Vigo waved you off, tossing a towel over his shoulder before he flipped on the tap and began washing his hands.

You turned on your heel and expected to see Anakin sitting at the counter where you left him. Though as you untied your apron and tossed it under the counter, you scanned the diner and saw him nowhere. Instead, he was already heading out to his car, the ‘Open’ sign on the glass door of the restaurant swinging back and forth just proved he pulled it open with more force than necessary.

Peering through the glass as you approached the door, hand out to push it open, you spotted him leaned against his car with his arms crossed. His head down, staring at the blacktop beneath him until he jerked to the side, sensing your presence growing nearer.

“Get in.” Anakin opened the drivers side back door for you and gently ushered you inside. A big contrast to the gruff tone he spoke with.

“Yes sir.” You rolled your eyes, speaking sarcastically. It didn’t seem like Anakin thought it was just a good natured jab. Rather, he reacted like it was a personal attack.

He firmly grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it as he climbed into the back seat behind you. He let go just as quickly as he gripped it, wordlessly splaying his fingers across your scalp to apologetically massage your scalp.

“What the hell was that for?” You scowled, batting his hand away from your head.

“We haven’t fucked since you came back,” he said, ignoring your question. “I want you to fuck me.”

Your jaw dropped through the floorboard of the car and shattered on the pavement beneath. Watching him unbutton and unzip his jeans, more comfortably spreading his legs and leaning back, his hands laced behind his head with a grunt. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, waiting expectantly for you to make your move, but you were simply speechless, frozen in place.

“Hello?” He snapped his fingers in front of your face to get your attention. “If you’re gonna sit there with your mouth open at least put it to work.” He scoffed, grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, pulling out his already hard cock with the other.

There was a split second of hesitation on his part, pausing like he realized what he was doing, suddenly coming back to consciousness after being possessed.

“Princess… I’m so sorry, y-you don’t have to do anything.” He turned his head to you revealing his paling cheeks as he quickly released the back of your neck from his rough hold, only to be shocked by the lustful gaze staring back into his worried eyes.

“Th-that was hot.” You squeaked out, melting into submission.

“Wait- really?” He asked, eyebrows pinching together in shameful hope. His hand hovering over the nape of your neck as if waiting for permission.

“Y-yeah, yes.” Swallowing thickly, cautiously sliding off the backseat and onto the carpeted floor to kneel in front of him.

“Sweetheart, no.” He shook his head, a mask of remorse passing over his features. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“Anakin.” You said quietly, “please shut up.”

“O-okay.” He nodded quickly, suddenly timid, so unlike that man from just seconds earlier.

You lowered your head without another glance up at him, moving to swirl your tongue and suck on the silver ball of his jewelry to slight push and pull the metal through the piercing before taking his cockhead between your lips.

You were too busy to notice the absolutely wicked, deriding, straight up unsettlingly evil grin eat away at the faux timidity he’d painted on his pretty face.

Diary Entry: September 17th

Is there a word for when you kind of feel bad about something because you know that you should, but you don’t actually feel bad about it? If there is one I’d like to know it. It’d be perfect for this. It’s exactly how I feel.

I don’t think I’m obligated to actually feel any sort of ‘remorse’ in this situation though because it’s not really my fault. Even if it is… it’s only indirectly. After all the excitement life has finally slowed down enough for me to notice I’m out of my meds. Have been like for a few days.

So, apologies for being a total jerk, but also no I’m not apologizing because I don’t believe you mind it. I think you just don’t like it. You don’t like facing what you already know to be true. Kind of like when you rearrange the magnets on the fridge. You get so used to seeing it one way that you hardly pay attention. But the moment you move ‘em around its like you’re looking at a brand new fridge every time you walk past it. It just jumps out at you.

Same fridge, same magnets. Same me, more Ghost, less Anakin.

Diary Entry: September 20th

Why does life have to kick me in the ass, why won’t it just pucker up and kiss it? I have a nice ass. You’ve said so.

I can list a hundred things that I would rather be doing this week, a thousand if I tried really hard. I would prefer to shove my hand in a manual meat grinder than go back to that stupid fucking doctor.

My mother makes her weekly FaceTime call and turns it into a game of twenty questions.

I know exactly what she was trying to do, fishing for information, trying to see how much I knew. She did the same thing when that murder on campus happened. It wasn’t me. The guy who did it was caught and locked up, it was a senseless crime. The poor kid didn’t do anything but stand in the wrong spot at the wrong time. Just because I live near the campus, doesn’t mean I’m involved. Except for this time.

I don’t do senseless crime. I’m not stupid.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a call from your doctor honey. Did you take me off the information release? You know you can’t do that Anakin, it’s mandatory.’

‘Your prescription hasn’t been filled, you haven’t taken it in over a week! Don’t lie to me!’

Fucking fine. Alright. I love the woman but Christ alive she gets on my goddamn nerves. Now I have to go back to the shrink because I didn’t call and request my meds to be refilled and I didn’t try to pick them up when they were ready. Apparently if you’re three days late to the CVS pharmacy they put your crazy pills back and hold them hostage. Some policy shit about controlled substances.

My mom watched the news and thought to herself ‘hmm, it’s been alittle while since I’ve questioned my son’s sanity.’

Have I not done enough to prove I’m capable of being a functioning member of society? The state says I have. Why can’t she do the same? Officials have signed off on my ability to be normal and surprise! I have ‘maintained mental stability’ and ‘reintegrated into society’.

They’re over it. Why can’t she be?

I mean for fucks sake, she was used to it. Those doctors and nurses who loved to sedate me while I was in that state school weren’t and they forgave me a million times quicker than mom did. I would’ve gotten grounded for months if she had been the one to find out I was stealing meds and reselling them. It’s not my fault they padlocked it with a big clunky thing from the 90’s. A toddler could’ve picked that lock with a spoon, but they trusted a school of delinquents not to capitalize on it? All they did was give me a time out in the bad boy box for a week. It was like a vacation, no classes, no people, no gym.

They expected me to be upset about that? Please.

The only thing I didn’t think I was going to get away with there was the whole therapy-chicken fiasco. My refusal to apologize definitely didn’t help. But when you live in the suburbs majority of your life you aren’t exactly accustomed to a fucking rooster thinking the sun is coming up at 4:00 am. I already had to deal with sharing a room with a chronic masturbator who snored and grease-trap McGee who thought axe body spray could substitute for a shower.

Adding chickens into a coop directly outside my window was the tipping point. A state official who believed caring for animals could be therapeutic almost cost me my graduation. Out of all the animals they could’ve chosen, they picked chickens.

They only lasted a week before I got fed up and wrung their necks like a washcloth.

But I’m an adult now. I’m a big boy, making big boy choices and one of those choices was to stop seeing my doctor. I would’ve kept up with my pills, however, I was busy following my girlfriend to the lake when I got the ‘prescription ready for pickup’ text.

I probably don’t even need them anymore anyway. I’m fine. But now if I don’t get my ass in there for an appointment with Dr. Bullshit I’ll have to get reevaluated through the court and have to see that little bitch ass man-boy I hit with a table. I can’t have that. Not when everything is perfect in my life.

Except for the stuff that’s really horribly terrible.

Appointment: date: September 28th 3:30pm

September 15th 8:23pm

Seconds after unlocking your front door, you flopped down face first onto the couch. Dropping your belongings onto the floor below you with a thud, you had no intention of moving until absolutely necessary. You just wanted to rot. Not because you wanted to die per say… its just that you wouldn’t mind feigning dead for a while and if you just so happened to perish while playing the part of a corpse; well it wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be way easier than living the life that you’ve found yourself in.

Everything had been so undeniably awful lately that the joy had been sucked out of even the smallest things that made you happy before. Like the nice old lady who gets coffee and a slice of cake for lunch, she’s so cute and small and she always leaves a peppermint as part of your tip. It always made you smile, always gave you a warm feeling in your chest, but today was different. Today the gesture made you feel hollow.

Since he left, it’s all you can think of.

——————————————————————————

9:52pm

After peeling yourself away from the comfort of your couch, you showered and ate a dinner fit for royalty: microwave stir fry rice. Then you dragged yourself across the hallway to Anakin’s. For reasons yet to be revealed you were dreading your time inside his place alone. The air felt heavy and stale as you walked through the space, into his living room. It was always like this when he was gone, like the apartment never fully ‘wakes up’ until he steps inside.

It’s odd, feeling like the room you’re in is in a state of dormancy. Yet, it’s not the cause of your hesitancy to stay here tonight, while he’s away. No, you’re hesitant because Ghost he usually visits on nights Anakin is at work. What if he shows up and you’re not there? Will he make an appearance here? Will he think it’s your way of saying you don’t care if you see him or not?

Worse still, could the hesitancy stem from that little voice trapped deep in the recesses of your mind? The one you’ve ignored every time it’s been able to rip the gag from it’s mouth?

The rope of dread wraps tighter and tighter around your neck each moment you’re here alone. No amount of distraction has been able to cure the itch, the burning, nagging itch to get up and search. Is that what he wants? What if he’s been here?

Are there cameras here too? That’s something you’ve never even considered before and the thought makes you feel ill. It’s one thing to have your own privacy breached, but Anakin’s… that’s unfair to him and it’s already gone past ‘innocent’ watching. The camera in your bedroom has surely caught things no one else should’ve seen and that knowledge has begun to haunt you.

He’d been watching you have sex. With him. With Anakin. He had hours of footage, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind at the realization. But only a few were significant enough to take note of. If he’s been monitoring your bedroom activity… why was he only upset about the time you and Anakin had sex in the living room? He was so angry about it, so angry he wanted to roleplay stabbing you. He cut you while he pounded you from behind.

Why hadn’t he been that jealous about every other time? Probably to spare you the embarrassment of knowing the camera was right over your bed. It would be stupid of him to reveal that sort of information, then he wouldn’t have all those videos, perfect for blackmail, presumably great amateur porn. He wouldn’t… would he? He killed a man.

Men?

So it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he might’ve been saving all that up in case he needed it. He did say he’d send those pictures to Anakin if you didn’t behave. That’s blackmail. That’s a threat.

Or maybe, he’d done something even worse. Ghost… could he have…? No. He’s too possessive. He wouldn’t try to make money off of you like that. Would he? Despite laughing off the thought, your phone suddenly appeared in your hand, thumbs working of their own accord to check any and every explicit website you could find using the tags ‘ghostface’ ‘masks’ ‘hidden camera’ ‘blindfold’ ‘gagged’ ‘knife’ and anything else you thought it might’ve been labeled under. Scroll after scroll you squinted your way through countless video thumbnails, all the big sites were clean as far as you could tell.

OnlyFans? Maybe. He’d make way more on a site like that than he would on a larger porn site. Right? Wouldn’t it be considered… niche content? So you searched there, preview and profile pictures of so many people popped up. Maybe it’s not as niche as you thought. The idea that others may be interested in something like that was slightly comforting and only a tad infuriating.

These people might not be your Ghost; but they shared his face. And, they had hundreds if not thousands of people watching them.

It shouldn’t bother you as badly as it does, but you can’t help it. Maybe his own possessiveness has started to rub off on you, because the thought of someone else watching a man in the same mask as Ghost… almost felt like cheating.

Realistically, he could be any of these men.

You could be looking at him right now along with whoever else is online and you’d never even know it unless you saw yourself pop up on the page. But then you’d have to subscribe to **every single one** of these profiles. You might waste your time scrolling through videos and never finding what you were looking for.

Because… realistically he probably isn’t one of these men.

“Enough.” You groaned, fisting your hair on both sides of your head, then pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Finally you got up and made popcorn, sitting yourself in front of the living room tv for a bit of a wind-down before bed. It would be hours before Anakin got home, X-Files was calling and you just had to answer. So you restarted it and settled in for a binge. The familiar theme washing over you in a nostalgic sort of way, late nights passing by on the projector of your memories.

Luke and you in his twin bed, comforter bundled around you as you sat huddled together, crosslegged in the soft glow of the tv and his small spaceship nightlight. Too old for ‘kid shows’ and too young for horror movies, so you found the next best thing: Goosebumps for grown ups.

His parents were fancy enough to have a DVR to record shows, allowing the two of you to rewatch your favorite episodes whenever you pleased. So long as his father didn’t record over them to catch the newest episode of American Idol.

Isn’t it odd how we so often return to the comfort of childhood in times of uncertainty? Clinging onto the old things that were stable even in the forever changing world you grew up in. Every night without fail, re-run after re-run of X-Files would play on channel 72. All night long.

Now you didn’t have to wait until 8:30pm. You could watch it whenever you wanted, or needed. The latter was true in this case. You want to believe. Just like Mulder. But, Scully is reasonable and you needed to be reasonable. An inkling isn’t proof, a feeling isn’t fact. Cold, hard evidence doesn’t lie. But your mind, your heart, your eyes and ears… are not as trustworthy as you might like to think.

You only got through two episodes before you stood up and sat your bowl of neglected popcorn aside.

“Skeptics are often the best detectives.” You mumbled to yourself, a very paraphrased quote from the show.

You’d come here to snoop once already and had found nothing. No evidence. But now you wondered if you may have been searching for the wrong things, in the wrong places.

“What would Scully do?” You thought.

You found yourself slipping into the role you once loved to play alongside Luke. You’d be the voice of reason to his fantasy world of the paranormal, when he’d come up with ‘cases’ for the two of you to solve. Only this time you would be playing both parts.

You’d started off toward Anakin’s bedroom when your phone buzzed, pausing just before passing the threshold into the space, you pulled your phone from your pocket and saw a text waiting to be read.

‘Do you miss me that bad?’

Ghost.

Unsure of whether to answer or not you freeze in place, staring down at the screen. He’d ignored you for what felt like eternity, now he was returning with a snarky comment about your internet searches. He can monitor your search history but he can’t say ‘hello’ for a week?

Your thumbs poised over the keyboard, a million jumbled words fighting for their chance to make an appearance in your quick witted, equally snarky, sarcastic-

‘Yes.’

‘Liar.’ The response came through the very second your phone showed that your message had delivered.

Your face heated up, how dare he call you a liar? After everything you would’ve thought he might know better. You chose not to entertain the comment, knowing it would only make Ghost think he’d successfully gotten under your skin. Even though he had, he wasn’t entitled to that information.

‘Your cameras are dying.’

‘I don’t need them anymore.’ The text finally appeared after several bouts of typing, erasing and retyping occurred on Ghost’s side of the conversation.

He doesn’t need them. At least he didn’t say he didn’t want them anymore, because that would imply that he didn’t want you anymore. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you hoped it meant he had something else planned, not simply that he had lost interest in watching your day to day activities.

It was a sobering concept; the idea that you may be losing his attention. Is it worth it to even try to find out? Will the answer just hurt you more than the not knowing? You suspect it might.

So you turned off your phone. No more googling, no more texting. Just searching. With X-Files to keep you company, you walked around the living room to carefully lift every item in the room. Each little trinket inspected and every backing to his picture frames removed, the couch cushions lifted, unzipped and felt up. Scooting every piece of moveable furniture away from the walls and pushing it carefully back into place. Anakin was peculiar about his things, if you misplaced something by even a centimeter, he would notice.

If you weren’t so angry at Ghost, you might’ve thanked him for the ‘take a reference picture’ before moving someone else’s things trick. It was no wonder you didn’t notice him being inside your house for so long. He really was good at what he did.

But you were angry. Angry at him, at yourself, at Anakin. But you were furious at the invisible wall that kept you from searching Anakin’s room. Every time you approached it, your mind thought up some excuse for why you weren’t finished looking elsewhere. There’s only so many logical hiding places and you were suddenly determined to find them all before moving open to the more… illogical ones.

Cereal boxes. Ice cube tray. Dishwasher and the dishwasher pac container. The fabric along the bottom of the couch. Behind the mounted tv. In the trash cans beneath the trash bag. The water tank of the coffee pot. His shoes.

You even re-checked the bathroom after remembering you never found out what was keeping that drawer from being fully opened. Turns out Anakin beat you to it and got it out of the way, so when you opened it, you removed the drawer completely to find that there was nothing there and never had been. If there’s nothing there, there must be nothing in his room either.

And suddenly, that invisible barrier dissolved.

“Oh you’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking.” Anakin laughed humorlessly, seeing his text deliver green. He tossed his phone onto the crate beside him, annoyedly pulling the cigarette from between his lips with pinched fingers and flicking the ash on the ground.

”What?” Trevor asked, pressing his back to the brick wall, enjoying a slow sip of whiskey.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Anakin grumbled, raking a hand through his hair.

“Oh come on now don’t give me that shit.” Trevor scoffed, scuffing his shoe against Anakin’s. “I’d like to think I know you well enough to know when you’re royally ticked off.”

”Trev. You don’t ever wanna see me royally ticked off.” He chuckled, deep and gravely from the back of his throat. “I’m just… irritated.”

”You’ve been barreling around the bar for the last week like a bull in a china shop.” Trevor said pointedly, taking a gulp of his whiskey. “I didn’t think anyone would ever beat April’s broken glass record but you’ve fuckin’ smashed it.” Trevor snickered at his own joke, clearing his throat anxiously when Anakin didn’t laugh along with him.

”Seriously man, I’ll help you out if I can. Just say the word.” Trevor shrugged, feeling an awkward silence that he hadn’t shared with Anakin in quite some time.

”This isn’t something you can help with.” Anakin sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket and rubbing his palms over his jeans, smacking his knees before standing up and tossing his cigarette butt into the designated coffee can.

”Girl trouble?” Trevor guessed putting both his hand palm up in front of him.

”When isn’t it girl trouble?” Anakin groaned, rubbing his face. “My girl, my mom, the fucking cat. Even the damn cat is being weird with me.”

“Well, what’d you do?” Trevor asked curiously, not trying to pry to hard.

”Oh you know.” Anakin shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Went on a murderous rampage, girlfriend caught me snorting some special K, didn’t give the cat a treat, told my mom off over the phone.”

”Shit, anything else?” Trevor laughed, standing up as well to follow Anakin inside.

”Beat up a middle aged man, mugged a gas station attendant, robbed said gas station, stole a motorcycle, spray painted a few buildings, busted up a change jar, fucked your mom.” Anakin listed off on his hand, turning around with a grin on his face after the last ‘transgression’ left his lips.

”I should’ve seen that one coming.” Trevor huffed shaking his head. “Tell your mother I said ‘nice tits’.”

”Oh fuck right the hell off.” Anakin snorted, shoulder checking Trevor into the wall as they re-entered the bar.

”Yessir,” Trevor tipped his imaginary hat and spun on his heel. “Next time i see you, I’ll be calling you son.”

”Just don’t ask me to call you daddy.” Anakin shook his head, faking a right and smacking his left cheek lightly before running off behind the bar.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:13am

Anakin left the bar after his shift that night, feeling a little bit lighter. His mind a little less foggy and a little more organized. He jogged up the steps to his apartment and almost walked in, his hand on the door knob in preparation to unlock it.

It was as if the other side of the hall was calling to him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. That same strong urge that had lured him into your life in the first place, he knew you were waiting for him, but it couldn’t hurt to make you wait just a tad longer, right?

Slowly he turned and switched keys, unlocking your door and stepping inside he flipped on the light switch and went about collecting the rest of the cameras he had so painstakingly set up all that time ago. Lining them up on the dresser in front of your bed just before taking all the little things he’d left, all the notes, and lining them up in chronological order from one edge of the dresser to the next, ending the sequence by taking off his centipede ring and placing the bullet he’d carved for you in the center of it.

He carefully plucked your hairpin from the jewelry box and held it for a moment in the palm of his hand, tracing over the delicately carved lines. He’d looked for so long, searched everywhere just to find it and you’d never worn it. He understood of course, he could understand the reasoning behind not wearing it. But keeping it tucked away in your jewelry box seemed like a waste of it’s beauty, a waste of what it represented for him. So, just like he stole it from that antique shop, he stole it back from you.

Anakin stood back as he slipped the hair pin into his pocket, looking down at his handiwork. It was satisfying to see it all laid out like that in front of him. Like a nice little history exhibit of your time together. It brought a small smile to his lips, a happy one, one that was real and genuine, proud.

He hadn’t planned this, he used to plan everything so carefully, so far in advance. He’d been running on instinct and the free feeling he got when he decided something on the spot for a while now. It felt nice to break from the mold he’d created for himself when it came to you, not so much when it involved murder. Anakin wasn’t a man who would admit to be scared about just any old thing. Scared of losing you? Absolutely he would admit to that. But scared of prison? No, he’s too tough for that.

Which is why he was blaming his tears on you and you alone. Despite his happy smile, he sniffed back salty droplets that graced his cheeks, unaware he was even crying until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the dresser.

He was well aware that he’d been sloppy. There were so many things that didn’t make sense at that crime scene and he was hoping that the police were stupid enough to believe it was all due to that poor kid’s hysteria. Anakin was smart enough to know that the police wouldn’t share any information that was valuable, if they had suspicions anyone else was involved. They’d wait and bide their time, gathering evidence and luring the suspect into a false sense of security.

He was paranoid, so, so, paranoid. Rightfully so.

None of the boys he’d left alive turned up that way, which in all reality made it a little easier for him. There’d be no witnesses and no one to point the finger at a real life Ghostface. Two of the boys had bled out, the other died from a stress induced seizure and choked on his own tongue. Anakin supposed that might be a reasonable reaction to being zip tied to two dead guys that had fallen over on top of you. He knew he should feel bad, he did, just not for what he knew he was supposed to.

He felt bad for himself.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:46am

You were on your hands and knees, using your phone flashlight to search under all the furniture in Anakin’s room. You even lifted the mattress, took out all the drawers in the dressers and nightstand, even checked the pockets of the clothes hanging in his closet. The suitcase at the top of his closet and the shoes at the bottom.

You gave up searching after you picked up a candle and turned it over, why in the world would you be checking a candle for anything suspicious? You were beginning to believe you were just horribly paranoid, rightfully so, you’d just aided and abetted and murdered not too long ago.

So you cozied up in Anakin’s bed and started watching the X-Files that you’d switched over into his room’s tv for background noise. Now Scully and Mulder had your full attention.

It was a good episode, a string of strange unsolved murders. Mulder had a theory that would connect these murders to ones that had happened several decades before. He was convinced they were committed by the same man despite the time passed between them. He even found matching finger prints to prove his theory, yet Scully was still unconvinced. That was until the culprit came after her, breaching her home’s defenses by squeezing through the air vents.

You jolted upright so quickly it made your brain feel as though it spun on an axis. With your phone in hand you went about the apartment, checking each air vent. It would be a perfect hiding place for anything really. You would’ve never even considered it had it not been for the X-Files. Your palms sweat with anxious anticipation, each one you checked meant you were one closer to finding, or not finding whatever it was the Anakin may or may not be hiding.

You saved the one in Anakin’s room for last, assuming if he were to have hidden anything it would probably be there. You were just about to shine your light through the slats of the vent when you heard the front door open, in a moment of panic you shot upright to your feet, your phone gripped tightly in your fingers. Your face the picture of guilt as Anakin rounded the corner, his face twisting from surprise to confusion.

”What’re you still doing up doll?” He asked, looking at his watch, “It’s almost four.”

”I couldn’t sleep.” You said quickly, realizing the phone flashlight was still on, you tapped the button the turn it off but your fingers were so sweaty you had to wipe them on your shirt before you could properly use the touchscreen.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, walking forward as he watched you struggle, “Looking for something?”

”No! Why- what makes you think that?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted in concern.

”Uh,” He pointed to the phone in your hand and watched as you tried and failed to feign a gasp of realization.

”Oh! Right, I could’ve sworn I heard a mouse in here, I was just about to look.” You said, gesturing to the air vent. Anakin took the phone from your hand and flicked the flashlight back on. Kneeling on the ground to look for you.

”Are you that afraid of mice?” He asked with a slight laugh, looking over his shoulder at your pink cheeks.

”No, not really.” You shook your head, “I- you just startled me when you came in I think.”

”Well I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to. I thought you’d be asleep.” He said, coming up off the ground and handling you your phone back. “If there was a mouse, he’s gone now.”

“Oh well that’s good then.” You sighed, nodding as you looked down at the vent again. He would’ve acted strangely if he had something down there… wouldn’t he have?

“Whatcha watching?” He asked, nodding toward the tv where a new episode had begun.

“Oh, it’s the X-Files.” You said with a slight smile, crawling back up into the bed. “You’ve never watched it?”

“Yeah I have, It’s been a long time though.” He said, leaning on the door frame and looking you over, taking his time as though he were looking for something. He was giving you a smile that seemed almost wistful, like he was sad about something.

“C’Mere babydoll. I don’t wanna get bar germs in the bed.” He pushed off the door frame with his foot, sauntering over to you, placing his hands on the side of the bed. Waiting patiently for you to come closer, his eyes seemingly soaking up every square inch of skin on your body. He smiled softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold your face lightly and gaze down at you before moving in for a slow and loving kiss.

When he pulled away, he scratched the top of your head with his large hands, raking his fingertips through your hair. Guiding your closer again by the back of your head so that he could place a kiss to your forehead and pat your cheek.

”I’m gonna get clean.” He said, walking to his closet and stripping himself bare, tossing his clothes in his laundry basket. He turned to wink at you, biting the tip of his tongue with a big grin.

It made you blush, seeing him standing there so confidently and so comfortable in front of you. But the thing that made you bite your lip was the way his cock twitched, growing harder right before your eyes just because he was naked in front of you. He could see the lust, the admiration for him and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t an ego boost. He’d also be lying if he denied how much it flattened his heart when you looked away, not shyly. Purposefully. Anakin hid his small frown well, looking down to the side and ruffling up his hair with a tight lipped expression as he turned two the dresser to get a clean pair of boxers.

”Oh my god!” You gasped loudly, the sheets and blankets rustling as you made your way over to Anakin from where you sat on the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin at your exclamation, turning around with wide eyes.

”What?” He asked looking around and down at himself in search of whatever had made you react so strongly.

”What the hell is this?” You asked, roughly grabbing him by his upper arm to spin him around and inspect his shoulder and back. He’d told you he had hurt himself, but he never let on like it was this bad. This was absolutely no pulled muscle.

“God this looks awful Ani!” You ran your fingers over the tender and multi-colored bruise on his right shoulder. “What happened?”

”Fuck.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the pointer finger and thumb of one hand. “It wasn’t a pulled muscle.”

”No shit? Really? I had no idea.” You said sarcastically, gesturing to the obviously painful bruise.

”Don’t.” He turned around, finger pointed at your face while his eyes stared down at you with darkened eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. He took a breath, closing his eyes again and when he opened them, a little bit of the light you’d grown accustomed to seeing shown through once more.

”I got in a fight.” He said simply, swallowing hard as his adam’s apple bobbed. “Just a scuffle at the bar, trying to break up an arguement. Just didn’t want to worry you princess.”

”I don’t appreciate being lied to over something so minuscule.” You scowled.

”You don’t? Oh, I had no idea.” He sneered, his voice sharp and clipped. “Sorry for trying to be mindful of you and your feelings. I didn’t think it would help our situation any, you know because you locked yourself away for a few days?”

You stepped back, the scowl fading slightly into something more sensitive. It was obvious you’d upset him, abundantly clear actually. The way he responded not only made you feel guilty for not considering the reasoning behind his lie, but also dredged up the guilt from the irony of your own words.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I should’ve reacted better, I was just- it worried me.” You admitted, walking over to pull him in for a comforting hug.

”It… It’s alright.” He sighed softly, nuzzling the top of your head to inhale your scent. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

”I understand.” You nodded, even though you didn’t really. He’d been acting so unpredictably as of late that it was starting to worry you in more ways than one.

“Do you?” He asked, the tone of his voice making it sound less like a question and more like a tease, though his eyes suggested it was serious.

”I think maybe you’re just really stressed or… or maybe something’s bothering you?” You ventured carefully not wanting to upset him again. “You’ve been acting different.”

”You haven’t spoken to my mom. Have you?” He asked, his eyebrow shooting up as he spoken.

”What?” You asked with a bit of a confused laugh. “No, I haven’t.”

He studied your face, searching for deception hidden beneath you confident denial and he was pleased to find none. He monitored your phone, he could hear you conversations, but you were aware of that and he was worried you might’ve found a way to bypass all his precautions.

”Okay.” He nodded. “Sweetheart, I’ve got- I need to… you know what? I think we should probably have this conversation after I put some pants on.” He said stepping back and giving you a smirk at the blush on your cheeks.

”R-right, I forgot.” You said, biting your bottom lip and allowing him to leave the room to shower. The second he closed the bathroom door you moved so quickly to the vent along the baseboard of the wall that you thought you might’ve given yourself rug burn on your knees when you dropped down to check it for yourself.

Empty.

Part Eighteen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @hemmoxloser

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[creamsickle-writes]

Swimming with Sharks: Arlong x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, unhealthy relationships (Reader is delusional), Reader is kept as a "pet", masturbation, size difference, double penetration, oral sex, Arlong-typical degradation

There had to have been something wrong with you.

You were enamored with a pirate, which was bad enough on its own, but the situation was even more twisted than that, as the pirate you lusted after was the man who had been holding your village captive for the past eight years. 

Arlong was a horrible, terrible man.

You felt disgusted with yourself. This wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t healthy. This man had killed villagers, recruited a child to join his slimy crew, and was very open about his views on the “inferior” human race. To him, you were nothing more than a piggy bank, offering your tribute as often as he requested.

But whatever god exists is cruel and loves to play jokes.

You couldn’t help but be enchanted by him. Maybe it was his power, tall stature, or something else entirely, but you wanted him more than anything.

To be his was all you ever desired since Arlong arrived years ago, awakening something inside your teenage heart. You had hoped it was just the hormones acting up or some sort of weird phase, but no, you were in your twenties now, and the fish man still made you hot and bothered.

And as much as you wanted to hate him, to loathe and despise him, you couldn’t.  

So when collection day came, you were jittery in anticipation instead of shaking and cowering in fear like an average person would. It was the rare occasion where you got to see him up close, and while he wouldn’t speak with you directly, you would hear his gruff voice ordering his underlings around. 

And today, you were very fortunate as Arlong would grace you with his presence once more. 

When the fishmen enter the village, the place becomes a ghost town, everyone making themselves scarce as they wait for the pirates to bang on their door. 

You peek out the window, your heart racing and your head spinning as you watch them approach your neighbor’s house. You observe in interest, your eyes raking over each man before your eyes finally catch on Arlong, who seems to be conversing with one of his men.

When they head for your door, you’re on the porch before they even get the chance to knock. On the porch are several fishmen, but Arlong seems to be missing. Your face falls in disappointment.

“Well, you’re eager for us to drain your pockets,” one of his crewmates laughs, leaning in to sneer down at you, “Just make sure you hand it all over, or else we’ll have to sic our Captain on you.”

Your ears twitch at that.

You knew what you were thinking was dumb, reckless, and really dangerous, but this was an opportunity to get his attention, and it couldn’t be thrown away.

“Ah, I don’t have any money this month-“you smile nervously, “But maybe I could talk things over with your Captain and-“

As you try to talk your way into meeting with Arlong personally, the fishman you’re speaking to glances over your shoulder, seeing your purse lying on your kitchen table.

“You have nothing, you say?” He asks, clearly not believing a word, “Then what’s this over here?”

He shoves you aside roughly, and you hiss in pain, rubbing the area where he pushed you. 

The man starts digging around in your handbag, retrieving enough berries for his month’s payment and then some. 

You grow hot in embarrassment as he waves the cash in the air before walking towards the door, “Looks like humans are just as dumb as I thought! They can’t even count properly.”

Shit. There goes the money for food.

As the fishman passes the threshold, you hear him call out, “Hey, Arlong! This human was trying to get out of handing over our money!”

And when he emerges from the rabble of men, your heart races in your chest.

“What’s this now?” His low voice inquires, talking more to you than to his subordinate. 

You try to muster the courage to speak, but nothing comes out. Arlong steps forward, crowding your space, and your heartbeat grows louder.

“And why would you ever think of doing that, little human?” The question is definitely more of a threat, and because you are clearly some sort of masochist, your insides throb excitedly. 

You answer honestly, “I-I wanted to get your attention-“

His crew bursts out laughing.

“His attention?”

“It’s like a child!”

“What a strange wish!”

Arlong lets his men laugh for a while, but eventually, he raises a hand, making them quiet down. 

“And why do you want my attention, pitiful little creature?” He smirks, “Maybe you plan to distract me while your fellow humans attempt to attack my men, is that it?”

“N-No sir, I would never!” You exclaim, “I-I just- well-“

Your stammering wears Arlong’s patience thin, “Out with it already.”

“I-I am entranced by you-“you confess, “A-And I- um-“ 

Your sentence trails off as he begins pacing around you in circles, his eyes never leaving you for a moment as if he were appraising you, which, in all fairness, he probably was. 

“So,” he takes some of your hair, allowing it to fall between his fingers as he assesses you closely, “You’re entranced by me, are you? A human that desires a fishman- now that is something I have never seen before…”

Arlong hums, and you squeal as he hooks a finger under your camisole straps, sliding it past your shoulder as if examining the skin underneath. But clearly, he wasn’t; he was just hoping to get into your head.

And it was working, but in a different way than he anticipated.

“For a human,” he starts, “you’re not terrible looking… I’d even say that you are somewhat attractive.”

“T-Thank you,” your voice quivers, “It’s such great praise to hear you say that, sir.”

“Tell me,” he’s behind you now, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Do you fear me?”

“Y-Yes sir,” you choke out, “Very much-“

“And yet you are aroused by me. Your logical mind tells you to stay away from me, but you listen to your body instead. Humans are such foolish, primitive creatures.” He chuckles darkly before pulling away from your ear and pacing again so he’s in front of you, his dark eyes glued to your face.

Without taking his eyes off you, he speaks to his crew, “We’ll take this one back with us. I’ve always wanted a pet.”

He wickedly smiles at his words and motions for you to follow when he turns on his heels. You hear several fellow villagers sob when they see you leaving your house with the pirates. They must believe that you are about to be killed, and for all you know, their beliefs could be correct, but in your heart, you don’t believe Arlong will slaughter you.

You hope and pray that your instincts are correct.

The walk to Arlong Park isn’t long, and soon you’re in front of the towering structure. You’ve never seen it up close before, and the building’s intense aura washes over you; the once faraway symbol of your oppression was now directly suffocating you.

“Come,” Arlong orders, and you scurry to his side, “This will be your new place of residence. You will eat when I say so and sleep only where I allow.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

He laughs, “Finally, a human that knows their place.”

He enters the pagoda, and you try to keep up, walking briskly to keep time with his long strides. Arlong leads you upstairs to a rather large bedroom, a bed built for a man of his stature sitting in the middle. 

He sits at the edge of the bed and beckons you to come close. You obey without question, standing before him, your hands placed timidly in front of you. 

“Remove your clothing,” he commands suddenly, “Make it quick.”

You scramble to remove your top and slide your shorts off your thighs, kicking them to the side. You’re left only in your underwear, your bra never touching your chest today. You hesitate momentarily when your fingers brush over your underwear’s waistband. 

“S-Sorry, I’m a bit nervous-“you confess, “No one’s ever seen me naked before-“

“I don’t care about your sentimentality. Although,” Arlong smirks, his eyes raking over your body, “the knowledge that I am the first to lay eyes on you is quite amusing...”

His tone’s clear hunger flusters you, and you slip your panties off, stepping out of them and tossing them aside with your other clothes.

He stands up, towering before you as he looks you over. Without warning, he roughly grabs one of your breasts, causing you to gasp.

“Your breasts barely fill my hand,” he scoffs, squeezing the flesh almost painfully tight, “but what else did I expect? Your body is so pitifully small.”

He huffs and releases you, kneeling before you to examine your exposed pussy. You’re about to cover it up, but Arlong beats you to the punch, using his webbed fingers to spread your lips instead. 

“But because you’re so small, I imagine you’ll feel much better around me.”

Your face burns with embarrassment yet anticipation as he slides a finger over your slit. You let out a soft gasp, jolting upright at the touch. He lets out a booming laugh.

“How sensitive!” He mocks you, “I barely graze you, and you jump like a scared cat!”

He removes his hand from your body and stands up, humming to himself, “Yes, I think I’ll make quite good use of you.”

That’s all he says before he walks past you, approaching the door. 

You stutter out, “I-Is that all?”

“For now, yes.” Looking over his shoulder, he simply states, “I have more important things that need my attention at the moment.”

And with that, he leaves, slamming the door shut behind him. 

You were now left alone in what you assumed were his personal quarters. 

And the reality of the situation finally sets in: you were taken as Arlong’s plaything. You would probably never get to go back to your regular life ever again. You had signed yourself, body and soul, over to him. 

The thought both terrified and excited you.

___

Days pass, and you slowly adjust to your situation, if only slightly. You don’t see Arlong often, and when you do, he barely acknowledges your presence. You figured the unspoken rule was that only Arlong could treat you poorly if desired and that anyone else injuring or degrading you would end in disaster. 

And while you enjoyed their kind treatment, you were still chasing after Arlong’s approval and attention.

You wanted him to want you, desire you, maybe even love you. You felt stupid for even falling for a man like him in the first place, and yet here you were, throwing yourself at his feet like a dog.

You sighed as you thought this over in your bed; life wasn’t terrible here, but you wished things could be different. You had your own room but wished you could sleep in his. He wasn’t abusing you, but you wished you had his praise.

The night drags on, and you lay awake in bed, the sounds of the fishmen drinking and laughing rising from outside to your window. You didn’t attend the party tonight, the smell of alcohol and loud conversations not sounding appealing to you today. 

You tried closing your eyes to get some rest, but you weren’t tired.

And your mind suddenly remembers that day.

You remember how he touched you the day he took you in, how he grabbed your breast. Your hand slides up to your chest, squeezing harshly to recreate the feeling. It’s not the same, but the sensation reminds you of that moment.

Your body grows excited at the memory.

You bite your lip as your other hand slips between your legs, teasingly sliding over your clothed slit. A moan bubbles up in your throat, and you don’t bother quieting yourself; everyone is outside at the party, so certainly, they wouldn’t hear you. 

You rub slow circles into your clit, your back arching slightly as pleasure runs through your body. 

Tired of the teasing, you pull your pajama shorts off your body, your underwear following soon behind, and spread your legs eagerly. As your fingers slide over your slit, you imagine Arlong above you, his fingers teasing your most intimate area. 

You slide a finger inside but quickly opt for two, trying to replicate how full his fingers would make you feel.

You finger yourself, curling your fingers upwards to stimulate your g-spot. Your mind goes crazy imagining the dirty things he would say to you, and you move your fingers even faster, mashing your sensitive spot the way you imagined he would. 

It doesn’t take long to cum, and you’re embarrassed when you realize the thought of him made you orgasm so quickly. 

You pull out your fingers, your cum coating them completely. You go to your personal bathroom and prepare to wash your hands and clean your slit.

But for some reason, you feel as though you’re being watched. 

You timidly walk back into your bedroom to check things out and jump as you see Arlong sliding open your bedroom door, inviting himself into your space. 

You scramble to cover your exposed lower half with still dirty hands, your cum smearing over your pubic mound as you shield yourself, “A-Arlong- sir! I didn’t know you were back-” 

“I heard you made yourself scarce,” Arlong hums in an uncharacteristically soft tone, “Everyone was asking about you.”

“About me?” You point to yourself in disbelief.

“Yes, but…” his eyes rake over you, “now I can see you were occupied…” 

You shake your head, “W-What? No-“

“Don’t deny it; I could smell the filthy scent of your arousal before I even entered the room.”

His words send a jolt down your spine. You look away in embarrassment, refusing to look him in the eyes.

Arlong smirks, approaching you slowly, his fingers finding their way around your chin and jerking your head upwards so you would look at him.

His voice lowers, his eyes boring into your soul, “And just what were you imagining that aroused you?”

You stutter, unable to answer him, but Arlong expected that you wouldn’t respond in the first place.

He takes your hand, lifting it up to see the mess you had made moments prior. You want to hide it, but fighting him would only test his patience.

His finger swipes over the cum that covers your digits, the webbed appendage collecting the fluid.

He lifts it up to your lips, demanding, “Open.”

You obey immediately, taking his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue slides against his skin, cleaning his digits as thoroughly as possible. 

“Disgusting human,” he smirks, “You’ll even lick your own cum off my fingers- absolutely revolting.”

Your face heats up at his insult, and despite his degrading words, you keep licking, sucking them clean. Hell, you keep sucking even when you know nothing is left on his fingers. And when he growls lowly, you can tell the sight affects him. 

“Disgusting human indeed,” he hums, looking down at you in disdain, “Look how you react to the mere taste of my fingers… Do you desire more of me now?” 

You nod eagerly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, “I-I want you more than anything. I’ve wanted you for so long-“

He growls at your words yet again and presses his body against yours; however, with his height, his crotch is pressed against your chest. 

“Desperate thing. You spend all night with your hands in your panties, yet you still crave more.” Arlong tsks, “But it’s no wonder; you were left with only those small fingers of yours. There’s no way something so small can satisfy anyone, not even a human.”

You whine as his words rile you up, your pussy aching for more stimulation, “N-No, I need something more… m-maybe something that only a man your size could provide...”

“Is that right…?” He chuckles a bit at your words.

Your tongue darts over your lips quickly as you reach for the waistband of his pants. He looks down at you with a glint in his eye and a smug grin. He isn’t stopping you; you take that as a good sign. 

And if that wasn’t convincing enough, he even says, “Go ahead, pitiful thing…”

You nod and pull his pants down along with his undergarments and gasp in shock. 

You weren’t exactly familiar with the differences between fishmen and human anatomy. Of course, you knew they had gills or lungs that were different from yours; they might have tentacles or webbed fingers or things of that nature, but.. you never thought that something like this would be different.

Your mouth gapes in surprise as you see not one but two appendages between his legs. They’re shaped differently than you anticipated, the shafts slender with a slight curve. After he steps out from the discarded garments, you curiously reach a hand out and grab it, testing how the lengthy appendage feels in your hands.

It’s warm, and you gasp when you see the precum dripping onto your hands; its consistency is watery, and it seems to come out like a faucet. You blush at how it effortlessly lubricates your hands, allowing you to stroke even faster. 

As you stroke the cock that is on top, you nearly forget the other shaft until it twitches excitedly, hitting your hand and smearing the cum over your wrist. You hurriedly grab the other cock, trying to stroke both simultaneously. 

“Ah, I can barely get my hands around them…” You laugh nervously, “They’re huge-”

Arlong gives a cocky, lop-sided smirk, looking down at you as you struggle to wrap your hands around his two shafts. 

“The sight of you struggling is pathetic, but…” You gasp as, in an instant, he grabs you, lifting you in the air, “I can’t deny some part of me finds it rather endearing as well.”

Your face lights up in a bright blush at the surprising praise. Your legs wrap around his waist as he sits on the bed, leaning back until his head hits the pillows. Your body is pressed against his, and you gasp as the slick appendages slide against your thigh.

“Go on and finish what you started,” He growls lowly in a seductive tone, “Prove to me just how badly you need me, and if you do well, I’ll reward you.”

You whimper as he takes your chin in hand, tilting your head so you look directly into his eyes, “Does that sound exciting, little one?”

Your heart stops at what sounds like a term of endearment. 

“Y-Yes-” You breathe out, almost in a trance, “Yes, I’ll earn that reward, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” He hums, “Remove your shirt. I wish to see all of you before we begin…”

You nod and grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting it over your head and off your body.

You leave little kisses in your wake as you crawl down his body. Each kiss shows reverence as you worship his body, your lips trailing from his chest to his stomach and finally to the base of his first cock. When you reach it, you gulp as you ponder how to approach this. You’ve never pleased a man before, and definitely not a man with not one large shaft but two. 

But you had to try.

You bite your lip as your hands attempt to wrap around both dicks at the same time. Now that your face is level with them, you realize they’re both larger than your head; you begin to wonder just how they’ll fit if Arlong decides to claim you. Will he be merciful and only fuck you with one?

You abandon the thought as quickly as it came; clearly, he wasn’t the merciful type.

You would have to be able to take both at once.

The idea terrifies and excites you.

Your grip is firm as you begin stroking them, glancing up at him with nervous eyes before your gaze flickers back to the task at hand. You moan softly as you watch his cocks jolt and throb under your touch, your pussy growing wet again as you imagine how they would feel stuffed inside you.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” He growls, but you’re surprised at how soft and affectionate it sounds. It almost sounds like a gentle suggestion instead of a command.

You nod and lean forward, taking one of the cocks into your mouth slowly. You take it a bit farther than you anticipated, but probably because of how tapered the tip is. You bob your head slowly, stroking the rest of the shaft with one hand while your hand continues coaxing precum out of the other.

Arlong hums in appreciation, and you melt when his hand pushes back your hair, encouraging you to keep going.

You switch to the other shaft, attempting to take as much down your throat as possible. 

In your overzealous attempt, you gag around his cock, and you grow embarrassed. You pull off instantly and begin profusely apologizing: “I-I’m sorry, sir! I-I really am just as disgusting as you say I-”

He cuts you off, “That’s bound to happen. Keep going until I order you to stop.”

Your eyes widen in surprise; was gagging like that normal? He didn’t seem put off by it at all…

You bite your lip before trying again, this time sucking on the cock that rests above the other. You try pacing yourself for your second deepthroating attempt; even though he wasn’t angry about the gagging sounds, you didn’t want to actually throw up around him.

You slowly bob your head, ensuring both hands are full of him, and begin hollowing your cheeks, attempting to make a tighter hole for his pleasure. You inevitably gag again as his cock hits the back of your throat, but soon enough, it gets easier, and you’re able to take him down even further. You hit the halfway point before deciding not to push your luck, determining this was your limit. Soon enough, you find a rhythm, bobbing your head for some time before pulling off his shaft, your tongue swirling around the tapered head to coax out more precum. Eventually, you switch back and forth between the two dicks, trying your best to give both an equal amount of attention.

As you please him, you can’t help but sneak glances at his face, ensuring he’s enjoying himself.

Each time you look at him, his brows are furrowed as his eyes are shut tight, quiet grunts escaping his throat. Your pussy throbs as he gets more vocal, and you can’t help but to whine around his shaft, voicing your frustrations as your holes feel terribly empty.

Your needy sounds don’t go unnoticed.

“Oh,” he coos, clearly belittling you, “It sounds like you’re growing antsy… Was there something you wanted, little human?”

You pull off his cock with your tongue lolling out of your mouth. You breathe heavily, your eyes pleading as you beg, “Please, sir. I need you in me-”

He gives a cocky smirk, “I’m already in your mouth, and yet you want more? You’re a greedy little thing…”

“Please, I’m begging,” You whine, “I need you inside me- Please, sir, fuck me-!”

He hums, his interest clearly piqued by your desperate begging, “And why do you deserve it, hm? What have you done to deserve such an honor?”

You part your lips to answer, but your mind goes blank.

“Go on,” He puts on the pressure, “Speak.”

You finally stutter, “I don’t deserve them, but I’ll do anything to earn them. I-I’ll swallow all your cum, I-I’ll let you use my body any way you like, just please- please fill me up and fuck me until I can’t think-”

Your face radiates warmth as you realize what you just said; you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but god, as your slick drips onto the bed under you, you can’t lie: you really will do anything for him to take you. 

Arlong makes an amused little sound; it seems your babbling has caught his interest.

You give one final push, “Please give me a purpose; please let me be useful to you, sir. I’m begging you to use my body- I want to please you- please, let me be a good girl for you-“

“Mm, what a good little human you are,” he hums, his tone patronizing as he looks down at you, “So eager to please… It would be a waste to not take advantage of your devotion and desperation…”

Your eyes light up, and your heart races, excited that he’s finally accepted you.

“Now…” He hums, “How should I take you…”

You shudder as his eyes rake over your body before he motions for you to sit on him. You straddle him and gasp when he holds your hips, his large hands encapsulating your waist. Your heart pounds as he lines one of his cocks up with your pussy, your juices dripping onto him. He laughs a bit when he feels the slick oozing onto him but doesn’t say anything, not about your arousal anyway.

“While I may be a demanding master, I am not heartless…” He says, rubbing the tip of one of his cocks against your entrance, “You’ll take just one first before I add the second…”

Your throat goes dry, but you nod, steadying yourself by planting your hands on his broad chest. 

You wince and hiss in pain when he begins to lower you onto his shaft. Even though it’s barely inside you, it already feels like it’s too much to bear. But you attempt to endure it and keep your pained sounds to a minimum, not wanting Arlong to get annoyed by your discomfort. 

Your thighs shake, and eventually, you feel his pelvis pressed against your mound. You whimper as you feel completely stuffed, your stomach bulging slightly as he finally sheathes himself within you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as, for the first time, you’re filled by someone else.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t order you to move immediately, giving you a few moments to adjust.

It’s almost like he actually cares about you.

As you’re seated on top of him, his hands reach out to knead your breasts, his thumbs sliding over your hardened nipples. You whine shamelessly, rocking your hips back and forth as you grind your clit into his pelvis. 

“Look at you,” He chuckles, “Rubbing your needy clit against anything you can… I’m starting to think it’s not humans as a whole that are this desperate, but just you in particular.”

Your face burns in shame as he calls out your slutty behavior, but that doesn’t stop you. In fact, it only encourages you to begin riding him, sliding maybe an inch or so upwards before slowly sinking back down. You try to move slowly and carefully as you’re stretched beyond your limits, the pain still stinging as you begin fucking yourself.

And after some time, you release that it actually feels really good-

Your mouth hangs open as you take him with deeper strokes, your hips lifting up to the halfway point before slamming down. Your loud moans and whines fill the room as you fuck him, his cock hitting all the right spots. You begin to drool as his cock slams against your cervix, making your legs feel weak. You start to melt atop him, your thrusts growing sporadic and sloppy.

Arlong tsks as he watches you fall apart, your face nuzzled in his chest as you pathetically grind and frantically slam your hips against his.

“Is this really your best effort?” He teases, “I thought you said you would please me… and yet here you are, only using me for your pleasure. How selfish, little human…”

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I promise I can be useful-” You begin to babble, “I can be a good girl- I can take whatever you give me- fuck me- please- use me-”

Arlong clicks his tongue before gripping your waist and slamming into you on his own. You gasp sharply as he hits your furthest walls and begins his relentless assault.

“You are so pathetic,” He growls, “I’ll just have to fuck into you myself as if you were an object.”

And he does precisely that, his thrusts from below causing your body to jolt and jostle above him. You feel your brain go numb, every thought you could possibly have leaving your head. Your body works purely on instinct, grabbing his shoulders as your face rests on his chest, your drool beginning to leak onto his skin. The sounds of skin smacking against itself fills the room, along with wet squelches. 

“I’m so close-” You say dumbly, “Please, let me cum! Please-!”

“Good girl, asking for permission,” He grunts, “Go ahead.”

Your legs shake violently, and your back aches as your cunt squeezes him tight, attempting to milk him. But he doesn’t climax, not yet; You’re the only one reaching that beautiful high, your voice growing raspy as you cry out for him. Your nails dig into his chest and shoulders as you try to grip onto something, anything, to keep you grounded. You feel as though your soul is floating out of your body.

It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, without a doubt.

As you’re left panting, attempting to recover from the intense experience, Arlong laughs at you; but to your surprise, it’s not malicious. He seems genuinely amused, even proud, at how he caused such a reaction from you.

“Look at you…” He hums, his hands raking over your body, his palms running over your hips and chest before reaching your cheeks, “You’re exhausted, and I’ve hardly begun using you…”

Your body feels limp as he lifts you up, attempting to place you on your hands and knees before him. But you can’t do it; your knees wobble, and your thighs shake as a warning before you fall forward, falling flat on your face. You try to lift yourself up, but even your arms feel boneless.

Arlong lets out an amused sound, “It seems you can no longer hold yourself up… It looks like I will have to support you myself…”

You let out a drawn-out groan as Arlong picks you up like a doll, flipping you around and holding you close to him as he stands beside the bed. Your legs dangle as your thighs are pressed to his sides, one of his shafts poking against your sopping wet entrance.

“I let you off easy earlier,” He whispers, “But you’ve proven that you can handle one, so now you will take both…. I expect that you won’t complain.”

You nodded your head; while you were exhausted, you were also more than eager to cum again. Though, as you feel them both press against your hole, a feeling of uncertainty pokes and prods at you.

But you ignore it.

Arlong is able to lift your body with one hand, balancing you in his palm as if you are weightless. With his other hand, he takes both shafts, lining them up before pressing them both inside. 

At first, it isn’t difficult to accept them both; his dicks are tapered at the top, meaning the initial stretch isn’t too bad. But then he keeps pulling you down, inch by inch, penetrating you. You grit your teeth as the feeling nearly feels unbearable, your hole clinging to his shafts as you are stretched more than ever. 

You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, biting your lip as you whine. 

Your sounds grow louder as he lifts your hips, guiding you up and down on his cocks. He thrusts into you fast, not giving you time to adjust the way you did before. You feel as though you could split in two, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

You moan desperately into his shoulder, babbling and whining as you’re tossed around like an object. The whole ordeal is so humiliating, but you can’t deny that you are enjoying it all the same.

“I knew you were greedy,” He grunts, “But this is ridiculous; You’re stuffed full, and all you can do is whine and beg for more. You are the most shameless human I’ve ever known.”

Your lip quivers as you try to form words, but your vocal cords fail you; all you can do is whine and moan, clinging tight to his body. 

He laughs at your desperation, “Though, it’ll be nice to have a toy so eager to be used. I’ll keep you for quite a while, I imagine..”

He continues his fast and harsh pace, bringing you closer and closer to the edge once more. Your legs quiver, and your body grows terribly hot, sweat building on your skin. You hold your breath as you ready yourself for your climax, the lack of oxygen making your head dizzy. And, in your dazed state, you lift your head and smash your lips against his. 

And, to your surprise, he actually kisses you back.

With your lips pressed against his and your fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair, you finally release.

He grunts loudly into your lips, and with one final forceful thrust, you feel your insides flood with warmth. His hips slow, and with your cavern too stuffed for anything else to fit, his cum begins to dribble out of you. 

Your lips part, and you stutter, “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you without your permission!”

He only rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips, “And yet I feel as though you’re only apologizing because you did so without permission, not because you’re actually sorry.”

You avert your eyes, and you feel yourself slowly lowered onto the bed, your back caressed by the soft sheets. 

“I will say,” He begins, “I enjoyed your sudden display of boldness; it just shows how excited you were in the moment… I will allow it for now.”

Your eyes widen at his pardon, and you nod slowly, “Thank you, sir.”

“Now, rest easy, little human.” He says quietly, stepping back once you rest entirely on the bed.

“Wait,” You interject, propping yourself on your elbows, “You’re leaving?”

He laughs as if dismissing you, “Were you expecting me to stay with you?”

Your heart feels a pang of pain, and you visibly deflate, clearly disappointed. Of course, this entire thing meant nothing to him, and while you should’ve expected this, it didn’t make it hurt any less. Your eyes trail off, looking down at the edge of the bed as you fill with this indescribable loneliness. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment and you can’t help but look up at him, trying to discern why he hasn’t abandoned you yet.

“Most masters don’t sleep in the same beds as their pets. But…” he hums, “I suppose for humans, it is a fairly common occurrence…”

You perk up at his words. 

Is he saying what you think he is…?

“I will allow it just this once,” He insists, “But never again, do you understand?”

And that’s good enough for you because you knew owners who insisted on such things never kept their word.

[devildomditzy]

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Cmoooon, it’s foolproof! When have I ever let ya down?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, giving him a pointed look.

“Okay, I let ya down one time.”

You raise your eyebrows higher.

“Alright, alright! A couple of times. But this time I’ve got it locked down, I promise!”

You look away from him, a bit peeved he was making you the ‘main component’ to his next ‘big scheme’.

Try as you might, you can’t say no to him. This little bastards got you wrapped around his finger.

He gives you that look. You know the one. The one that always lets him get his way. The one that instantly makes you fold.

You let out a defeated sigh, “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Yes!”, he cheers as you watch him bounce excitedly around the room, quickly starting to toss various things aside on his messy floor seemingly looking for supplies? of some kind?

When he turns back to you, he’s got new ambition in his eyes.

“Right, step number one, we gotta get Asmo to getcha all dolled up.”

He gives what you can only describe as an evil little chuckle as he grabs your wrist and pulls you along towards the avatar of lust’s room.

“Hiiii”, Asmo sings as he opens the door to greet you. “I’m guessing you couldn’t say no to him again?”

You give Asmo a defeated, but annoyed look that says ‘don’t even start’.

He defensively throws up his hands. “Ooo, didn’t mean to touch a nerve there, hon!”

“Yeah yeah, their nerves are touched or whatever ya just said.” Mammon essentially pushes you into Asmo’s arms, cause you to indignantly huff at him. “Just hop to it, woula ya? We’re burnin’ daylight here!”

“Now now Mammon, is that anyway to talk to your lovely partner?”

“P-partner!? Whaddya mean partner? They’re just some stupid-“

Your deadly glare cuts him off completely.

“S-stupidly amazin’! Great human! So perfect! Did I mention you were amazin’?”

“Mammon?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s fair.”

The second born leaves you in the hands of the fifth as he promptly fucks off to who knows where to gather who knows what for this “plan”.

Asmo practically shoves you down into his vanity chair, eyes sparkling with delight as he looks you over, hand grabbing your jaw and titling your head side to side as if appraising a jewel.

“Now, tell me. What did you get yourself into this time, love?”

“Ugh, I agreed to help with another one of his stupid “money making” ideas… if you can even call stealing from unsuspecting drunks an idea.”

“So you’re going to be robbing people?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know. I’m just the distraction. The ‘eye candy’ he said. While I’m busy chatting up whoever, he’s gonna swipe their wallets.”

“You know hon, you don’t have to go along with his stupidity just to make him like you.”

“I know”, you sigh. “It just… it’s makes him so happy!”

“And so does his credit card! Just wave that in front of his face for a few seconds, it’ll have the same effect. Trust me, I’ve tried. And succeeded.”

You cross your arms, looking down, suddenly finding the floor very interesting as your brain works overtime thinking about him.

“I know… I guess I just wanted to be the reason why he’s happy.”

Asmo gives you a knowing smile, shaking his head. “What am I gonna do with you two? Ugh, it’s so cute I can barely take it!”

“What’s so cute?”

Asmo doesn’t just laugh at that, he cackles. He doubles over, tears in his eyes.

“Honey, if you don’t think we all can’t see this silly little back and forth you two are caught up in, you’re as delusional as Levi was when he thought he’d won a meet and greet with his favorite idol.”

“Wasn’t that another one of Mammon’s schemes?”

“Maybe..”, he leads off with a devilish lit in his voice.

You remain quiet as a small smile finds its way to his face and he shakes his head at you.

“You’re both ridiculous.”

Asmo grabs your shoulders, twisting the chair so you fully face the mirror. He runs a hand through your hair, staring into your reflection.

“How abouutttt, instead of getting you all made up to go to some dingy bar with my idiot brother, we get you all made up for my idiot brother, huh?”

“I dunno Asmo, he’s probably not even gonna notice.”

“Nonsense! When I’m done with you those drunks won’t be the only ones who are distracted.”, he says with a wink.

His smile? Devious.

It isn’t too long, probably a little over an hour before you hear banging on Asmo’s door.

“Oi! Are ya almost done in there? We’re on a tight schedule!”

“Why don’t you come in and see for yourself?”, Asmo questions in a dangerous voice.

Mammon is staring down at his D.D.D, typing with one hand as he opens the door with the other, so he doesn’t immediately see you.

But when he does

“Well…What do you think?”

Your voice comes out much shyer than you had hoped for, but you force yourself to look at him, knowing your face was on fire.

His eyes are wide behind his sunglasses as he just makes this unreadable face. One you don’t know what to make of.

“I uh, ya look uh.. I gotta”, he stammers before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath and…

“I forgot somethin’ in my room! Ya, just uh, gotta go grab it. Real important. And uh, you know what? You don’t have to come with me! The Great Mammon’s decidin’ to fly solo on this one, ha ha! Sooo…”

You watch him awkwardly back out of the room, shutting the door behind him before you hear him waking away. And then you hear that walk turn into a run.

“Well?”, Asmo nudges you, “Go after him, silly.”

“But Asmo-“

“We both know exactly why he acted like that. Stop worrying so much.” He gives you a genuinely warm smile. “Everyone knows that he likes you”.

Though nervous and maybe trembling slightly, you still manage to make your way to Mammon’s room. You hear shuffling inside that quickly halts when you knock.

“Mammon?”, you question when you get no actual response. “It’s me, can I come in?”

Still nothing, but you swear you hear him lean up against the door.

“I thought I was the ‘main component’ to this scheme. Now you don’t want me to be a part of it?”

You can’t hide to subtle hurt in your voice, one that makes him make some kind of groaning noise before promptly opening the door.

“Mammon I- woah!”, you stumble as he grabs you by the wrist once more, pulling you into his room quickly and slamming the door behind you.

He turns his back to you, eyes closed, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated.

“Mammon…”

“Listen, ya can’t… I can’t have ya goin’…”

He makes another annoyed noise before turning to face you.

“Ya can’t go out lookin’ like that okay! Especially to some seedy ass dive bar!”

“Why not? Isn’t this what you wanted? This was the whole plan right? I flirt with people, you take their wallets, we run before Lucifer hears anything about it.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Now I wasted all this time getting ready and you don’t wanna do this anymore?”

“It’s not tha-“

“I thought we were like, partners in crime. Maybe I was stupid for thinking that.”

The disappointment in your voice makes him crack.

“Ya look too damn good, okay?! I’m not lettin’ ya go cause I’m not lettin’ any of those assholes touch ya, let alone look at ya!”

His face is cherry red, and his arms are crossed as he keeps his eyes promptly shut. He looks as if he’s bracing for impact. Bracing for your response.

“I got to thinkin’ bout it after I dropped ya with Asmo and just… the thought of you sayin’ all that sweet stuff you say to me to a couple of nobodies just so I could swipe their pocketbooks? I couldn’t…ya can’t….ya can’t say that stuff to anybody else, got it?”

He seems to let out the breath he’s been holding.

“Specially not lookin’ like that. I mean, ya always look amazin’, but this is…wow.”

He looks you up and down, and you can’t help but feel like your heart is exploding into a million pieces. Was it nervousness? Was it excitement? Was it a mix of both?

You’ll never know, because what he said next makes your thoughts hault, heart beating out of your chest.

“It would kinda be a shame for you to get all dressed up for nothin’ though so…can I take ya to dinner?”

[solarisfortuneia]

a heavily edited repost from my old writing acc (i could've done so so much better but i gave up after staring at it for thirty minutes lmao but hey, i like it better than i did the first time. that's something, right?)

ft. figure skater kaeya and ice skating <3

“y’know, kaeya, considering the fact i’m a disaster on the ice, i feel like these skating sessions aren’t too bad.” 

“you are a disaster, and not just on the ice,” he agrees, and a hand gently cradles your face. “i’ve seen you hit your head on a lamp post right in front of you while walking on solid ground.”  

“you’re supposed to say i’m graceful, dammit.”

“oh?” his eye twinkles with barely concealed mirth, and the corners of his lips curl up into a fond smile. without warning, he pulls on your cheek, and his smile widens to a grin as you glare at his actions. he lets go with a laugh.  “my apologies, then, graceful one. please, do show me what you can do.” he makes a show of stepping aside, gesturing to the ice. 

you step inside the rink, fairly confident in your ability to at least stay upright.

kaeya’s taught you quite a bit over the past week, ever since you asked him to teach you properly. you're no match for a figure skater, obviously, but you’ve got this, at least as far as skating straight on the ice goes.

kaeya breezes by you, twirling and spinning from the minute he enters. his long hair is braided, fringe pulled back, forehead exposed for once. sunflower earrings dangle brightly from his earlobes— a gift you picked out for him on his birthday. the bright yellow stands out beautifully against his tanned skin and navy hair. 

he gains momentum, then leaps into the air, twirling with incredible grace and landing in a graceful arc.

“show off,” you huff. he sends you a wink and a flying kiss at your words. curse him and his professional figure skating training.

you turn away to concentrate on your own movements, and a bulb slowly lights up in your head. 

you’ve seen him do tricks like that multiple times; why couldn’t you attempt a simple spin yourself?

choosing what you think is an appropriate starting point, you skate in a straight line, picking up speed and building up momentum similar to what you’ve seen kaeya do before trying to do a little spin on the ice. 

in your very delusional mind’s eye, you visualize yourself performing it perfectly. though, contrary to your expectations, you do not twirl like a figure skater. you do not twirl with grace and precision.

oh, no, no, no.

you crash into the railing like an undignified bird learning to fly. 

you groan in pain, slumping down, your back flat on the ice. the cold seeps through your thick jacket, but you cannot be bothered to get up. your head throbs, and you’re pretty sure you’ll wake up to a bruise waving hello in the morning. 

barely a moment passes before he’s by your side. “my love, who told you to do that?” he asks, his usually humorous tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.  his concerned gaze runs over you once, twice, thrice, brows knitted in worry. he checks for bruises, for sprains, and for fractures with practiced swiftness. his fingers grip your face gently, before easing you into a sitting up position. 

“—and with such horrible form too,” he tuts playfully, after he’s deemed you alright. 

you swat at him. heat rushes to your cheeks and you bury your face in his shoulder. he laughs, far too loudly than what the situation called for, prying you from his chest so he could look you in the eyes.

“this is why spins like that are better attempted when one has experience, darling.” he kisses the tip of your nose. 

you groan in response. “i wanted to try it, okay? don’t tease me.”

“okay, okay, i won’t,” he holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “if it’s any consolation, at least this was much, much better than your first attempt.” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist, and hoisting you to your feet. “you lasted a whole twenty minutes before crashing. well done, love.”

you swat at him again.

[crowwritesaway]

Yandere Male Idol x Female Idol Reader Pt. 4

Her phone wouldn’t stop ringing. She was doing a live. She was at her home. “Hi.” She greeted her fans. Her eyes followed the comments that were coming fast on her screen.

You guys looked so cute ☺️

Omg, I can’t believe you are dating. My Y/N + Eli ship has sailed ❤️

She frowned. They must have spotted us at the airport. She kept reading. One comment in particular caught her attention.

I can’t believe they kissed.

Y’all shut up before she gets upset.

I can’t wait for your album.

You felt confused. Kiss? What are they talking about? A knock came to the door. Eli walked in. He was out of camera. You waved him off. You had told him to stay off camera.

Who’s that?

Is that Eli? Show him, please. <3

Yesss!!! Are they about to confirm their relationship?

Eli ignored you and sat down next to you. “Hi.” He greeted your fans. You sighed. Ring. Ring. Ring. Your phone kept ringing. You silence your phone. In your mind, it had to be some stalker. They always called during lives so you ignored it. I’ll check afterwards. It’s not safe nor important.

Eli smirked when he got the comments gushing over your closeness. “Yeah. We’re together.” He said, smiling cutely at the camera. You looked at him. “Yeah, together for work.” You said, elbowing him. Eli laughed. “Are guys happy?” He asked, trying to hint if they approved of your ‘relationship’.

Yes! I knew it. My favorite couple.

Work couple obviously. You heard Y/N. Stop assuming.

Ha. And they said I was delusional. I knew Y/N + Eli was real.

Moderator entered the chat. You let out a sigh of relief. Your company had sent out a moderator to control the comments. You smiled at the comment that thanked you for making music. However, some obsessive fans took that as you smiling at their comments confirming your relationship.

The moderator was deleting comments that insinuated that you both were dating. They vanished with a blink of an eye.

Eli smiled. That smile hid the anger well. The second he saw moderator pop up on the screen, he held back from cursing out loud. “Well, I love y’all but it’s night and we need to get some sleep. We have a lot of plans.” Eli blushed. You nodded. It was nighttime and you both were tired from the traveling.

“Yeah. We’ll update you when we can. Have a great week! We love you. Bye.” You ended the live. Eli laid his head on your shoulder and threw a suggestive wink before the live ended.

“Eli. Clingy Eli.” You shrugged him off. Eli groaned. “My grumpy Y/N.” You shook your head. I can’t win with him. So stubborn.

You pulled out your phone. The screen lit up. Your eyes went wide. 60 missed calls and 30 unread messages from your manager. Oops. Eli grinned. It worked. Eli pulled you into a hug. You reluctantly hugged him back. “I’m gonna go sleep.” He let go with a pout. Eli got off the couch. “See you in the morning.” He walked off. “Night.” You said, swiping through the messages.

They all asked if you were dating Eli and why you both kissed at the airport. Are you both dating? Since when? Y/N. Pick up the phone. This needs to be confirmed or denied. Listen. For now, we’re going to delete any rumor. Call me back when you can.

“I’m not dating Eli.” You sent the message before tossing the phone aside. I can only imagine what is trending. You laid an arm over your head. Does Eli know? No, he wouldn’t have kept this from me. Ugh…it’ll go away. It’s just a rumor. Why get angry over this?

Your leg moved up and down. What if it doesn’t? I rarely get called for a rumor. I’ll sleep it off. Tomorrow will be better. You picked up your phone. “Okay. I’ll deal with this. A meeting is scheduled to deal with this. Bring Eli.” You huffed. You glanced at the time. I got six hours. Mmm..more like three. Sleep won’t come easily.

Stay around for more of Yandere Male Idol x Female Idol

[the-starry-seas]

Trans Clone Week 2024 Day 4: During Wartime / Trans4Trans / Hair Braiding

“Hey,” Racer says breathlessly as she ducks into the tent. “Looks like the action’s dying down until tomorrow. Generals are pulling everyone back to the main lines, except for a few scouts.” 

“Did Fury volunteer?” 

“Nah, he’s working on Ember’s helmet tonight.” 

“What about you?” 

“Ah, my dear sibling, you forget your own words.” She slumps over to look shorter – they’re the same height, he wants to say – and deepens her voice comically. “You have an incessant need to yap at people, does it ever stop?” Her posture and voice return to normal. “Incessant means it never stops, dingus.” 

He stares at her and briefly considers the taser on his belt. It’s a recurring thought. Might even call it incessant. 

But he manages to shake it off – mostly – and looks back at his datapad. He was called to a meeting that ended just a few minutes ago, and he’d been hoping to have five minutes to sit down before getting back into the fight. Looks like they might get the entire night off. A rarity, in the middle of a war zone, but he can hope… 

Well, he can be delusional. Peace never comes to people like them. Not even the generals it seems, these days. He misses Osstowla. She wasn’t perfect, but she was better to them than this Stusalv. 

“Whatcha working on?” 

Racer takes his datapad right out of his hands before he can do anything about it. He glares at her, but she’s paying no attention to him. That’s not unusual. 

“I need to finish that, Racer.”

“Aw, c’mon. I haven’t seen you since dinner!” 

“That was twenty minutes ago.” 

“Yeah, and it was a long twenty minutes. C’mon, we can go back to the barracks, hang out a while. Whisper never sees you any more, either.” 

“Whisper tried to bite me four times this week.” 

“Obviously. It’s how xe says xe likes you.” She says that like he should have been able to figure that part out on his own, but he’s not all that sure that she’s correct. “And I’m taking your datapad,” she adds in a sing-songy voice as she starts walking backward, “so you better follow me!” 

He misses the brief seconds where he was the closest a clone could be to a single child, and the rest of his idiots were still in their tubes. He doesn’t remember them. But he knows they were the most peaceful seconds of his life. 

Right now, the only thing she’s correct about, is that she has his datapad. And that does, unfortunately, mean he has to follow her as she waves it over her head like a flag, cheerfully greeting various other clones along the way. 

A few of them give him more solemn nods and a couple sympathetic smiles. He can tell who Racer is friends with, and who Racer has inflicted herself upon. She is certainly… a character. That’s the way he heard those pirates described. And she is worse. He loves her, but she is worse. 

She also finally flops down on a bunk. His bunk, naturally, but he’s so used to that, that he just shoves her feet aside and sits next to her. 

“Can I get my datapad back, now?” 

“Mm, nope. You’re gonna help me out.” 

“Oh, yeah, because I’m so inclined to do that right now.” 

She only grins when he glares at her. 

“Aw, look at you. My baby sibling all grown up and being sarcastic… how the times have changed.” She sighs dramatically and stares off into the middle distance. “Am I the only one who remembers when you were just uptight and anxious?” 

He would love to deny both of those things, but he can’t, not really. So he just sighs and slumps back against the wall. 

“Okay. What do I have to do?” 

Racer lets her hair down from the tie, half of it already loose around her face, and shakes out the rest by whipping her head side to side. 

“Mkay,” she says, swaying back a little like she’s dizzy. “You need girl time.” 

“I’m not a girl.” 

She raises an eyebrow and slowly drags her gaze down his body and back up to his face, like this is some ridiculous nonsense on his part. But she shrugs it off without saying anything – will miracles never cease – and just gets up to stretch. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You can forget about your datawork with my scintillating company.” 

He has no idea how she learned the word ‘scintillating’ but she’s certainly using it incorrectly. 

She also sits between his knees and leans her head back. And when he doesn’t do anything, she starts elbowing at the inside of his knee, like he’s a misbehaving massiff of some sort. 

“If I do this,” he asks, starting to run his fingers through her curls, “will you let me be for a while?” 

“Of course not! You get in your head too much, kiddo, you’ve gotta work on that. Worry less and enjoy yourself more.” 

“Oh, like you? Ms One Brain Cell?” 

She does bring out the sass in him. And the worst in him. But sometimes… all right, fine, sometimes she’s not so bad. Even if she has a baffling habit of always calling him a sibling instead of a brother. She doesn’t do that with Fury or Ember. 

But he has to admit, it’s a little calming. Working his fingers through her hair to make sure there’s no knots. Sectioning out the five even strands to make the more complex braids that she favours. She’ll do a five-strand braid sometimes, on either side, to fit it under her helmet. He’s not quite up to that tonight. 

There’s talking as he works. Incessant, just like he called her once, even though he doesn’t exactly remember doing that. But it does sound like something he’d say. 

“Hey, hold your head still,” he murmurs. 

She sighs dramatically but does as he tells her. And he’s halfway done already, so she won’t be bothered by him for too much longer. She’ll probably run off, as soon as he’s done. Find Fury to plan mischief with, or Whisper to bother. 

“Got that hair tie?” he asks. She hands it over her shoulder, and he murmurs a thanks as he wraps it around the end. “All right. You’re good to go.” 

She pulls the braid over the front of her shoulder, running her fingers over the plaits, looking for anything out of place. She must not find anything, because she hops up to her feet so quickly that it startles him. 

“This is why you’re my favourite little sibling.” 

“You can just call me a brother, you know,” he can’t help saying. 

She turns to look at him, like she can’t quite figure him out. Funny, that’s usually the look he gives her. 

“Ohhh,” she murmurs after a few moments, and grins at him. “Gotcha. Yeah. Sure. Just let me know when you figure it out.” 

And then she reaches out to ruffle his hair, like she knows he hates. 

“I don’t have anything to figure out,” he scowls at her as he tries to put his curls back into place. “Except why you always do that.” 

“‘Cause it’s fun for me.” She picks up his datapad and settles back into his bunk with him. “You want help with this?” 

“I didn’t know you could read.” 

She grabs his pillow and shoves it against the side of his face with one hand. By the time he gets it off to the side, she’s already got his datawork open and is filling out the next line. 

He really didn’t know she could do that. 

“So you’re… really going to help,” he realises. 

“Yeah. Like I said, you’re my favourite. Don’t worry about it, okay? Just take a nap.” 

It’s late enough in the evening that if he goes to bed now, he won’t wake up until breakfast. He knows that. So does she. And if she thinks it’s all right… 

He doesn’t consciously decide either way, but he’s snoring with his head on her thigh by the time the others come back to the barracks. For once, he doesn’t hear a thing.

[a-wandering-imagination]

Chapter 35

Back at the apartments, Niki headed straight up to her room. Anton and Jake made their way to the roof of the building while Tommy and Gunnar both said they were going to catch up on some much needed sleep. As Anton and Jake walked out onto the roof, they found several of the others there sitting in a circle deep in discussion. The talk quieted as the two men arrived. Judith waved the two over and Peggy and Anna scooted aside to make room in the circle for the two men. George and Lydia were there, along with Mike and his wife Betsy, and Gerald’s wife Ginny.

“We were just talking about you,” Judith quipped as the two men sat down in the space the women had made for them.

“All good, I hope,” Jake smiled.

“What did you find out down there?” Judith asked.

Jake recounted their exploration of the tunnels and the eerie silence that had greeted them there. He explained how they had found no one. No bodies. No dogs. Nothing. Just empty tunnels. Everyone in the group sat and listened as Jake was speaking but Anton noticed that none of them seemed to show any sign of surprise about what Jake was saying. When Jake finished speaking the group was silent for a moment, and then Judith spoke again.

“We were pretty sure that was what you were going to say,” she stated, and all the heads around the group began to nod. “We’ve been doing chores all morning and the air has been different today. Clean and fresh, but without much sound. No birds to speak of and no dogs. And, as we all began to notice this, we also noticed that we didn’t hear any of the tunnel rat signals. No wolf calls. Nothing. It has been very quiet up here today.”

“Maybe the rats have moved on,” Jake responded. “Maybe this is a good thing.”

The nods of the group now were tentative. They’d been around long enough to know that change wasn’t always good. As the conversations splintered into news of the day’s chores and issues with the irrigation system, Anton’s mind wandered back to the conversation with Niki in her apartment. He didn’t want to believe what she had said about someone showing up tomorrow, and even less about them leaving with this individual--whomever it may be. But one thing HE had learned during the last several weeks was that fate had a way of throwing him into the middle of things lately and he felt something gnawing at the back of his mind. It was that little itch of a belief that what Niki had said was true. He just felt it somehow. And if it were true, then his life was about to take another turn for the worse. But even though he was starting to believe what Niki said… he also agreed with her that perhaps it was best to let events unfold, rather than telling the others, on the off-chance that both of them were a little delusional. With that in mind, Anton excused himself from the group and made his way back down to his own room. He stood there for a moment, looking at the mattress and the blanket and realized he had very little to pack if he was indeed leaving tomorrow. His kidnapping three days earlier had left him without any supplies. The only clothes he had were the ones on his back, and they were more than a little smelly. He had no food or weapons to take with them. He found himself shrugging his shoulders as he realized he didn’t even know why he had come back down to his room. There was nothing here to pack. He was just turning to leave when Niki appeared in the doorway. She had a backpack over her shoulder and still had her tactical vest on with the pistol in the holster on the front. He noticed that she now had five additional clips tucked in the pockets. She dropped the backpack on the floor next to the door and removed the vest and laid it down next to the backpack.

“What’s all this?” Anton asked as she was piling the gear next to the door.

“My clothes. Some dried food. I got a little bottle of bleach for purifying water as well. I think Jake will let me take one of the vests. The gun is mine from before, so that is going with me. So are the clips.” Anton noted that the gun was indeed different from the one Jake had given him to use. Niki’s gun was a Beretta Px4 Storm in .45 ACP. Packed a little more punch than the .40 S&W.

“But why did you bring it all here?” Anton continued.

Niki looked at him for a moment before responding. “I’ve not felt safe since the travel ban.” She crossed her arms across her chest and rubbed her biceps as if she were cold. She stepped across the room and looked out the window. “Even after Jake and the boys rescued Elsa and me from those assholes… I still never really felt safe. I felt like my safety was out of my control. Like I had to depend on the goodwill of others for my safety.” She turned to look at Anton once again. “Until last night.”

Anton cocked one eyebrow.

Niki was quiet for several moments, staring at him. Anton didn’t bother to rush her this time. She looked like she was about to speak and then bit her lip. Her eyes clouded a bit and then she turned away from him towards the window again. Anton dropped to his mattress and rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. He heard Niki move and turned his head and looked up at her. She was facing him once again with a distant look in her eyes.

“That little girl calmed my mind,” she said and then paused for a moment. “I realized that I could either spend my life worrying about the bad stuff that *might* happen, or I could take charge of my life and make good things happen. It reminded me of why I became an field officer for Interpol to begin with. I have to face my fears head on to once again realize I can depend on myself. I don’t know you, Anton. I don’t know that little girl. But I’ve decided that even if the trip with you doesn’t materialize, I am not going to stay here and hide anymore. I don’t want to live that way. So either way, tonight is the last night here for me. And I’d rather spend it here with you than alone up in my own room.”

Anton’s look of confusion caused Niki to continue. “I don’t mean WITH YOU with you, I just mean here, in the same room. In case you planned to leave without telling me. I am not staying behind.”

Anton smiled at her and walked over and grabbed one of the stacked mattresses and pulled it to the floor. With a flourish he offered it to her. She slid it next to Anton’s and threw her pack on top of it.

“What do you think the others will think of you leaving?” Anton asked.

Niki sat down on the mattress and absently picked at one of the seams. “I think Jake will be disappointed the most. I think all of them assumed that Jake and I would end up together, just because we’re kind of similar in age and disposition… and we’re both single, of course.” She paused and looked up at Anton. “But this isn’t my home.” The words hung in the air for a moment. “And neither is Hungary,” she continued.

“Where is your home?” Anton asked.

Niki stood and walked over to the window once more. Her eyes scanned the horizon. “Somewhere out there. It’s waiting for me to come and find it.” She turned back to Anton and smiled briefly.

The look in her eyes caused Anton to catch his breath a bit. He wasn’t sure if it was simply how beautiful Niki was that affected him this way or if it was something else, something more. He’d known her for such a short time he felt embarrassed that he even felt this way about her… and yet he did. There was something there. And the more he watched her the more he felt like she felt it too… and that she was equally embarrassed. The two of them were carefully avoiding the little sparks that seemed to be flying between them.

Anton was searching for a neutral way to break the silence when he blurted out, “So, is there anywhere to bathe in this place?” Niki’s eyebrows jumped a bit. “I mean, I’ve not had a good cleaning since I left Alaska. I’m sure I smell a little ripe!” That caused both of them to laugh.

“They have a shower rigged up on the 24th floor, right under a catchment tank on the roof that they painted black. Passive heating system. Still a little chilly, but better than straight cold water.” She turned and looked at the shelves and grabbed a folded towel and threw it at him. “There is soap up there, and a few different kinds of shampoos. What with all the hotels in the vicinity, we’ve accumulated a lot of wrapped soap and travel-size shampoo bottles.”

Anton took the towel and was about to head out the door when Niki spoke again. “Jake can probably set you up with some clothes as well. We raided the upper floors of the Columbia Outlet up on Pine Street early on. We’ve got quite a collection. Some Old Navy stuff too.” Anton gave her a thumbs up and headed for the stairs.

Nikki stared at the door after Anton left, her mind racing. The events of the previous night swirled in her head and her pulse quickened. She had not told Anton everything. She had seen and heard much more when that little girl had touched her. The two had held hands most of the night and the silent conversation between them had been long and bewildering, but one thing was certain. Nikki knew that it had been Anton talking to her. A part of him that he did not yet recognize as himself. The conversation had both terrified and thrilled her. The memory of it now caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms and the nape of her neck and she felt her face flush. The future loomed dark and brooding in front of her, but she had promised that little girl… she had promised Anton… that she would help him see it through.

[glib-and-glamoured]

"You live in a palace?" She replied, trying to sound impressed. "Maybe I would like to see it. Though, I've never been in one before. I might embarrass you. Are there ghosts?"

He responded, smoothly disentangled himself from the conversation then headed for the door. He had an air of disappointment about him that she didn’t quite trust. With the door closed behind him, she turned back to the tavern. Her eye snagged on a pale form. That's right. Dalyria was still there. No drink in hand. Head almost pointedly angled away. Usually, the group left together. What had she heard? Was she there to take care of loose ends?

"Last call," Lorelei yelled into the room. A few patrons paid off a tab and tumbled into the night. Only two wanted a closing drink. Lorelei was relieved to see Dalyria make her way out with the main crowd. Lorelei had hoped to follow Astarion, but she couldn't leave the establishment with customers still inside. She bundled out the last two drinkers as soon as she saw they had finished, apologizing and saying she had somewhere to be.

She looked to the sky. It would be dawn soon, and people in the palace would be waking. She had to hurry. Szarr Palace... She had been by it before. It wasn't far from Sorcerous Sundries where she had gone with her mother when she was little and sometimes still returned to look longingly at the tomes.

There would be guards probably. She hadn't considered that before. What was her excuse if she was caught? If they really were Guild, excuses wouldn't matter. She paused for a moment. Why was she doing this? If Astarion was really taking these people off to who knows where, she had been letting it happen for quite some time. She could turn a blind eye. Or tell someone else to look into it and leave the responsibility to them.

But letting it lie wasn't an option. She basically ran the tavern. Pretending nothing was going on would practically be serving up victims to an unknown end. And she could imagine what the Fist would say if she tried turning it over to them. The way that they'd look haughty and wave her away. Just another delusional petitioner. No. No one would do anything without evidence or testimony from someone who could corroborate her story. Most importantly, she couldn't live with herself if she didn't even look into it.

The sky was just starting to color as she reached the palace. In its shadow, she spoke the words softly and felt a trickling coolness as the invisibility covered her. Getting to the door of the palace proved to be nerve-fraying. She treaded lightly up steps and across the ramparts. When she climbed up a ladder, she had to avoid the notice of three guards. Even invisible, she felt she would be noticed any moment. When she finally reached the entrance into the palace, she realized she had been holding her breath. The sun was just breaking over the horizon now. She pressed an ear to the front door, but the wood was thick. She couldn't make out anything.

The handle jostled and she only had a moment to step aside before a young nobleman wearing fine but noticeably mussed clothes was allowed out by a servant.

"Bollocks, it's bright," the man mumbled. He hesitated in the sun for a moment, and Lorelei took the opportunity to skirt past him and the servant into a large, ornate corridor. The servant bid the gentleman good morning, shut the door, and went down the hallway.

Lorelei had the wherewithal to step to the side before taking a moment to bask in the sight of the place. Her head tilted up in wonder. She had never seen this much gold. This much velvet. Large paintings stared down from their frames, and clever alcoves hid solemn statues. Floors gleamed, gilding glinted. It was altogether suffocating in splendor. She immediately understood what Astarion had meant- the place was beautiful, but something about it was haunting.

A trickle of conversation caught her ear. She followed it to a large door on the other end of the corridor. The room was large. A dance floor. No, these were nobles. A ballroom. She immediately recognized a figure, hovering at the edge of the room. Petras. Wait. All of Astarion's pale companions were here. Where was he? She'd hardly thought this when he strode in soundlessly beside where she stood. She froze as he nearly brushed against the edge of her cloak. She'd never noticed how quiet he was. He walked to another edge of the room and took up his own place by the wall. They all seemed to be waiting for something, and whatever it was looked to be unpleasant. Their demeanors ranged from anxious to resolved.

In sharp contrast, in the center of the room, an equally pale nobleman spoke regally to a pair of finely dressed ladies who giggled in a fawning way. He kissed their hands, said farewell, and waved for the servant to escort them out. The servant took the time to shut both the heavy doors of the ballroom as he led the ladies out. Shit. She was trapped in the room with this odd, pale retinue. Lorelei saw a cabinet in one corner and wedged herself in its shadow, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Nothing!" Her mouth moved before she could think. "I didn't even see him this morning." Though the words were true, her tone was all wrong. She sounded nervous. Her smile had fallen without her noticing.

She needed to find an excuse for how strange she was acting right now.

She cleared her throat and tried again. "We weren't close or anything, but we'd talk sometimes when he came in. I just thought he'd come by tonight. And um," She tried to look embarrassed, looking down at her feet, "we were going to talk about, well... you. Sorry. Nothing mean! Just if your house was spooky and such. Can't blame a barmaid for being curious. And you are so mysterious. Please don't tell the owner. I'm so embarrassed." She gave her best chagrined smile. If he thought she was just a silly barmaid, maybe he wouldn't bother with her.

One thing was certain: Tiedan was definitely in danger. She started to pull together a plan. When the evening was through, she would try her hand at sneaking into the Szarr Palace. Gather some evidence or something. No stunts or anything to get her killed, just enough to go to the Flaming Fist or get Tiedan to safety. But first she needed to make it through this conversation. She glanced at Astarion's face, trying to read his expression.

[moldisgoodforyou]

nice (iii)

warnings: mentions of sexual content, cursing, hella flirting, these two cannot get enough of each other

wordcount: 7.2k

_______

The rest of the drive was easy - Sophie fell asleep three times, Rafe flicked her to wake her up and entertain him twice, and they stopped to take pictures along the coast when they got lunch in Montpellier, fumbling their way through “bonjour” and “merci” and pointing at the sandwiches in the display case that they wanted. When they finally made it to Nice, Rafe was ready to stretch and take a nap while Sophie was ready to jump into the ocean. So they compromised and went to the beach after dragging their suitcases to their hotel room, towels in hand.

Sophie let him nap for a solid fifteen minutes before she got bored and came out of the water, trying to convince him to come swim. Her method of choice consisted of sprawling on top of him with her hair and swimsuit still soaking wet, effectively jerking him out of his sleep - he just groaned and wrapped his arms around her to bring her tighter. “No.”

“Yes. Come play.” She nuzzled her head into his neck, then nipped at his skin.

“No, Soph, sleepin’.” He protested, a little grumpy, and kept his eyes shut.

“No you’re not, you’re awake now.” She grinned. “Come on, we can go to bed early tonight. You can’t still be jetlagged, that’s impossible.”

“I’m tired, I had to drive the whole way.”

“I would have driven.” She protested, scratching her nails lightly down his chest.

“Yeah, driven us off a cliff. Five more minutes.” He hummed, still not opening his eyes.

“No. Come swim now.” She urged, nudging her head a little higher so her wet hair dragged over his face. He startled, then lifted his head, scowling. “You’re being a brat.”

Sophie only smirked in response. “I can be worse. Come onnnnn, sleep later.”

He sat up a little, sighing. “You promise to actually let me sleep tonight?”

“I swear on my life. I’ll stick to my side of the bed and everything.” She nodded solemnly, rolling off him so he could stand.

“Alright.” He nodded, knowing she wouldn’t keep her promise, and hauled himself up, then offered his hand to drag her up too. She jumped up with an eager grin and he rolled his eyes. “You’re cute.”

“I know. Race you!” She started sprinting toward the water - he strolled leisurely behind her, taking his time to stride in once she jumped off the dock. He swam up underwater and grabbed her around the waist, making her squeal and shove at him. He was laughing as he bobbed up and started swimming, going with her out past the crest of the waves.

After a while of swimming and Sophie trying to float on her back without Rafe snatching her down from under the water, she reached out for him. “I’m tired. Carry me.”

“Wonder why, it’s not like you slept on the entire drive here.” He stretched out his hands toward her to pull her in.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” She asked him, swimming closer. He raised his eyebrows. “In France? Dunno, I always figured I’d visit Paris one day.”

“No, no.” She swam close enough to bump into him and grinned when he reached down and pulled her legs around his waist, so he was treading for both of them. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He smiled and bumped his nose against hers, beaming. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like...us.”

“Gonna have to elaborate more for me, Soph.”

She rested her arms around his neck and brought one hand up to play with the ends of his hair, getting longer by the day. “If you’d told me in high school, or even the start of junior year, that we’d be in love and on vacation together in France, just us - I’d say you were insane.”

“Hm.” He nodded, thoughtful. “I don’t know. It might have seemed a little out there, but.”

“But?” She prompted, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of his nose.

Rafe wrinkled his nose in response with a smile, then leaned forward and did the same to her. “I don’t know. I always kind of figured we might end up dating, at some point. Or at least we’d try something between us for a little bit. Didn’t you?”

She tugged on his hair, grinning. “Rafe Cameron, you presumptuous bastard.”

“Answer the question.”

Sophie shook her head. “Honestly, no. I thought you were just flirting with me to be mean, a lot of the time.”

He laughed, shrugging. “What can I say. We’re like magnets, Soph, it’s undeniable.”

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes and let go of him, pushing off to swim back to shore.

“What! It’s romantic!” He protested, swimming after her and grabbing her ankle to tug her back. She yelped, kicking in his grip until he let go. “You’re embarrassing!”

“You love me!” He was faster and able to keep up by her side as she swam back leisurely. She giggled, surfacing for air after a long stroke underwater. “I never said I didn’t.”

The two made it back to shore quickly and he wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close as they walked back to their towels. They hadn’t let go of each other since they’d reunited - she held his hand, or he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, or she’d teasingly hook her ankle around his under the dinner table, sliding it up his calf until he shot her a warning glare. He reluctantly let go just to lay out the towels with a flourish, smoothing hers out for her. “Madame.”

“Monsieur.” She replied, grinning. He flopped down next to her and pulled his sunglasses on to nap again in the sun, while she pulled out a book and started reading. When he began to stir after a half hour of sleep, she glanced over at him. “Rafe?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever had sex on a beach?”

He was suddenly wide awake, whipping his head over to look at her. “Have I ever had what?” He repeated, sure he was going a little delusional. “What on earth are you reading?”

Suddenly she remembered the story that Brooklyn had told her when they first met, about the Bahamas, and shook her head. “No, actually, never mind.”

“No, no, wait, was that a suggestion or a question?” He prompted.

She shrugged, noncommittal, but she felt a familiar unease settle in her stomach. “Don’t really think I want to get arrested in France.”

He reached over and curled his hand around her ankle, tugging a little with a grin. “Who says we’ll get caught? It’s Nice, baby, half the people here are already topless. And you’re not, I should add, which is basically a crime of its own.”

She scowled, swatting at his hand when he teasingly pulled at the bikini string tied at her hip. “No, Rafe, it’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t have asked.” She couldn’t stop thinking of Brooklyn’s smug smile when Sophie had nearly choked on her wine after she called it “making love.” It irritated her to no end knowing that for nearly every first she’d have with Rafe, he had already had it with someone else.

“Hey.” He frowned, sensing her discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

She huffed a little, keeping her eyes trained on her book. “You did it with her. Right?”

“Her?”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Your ex.”

“Oh. That’s why you’re upset?” He slid her hand up her leg, trying to be reassuring. “We didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“Have sex.” He paused, wincing as he corrected himself. “On the beach, I mean.”

“Oh.” She sat back a little. “Have you ever? On the beach?”

“Not on the beach.” He gave her a sly grin. “Not sure if I’d want sand in certain places, but I’m open to trying anything once.”

She set her book aside, rolling over on the towel to look him in the eye. “Was she your first?”

“Um. No.”

“Well?” She prompted.

He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a second to answer. “You remember Alexandra Harper?”

Sophie gasped, completely caught off guard. Of course she remembered Alexandra Harper - she’d gotten in a fight with her at school, in the locker rooms, when she was talking about how easy Rafe would be to hook up. “Her? Seriously?”

He shrugged, growing a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Senior year, some party at Top’s house.”

“Gross.” She shuddered, absorbing the information for a moment. “Okay, so how many?”

“How many...?” He repeated, unsure if he even wanted to venture into that territory.

“Yes. How many girls have you slept with? Or hooked up with?”

He paused, feeling like he was being set up for a trap. “What do you consider hooking up?”

Her nose wrinkled and she crossed her arms. “If she had your dick in her mouth. Or vice versa.” She paused, thinking. She wasn’t quite sure why she was pushing for this information, honestly, maybe it was just another test of trust - though that certainly wasn’t something she needed to test with Rafe, of all people. “I suppose fingers count too.”

“Do you really need to know?” He hedged, reaching for her hand to try and relax her a little, but she only budged away stubbornly. “Like, does it really matter if at the end of the day, I’m dating you?”

“Well, I suppose not, but. I’d like to know. Mine’s five.”

“Five!” He balked, not expecting as high a number. “I thought you said you’d only hooked up with one guy before me!”

“All the way, just two. Five if we’re going by my definition. Obviously you’re included in both.” She clarified primly, looking down her nose at him. “Go ahead. Your turn.”

“Fine, mine’s four. How many dicks have you sucked?” He frowned, growing more jealous by the second.

She blushed at his vulgarity and didn’t answer, just pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose and picked up her book to read again.

He abandoned his towel and crawled on top of her, ignoring her noise of protest as he plucked the book out of her hands and set it aside. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.” He repeated, grazing his fingers up her side. She giggled, squirming under him. “Rafe, no!”

He grinned, repeating the action, and nipped at her collarbone, only regretting it a little as he tasted sunscreen. She tried shoving his head away, laughing as she hissed, “Quit, we’re in public!”

“Just tell me!”

“No! You’ll get a big head.” She argued, knowing she’d given herself away.

He paused, grinning. “It’s just me?”

She just shrugged and nudged at his shoulder, trying to get him off.

“Sophie.”

“Yes, it’s just you, happy?” She rolled her eyes as he puffed up a little in pride. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

“Because.” She blushed again, grabbing the book to cover her face. “I didn’t want you to think, like, oh, that makes sense.”

He laughed, reaching out and pushing her book down so he could see her. “You’re not serious?”

“I am! It’s a real concern, it’s like, scary when you’re face to face with one for the first time.” She insisted, laughing. “Especially yours, it’s bigger than I’ve seen -”

“You mean it?” He practically glowed, a little too proud of himself, and she kicked at his leg, rolling her eyes.

“Shut it. I just didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“No, please, go on about how big my dick is.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes, swatting him with the book again. “You’re supposed to say you couldn’t tell that I was clueless.”

“Trust me, baby. There was absolutely no issue there.” He grinned, leaning back onto his own towel with his hands tucked behind his head.

She hummed, satisfied. “You said yours is four?”

He made a noncommittal grunt, pulling his sunglasses back on.

“Do I know them all?”

“You’ve met Alexandra, and Brooklyn, and this smoking hot girl from back home...” He started, trying to hide the grin threatening to tug at his lips.

She frowned, setting her book down again - at this rate, she’d read five pages. “Who? Did she go to my school?”

“She did.” He confirmed with a nod, still not looking at her. “Super cute. Can’t believe you don’t remember.”

“Do you have another descriptor besides just smoking hot? Where’d she go to college?” She scowled, wracking her brain to think of who else had dated him in high school - and why the hell was he describing anyone but her as smoking hot, after all these years -

“Ohio State.”

“Rafe Cameron!” She smacked him with the book, making him yelp. “Jesus, woman, watch it, I’ll bruise!”

“You asshole.” She accused, not meaning it in the slightest. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” He grinned, grabbing her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “The fourth was a touron, summer after freshman year of college. That’s all.”

“Oh, I hooked up with a touron once -” She started, and he held his hand out, shaking his head. “Nope. Don’t need to know.”

“But you just told me.”

“Because you wanted to know. The last thing I want to hear about is you with other guys.” He insisted, stealing her book away and tucking it back into her tote bag. In all honesty, he was kind of dying to know, but more so he could find all the boys and have a pointed conversation with them and figure out why the hell Sophie was so hesitant to commit to anything, ever, and what they’d done, but that was a topic for another day. “C’mon, let’s swim again. You’re looking red.”

“I should put sunscreen on again, probably.” She reached for her bag and he shook his head, standing and offering his hand. “Come swim. You’ll be fine.”

“Says you, looking like a tan Hercules out here, some fucking Greek god.” She scowled, accepting his hand and letting him drag her up. “It’s seriously unfair that you look like this.”

He grinned, chest puffed up proudly. “Go on.”

“C’mere,” she murmured, reaching up on her toes to kiss him. He kissed back for merely a second before lifting her up abruptly and hauling her over his shoulder, starting to run toward the ocean. She squealed, pounding on his back. “Rafe Cameron, if you don’t -”

The rest of her protests were abruptly cut off as he tossed her off the dock into the water, following with a graceful dive. He surfaced next to her, laughing as she came up sputtering. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Fucker.” She scowled, pushing her hair back into place.

He grinned and smacked a kiss to her cheek. “I have one question. Just one.”

“I feel like I’m not gonna like this.” She reached out and combed her fingers through his hair, trying to arrange it how she wanted.

“I’m the best, out of all five. Right?”

“The best boyfriend? Yeah, no doubt. I only dated two others of the five anyways.”

“No, not that.” He wrinkled his nose, feeling the little green monster of jealousy rise up again. “Like...sexually.”

“Oh.” She pretended to think for a long pause, longer than he expected, and he frowned. “Sophie.”

“Hold on, still deciding.”

“Sophieeee.” He whined, reaching out and circling his arms around her waist. “Tell me.”

“Well, there’s lots of factors, you see -” He finally caught the hint of a smirk on her lips and groaned, snapping her bikini string. “Stop, just say it.”

She leaned closer and brushed her lips against his ear as she spoke. “It’s you, dummy. It’s always going to be you.”

“Even if you sleep with Liam Hemsworth?” He grumbled. She made him watch the Hunger Games series once and he refused to watch it again, not wanting to hear her commentary again on how hot he was.

She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, loving how he automatically tipped his head back for more. “I don’t think that’ll be happening, baby.”

“Better not be.” He squeezed her butt under the water and made a small hum of appreciation when she pressed another quick kiss to the column of his throat.

“Someone’s desperate.” She teased and pushed away from him a little, making sure the water was deep enough to tread.

He raised his eyebrows. “You were asking how thin the hotel walls were earlier. I don’t think you have any room to talk.”

Sophie gave him a mischievous grin and glanced around the water, noting it was pretty sparse of a crowd. “Do you have pockets in your swim trunks?” She swam out a little further away and pulled slowly at the string tied loosely around her neck, holding up her top.

“Yeah, why -” His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as she let the bikini fall from her neck and untied the string on the back too, then swam close and handed it to him. “Here. I don’t want to lose it.”

“Sophie.” He uttered, a little strangled.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” He mumbled, not taking her eyes off her for a second. “Who are you?”

She frowned, swimming back toward him and crossed her arms over her chest, losing her faith in her bold idea by the second. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this, the leather jacket, speaking a new language...” He struggled to explain it, thinking. “It’s like I’ve never seen you so confident before.”

“Oh.” She brightened, giving him a small, shy smile and a shrug. “It’s okay?”

“I love it.” He declared, giving her a grin in return. “I love seeing you like this, so sure of yourself.”

She wasn’t, not nearly at all, but his perception of her made her beam. “I’m trying.”

“You’re killing it. I’m proud of you.” Rafe held up the bikini top with a grin. “What happens if I lose this?”

Sophie fixed him with a glare. “If you lose it, I’m making you take off your shorts in solidarity. You’ll get a sunburn on your dick.”

He laughed loud, shoving her top in his pocket. “A sunburn on my dick, really? I think it’d be tan. Really complete the look.”

“No. I don’t want anyone else getting to see it.” She argued, swimming close enough to shove his shoulder lightly.

“Okay, so should you put your bikini back on?” He countered, trying his best to keep his eyes trained on hers and not anything lower.

“You just said you liked it -”

“I like your confidence, not necessarily other guys looking at you -”

“Well it’s not your boobs to decide about -”

“Alright, well it’s not your dick -” Rafe started and she raised her eyebrows, reaching down and palming him under the water. “We sure about that?”

He nearly groaned at the contact, pulling his hips back. “You cannot do that to me when you’re topless and we’re surrounded by people. You really can’t.”

“I’ll put the bikini back on before I get out of the water.” She offered, smirking at how easy he was to turn on.

“Deal. That thing you said earlier, about sex on the beach?”

“Yeah?” She cocked her head in question.

“I bet we could find a private spot…” He grinned as she rolled her eyes, almost immediately. “Oh my god, Rafe, I was just asking. If you’re that desperate I’ll fuck you before dinner -”

“Jesus Christ, Sophie, you can’t just say things like that.” He pressed his fingers to his temples and glanced up at the sky as if he was searching for an ounce of strength.

“Why not? I will. We can try the shower, it looked big enough for both of us. The bed was comfy too, though I don’t think I could get the automated curtains to close in front of the window - but hey, if you’re into that -”

“Fucking tease.” He bit out. “You’re being mean.”

“No, baby, being mean would be touching you and then not letting you finish.” She countered, trying her best to hold back a grin. “I’m never mean.”

“You are. You’re a brat sometimes.” He caught her around the waist and pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “But I love it.”

“Careful what you say, you’ll only encourage me.” She grinned and tipped her head up, catching his lips in a kiss.

______

As much as Sophie insisted they had to make the most of every minute of their vacation, she couldn’t deny that his argument of “I promise I’ll bring you back here” was compelling.

After a long afternoon out at the beach, they returned to their hotel to take a nap and get ready for dinner. His eyes widened when she stepped into the hotel lobby, finally out of the sun. “Um, Soph?”

“Yeah?” She felt a little queasy, and unreasonably hot still for being in the air conditioning.

He gently pressed his hand to her shoulder, surprised when she didn’t flinch away. “Does that hurt at all?”

“Not really. Why -” She cut herself off as she extended her arm, realizing it was on its way to turning red. “Oh my god.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Rafe reassured her quickly, but looked a little worried. “We’ll go run you a cold shower - well, maybe a bath - and you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to reapply sunscreen - didn’t I tell you to remind me?” She lamented, sighing. He shook his head and gave her a small smile of regret. “No, but we know now. We’re doing your architecture tour tomorrow anyways, you’ll have just enough time to recover for our next beach day. Promise.”

He was full of promises, she’d learned, and he always kept them. Every single time. Sophie wondered sometimes if it was his way of compensating for failed relationships, like how his dad had always promised he’d be at his next basketball game, or he’d take him out on the golf course or come up for the next parent’s weekend. She leaned against him in the elevator, realizing she felt a little faint.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby.” He murmured, setting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing a little too hard, and she winced. “Ow, Rafe.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He carefully removed his arm and took the bag from her shoulder, deciding not to comment on the angry mark it left behind from burnt skin. He was glad he’d switched them from the hostel - as much as she had wanted to fight the idea, he was right that the luxury of their own shower and bathroom was worth it.

When they got into their hotel room, he instructed her to lie down, pop some ibuprofen, and then ran her a cold bath. Her eyes widened as she saw the marks left behind as she untied her bathing suit. “Oh, fuck.”

“It’s okay! It’ll be fine. You stay here, and I’ll be back in - oh, twenty minutes. That’s all.” He nodded and kissed her forehead, letting her slip into the bath alone. He grabbed his wallet and phone before heading back downstairs, and he practically begged the front desk to buy a bottle of aloe lotion after-hours and the whole box of their complimentary black tea, then paid the janitor to give him a roll of paper towels. He made it back to the room in fifteen, knocking twice before letting himself into the room.

“Rafe?” Sophie called out, tentatively.

“Just me!” He called back, busying himself with heating up water to make the tea.

“I feel really shaky.” She confessed and he frowned, rushing into the bathroom. He placed his hand to the back of her forehead then dipped his finger in the water, nearly ice-cold as she’d turned up the temperature. “You might have sun poisoning.”

“You’re not serious?” She frowned, but grabbed onto his arm like it was difficult to sit up.

“Do you feel like you might throw up?”

“...No.” The hesitation in front of her answer was enough to tell him otherwise.

“Okay. Let’s dry you off and then we’ll see how you feel.” He held out the towel and helped her out, carefully wrapping it around her as she shivered. “S’okay, I got you. Sarah had this once, but I have a trick and you’ll be better tomorrow.”

“It’s unfair that you’re fine.” She grumbled, reaching up and pressing a finger into his muscled chest. He was a little pink, but that was all.

“I think I’ve been burnt enough that I’m used to it.” He reasoned, guiding her back into the room and had her sit down on the end of the bed while the tea was steeping in the fridge. “Can you pull on your underwear so you’re a little more comfortable?”

“Seeing me naked doesn’t do it for you anymore?” She quipped.

He rolled his eyes - if she paid more attention, she could see him half-hard in his loose shorts. “Not when you’re about to be sick.”

“Not gonna be sick.” She muttered stubbornly as she carefully pulled on a pair of underwear from her suitcase, then lied down on her stomach on the bed.

“Hope not.” Once the tea was strong enough, he pulled a decorative bowl from their nightstand table and dumped out the fake seashells, rinsed it, then poured in the tea. He started soaking paper towels in it then carefully wrung them out and laid them across her back, so they covered every inch of burnt skin.

“Where’d you learn that?” She asked, resting her head on her arms.

“My mom used to do it if we got burnt when we were little. It helps a lot.” He replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when he finished and laid next to her so she didn’t have to crane her neck up to see him. “I’ll change them when they dry.”

“You haven’t told me much about your mom.” She told him hesitantly after a moment of silence.

He shrugged. “Not much to say. What’s your mom think of all this?”

She was a little disappointed he didn’t open up more, but got the hint - and she felt like she might throw up at any second, so maybe it wasn’t the time for a serious conversation. “All this?”

“Of our trip.”

“Ah. I think she’s jealous.” She grinned teasingly at him. “Always tells me how you’re the ideal match, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Her grin faded a little. “I’m sure your dad thinks the opposite.”

“I don’t care what my dad thinks.” He told her, firmly, but all she could hear was the fact that he didn’t deny it. She nodded once. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You know, I think your dad and I really got along. When I was home, at least.” He told her a little shyly, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

She nodded, smiling. “He likes you. Thinks you’re cool.”

Her dad had said much more than that - he’d told Sophie that Rafe was a good kid, really respectful, a hard worker and he deserved this internship. He’d also asked, with a little too much eagerness to his voice, if Rafe would like to come home with her for Labor Day weekend, when they had their first little break in school, and would he like to come golf with him and Sophie? Also, if he and her mom came up for a football game, would Rafe like to hang out with them again?

She wasn’t quite sure if Rafe was ready for the “my dad wants to be your best friend” talk so she left it at “he thinks you’re cool.”

Rafe nodded with an eager grin. “That’s cool. He’s cool too, I mean. I like hanging out with him.”

“I’m glad.” She reached out her hand for him, locking her fingers with his. “I love you.”

“I know, angel. I love you too.” He beamed, the way he always did when she told him those three simple words.

“I’m happy my family likes you.” She told him, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. “Good for our future...our future us.”

He held back a smile but gave her an amused glance. “Our future us?”

“You know what I mean.” She scowled at him and he reached out and smoothed his thumb over the bridge of her nose, making her relax. “I don’t. Will you tell me?”

“I just mean, like, in the future. After college, what we’ll look like, you know? I’m just glad my family likes having you around.” She struggled to form a complete sentence, not sure how much she wanted to tell him - that she’d thought about being married to him and living with him, and just the little domestic things of sharing the day together.

He beamed, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Future us…you mean getting married?”

She shrugged, trying to seem cool about it. “Yeah. I can see it.”

“I can see it too.” He grinned, wide. “Sophie Cameron.”

She blushed, biting her lip. “Okay, okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He laughed, unable to shake the bright smile on his face. “Are you feeling any better? You need water.”

“A little, yeah, I think the bath helped.”

Rafe got up and refilled her water bottle, handing it to her so she could take a few sips. “I got aloe from downstairs too, so I can help you put that on once the towels dry. I promise, your burn should basically be gone by tomorrow.”

“You’re too good to me.” She murmured, glancing up at him.

“Nah, you deserve it.” He grinned and pushed the water bottle at her again. “Do you need me to go find takeout somewhere? I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I can probably convince someone. If you’re not feeling up to going to get dinner.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine -” She pushed herself to sit up and suddenly squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a wave of nausea pass, curling into herself. He frowned and gently pressed her back down to the bed, then pulled the top layer of sheets over her where the paper towels weren’t. “I’ll go find something. Will you be okay here or do you think you might be sick? I can figure out delivery - well, maybe, I don’t speak any French -”

“Rafe. I’ll be okay, I can go.”

“No you can’t. Stay here, I’ll have my phone, call me if you feel like you might throw up and I’ll be back before you can blink.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No. You need to take care of yourself.” He set the water bottle by her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I want that empty when I’m back.”

“Okay, Mom.” She grumbled, but made no protest. Rafe nodded and left, not without another backwards glance to make sure she’d be okay.

He returned thirty minutes later with a pizza box in hand and a bottle of rosé tucked under his arm. “Success!”

“Impressive.” Sophie was upright now, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts that she’d stolen at the beginning of the summer. The color had returned to her face - the only part she’d remembered to reapply sunscreen on - and she’d chugged a bottle and a half of her water.

“You look like you’re feeling better. Doing okay?” He set the pizza box on the bed, despite her protest, and greeted her with a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, much better. I’ll need you to put aloe on me before bed though.”

“That can be arranged.” Rafe grinned and presented her with the wine. “Look. Only the finest for m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved at him with a grin. “Europe is making you a sap.”

“Nah, I just missed out on you this summer, so I gotta lay it on thick.” He uncorked the bottle and took a swig, then passed it to her. “Drink up. Not too much though, you’re still dehydrated.”

“How much was it?” She took a careful sip, then nodded, impressed.

“Only about fifteen euros.”

Sophie flicked open the pizza box and inhaled, grinning. “Excellent choice.” After a couple seconds on her phone, Rafe got a notification on his from Venmo. She’d sent him half for their dinner, like they’d talked about long before he was even in Europe.

“Soph.” He frowned. “What the fuck is this.”

She picked up a slice and raised her eyebrows, speaking around a mouthful of food. “Huh?”

“Trying to pay me for half?”

She swallowed and shrugged. “Yes, that’s what we agreed on, months ago.” (They hadn’t agreed, not in the slightest. She’d insisted she was paying for her own everything, he’d immediately said no, and the debate lasted about five minutes before she was taking her top off to end the conversation. She’d called him with other ideas in mind, anyways.)

“We didn’t agree, we left the argument unfinished because you were trying to distract me by getting naked on FaceTime.”

She smirked. “Yeah, and it worked, didn’t it?”

It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t kidding, that he was actually a little upset. “Sophie. I’m serious. I said I wanted to cover meals on this trip.”

She bristled, setting her pizza down. “And I said I wanted to split it. I’ve saved up for this, Rafe, let it go.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for you.” Despite his annoyance, he took a seat next to her on the bed and pressed his thigh to hers, always needing to be close.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand.” She muttered, not making eye contact.

“So explain it to me.”

She took a deep breath, knowing they were venturing into dangerous territory. “I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting. Just having a conversation.” He retorted back, with a little too much of an edge to it.

She hummed in affirmation, though she looked skeptical. “I’ve worked my ass off for this entire summer since I was eighteen. My freshman year, one time, I was about to break my budget just by buying a pack of Oreos at the store. So the fact that I’m even able to pay for this extra trip after my study abroad scholarship means a lot to me.”

“I know you work hard, I’m not discrediting that at all. I just -“ He let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t know why you won’t let me take care of you.”

“First off, I can take care of myself -”

“I know that, but I can still help you -”

She sent him a pointed look and he took a breath, letting her talk. “You just took care of me, with my sunburn and getting me dinner. That’s more than enough. I don’t need - or want - financial help.”

He mulled it over for a second, frowning. “But I have the money, Sophie, just let me help so you don’t have to stress.”

“I don’t want your dad’s money!”

A short silence hung in the air between them as they stared at each other, both a little in shock at her outburst. She blushed a little, embarrassed. “Rafe, I…”

“It’s a trust from both my parents that I just got when I turned 21. Does that make a difference?” He asked evenly, trying to keep calm.

“Not really.” She murmured, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”

“So the problem is my dad.”

Sophie grabbed the bottle of wine and took a sip, then handed it to him. “Is that really a surprise to you?”

He took a considerably large swig, then passed it back. “No. I’ve tried, you know that?”

She went to re-cork the bottle and he stopped her, taking the bottle back but handed over her water bottle. She gave him a grateful smile and took a few drinks, then nodded. “Yeah. I know you’ve tried, I saw how you tried at your Christmas party.”

“It’s just.” He leaned into her side, frowning. “He’s insistent that this is a fling, he forgets your name on purpose, he keeps talking about when I’m with someone more suitable and when I’m taking over the family business -" Rafe felt his throat getting tight and his voice growing shaky as he got more and more frustrated. “All I want is you. He doesn’t care that you make me happy.”

As much as she didn’t want to hear all of that, she knew it all already. “Hey, shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, combing her fingers through her hair. “I know you’re trying your best with him. He’s just not willing to listen.”

“I’m not going to let you go just so I can make him satisfied.” He was fully cuddled into her now, his hand wrapped protectively around her thigh and his head on her hip. “I’m not trying to pay for things to show off, you know -“

“I know, I know.” She affirmed, stroking her hand down his back. “I never thought that.”

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment in bliss as she rubbed his back, then flipped onto his back to look up at her. “I’m just thinking, when we live together -“

She nearly choked on her water bottle and set it down, raising her eyebrows. “When?”

“I mean… yeah. I have that job offer with my internship for after graduation and you’re staying in Columbus for grad school, I kind of just assumed…” He trailed off, offering her a cheeky grin.

Sophie paused, considering. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Oh. You haven’t?”

“No, I, um.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I kinda thought you were going to work for your dad and we’d have to do long distance again. I mean, you’d just always said that was the plan…”

“Right, that was the plan, but then you told me to try for the internship and I really liked it. Apart from, well, y’know.” He smiled up at her. “I actually think I could do more.”

She smiled back, proud. “Of course you can. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. You want to live together?”

“Course I do. Don’t you?” He heard her stomach rumble and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt dinner. Hungry?”

“S’okay. I’m kind of starving, though, can we eat and talk?”

He nodded, sitting up and took a slice from the box. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She took her own half-eaten slice, taking a bite before responding. “I think I’d like to live together, yeah. It makes sense.” She paused, scowling. “My mom might kill me, but I bet my dad could convince her.”

“Your mom doesn’t like me?”

“No! No, not that.” Sophie excused quickly. “She likes you, a lot, but she grew up with super strict parents and I think she thinks we’re in separate beds this whole trip.” She smirked, nudging her knee against his. “It’s scandalous.”

“Oh, right.” He nodded, already going for another piece of pizza. “So...would we need to stick to your budget or mine?”

“We can split rent, something reasonable. When I get my real job, I’ll have a decent amount of money, just. Being a TA doesn’t pay too much. My parents help me a little with rent at school.” She considered. “If we need a little more for a better place, I can pick up another job or something.”

Rafe frowned, elbowing her. “I’m not going to make you work overtime when I can help us out.”

“We’ll come to that when we need to start looking for places in spring.” She dismissed and he grinned, glad she was fully on board. “Sounds good to me.”

“Baby?”

He beamed, loving the pet name. “Yeah, angel?”

“I don’t know if I want to know this, but. Do you know, roughly, how much you have in the trust?” She bit the inside of her cheek, hesitant.

He paused, mulling over his answer before responding. “Um, let’s put it this way. I could get away with not having a job.”

“Like...for a few years?”

“Um. No.”

“Oh.” She mumbled. “So you could get away with not having a job...ever.”

He nodded, offering her the wine bottle. “Yeah. But that’s why I’d like to spend a little bit more on you sometimes, because I will have a job. Obviously some of it is invested, and I’ll set aside a college fund for my kids eventually, but. I like treating you to things.”

She took a long swig from the bottle, grimacing after. “I know you do - fuck, that’s getting to me.”

Rafe laughed, taking it back. “I can tell, your face is getting a little red.”

“Shut up, is not.”

“Is too. C’mon, eat one more slice at least and then I’ll put the aloe on you, crispy.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, taking her third slice of pizza. “You gonna give me a massage?”

“Depends, do I get one too?”

“Only if yours is good enough.” She teased, kicking at him.

“Does mine come with a happy ending?” He grinned, laughing when she flipped him off. “I think if you touched my shoulders they might peel off completely.”

“Your mouth would be sufficient,” he quipped under his breath and she rolled her eyes, tossing her crust in the box and tossed the empty box toward the trash can on the floor. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re more.”

“Jerkface.”

He grinned. “Hot stuff.”

“Slam piece.”

“Smokeshow.”

“Sugar tits.” She giggled when his jaw dropped in protest. “I don’t even have -”

“Yes you do! You have a great rack. It’s hot, don’t worry.” She assured him, poking at his chest.

“Take off your shirt.” He reached over, tugging at the hem of it.

She rolled her eyes. “Rafe, I am not comparing the size of our -”

“No, dummy, I have to put on the aloe.” He rolled his eyes and held up the bottle. “Calling me a slam piece, honestly. You’re a brat.”

Sophie grinned and pulled off her shirt, trying to go slowly and be seductive but winced when it hurt to raise her arms. “Ow! Fuck, help.”

“Yeah, that’s what you get.” He teased, but smacked a kiss to her forehead anyways before helping her wrestle off her shirt. “You don’t feel sick, right?” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then got behind her to smooth the cool lotion over her shoulders.

“No, I feel way better.”

“Good.” He grinned, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Hey. Guess what.”

“Mm.” She tilted her head back, trying to catch his lips.

“You’re my favorite.” He slid his hands down her arms, then tapped his finger against her ring. “Don’t forget it.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[valdomarx]

Entry, Descent and Landing

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, time loop, 6k, rated M

Also on AO3

-

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs, entering the mess with a scowl on his face. He's clearly personally offended by this turn of events.

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll fix it.” John currently has more pressing issues to consider, like whether he can reasonably have fruit loops for lunch or whether he should eat some vegetables like an adult.

He picks up the fruit loops.

“I’m serious!” Rodney is all fidgety, talking and waving his hands instead of eating, and that’s never a good sign. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

John raises an eyebrow. It’s not often that McKay admits there’s something he doesn’t understand. And without the gate, they are vulnerable.

Regretfully, he puts the fruit loops back. “Alright. Why don’t you show me what the problem is?”

-

The gate will accept an address, and it spins and dials as normal. But when it should open a wormhole with a whoosh and a ripple of blue light, it simply stops dead. The lights fade out and it shuts itself off.

Huh.

“It’s been like this since we tried to dial New Athos for a check in.” A frown creases Rodney’s forehead. “Hand me that scanner, will you?”

-

They spend the day poking and prodding at the gate and the control consoles - or, more accurately, Rodney pokes and John swings his legs off the side of the console and provides unhelpful but, he thinks, amusing commentary - but there’s nothing to indicate a problem. No fried circuits, no missing components, none of the usual error warnings which appear when the gate runs into a problem. It just… doesn’t work.

They work through the afternoon, and by the time eight p.m. rolls around John is ready to call it a night and start again tomorrow. But before he can suggest they get some dinner, the gate whirs to life and begins to dial.

“Did you do that?” he asks Rodney, but he already knows the answer is no by the look of confusion on Rodney’s face.

The gate spins as if to dial but it doesn’t connect. It merely sits there, illuminated but inactive, and then -

-

John wakes up in his quarters.

That’s weird. He’s disoriented, and woozy, and he feels a headache creeping at the back of his skull.

He shakes it off. He probably just needs some food. He heads to the mess and is sitting down to eat when -

“The gate’s not working,” Rodney huffs.

John squints at him. “Again?”

“What do you mean, again?” Rodney waves him aside impatiently. “There’s something very wrong with it, and I have no idea why.”

A cold chill settles at the bottom of John’s stomach. “I know, Rodney. We had this conversation yesterday.”

“What are you talking about? Of course we didn’t. The gate only stopped working today.”

-

Rodney insists that he has no memory of the gate breaking, and neither does anyone else they talk to. It's like the previous day has simply disappeared.

The more he insists that he remembers it, the more Rodney turns from dismissive to concerned, until he marches him down to see Carson and okay, that's not the worst idea under the circumstances.

Carson checks him over, determines he's physically fine, and tells him it's probably just déjà vu. But that can't be right. It was so real.

Rodney keeps shooting him these worried looks, and that's definitely not helping. So he brushes it off and suggests they get back to fixing the gate. It is, after all, still broken.

They spend another few hours on that, opening up the consoles in the gate room and looking for any faulty hardware. Soon enough it's dinner time, and he's going to suggest heading to the mess when the gate spins up again, and oh shit -

-

He wakes up in his quarters. He frantically scrambles for his watch and sees that it reads two p.m.

This is definitely not déjà vu.

He heads straight to the gate room. The gate techs are antsy.

"Sheppard, you're here, good." Rodney enters, a tablet tucked under one arm. “We've got a problem. The gate’s not working."

-

They try to fix the gate again, with no more success than the last two attempts. John keeps checking his watch.

Maybe it's different now. Maybe he's changed enough to stop the day repeating.

At exactly right p.m., his sunny, perhaps delusional, optimism is shattered.

The gate starts dialing.

-

He wakes up in his quarters.

He sends Rodney off to consult with Zelenka and takes matters into his own hands.

He tries everything he can think of to dial the gate - dialing different addresses, dialing it at different times, even removing and replacing the control crystal in his famed “turn it off and turn it on again” approach to computer repair - but nothing works.

He tries taking a puddle jumper and flying out to the mainland, and into space, and as far around the planet as he can get. No matter how far he travels, at exactly eight p.m. he resets and wakes up back in his quarters.

Six hours is simply not enough time to solve whatever the hell is going on here

He tries explaining his situation to Elizabeth, to Teyla and Ronon, to Lorne, to Carson. Even when people are willing to entertain the notion of a time loop, no one knows how to address the problem, let alone suggest a solution. At best, they seem to be humoring him. At worst, they seem to think it’s his apparently inevitable slide into paranoia.

After trying everyone on the base he has even a passing relationship with, he gives up telling anyone. They can’t help him.

-

He overrides the city’s power usage limits and tries to dial up Earth. The gate still won’t dial, and he overloads the ZPM, and the entire city is plunged into darkness.

-

He wakes up in his quarters.

He used to love it here, his own little corner of the strange place that is his home. Now it feels like a prison.

-

He tries to make contact with the Athosians, or with the Manarians, or even with the Genii. But without the gate, his radio transmissions will take years to reach them. He sits by the radio anyway, listening to the crackling static and waiting for a reply he knows will never come.

-

Maybe he's trapped in a virtual reality, or his mind is being probed by aliens. It wouldn't be the first time.

Maybe none of this is real.

-

He stands on one of the city’s most distant piers, staring out into the ocean. It’s quiet here, now he’s turned off his radio and tweaked the lifesigns detector so it can’t track him. He watches the waves, the same today as they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He considers his options.

-

He puts a gun to his temple and counts down from five.

He wakes up in his quarters.

-

He bangs on the lab door and tries one more time to convince Rodney to help him.

“A time loop is not impossible,” he grits out. “It happened at the SGC.” He knows Rodney has read the file.

“That’s because there was an Ancient artifact involved.” Rodney sounds haughty. “Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?”

John breathes between clenched teeth and shakes his head.

“So. Time just spontaneously started resetting itself, did it?”

“How should I know? All I know is that I have woken up in my quarters a hundred times by now, and every day at eight p.m. the loop resets itself.”

“Why are you the only one this is happening to?”

“I don’t know!” he yells. “I have no idea what terrible sin I’m being punished for here! I’ve made my share of mistakes in my life, but nothing that deserves this.”

Rodney stops moving and looks at him -- really looks.

“Jesus, Sheppard.” Rodney’s brow creases. “You’re not okay, are you?”

John slumps. He can’t summon the energy to deny it. “Not even remotely.”

For some reason, this seems to be what pushes Rodney into taking him seriously. He nods, once, sharply. “What can I do to help?”

He looks at his watch. It’s ten minutes to eight.

“Tell me a secret,” he says.

Rodney gives him a disdainful look. “What is this, a tween girls’ slumber party?”

He grits his teeth. “I spent the entire day trying to convince you what’s happening to me is real. I don’t have time to do that every loop. I need you to tell me something no one else knows, so next time I can convince you I’m not crazy or playing around and we can fix this.”

He sees Rodney’s mind working. He can tell he knows John is right and he’s considering options of what to tell him: details about his childhood, his research, his time here on Atlantis, and discarding each one. For all his faults, Rodney does not dissemble. His life is an open book, and for this to work John needs to know something truly private.

“Alright,” Rodney says eventually. He tilts his chin up and straightens his shoulders like he’s bracing himself for incoming fire. “When I was fifteen, there was a boy at school a couple of years older than me. His name was Mikey Haynes.”

-

“Have you touched any strange Ancient artifacts recently, Colonel?” Rodney asks with the same look of superiority he always has. “Because that’s the only way-”

“McKay,” he interrupts.

“- and why would you be the only one affected, that doesn’t make sense-”

“Rodney!”

Rodney stops. Something in the tone of his voice has broken through.

“I know about Mikey Haynes,” he says.

Rodney goes very pale and John can feel the anxiety radiating off him in waves.

“How do you know that name?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because you told me, Rodney. In the last loop.”

For a few seconds Rodney stares at him, eyes wild and arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Eventually he gives one, sharp nod.

“Alright. You’re stuck in a time loop. What are we going to do about it?”

-

He has that conversation with Rodney every single loop. It is, without exception, the worst part of each one. Even feeling himself die wasn’t this awful.

-

He and Rodney have run every test they can think of. He’s been subjected to medical tests and genetic tests, they’ve scanned him for nanites and viruses and alien mind control, and they’ve turned up nothing. He is, by all accounts, completely healthy -- other than the fact he’s reliving the same six hours over and over and over and over.

“Maybe the problem isn’t with me,” he says. He chews over the idea and it seems plausible. “Maybe the problem is with the city.”

“What?”

“What if I’m not the one being looped through time? What if you are, and I’m the only one who’s aware of it?”

“So you’re sane and everyone else is crazy?”

“Yes.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Maybe my ATA gene gives me some protection against the effect, I don’t know.”

“Your magic genetics strike again.”

He ignores the griping. “If I’m right, the problem is even worse than I thought. The whole city, even the whole planet could be stuck in the loop. What’s happening to our allies while we’re stuck? How far have the Wraith advanced across this galaxy without us to keep them in check.”

Rodney swallows, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him.

“There must be a clue in the city sensors,” he says, pushing bits of drone aside to access the whiteboard in his lab. “If the reset is at the same time, there might be a preceding energy burst we can detect.”

“What good will that do?” John is too tired to think straight. “I know when the loop is going to reset.”

“Because if we know what type of energy it is, we can understand what’s causing it.”

John throws up his hands. Sure, why not. It's not like he's in a hurry or anything.

Rodney pokes through the sensor data, making little hmm noises which he finds unreasonably aggravating.

“See!” Rodney has his smuggest expression on, the one that simultaneously says I told you so and I know you find me charming. “Here, just before the gate failed to connect, there’s a small anomaly in the readings. It looks like… Interesting. It looks like ionizing radiation.”

“What does that mean?”

Rodney’s brow creases. “I’m not sure. There’s a spike of gamma and X-rays as the gate tries to connect. But I have no idea what the source is.”

John barely has time to let out a frustrated breath before the loop resets.

-

He hurries back to Rodney’s lab and points him to the sensor data.

“Interesting,” Rodney says again. “It looks like ionizing radiation.”

John exhales. “Yeah. You said that last time.”

-

He doesn’t need to eat, or sleep. His body resets with every loop. And yet, his mind has frayed. He hasn’t rested in so long, his thoughts are a jumbled mess.

He takes a loop off. He goes to the gym and spars with Ronon. His muscles are fresh but his strategy is a disaster; Ronon unsurprisingly wipes the floor with him. All the same, it feels good to stretch and move; to worry about avoiding a flying elbow instead of his sorry fate for a while.

Then he has dinner with Teyla. He doesn’t know how many loops it’s been since he ate, and even though he doesn’t need the sustenance he realizes he has been missing the sensory experience of it, and the camaraderie of a shared meal.

He tells Teyla about the time loop, casually, like it’s not a big deal, and she doesn’t seem convinced he’s telling the truth but she doesn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand either, and he loves her for that.

“If that were the case,” her head tilts to one side, thoughtful, “it would be a kind of opportunity, would it not?”

He squints. Nothing about this feels opportune.

“If time were to always reset itself, you could do anything you wish, without having to consider the consequences.” She shrugs. “Many have wished for such a chance.”

Huh. He never thought about it that way before.

-

Next loop, he steals a jumper and takes it for a joyride, zipping away from Atlantis and out into the solar system.

He pulls a reckless slingshot maneuver around the third planet out and is sent hurtling toward the star at the heart of the system, traveling so fast the jumper shakes and rattles even with the inertial dampeners. Elizabeth screams at him over the comms and he flips them off.

He approaches the sun at breakneck speed and the temperature in the cabin begins to rise. He swoops low into the sun’s corona, arcs of plasma leaping up around him, even more wild and ferocious than he expected. The sensors scream out warnings about hull temperature and radiation levels and he ignores them, absorbed in the way the jumper dives and banks.

He plunges closer, seeing the star’s surface bubble and erupt, then pulls up in a wild loop and swings down closer still: through the corona and into the chromosphere, the space around him transformed into wild hues of pink, shot through with filaments of white hot gas which snap and twist around him.

In the moment before the jumper is destroyed, as alarms blare and the air rushes out through cracks in the hull, his vision is filled with the surface of the sun. It is entrancing, covered in cells of red and orange and yellow, molten and changing and blindingly, blindingly bright.

-

He records a message for his father and uploads it to the queue to be sent back to Earth. “Dad,” he begins. “I want you to tell you something, something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time. From the very bottom of my heart: Go fuck yourself.”

He knows it’ll be heard by the gate techs, if not the entire expedition. That somehow makes it even more satisfying.

-

He finds Cadman.

“You’re an explosives expert, right?”

“Technically it’s high temperature and energetic materials technology,” she grins, “but close enough.”

“Awesome. Where do you keep the good stuff?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You know. The really fun explosives they don’t let the field teams use.”

“Oh, that good stuff. Right this way.”

They spend an afternoon testing the structural integrity of the city’s farthest piers (not as good as you might think), seeing what happens when you strap C4 to a naquadah generator (an extremely large explosion), and enjoying the simple pleasures of tossing prototype grenades into the ocean (the water sprays rainbows across the sky as it is thrown miles into the air, and it falls on them like rain as they laugh).

Cadman barely needs any convincing.

-

He tells Lorne that he’s gay. Lorne doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, sir,” he says, entirely unperturbed. “I figured.”

-

He leaves a message for Nancy.

He tells her he’s sorry, that he knows he was a bad husband, that it wasn’t fair the way he treated her. He tells her that she deserved better, that he wishes her well, that he hopes she’s happy, and he means it.

He feels lighter the moment he's finished. He wonders why he never did this before the loop.

-

He’s struck by a genius idea, and he busts open a few locks and drags the ascension machine out of storage. Sure, it nearly killed Rodney, but maybe he’ll get lucky. Nothing to lose at this point, right?

The moment the light envelops him, he knows he’s made a terrible mistake.

Within minutes his skin is peeling away to reveal hard, blue scales beneath. The sunlight becomes unbearable. He turns the lights out and feels his way by sound instead.

He doesn’t remember much beyond that. There are only brief flashes in his mind: cold metal beneath his claws, horrified screams reverberating in a corridor, the effortlessness of scuttling up the side of a tower, the crunch of bones cracking between his mandibles.

-

He locks himself in his quarters for a few loops after that.

After a while his guilt is outweighed by his boredom. He picks up the guitar that has been primarily decorative thus far and learns to play Folsom Prison Blues.

Time keeps dragging on, indeed.

-

Eventually, as seems to be inevitable, he ends up coming back to Rodney.

"Sheppard." Rodney gives him a quick nod. "What can I do for you?"

There are a million answers to that question, and none of them are appropriate for work.

He considers the juxtaposition: Rodney's cool greeting with the way he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, all coiled excitement and nervousness. That's how Rodney often is around him, now he thinks about it.

Is it interest or intimidation? Fondness or annoyance? He's never been good at parsing emotions, and that's been a frequent source of frustration. Now it's particularly acute.

"You want some coffee?" Rodney offers, like an olive branch. "I'm sure we've got a clean mug around here somewhere."

John does not want coffee.

How many times has he thought about this? Too many to count. And how many more chances will he have?

What the hell, he thinks. Teyla was right. He'll never get a better opportunity than this.

He steps forward and puts a tentative hand around the back of Rodney's neck. He hears his breath catch. He rubs the soft hair there between his fingers, watches the blush rise on his cheeks. It's an enticing look.

Slowly, carefully, he leans in and kisses him, uncertain even though he knows the loop will reset, because this is bigger than some silly irresponsible behavior; this is him putting his heart in Rodney's fidgety hands and hoping against hope it won't be crushed.

For a moment Rodney freezes, and John is already formulating frantic apologies when Rodney mouths, "Oh god, finally," against his lips and wraps his arms around his shoulders, yanking him closer and kissing him hot and hard.

It's easy as anything to slip his hands under Rodney's thighs and to lift him onto the workbench, even while Rodney attempts to distract him by unbuttoning his shirt and biting a line along his collar bone.

-

He fucks Rodney over the bench in his lab, and next time on a balcony overlooking the city, and after that on Elizabeth’s desk. He learns every inch of his body; the soft plump of his thighs, the way he likes to be jerked off nice and slow, the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear.

For loops and loops, he does nothing else. Rodney never turns him down, not once. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he’ll drop everything to be with him, and John has no idea what to make of that.

(Yes he does, but it's too big and too terrifying to look at directly, so he puts it aside.

It can wait. He has nothing but time.)

The first time he gets Rodney to fuck him, he bursts into fat, ugly tears afterwards and Rodney wraps a blanket around him and pets his hair. They stay like that for hours, Rodney holding him and for once not speaking, letting the waves of need and desperation and loneliness ebb and flow as they will, giving the simple comfort of his presence.

Sometimes he tells him about the loop, sometimes not. It doesn’t seem to make much difference to Rodney. Even when he explains nothing, just walks up to him and kisses him, Rodney kisses him back just as hungrily as ever.

And when they’re not fucking, they’re talking. He learns that Rodney has always wanted to learn to paint. He misses his cat (no, really. It’s not funny.) The one person on the base he is most afraid of is Elizabeth, because he secretly suspects she might be smarter than he is.

John tells him about why he doesn’t talk to his family, and about how out of place he always felt in the military. That he likes turkey sandwiches because they’re what his college roommate made for him when he first left home and had to learn to get by on not much money.

Each day, he learns more about Rodney and shares more about himself. And then the loop resets, and he has to walk into the lab and see Rodney regard him coolly and say, “Sheppard,” like that’s all they are to each other.

He misses him, and that sounds insane because he's spent practically every waking hour with the man for what must have been weeks. But he is moving forward and Rodney is staying still. Every time the loop resets, they drift further apart.

-

He stops sleeping with Rodney.

-

He gets back to work.

He pulls up the city sensor data and brings it to the lab.

“Here, look. You said before there was a radiation spike.”

Rodney drums his fingers against the tablet. “Yeah, there is. And it looks,” he squints, “sort of familiar.”

“What could cause that?”

“A million things. Radioactive materials. Black holes. Coronal mass ejections. Lightning, if there’s enough of it.”

“Wait, wait wait.” Something important scratches at his mind. “Coronal mass ejections, as in, from stars?”

“Yes. The magnetic fields inside a star shift as material moves in its interior, and when a prominence is formed and collapsed, the star releases a burst of plasma.”

He snaps his fingers. “That’s it! The sun in this solar system, we know it’s periodically unstable, right? And it’s even more active than usual right now.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He thinks of the arcs of plasma he saw as he dove the jumper into the sun’s corona and decides against trying to explain that. “It’s not important. But we know the stargate has sent Earth teams through time when the wormhole passed too close to a coronal mass ejection, right? What if our stargate had the same problem?”

“That might send whoever was traveling through the gate through time, but it wouldn’t make time loop.” A light flickers in Rodney’s eyes. “Oh! Oh! Unless that’s why the gate failed. It tried to send an outgoing wormhole at the exact moment that the sun’s activity peaked. When the wormhole hit the coronal mass ejection, it bounced back to its origin, carrying its energy with it. And that would mean…” He taps frantically at his tablet. “Right! That spike of radiation is the effect of the outgoing and incoming wormholes colliding, forming a resonance wave. All that energy is forming ripples which must be throwing us through spacetime.”

“Great! So can you fix it?”

Rodney blinks. “I’m not even sure I can model what’s happening, let alone fix it. The mathematical equations alone will be weeks of work.”

“We don’t have weeks, Rodney. We have -” he checks his watch, “- just over half an hour before the loop resets and we lose everything.”

Despair starts crawling up his spine, but he shouldn’t have underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Rodney McKay.

“Well then.” Rodney sits him down and shoves a notebook and pen into his hands. “Looks like you’re going to have to learn some math and help me to remember.”

-

This is his routine now: Wake up in his quarters, run to the lab, talk Rodney through the problem as fast as he can, get lectured on astrophysics and mathematical modelling until he feels like his head is going to explode, repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

-

He gets the basics down quickly but there are still pages and pages of math for them to solve, and nowhere close to enough time to figure it out in one loop. So he learns, and remembers, and does his best to save himself.

Rodney explains it well when he’s not being a jerk, and John starts to understand why he likes this work.

He hasn’t done this much math since college, and it’s not as awful as he remembers. There’s a kind of beauty to it, actually, a balance of all the relevant variables quantified and described, their relationships mapped into symbols and equations, the logically clarity of a necessarily true fact.

“See, this variable here, this represents the duration of the outgoing wormhole.” Rodney taps the whiteboard. John stares at the way his hands dance over the numbers. “And this one here, this is the distance between Lantea and its sun...”

Each loop, he learns a little more. Eventually, he understands the equations Rodney has been scribbling for the past god knows how many loops.

Now they just need to actually figure out how to solve them.

-

“That equation is wrong.”

“What? No it isn’t. I worked that out myself.” Rodney is glaring at him like he insulted his mother.

“I’m telling you, Rodney. Look.” John uses the cuff of his shirt to wipe out a corner of the equations scribbled on the whiteboard. “This is assuming we’re still operating in base 10, but we know the gate operating system is partially in base 16.” He adds in the corrected figures as he goes. “So we need to convert it to polynomial here and here before we can compare the output to the data from our solar radiation readings, then we can figure out the coronal mass ejection’s effects on both the gate and our computers simultaneously and allow for the difference.”

Rodney is squinting at the whiteboard. “That’s… Huh. That might actually be right.” He steps closer, running his fingers beneath the figures John has changed. Then he wheels and rounds on John.

“You,” he says, pointing a finger at John’s chest. “You are a genius.”

And then he’s grabbing John’s shirt and hauling him close and kissing him, wild and messy and with great enthusiasm.

And John had told himself he wasn’t going to do this any more but this is different, Rodney had kissed him this time, and with the way Rodney’s hands are scrabbling at every piece of skin he can reach he doesn’t think he could stop himself anyway.

Afterwards, once they’ve wasted far too much of this loop to get any productive work done, John tells Rodney about all the times that they’ve done this before, and that this is the first time Rodney has been the one to instigate it.

Rodney shrugs. “What can I say? A man who knows his math really gets me going.”

John hides a smile. “You only want me for my brain, huh?”

“Yes,” Rodney says, like that’s obvious. He breaks into a grin and runs a hand through John’s hair. “And the hair, of course. That’s very important.”

“Mmhmm.” John stretches lazily across the sofa in the corner of the lab. “And the rest of me?”

Rodney gives him a sly look. “I guess that’s alright too.”

And then Rodney is giggling as John wrestles him to the sofa as well, and he’s all flying elbows and poking fingers until John gets him pinned beneath him, both of them sweaty and out of breath from laughter.

Oh, thinks John. So this is what happiness feels like. He’d almost forgotten.

-

The loop is about to end, though this one feels different.

They're lying squashed together on the too-small sofa, inelegantly draped around each other, when Rodney takes his hand. “You have to tell me,” he says. “We’re about to reset, and once we've fixed this and I've forgotten again, you have to tell me how you feel.”

His gut churns. It’s so much simpler to be together when he doesn’t have to think about the consequences.

“Promise me,” Rodney says. “It’s not fair that I should finally get what I’ve wanted for so long, and not be able to remember it.”

He thinks about how he feels each time Rodney is reset: the loss, the ache of it. He tries to imagine what it would be like to have those experiences erased entirely.

“Okay.” He squeezes Rodney’s hand. “I promise.”

-

“That’s it!” Rodney beams at the whiteboard, covered from top to bottom in dense equations. “I can’t believe we got that done so fast.”

John lets out a sound that might be considered a laugh.

“Ah.” Rodney looks at him sideways. “You’ve been working on this for a while, huh?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Well, good news. Now we’ve got the wormhole modeled, we can feed this data into the dialing device and reset the gate manually.”

“And that will stop the loop?”

“I sure as hell hope so, because it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Terrific.”

-

John makes a conscious effort to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously as Rodney loads up their data into the dialing device.

He checks his watch. It’s three minutes to eight.

This is going to work. Right? This has to work. He’s put everything he has into this fix and he honestly doesn’t know if he can cope with looping one single time more.

(He’s thought that so many times before. And yet, here he is, still, willing or not.)

“We need to get the timing just right,” Rodney informs the gate techs. He’s taken over the gate room and thankfully the entire base has learned not to get in McKay’s way when he has that steely look in his eye. “We need to engage the program at exactly the moment the incoming wormhole is set to arrive.”

Two minutes to eight. Adrenaline surges, and he wants to run or to fight, but there’s nothing he can do except watch the furrow in Rodney’s brow and the agitated tapping of his fingers against the Ancient keypad.

“Alright, Chuck, ready on my command.”

Rodney’s got this, he tells himself. They’ve got this.

One minute to eight.

“Now!” Chuck sits up straighter, focused on the instruments in front of him. Rodney taps at the keypad, attention narrowed down to the rapidly scrolling code on his screen.

The lights flicker, spluttering overhead and casting the gate room in an eerie disjointed light. The gate starts to rotate, the screeching noise louder than usual, the illuminated symbols seeming to glow more brightly.

There is a moment of absolute stillness, and then -

The whoosh of the outgoing wormhole connecting is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He can get out, he can be free, he can live. He doesn't have to be alone any more.

Blood rushes to his head in great waves and makes him dizzy, like this might all be an illusion, like it might disappear at any moment.

He checks his watch. It's two minutes past eight.

He lets out a hysterical peal of laughter, staggers away from the gate controls, and passes out.

-

He wakes up not in his quarters. The antiseptic smell of the infirmary is the sweetest breath of fresh air.

Elizabeth insists he needs medical supervision, but there's no chance of keeping a hoard of curious scientists away from an oddity like the man who looped through time. So he's in an infirmary bed being gently grilled about the experience by Zelenka, who has apparently been elected their representative.

Elizabeth does her best to project an air of calm as she asks, "Is there any way to know how long we were looping for?"

Zelenka pushes his glasses up on the bridge of nose. "It is hard to say for certain, but extrapolating the current season based on the length of the days, we must have lost around six months."

"Six months?" Elizabeth turns to him, aghast. "John, I can't even imagine."

She means well, but he can't handle pity right now. He plays it off casually, with a wink and a smile. "Trust me, you don't want to." He swings his legs off the side of the bed and calls out to Carson. "Doc, I'm good to leave, right? Pretty sure I'm healthy as a horse, and I've given the research team plenty of material to work with."

Carson looks him over, takes in the weary lines of his shoulders, and eventually nods. He always was perceptive. "Aye, alright. But stop back in tomorrow for a checkup."

"Sure thing. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm looking forward to a well deserved night off."

-

He is looking forward to a night off, but the very last place he wants to wake up tomorrow is in his quarters. He'd sooner sleep on one of the piers, or in the locker room, or on a hive ship. Anywhere but there.

But there's another option. Or at least, there might be. So he finds himself fidgeting outside Rodney's door.

The door opens while he's pacing back and forth in the corridor.

"Sheppard?' Rodney blinks at him. "I was just on my way to find you. Earlier you seemed… so I thought… well, this must have been hard for you. What are you doing in the hallway?"

He doesn't have an answer for that. Instead he considers.

Rodney's hair is mussed, the way it gets when he's been deep in thought and running his hands through it. His fingertips are pinching together, a hum of low-grade anxiety that surrounds him whenever he has to confront emotional situations. He's wearing an old grey hoodie, one of his favorites because it's soft, even though he thinks it makes him look dumpy (it doesn't. Or maybe it does, but it doesn't matter, because it's comfortable and warm and it smells like Rodney. John knows because he's stolen it tens of times. It's one of his favorites as well.)

John knows him, knows every part of him, and he's so close he could reach out and touch him, but he's a million miles away as well.

"... John? Do you want to come in?" Rodney's face pinches into a concerned frown. "We don't have to talk, if you'd rather not."

He could walk away. Turn on his heel and leave, never mention any of this, let the whole incident fade into obscurity. But he's so close to having what he wants: something new, something familiar, something beautiful.

He takes a breath. Here is his chance. Now or never.

"Actually, I think we should talk." He lets himself smile at the precious memory, one perfect moment crystallized like a diamond from months of crushing pressure. "I made a promise."

[harrytpotter]

So, I just had this idea and intended this to be a one shot but it turned out bigger and has now became a few-parts story. Sort of. Anyway, English isn’t my mother language so please excuse my grammar! :)

Gif isn’t mine (took it from google, so please, if it belongs to you let me know so I can credit) and suggestions are always welcome.

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part I

Plot: Y/N finds herself trapped in a time in which she doesn’t belong only to learn that maybe that was her place all along. (Sorry i suck at summarizing things).

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

You’re waken up by the sunshine glowing trough the tower window right into your face. You stretch out but don’t open your eyes just yet, enjoying the warmth spreading all over your body. The feeling was quite nice until you felt a pillow landing with a harsh smash into your face, which forced you to open your eyes. You’re greeted by a redheaded that you had never really seen before, but was sort of familiar to you.

“Can I... help you?” You raise a brow at her, still unable to shake the feeling that you knew her somehow. She definitely did ring a bell, but despite your best efforts to remember someone with her features, you couldn’t succeed.

“Yeah, dumbass! We’re gonna be late for class! Get your butt outta bed right now!” She throws another pillow at you, but this time you dodge it.

“I’m sorry... Do I know you?” You ask her, confused and a little shocked by the level of intimacy you seemed to share with the stranger.

“What did you and that bastard Potter drank last night for Merlin’s sake?” She grimaces.

“Did Harry and I went out for a drink last night? That’s odd, I don’t remember,” you frown.

“Who the bloody hell is this Harry guy now? You went out for drinks with James, Sirius and Remus last night, you mental!” The redheaded looked like you were delusional. You were about to protest when it hit you. James were Sirius’ and Remus’ best friend and also your best friend’s father. Harry’s father.

“Lily?” You ask with a weak voice, your eyes almost tearing up looking into her emerald green eyes, so bright like your best friend’s. “Lily Potter?”

“POTTER?!” She shouts, rather furiously. “You know you‘re supposed to be my best friend, hence you shouldn’t hex me like that, right?!”

You were growing more and more confused each second that went by. “Relax, would ya? I was obviously just bantering!” You say after seeing how exasperatedly she was at your audacity of calling her by the Potter last name.

“That arse put you up to this, didn’t he?! I know he’s your best friend but so am I and I thought I was clear enough when I told you I’m not even slightest interested in him and asked you to stop trying to set me up with that.. that... bugger!” She stormed off the dorm, clearly pissed at you. Something told you that James would suffer the consequences of your oblivious actions somehow.

The door is opened once again and a girl who wasn’t Lily and whom you had no clue to be popped her head into the dorm. “Hey, Y/N! Are you coming? We’re heading to the great hall for breakfast.”

“Sure! I’ll... get dressed. You girls go, I’ll catch up with you all in a minute,” you smile politely at her.

“All right! Nice piece of jewelry, by the way!” She exclaims right before closing the door.

Once you lowered your head and saw something pending down your neck, you realized what she meant. The time-turner Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore had given you when the previous school year had started so you could attend more advanced classes was shining brightly, reflecting the sunlight. That was perfectly normal to you. The problem is that you never wear it to sleep or in public for that matter, keeping it tossed inside your trunk whenever you weren’t using it, hidden even from your best friends. And you were sure you had locked it in your trunk the night before. Suddenly, you remember Dumbledore’s words the day he gave you the device: “If it ever gets you in trouble, come to me. Wherever you are. No matter time or place.”

***

You were almost approaching the stairwell gargoyle that led to the headmaster’s office when you stopped, suddenly remembering you’d be needing the current password, assuming it was bloody different than the one you remembered. About to head on your heels, you’re startled by a clearing of a throat.

“Can I help you with anything, Miss L/N?” The voice of Professor McGonagall waved from behind you.

“Yes, professor! I was wondering if I could get the current password to the headmaster’s office. I need to speak to him, please,” you turn around to face her.

McGonagall raises a brow at you. “Well, the director is expecting you and Potter after the breakfast to talk about your third transgression this week. I suggest you go and eat something first because that will be a very long talk.” Her nostrils were inflated and you knew you were in trouble, whatever the reason was that got you into it.

“No! I... I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore alone! Please! It’s quite urgent,” you beg her.

“Fine. Come with me, Miss,” she says quite reluctantly to you. You could tell she was very disappointed at you but you had no clue why.

The short walk to the stairwell gargoyle was quiet and intense. Professor McGonagall raises her both hands at the statue and shout “Lemon Drop!”

“Obviously Professor Dumbledore would be using this password often over the years,” you murmured at yourself, grinning.

“What was that?” Professor McGonagall asked you, studying your face.

“Nothing, Professor! Thank you very much,” you shout over your shoulder whilst climbing up the stairs.

***

“Come on in!” You hear Professor Dumbledore’s voice after you knocked on the door.

You enter the office, suddenly nervous about talking to him. You knew he was quite clear on his recommendations but you couldn’t help but think he’d probably think you went insane once you claimed to be coming from the future.

“Hello, Miss L/N,” Dumbledore’s voice snapped you from your thoughts.

“Professor... Hi! I...” you mumbled, not sure how to start approaching the topic.

“Let me see it,” he says with a kind smile, showing the palm of his hand.

Awestruck, you take the time-turner from your robe’s pocket and hand it over to him.

“Hmm...” he said whilst examining the device very carefully and closely. “I presume you did lock it into your trunk last night, perhaps?”

“Indeed. Like I’ve done every single day since you and Professor McGonagall gave it to me, sir,” you answer promptly.

“I’ll need to borrow it to take a closer look and see what’s wrong with it,” he shruggs.

“It isn’t broken, is it?” You panic over the thought. “Will I be able to come back to my time? To my friends?”

He offers you a gentle smile. “It looks fine, by all appearances. And yes, you will.”

You stare at him quietly, trying to decide wether or not to ask him what has been disturbing you since you’ve opened your eyes this morning. You were curious about so many things, but Professor Dumbledore was a very busy man and you didn’t want to bother him with your thousand questions.

“Go ahead,” he encourages you, noticing you had something to take off your chest.

“These people... I mean, Lily and James. And some other students I don’t even know the names of. They all seem to know me, even though I’ve never really met them before today.”

Dumbledore smiles again, as if you had asked the right question. “You see, time is a funny thing. And an unpredictable one too. Here, take this and press its side extremities.” He handed you the time-turner back.

Confused, you take it and do as he said. Suddenly, the room starts to spin around and memories hit you at the speed of light. You could see them right in front of you, as if you were reliving the moments. You were sitting inside a compartment at the Hogwarts Express with Lupin, Potter and Black on your first trip ever to Hogwarts. You were shaking each others hands and it was the first time you all had met. The memory faded away. Now you were giggling with Lily and the blonde girl whom you had talked to earlier. Marlene McKinnon. Your best girl friends. Once again, the memory faded. It was night and you and James were sitting at Hagrid’s cabin porch, laughing and looking at the stunningly starry night sky, his invisibility cloak tossed aside on top of the grass. Then, you saw yourself hugging both Sirius and Remus. You remembered everything. Tears began to roll down your face as you felt overwhelmed.

“How... how is that even possible?” You ask Dumbledore with a whisper.

“I’m not quite sure yet but there’s a possibility that you’ve travelled to a different pace of time, Y/N,” he answered as if it was obvious. “This is likely another version of reality as you know it. One in which you were born in a different decade,” he adds, noticing your clueless expression.

You nod slowly at him. “Will I be able to return to where I came from?” You repeat your previous question once again.

“You will, but it could take time. I’ll know more once I’ve taken a closer look at this,” he lifted the time-turner in his hand so you could see it.

“Thank you, Professor. What should I do in the meantime?”

“For now, Miss L/N, you should head to the great hall. I’ve heard the breakfast is delicious this morning,” he smiles at you.

[thebountyfucker]

Three's a Company

18 + ONLY - NSFW

Embo/F!Reader/Bossk

This one has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I got bored so I finished it. Enjoy!

Tags: PiV sex, anal sex, DP, Embo's tongue, use of a vibrator, some violence.

Here's a link to my masterpost

-

The lights were dim, the music low and sultry. A Zeltron woman danced on a table wearing nothing but a scanty bodysuit. The scent of booze and bar snacks filled the air. This was unlike the Guild Headquarters that you were used to; you had only been once before, and the place was usually aflutter with the conversations of bounty hunters and mercenaries. Now, the place was rather reticent. The hunters and mercs were still around, sure, but their attention was drawn elsewhere. And by elsewhere, it usually meant on a pair of tits or a wayward bulge.

You, yourself, weren’t much of a dancer, but you were something nice to look at. Your job was, quite literally, walk around the place and drum up the sexual hunger. You could take a client or two, but it wasn’t a requirement. Thus far, no one seemed entirely interested. But that didn’t bother you.

You strutted past a table, not paying too much mind to who was there, until you noticed that you were being waved to. You approached, putting on a sultry smile, and leaned against the table. Staring back at you was a Trandoshan man - one of the Guild Leader’s sons, Bossk, if you remembered correctly - and a rather grumpy Kyuzo. Bossk, who had his arm wrapped around the Kyuzo’s shoulder, gave his friend a jostle.

“Are you entertainment?” Bossk asked, his long tongue flicking out to wet his lips. You nodded slowly.

“Sure am. What can I do for ya?” You leaned forward, accentuating your chest with a smirk.

“You see, my buddy here-,”

“We are not friends.” The Kyuzo interrupted.

“-well, it’s his Life Day-,”

“It is not.”

“-and I was looking to help him get laid.”

“I do not need your help getting laid.” He shrugged Bossk’s arm off, much to Bossk’s dismay. The Kyuzo crossed his arms over his chest and slumped in an odd little pout. Bossk rolled his eyes.

“Obviously you do, or you wouldn’t be here! Come on, Em… they weren’t worth it anyways.”

You watched the two interact, entertained. You had not been expecting this when you came over, but if you were telling the truth, this was the highlight of your rather boring night.

“I do not know what stories you are concocting, but there is nothing wrong.” Em tipped his large, circular hat down to cover his face. You sent Bossk a glance, and he shook his head. You eased onto the bench beside the agitated bounty hunter, and rested a hand on his thigh.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I am fine. I would be better off if I was left alone, though.” He growled lowly, and you retracted your hand.

“I’m sorry…”

“It is not your fault.” He turned to glance at Bossk, who was watching the Zeltron table-dancer disinterestedly.

“I’m sure the bunks are much quieter, if you’re looking for some peace.” You offered Em, and he nodded at this.

“Yes… that would probably be best.”

You scooted off of the bench and moved away, allowing Em the space to leave; you knew it wasn’t any of your business, but you hoped that somehow he’d have a better night. Only, that hope was quickly dashed.

Em moved to stand and exit the booth. The movement caught Bossk’s attention, and he let out a hearty laugh.

“Go get her!” Bossk pulled his hand back, and gave Em a hearty smack to the ass - it was likely meant to be a cordial gesture, akin to those athletes gave to one another. But you watched the way Em’s eyes flickered with rage, and Bossk knew in that moment that he had messed up. He moved away, but wasn’t quick enough to escape the swift kick to the chest. Bossk slammed into the back of the seat, coughing and hissing as he grabbed at his chest. Nearby patrons turned to see what was going on. Em straightened, brushed off his skirt, and waded through the crowded floor toward the bunks. You rushed to Bossk’s side.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Good.” He croaked as he rubbed his chest. You were surprised he wasn’t doubled over in pain. The kick looked like it was intended to cause some damage, maybe in the hopes that this would deter Bossk from bothering Em again. Bossk seemed sufficiently deterred, though, refraining from chasing after his ‘friend’.

“Are you certain?” You pressed a gentle hand to his chest, feeling for any broken ribs. Despite the force of Em’s kick, there seemed to be no broken bones. That was good.

“Yeah. Guess I was pressing his buttons too much.” Bossk muttered.

“How long were you pestering him?”

“... All night.” Bossk admitted, reaching for the glass that was sitting on the table.

“Why?”

“Rumor had it that he was going through some sort of break-up. We need him on his best game, and I was trying to hurry along the healing process.” Bossk shrugged, his voice slowly losing the wheeze that the kick had given him.

“I see… perhaps I could help with that.” You patted Bossk’s leg. “I’ll be back.”

You got up and weaved your way through the crowd, your sights set on the hall leading to the bunks. The Zeltron table-dancer was stepping down, only to be replaced by a Theelin burlesque dancer. The sultry music slowly shifted into something a bit more lively, and the crowd seemed to perk as well. You paid this no mind, though, as you slipped down the hallway.

You stopped at a door labeled 'Embo' and pondered. Bossk had called him Em, but maybe that was just a nickname. At the same time, it was possible that this 'Em' and 'Embo' were different people. It was a big galaxy after all. Deciding to risk it, you knocked and heard a husky 'come in'. You slipped inside.

Em - or Embo, rather- was sitting on the large bed, grumbling and drinking something out of a metal goblet. He hardly glanced up, but acknowledged your presence with a sweep of the hand. You sat on the end of the bed and met his gaze.

"Are you alright?" You asked, taking care to keep your tone soft and cordial. He scoffed.

"I assume Bossk sent you?"

"Yes and no. He told me that you weren't feeling so great but it was my decision to come." You replied, transfixed by the sight of his mouth. Previously hidden by a bronze mask, he sported dozens of wicked, carnivore-esque fangs. Long and sharp, you knew they could do some serious damage. You weren't sure why, but the thought aroused you. You ignored the warmth building in your cunt.

"He is delusional. There is nothing wrong." Embo replied, his golden gaze flicking to yours, noting the sudden, and potentially odd, fixation on his mouth. "You seem to have a staring problem."

You blinked and shook your head, an embarrassed tint marring your face. "I don't mean to. I've just… never seen anything like it."

"Mhm." Was all he said as he took a sip of his drink. A rivulet of the purple booze trickled down his lips, and his long, snake-like tongue flicked out to lick it up. Oh, there was that twinge in your cunt again. "Why are you still here?"

"I came to offer my services." You muttered in response, your mouth cotton-dry. He quirked a browridge, intrigued. "I was hired to take care of the Guild's guests. Of which, you are one. If there are any desires I can fulfill, you only need to speak them."

His gaze trailed down your body, as if he was inspecting a work of art; his gaze lingered on the swell of your breasts, and the curve of your hips… but he didn’t reach for you. He hardly said a word as he set his goblet aside and waved you off dismissively.

“I want nothing from you.” He replied, though his tone betrayed otherwise. You crawled up onto the bed, slowly slinking toward him, your heart pounding in your chest. He didn’t cower from your approach, nor did he move to push you away; rather, he responded with a stubborn glare. He was a tough nut to crack, this one… but you know you’d get to him. No man could resist your charm… or your cunt.

You parted his legs, crawling into the newly freed space and planting yourself in between his legs. You rested your hands on the mattress on either side of his hips, and leaned up to look him in the eyes, mere inches from him. He didn’t falter, his gaze burning deep into your soul. A shiver prickled at your spine, and you fought the urge to move away.

“Don’t play coy, sir.” You whispered, saturating your tone with desire. For him. For what he hid beneath his layers of skirts. For that wicked tongue. Your hungry eyes found his lips, and you pressed even closer. “I know that you desire me. It’s okay to admit it.”

“And if I do not?” Embo hummed, still resisting, yet not pulling away. You faltered for a moment, trying to find the right rebuttal. Certainly, he wanted you. Now, how could you get him to admit it? “Is it so hard for people to leave me alone?”

You broke your act at this, pulling away to give him the space he seemed to long for. You sat back on your butt, watching him, waiting for him to make a move. He nonchalantly reached for his goblet, and thrust it at you.

“Bring me another.”

You looked at the goblet, and then at him. “Uh… yes sir.”

You took it and scuttled out of the room, holding it with all the care in the galaxy. You figured he wouldn’t be too keen on you dropping it or scratching it in any way. You expertly dodged any interlopers as you swept toward the bar. You set the goblet down and pushed it toward the tender, who met your glance.

“Embo?”

“Yessir. Give him whatever he was drinking before.” You rocked on the balls of your feet as you watched the tender pull out a large bottle - it was green with little gold accents, with a wide, circular base and a narrow neck. He poured out the purple liquid, gave it a few swirls, and then handed it back to you.

“Don’t let him drink too much more of this, okay? This stuff is potent.”

You nodded in understanding and hurried off towards Embo’s room, trying to hold the goblet as steady as you could. You knocked, but didn’t wait for an answer, and slipped into the room. In the time you had been gone, Embo had shed his numerous layers and had put on a silk robe. He was leaning on his bed, as he had been before, though now he looked much more content. You wondered if his drink had finally kicked in.

“Here you are, sir.” You handed him the goblet, and bowed your head respectfully. He bowed his head in response, and took a small sip, humming appreciatively. You eased back onto the bed, and he gestured to you.

“Have you ever had zhizhi wine, pet?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No, sir.”

“Open your mouth.”

You did as you were told; he tipped your head back and poured a small stream of wine into your open mouth. The wine was thick - disarmingly so - and tangy, though the sting of alcohol was nowhere to be found. The wine warmed your body as it went down, and though you couldn’t describe why, you yearned for more. You reached for the goblet, and he pulled it away from your grasp.

“That would not be wise, pet.” He told you as he cupped your chin and tilted your head back down. “You humans do not process it the same way we do. Just wait. You will know why I cannot allow it soon enough.”

You thought Embo was talking a load of shit and being a selfish prick, but it wasn’t long before you understood what he was talking about. You could feel the buzz of the alcohol on the edges of your consciousness, despite you only drinking one sip. You let out a snort, then a giggle, before covering your mouth with your hand.

“What the fuck?”

“I did tell you.” Embo hummed as he leaned back, setting the goblet aside; his dusty green skin had flushed a brighter green as the alcohol worked its way through his system. You tried not to stare, but you noticed, through a crack in his robe, that he was not wearing anything underneath. And that it seemed that he was getting excited… You decided that it would be beneficial to try again.

You slipped between his legs, feeling the warmth of his thighs against yours, and reached up to play with the neckline of his robe. His large hand rested on the small of your back in response. You supposed this was good news.

“Sir, I don’t intend to be rude but… you look like you could use some attention.”

“Perhaps I could.”

“Could I… untie your robe?” You asked, your cunt throbbing at the prospect.

“Not until I see you first.” He responded, the hand on your back sliding up until it found the zipper holding your bodysuit closed. He guided the zipper downward until it couldn’t go any further, and you leaned back to give him the right angle to undress you. He peeled the bodysuit off your body, watching with rapt attention at the skin that was slowly exposed to him. You helped him pull it the rest of the way off of you. He tossed it off to the side. His ravenous gaze trailed down your form, taking in every inch of your soft, human skin.

“May I…?” You asked, leaning closer to him; the heat which radiated from him was akin to that of a furnace. Sweat began to bead on your brow. But your interest in what he had underneath his robe far outweighed the temporary discomfort of sweat. Besides, you had a feeling you’d be sweating a lot more soon.

He wrapped his large hand around yours, and directed it to the loose knot which held his robe closed. You swiftly undid the knot, and watched as his robe fell open. His chest was lean but strong, and peppered with scars. But this wasn’t what interested you. No, what interested you was his cock - half-hard and already longer than a human. You reached out to touch it, watching for any indication that he wasn’t interested. He gave you none, and you wrapped your hand around it.

A low, sharp hiss worked its way from his mask as you slowly and surely stroked his cock. His cock hardened in your hand, lengthening even further, and you idly wondered if he’d be able to fit inside you. He threaded a hand in your hair and guided you closer to him.

“Mmm… you are so lovely…” He purred as he leaned down to nuzzle your neck. You stroked him steadily. His hands slid down to the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest; you straddled his thigh, grinding your cunt against his leg as you stroked him. “Mmm… you are wetting my thigh, little pet. Do you desire more than this?”

“Yes.” You breathed as you reached up to cup his cheeks. You pressed your forehead to his as his hands gripped your hips.

“Do you need preparation?” He inquired, and you glanced down to his cock - there was no way it’d fit without some proper foreplay to loosen you up. You slowly nodded, and he leaned you back onto the mattress. He rusted around in his drawers, and produced a small, thumb-sized vibrator. It buzzed to life, and he drew it around your clit. You hissed.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t aware that you knew of human anatomy!”

“I am well aware of human pleasure-spots.” He chuckled as he rubbed the vibrator along your swelling clit. Sharp sparks of pleasure shot through your body, igniting the fire in your belly. You tensed, and he purred. “Does that feel good, little pet? Hm?”

“Yes…” You whined as he drew the tip of the vibrator up and down along your clit. Your breaths came out as strained gasps as your pussy drooled onto his bed. He let out a hum of appreciation, drawing his finger up and down the glistening seam of your pussy.

“Very wet… let us see how tight you are.”

He pressed a thick finger into your pussy, slipping in to the first knuckle so he could massage the spongey membrane of your g-spot. You squirmed, grabbing fistfuls of his sheets and closing your legs around his hand. “Yes! Yes, just like that!”

He did as you told, continuing to massage your g-spot while drawing a vibrator around your clit. The tension mounted, and the fire in your belly threatened to spill over; your body went stiff, and you threw your head back in anticipation, only for him to turn the vibrator off and remove his finger.

“W-what the hell!?” You snapped, the obscene orgasm you were chasing slowly subsiding. He loomed over you, one hand resting near your head while the other lined up his cock with your yearning cunt. His head pressed through, and you stretched to accommodate it.

“Is this more to your liking?” He asked, his breath rattling through his mask. You nodded, angling your hips to give him better access. He slowly eased in, watching your face for any indication of pain or discomfort. When he found none, he continued to press in until you had completely sheathed his cock. You swore his cock had pressed up under your ribs, though you knew this was not possible. You were so completely impaled by him. You had never felt anything like it.

He gave you ample time to adjust, before slowly easing out of you. The sudden absence of his cock made you whimper, and he shook his head.

“Do not be getting cock-dumb on me now, little pet.” He stroked your hair as he eased back in, his cock hitting every sensitive spot within your yearning cunt. Your head lolled back and your back arched toward him, and he took this as a sign to continue. You both hardly noticed the company at the door.

A loud, rattling hiss filled the air, and you turned to spy Bossk standing in the doorway. Embo growled but didn’t stop. In fact, he went faster, harder, delighting in the way that your tits bounced as he did so.

“What are you doing here?” Embo muttered between thrusts. Bossk was palming himself through his pants, his tongue flicking out to wet his maw.

“Came to see if you were doin’ okay.” Was all he managed as he tentatively approached, watching Embo’s reaction for any adverse reactions. Embo ignored Bossk as he reached up to unlatch his mask; he set it down on the bed within easy reach and leaned down, his tongue snaking out to lap at your nipple. He leaned down to wrap his lips around it, his golden gaze meeting yours. Your entire body shook with a mounting orgasm, and you closed your legs around Embo’s narrow hips.

“D-don’t stop!” You cried as he pulled away to ravish the other nipple. You were faintly aware of the unzipping of a zipper, and turned your head to find the source of the noise. Bossk’s two cocks were mere inches away, hard and yearning. Embo replaced his mask.

“Lift her up…”

Embo glared but did as Bossk asked, pulling you up against his chest. The pause in thrusting pulled you from the brink of orgasm, and you whimpered. Bossk slipped up behind you, pressing his chest into your back.

“Lube?”

Embo sighed and reached over into his drawer to produce a little bottle. Bossk took it with a purr and you listened as he squirted it all over his cocks. He slicked his length and rubbed the excess along your asshole, and you sucked in a deep breath, preparing for the breach.

What you weren’t prepared for was the head of Bossk’s lower cock prodding at your already occupied cunt. You gasped, holding onto Embo tighter as you stretched to accommodate both of their cocks. You never thought you could stretch this wide and yet… Embo hissed at the sensation of Bossk’s cock pressing up against his.

Bossk’s upper cock pressed into your ass and you leaned forward to bite at Embo’s shoulder to contain the scream which threatened to escape your lips. Slowly, Bossk inched into you; he panted in your ear, his tongue sneaking out to caress your neck.

“You’re so tight. Fuck!”

You whined, leaning back against him as they both slowly started jacking their hips, their cocks sliding in and out of you in tandem. Your nerves zapped with ecstasy as their cocks caressed every sensitive inch of your cunt. At the same time, the sensation of Bossk’s cocks rubbing against the thin wall of flesh separating them was enough to make your head spin. Embo’s hands went to your tits, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive, swollen nipples. Bossk’s hands gripped your hips tight enough to bruise.

In and out, in and out, over and over again; their cocks put you in a daze as your body started to shake. Your eyes fluttered shut as they both uttered curses in their native tongues.

“Oh, oh!! I’m gonna-!” You cried out as the warmth in your belly threatened to spill over. They picked up their paces, thrusting unequally now at an attempt to usher forth your orgasm. It worked. You arched your back toward Embo with a loud cry, and a rush of fluids spilled out around their cocks as fireworks exploded within you. You felt electric. You felt alive. They didn’t stop their thrusting, chasing their own orgasms now even as your cunt tightened around them. When you regained control, you leaned forward, resting against Embo’s chest. You peppered his neck with tiny kisses.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

He nodded, a bit frantically, as his pace became erratic. This drove Bossk closer to his own orgasm, and soon, he too was off-pace. Embo came first, spilling deep inside you with a soft hiss. This was enough to send Bossk over the edge, and he followed suit, though he was much more vocal about it. Slowly, gently, they pulled out of you, and you felt their combined cum seep out of you.

“Fuck…” You muttered as you laid back on Embo’s bed. He laid down beside you, drawing the pad of his finger over your stomach.

“Are you finished, dear one?”

You shook your head frantically, and he chuckled. “Good… And you, Bossk?”

“I’m just getting started.”

[mostly-delusional]

Like a phoenix, I will rise

!!!SPOILERS FOR KAZ'S BACKSTORY!!!

I dwell in the nothings and the nowhere places

The void of emptiness is my home

Kaz stared at his reflection in the mirror. A new face was looking back at him, one he didn’t, couldn’t recognize as his own. His clothes were damp, heavy with the burden of the ordeal he had just gone through. Wet locks of hair fell in his eyes, drops of water dripping from them one by one. His eyes were puffy and red, traces of tears washed away by the water. His skin itched, as if hundreds of insects were crawling upon it. His head felt heavy and he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He was soaked from head to toe, and his breath came out in short puffs. His chest thumped at a pace he could not keep up with.

Don't look back and maybe all of it will disappear. You'll wake up in a few moments. All of this will be gone. It's just a bad dream. Jordie will shake you back to reality and hold you close to him. You'll be fine.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried driving out the images of his brother among a hundred other bodies. But in the darkness behind his eyelids, Kaz could only see himself pushing against the waves in the Reaper’s Barge, his brother by his side. He could still feel the waves hitting him, trying to propel him towards the horror that had lain behind him. The stink of bodies was still fresh in his nose and bile rose up to his throat. A faint sound of giggling reverberated in his mind.

Saskia.

Jacob Hertzoon’s daughter. But she wasn’t actually a part of his family, was she? No, just another con artist. Kaz felt his heart shattering into a multitude of little shards. He felt himself slipping away. He tried holding onto that nine-year-old part of him, but to no avail. It was too late now.

But it is here that my soul can create itself

And I'll emerge full born as my own

His eyes shot open. Kaz looked into those brown orbs in the mirror. But they weren’t his. He saw hatred pooling inside them, their brown darkening with hunger.

Kaz Rietveld was dead. The little boy who clutched his brother’s hand a little too tight when afraid, who brightened at the sight of candies and toys, who was far too innocent for the sordid streets of Ketterdam was dead. He was floating somewhere in the Reaper’s Barge, forgotten.

I walk in the gutter of my humanity

As one who is disfigured and frail

Yet still believe, that one day I will be transformed

And in spite of my limits, I will prevail

The streets looked mammoth without Jordie by his side. Kaz felt small walking among the crowd. No one paid him mind, as if he were a phantom passing through. People pushed past him and he struggled to stay on his feet. They were mindlessly walking on the streets, eyes set on defined goals. Kaz wanted to scream. He wanted to ask them to stop and look at him. To let him pass through. To help him. But everyone just went about their business and he could do nothing but stare at his feet helplessly. Tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes and a sob threatened to tear past his lips.

“Lift your head up and walk right through them. Don’t stop, don’t hesitate. If you do, they’ll just drag you back to the bottom of the Barge. Ketterdam is not a place you can afford to be soft in, Kaz. You need to make a place for yourself. Will you do that? For me?” Kaz didn’t know if it was Jordie’s voice in his head, or if he was just being delusional. But he pushed his fear aside nonetheless.

A man harshly collided with Kaz and he staggered back.

“Watch where you’re going, boy!” The man bit out.

Jordie’s words echoed in his mind and Kaz simply stomped on the foot of that man as hard as he could before running away. He didn’t stop running until he reached the doors of a dingy looking building. A rusting crow sign hung on the door with the words ‘The Crow Club’ engraved on it. He pushed open the double doors and walked inside.

The place could hardly pass as a gambling club, what with the chipped paint on the walls and the dank atmosphere. Thugs and thieves huddled in every corner, their raucous laughter banging on his eardrums. He pushed past them and walked around the tables when suddenly a hand shot out and seized his wrist.

Kaz bristled. He could hear waves slapping against his mind again. The voices muffled, as if his head was pushed under water. His own shouts of help began blaring like an alarm inside his head.

He needed to get the hand off of him and leave this place.

“Let go!” Kaz cringed at the rasp that escaped his lips. His voice was barely recognizable, sounding like two rocks being rubbed against each other. His throat itched and forming any words hurt. Still, he conjured every fiber of confidence and said, “I told you to let go!”

“What do you think you’re doing in here, huh?” The man ignored what Kaz had said and tightened his grip. “A little pigeon like you shouldn’t be lurking around places where you’re not supposed to be.”

Kaz was disgusted. The man’s touch reminded him of the countless bodies he had been surrounded with in the Barge. The contact of his skin felt like someone was clawing at his arm.

“I’m here for a job. Get your filthy hands off of me.” Kaz snatched his wrist away.

The man laughed, his head tipping back in merry. “Would you look at that? Pigeon says he wants a job.” He sneered and the other males sitting around the table laughed along.

“Don’t listen to them. They’ll realize who you are and what you can do soon enough. The door across the room is the office of this club’s owner. Go to him.” He could hear Jordie again. His brother’s voice guided him to the wooden door, leaving those laughing men behind him.

I must wait for my value to be recognized

By others that have forced me down here

And until then I shall be my own counsellor

To nurture my progress through the years

The old man argued a lot and tried to push Kaz out of his office. He even called a few of his bouncers to drag Kaz outside, but Kaz bit one of their hands as they tried getting a hold of him.

“Get that filth away from me or I'll rip them out of their sockets and feed them to you.” Kaz glared up at the men towering above him, and then turned back to Per Haskell as if his bouncers were a bunch of flies he had brushed aside. “I know how to land a punch when necessary. I can pick locks and steal. I’m better than any of your errand dogs.”

“Are you now?” The old man challenged.

He wasn't. The lie had slipped through effortlessly and Per Haskell didn't need to know that as long as Kaz got the job.

“They’ve been sitting out on the tables wasting away their money, not even noticing the notes being slipped out of their pockets by the waitress. They’re a bunch of rabid dogs who need to be controlled. I can do that. Give me the job.”

It wasn’t an offer or a request. Just a full-fledged order. “They won’t listen to you if you talk to them like a lonely child in need of help. Don't let them see your weakness.” Jordie had reminded him before Kaz had pushed open Haskell’s door.

I shall become the hero of my tragedy

The master of my fate and intent

To become the very person that I need to be

The force that will plot my ascent

Kaz never looked back after that. He pushed through life, kicking down anyone who tried to drag him back to the Barge. he learned the ways of gambling, picking locks and stealing without being caught. He learned how to think like a businessman and how to outsmart people. Even Jordie's voice had silenced, taken over by the whispers of revenge.

Kaz was well on his way to become the king of the Barrel and he wasn't going to back down until he claimed the crown.

The words written in red are taken from a poem on google.

[ichigo-daifuku]

Alone Together

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi Genre: Time Travel, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Suggestive Themes

Synopsis: A Quirk accident prompts Fuyumi to travel back in time in various intervals, where she does her best to keep a low profile so as not to alter the future timeline.

Except Keigo catches feelings for her a year earlier than scheduled.

1 | ☆ Chapter One: A Fine Mess Word Count: 5.2k

恋の予感 | こいのよかん | koi no yokan

premonition of love; the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them will inevitably fall in love.

At five in the morning, Hawks stirred in his sleep and shivered.

The air was frigid. He concluded the heater must have ceased functioning sometime in the middle of the night. If it didn’t, how else could he explain how frosty the temperature in his room was? He took a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth, rubbing a palm over his abdomen. It felt as if he was sleeping beside a block of ice. Groggily, he huddled further under his blanket and tried to fall back into slumber.

Five more minutes, he thought, and then, this early bird will catch the worm… no, the villains.

A shift on his bed followed by a yawn drew his attention. He froze. Eyes shut but conscious and alert, he spread out a number of his feathers and confirmed it: an intruder was on his bed.

Hawks opened his eyes and found a sight that made them go as wide as saucers. A scantily clad woman was curled up next to him, comfortably sleeping as if she was on her own bed. She mumbled something incoherently and embraced his torso, her hold loose but enough for him to feel the outline and curves of her body. A puff of breath from her parted lips tickled his bare chest. Her skin was as cold as ice, and for a second, he wondered if she was feeling unwell—until he came to his senses. He recounted the events of the previous night in search of any factor that could’ve led to this situation.

Hawks had gone through the daily grind of flying around and catching villains. It had been a busier day than usual. Exhausted after his final patrol, he opted to order take-out at a fast-food restaurant on his way home instead of dining in. He ate his dinner, freshened up, put a random pair of sweatpants on, and went to sleep. He failed to recall encountering her last night, and he was certain she wasn’t here when he plopped down on his bed.

Hawks had never met this woman before.

However, from what he was seeing, he slept beside this woman. He didn’t sleep with her, right? There was no way such a thing would slip his mind.

Was he going insane? Was he having his annual spring rut? Was he so sexually frustrated that he was having a realistic hallucination of a very attractive woman sleeping next to him?

“Good morning,” said a feminine voice, still husky from the early hour, near his ear.

Despite the silent questions he raised, the softness of the lips pressing on his cheek was real.

Very much so.

Languidly, the woman sat up, stretched her arms above her head, and let out a contented hum. She stepped out of the bed and left the room while combing her fingers through her snow-white hair, unperturbed.

Hawks, who was still dubious of the situation, left the bed and slipped on the first t-shirt he could lay his feathers on. He went after the woman and found her in the kitchen, browsing through the contents of the refrigerator with a frown.

She cocked her head to the side and scrunched her eyebrows. “Didn’t we go grocery shopping yesterday? Why is everything gone? Don’t tell me you got hungry in the middle of the night and ate it all.”

The two of them went grocery shopping? Yesterday?

Without waiting for his response, the woman grabbed two eggs from the shelf and closed the refrigerator. She set them aside and bent down to get a frying pan from the cabinet.

Hawks wondered how she knew where he kept his cookware, but before he could dwell on the thought, he found out it wasn’t all that she was cognizant of.

The woman knew how to operate the rice cooker and coffee maker easily and prepared breakfast with such familiarity that if he didn’t know better, he’d say it was her kitchen and not his.

All the while, he stood at the entrance, wary and ready to defend himself when she decided to strike—except she did nothing of the sort.

“By the way, have you seen my eyeglasses?” she asked, setting the plate of fried eggs on the table. “It wasn’t on the nightstand. I forgot where I put them.”

“Who are you?” Hawks finally uttered the question he was dying to find the answer to. He took a tentative step forward as a predator would when it stalked its prey. “How did you get in my place?”

She glanced at him but paid his threatening action no mind, filling two mugs with coffee. “Huh?”

“It’s a serious question, Miss,” he stated, his expression grave and stern. “Who are you?”

Silver eyes met his golden ones. For some inexplicable reason, he was taken aback, but before he could mull over the peculiar impression he sensed, the question that left her lips had alarm bells ringing in his head.

“What are you talking about, Keigo?”

Keigo.

She called him Keigo.

He launched one of his longer feathers to his palm and aligned it toward her neck as one would with a sword. The tip of the feather brushed a strand of her hair, from which he spotted distinctive crimson streaks from. It was a unique feature that would help confirm her identity if she refused to speak. “Are you a spy? Who sent you?”

Panicked, she shook her head and waved her hands in front of her in denial. “I’m not a spy! No one sent me!”

“How did you know that name?”

“Which name?”

“Stop pretending you don’t know what’s going on,” he snapped, glaring at her. “My real name. How did you know it?”

“You told me.”

His birth name was classified information. From the day he was instructed to live as Hawks, he had buried his past and told no one his real name. Nobody—save for his estranged parents, the Hero Public Safety Commission, and himself—should have been aware of it. Not even his sidekicks, nor his fans, and definitely not the woman standing in front of him. “You’re lying.”

“Keigo, are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?” The menacing stance he had did nothing to deter her. She stepped forward and touched his head in search of any injuries. When she found none, she retreated and put her hands behind her back. “If I remember correctly, we’ve been on a first-name basis since we met. Well, kind of.”

Why would he reveal his real name to someone he just met? He would never do that. 

Was this woman a delusional fangirl of his? He had encountered a few cases of those, but none of them had gone as far as this woman. She wasn’t from around here, he noticed, as she wasn’t speaking in Hakata-ben. Regardless, this was a penthouse of an exclusive condominium in Kyushu. How was she able to get past the security?

“We’ve never met. I don’t know who you are,” he stated without room for argument. “Now, tell me how you got in, and I’ll turn you in to the police myself.”

She stared at his face quietly, deep in thought. After a long pause, an epiphany struck her, and she spoke in a hesitant tone, expecting the worst, “Sorry, but… could you, perhaps, tell me what year it is?”

“That’s an odd question, Miss. What year do you think it is?”

The response she gave him left him disconcerted. With an uncertain voice, she told him today's month and day correctly, but she added three years to the current year.

When he revealed she was wrong, she backed away and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” she cried out with an apologetic bow, on the verge of bursting into tears. “We haven’t met yet, haven’t we? This must be so strange to you.”

“We’ve never met.”

“Yeah, not yet.” She paced back and forth and turned to him. “Do you mind if I look around for a bit? I just want to confirm it.”

He didn’t rule out the possibility she was unhinged, but he wanted to know what her deal was before handing her over to the authorities. Humoring her, he let go and returned his large feather to his wings, relenting. “Fine.” 

In case she had any funny business up her sleeve, he followed her. A few of his feathers hovered around her as a safety precaution, too. Yet as he observed her, he had to ask himself: how come she was able to roam around his place like she owned it? 

Similar to the way she acted in the kitchen, she barged inside his walk-in closet effortlessly. Stumbling upon rows and rows of men’s clothing, she mumbled, “My clothes…”

She peeked inside the bathroom and found a lone toothbrush on the sink and men’s products everywhere. “My toiletries…”

In front of an empty space in the living room, she stared and murmured, “My books…”

“None of my belongings are here.” She shook her head with a sigh, momentarily forgetting she had company as she glanced at the calendar on the wall. “I really am in the past.”

Keigo placed a hand on her shoulder, rousing her from her reverie. “Care to explain?”

The sound of her stomach grumbling interrupted her before she could speak. She covered her midriff in embarrassment, the skimpy nightgown she had on drawing his attention again. “Sorry.”

Keigo sighed. From a logical point of view, the current evidence indicated this woman as a threat. However, his feathers tingled in a different way than they would when they sensed danger was in the midst. He had gathered from her whispers that she believed she was from the future. Something strange was going on, and he would get to the bottom of it.

With a few small feathers, he grabbed a hoodie from his closet and offered it to her. “You can wear this.”

“Oh, thank you.” She slipped the hoodie on and awkwardly continued, “It’s cold, isn’t it? Not that I’m bothered or anything, though. I actually don’t mind the cold much, don’t worry! Haha…”

That’s not it, he thought but didn’t bother saying aloud. She already cooked breakfast, might as well let her eat it.

“You can enlighten me of the situation while you eat,” Keigo decided, leading her to the dining area. He pulled a chair out and instructed, “Sit down.”

She followed him wordlessly and watched as he set the table, brought the cooked rice, and sat in front of her. Upon noticing he wasn’t making any move to grab a serving, she spoke, “Aren’t you going to eat? I didn’t put anything weird in there, I promise.”

Keigo had witnessed her prepare them earlier. He didn’t see or smell anything weird in the food either.

She sensed his reluctance and lifted the chopsticks between her fingers. As proof of her innocence, she took a bite of the fried egg and swallowed. “See? It’s fine.”

Keigo acquiesced, putting a portion of rice and egg in his bowl.

“Thank you for the food,” they said in unison.

He took a much-needed sip of coffee and began with his inquiry, “Think you can tell me what’s up now, Miss?”

“Yesterday afternoon, a young girl’s Quirk went out of control and hit me. Nothing happened, but my companion and I went to the hospital to be sure. The doctors said it was a mutation type of Quirk, but they couldn’t confirm anything since the girl’s exact power was unknown.”

That companion was supposedly him. “And then?”

“Since nothing was wrong with me, they sent us home. We went to this penthouse, ate dinner, and slept. But when I woke up, I’m… here. In the past,” she told him. “One of the doctors did advise us to wait for twenty-four hours, so maybe, that’s my time limit.”

“You’re sure this is the past? Not an alternate universe?”

“I think so.”

“How are you going to come back to your own time?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? Why should I believe you?”

“I…” Contemplative, she paused before offering a suggestion. “I’d like to wait for twenty-four hours, at least.”

“And if nothing happens?”

“I’ll turn myself in to the authorities if you’ll insist, but I hope you’ll at least let me call someone for help.”

“Let me guess. A colleague? Perhaps, a fellow villain?”

“No, I’m not a villain. My—” she broke off mid-sentence again, carefully choosing her words, “—a family member would know what to do, I think.”

“How suspicious.”

“Look, I know twenty-four hours is a lot to ask, especially from the Number T...hree Hero, but I’m also confused right now. If I’m being honest, I’d like to go back to where I came from right at this moment,” she confessed. “I hope you can bear with me for a while. It will really help me. Please.”

Keigo felt the accusation he was about to utter stuck in his throat. Sincerity and anxiety radiated from her words. His instincts told him it was an honest appeal for his assistance. While he was still unsure, he was a Hero, and the woman in front of him, a suspected villain or not, was asking him for help. He couldn’t ignore it.

He grabbed his phone with a stray feather and dialed his secretary’s number. “Hello, good morning. It’s Hawks. I won’t be coming in today. It’s an emergency situation, and I’ll be on surveillance duty.”

“Roger, Sir. I’ll let your sidekicks know.”

“By the way, don’t ask why, but can you send a set of women’s clothes to my place? Toiletries, as well. Thanks! Bye-bye!”

“Thank you,” the woman told him as he ended the call. This time, she was unable to hold back her tears, and she wiped them immediately with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Thank you so much. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, Keigo—I mean, Hawks!”

Silence reigned during the rest of the breakfast. It wasn’t the awkward nor the comfortable type. She was engrossed in her thoughts while he was on high alert. After they finished eating, she volunteered to do the dishes, and he allowed her to, knowing she needed a moment alone to collect herself. He stayed at a considerable distance in the living room instead, aware she finished the task without any issues.

Keigo looked up from the YAP! News article on his phone and observed as the woman plopped down on the other side of the sofa and grabbed the remote control on the coffee table.

As if she felt his sharp gaze on her, she turned her face to his direction, and realization dawned on her.

“Whoops, sorry! I just…” she blurted out, embarrassed at the faux pas she committed. “Nevermind. Do you mind if I watch TV?”

“It’s fine.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, redirecting her eyes to the television. She flipped the channels to find something appealing to watch and came upon an animated magical girl franchise. “Oh, PreCure!” 

“I see,” he noted, caught off guard she chose that show over the morning news on one channel and a rerun of a documentary about the most recent Hero Billboard Chart JP on another. “You’re into these kinds of shows?”

“I happen to know a lot of kids. They love this show,” she replied, heat creeping up her cheeks. “Besides, there’s no such thing as being too old to watch anime.”

“Yeah.” An amused smile crept upon his lips. “You’re right about that, Miss.”

She would squint her eyes from time to time throughout the episode. In addition, since she had been looking for her eyeglasses earlier, he deduced she had poor eyesight. Keigo thought she might get a headache later on if she continued watching television like that. That would be bad, wouldn’t it?

It turned out, he had no need to fret about such a thing from happening. A couple of hours later, she ended up dozing off. He stood, turned the television’s volume down, and fixed her position in a way she could lay down and sleep properly.

How could she let her guard down like that? he asked himself, covering her with a blanket. She seems fatigued, though.

Unable to figure her out, he took a seat on the solo sofa and let her be, still on surveillance duty.

While she didn’t mention anything about being unwell, she was exhausted—that much was obvious. It was only at lunchtime when she awoke from her nap, the sound of the doorbell serving as her alarm clock. Behind the door, the pizza delivery man stood with Keigo’s order in his hands. Keigo settled the payment and brought the box to the living room. He set the box on the table and untied the string on top of it. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you feeling sick or anything?”

“No, just tired.” She shut her eyes and massaged her fingers over her temple. “It must be a side effect of the girl’s Quirk. I’m not usually like this.”

He didn’t know this woman, but he knew how being sick without medicine felt: miserable. “Tell me if you need anything. I’ll get it.”

Her eyes fluttered open drowsily. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want to freshen up after you eat?” He handed her a sealed paper bag through a feather on its handle. “The clothing and toiletries I asked for earlier arrived while you were sleeping.”

“I will.” She waited for him to release the paper bag with her palms wide open. When he did, she caught it and put it on her lap. “Thanks.”

Keigo decided to take his turn in using the bathroom after she did.

As soon as he stepped inside and shut the door, he was surrounded by her presence. Droplets of water trickled from the tiled walls to the floor. The delicate scent of floral shampoo and the fragrance of milk and honey body wash clung in the air; soft and sweet. No part of his house had smelled like that before. Another crack made its way through his composure. He was unused to having people over at his place. No, scratch that, he never had people over. Given who he was, he had a lot to protect, and to accomplish that, he must keep his secrets. It was a dangerous line she crossed easily. He found the experience daunting.

As quickly as he could, he finished showering, got dressed, and returned to the living room, where he was able to sense her presence. 

She sat in the same area she occupied earlier, flipping through a random magazine she found on the coffee table. The cream-colored turtleneck shirt and acid wash jeans she was wearing clung to her body in all the right places. Upon seeing him, she looked up from the pages and shut the magazine. “Hawks?”

“Y-Yes?” He cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“You’re twenty-two years old at the moment, right?”

“Yeah.”

She chuckled good-naturedly. “I’m still older than you.”

“Is that so?” he asked, unsure of how to respond to her statement. “Are you also older than me where you came from?”

“That’s right.” She returned the magazine to the table and stood. “By the way, do you mind if I wash my clothes?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

She gave him a smile and left.

Dumbfounded by their bizarre exchange, Keigo stared at her retreating form and frowned.

She didn’t even ask him where the washing machine was.

The woman stood by the glass walls, the pad of her fingertips touching the surface as she stared at the carmine and amber hues of the setting sun.

Keigo made his way next to her and observed the view closely. The scenery was breathtaking from this altitude. He couldn’t blame her for being enamored by it. It was one of the reasons he picked this penthouse. The sky was fascinating, no matter the weather or the time of the day it was.

“Are you curious?” she asked out of the blue, her gaze still on the horizon.

“About what?”

“The future.”

“Well, I don’t really know if you’re from the future or not,” he admitted, an absurd idea popping inside his mind. “How about you tell me something that will happen a week or so from now?”

“Like a major event?”

“Something like that,” he said, although he speculated a definite answer from her would be unlikely. “Anything will do.”

“Okay, that would be an effective way to check.” The woman nodded. “If what I’m about to tell you happens, will you believe me, then?”

“It depends.” He turned to look at her. Her casual agreement caught him by mild surprise, his curiosity multiplying as the seconds ticked by. “But let’s say you do disappear and come back to wherever you came from after twenty-four hours. At that point, it wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t it?”

“It would. At least, to me, it would,” she stated, meeting his gaze. “I’ve got nothing to lose by telling you, but you have to promise not to meddle. If this is the past, the future timeline shouldn’t be altered.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed with a lighthearted laugh. “Sounds like a plot of a movie.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She gave him a smile and fiddled with her fingers. The shift in the mood was palpable as she began, “A few days after the term at U.A. High School begins, a class will be attacked by a group of villains.”

“U.A.’s security system is top-notch, though,” he pointed out, not bothering to conceal his doubt. “I don’t see anything like that happening.”

“Everyone thought so, too.” Amused, she added, “Knowing you, by now, you’re already aware that All Might is going to be a teacher at U.A., aren’t you?”

“How did you—”

“I just do, okay?” She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned in. “Remember, you promised not to meddle.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “But if it does happen, who knows? You might have known of it because you’re a member of that ‘group of villains’ yourself.”

“I’m not! I’m not a member of that group of villains.” A chuckle fell past her lips, one tinged with amusement and melancholy. “That’s… not me.”

She returned her gaze to the scenery of Kyushu, and it gave Keigo a good view of her shoulder-length hair. The crimson streaks in it stood out against its dominant white color. When he thought about it, he couldn’t help but compare it to the color of his feathers. They were so alike that a smaller feather of his would blend in with them perfectly. He chided himself for thinking that way.

And so, instead, Keigo debated whether the crimson streaks in her hair were natural or otherwise.

The late-night news was on in the background as the two of them partook in their share of fast-food chicken meals. It was from the same restaurant Keigo visited last night except, this time, he ordered them online and waited for them to arrive after twenty minutes.

“I wish you didn’t have to have meals delivered all the time,” the woman lamented and took a sip of soda. “Eat healthier when you can, okay?”

“Aww, are you concerned about me?” he asked half-jokingly, setting the empty cardboard packaging aside.

“Of course.”

Keigo was quiet at that, once again blindsided by her candidness. He had only met this woman today, yet she cared enough about him to trouble herself about his diet. 

“Hawks,” she spoke, her voice gentle and hesitant, but of what, he didn’t know. “Are you doing okay right now?”

“Just peachy,” he answered promptly like he always did, pushing those strange thoughts aside. “Why would you ask me that?”

A long pause passed before she opened her mouth to respond. “You told me there were times you thought of the HPSC as a birdcage—sometimes, a shackle. Even if I know better, meeting you in this time of your life worries me.”

By then, the sound coming from the television was nothing but white noise. Everything she uttered was the truth. Those were sentiments he had hidden deep inside him and swore to keep to himself. This woman knew about them, though—she knew him well. He found no rational explanation for the way she was aware of specific matters he dared not to speak about. How else would she know them if he didn’t tell her? Maybe, not now, but in the future.

At that point, he started to truly believe her. One thing, however, kept creeping inside his mind once he came to terms with it. He stared at her intently, trying to unravel the mystery that came in the form of this woman. “Who are you in my life?”

“Uh, I am…” She averted her gaze, a blush forming on her cheeks. “That would be a spoiler, wouldn’t it?”

“I want to know.” Keigo was a sharp man. He already had an inkling of who she would be for him in the future, but he wanted the confirmation to come from her lips. “Tell me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of a bell, similar to that of a cat’s, rang three times, diverting their attention.

The next thing he knew, the woman in front of him had vanished into thin air.

Keigo searched the entire penthouse but found her nowhere. He considered the possibility she had been a figment of his imagination, but he ultimately believed she wasn’t.

The cardboard container of her meal remained on the coffee table, in front of the seat she took earlier. The wooden chopsticks laid on top of a folded sheet of tissue paper, their tips dampened and darkened by the savory sauce of the chicken she ate and said was delicious. Inside his bathroom, the toiletries she used were arranged neatly on the corner of the sink.

The white cotton nightdress, as well as the hoodie she borrowed, hung on the metal clothing rack in the washing area, fresh with the detergent he liked best. A matching pair of underwear with a dainty ribbon—lingerie, to be specific—dangled beside them, mocking him for having thoughts he shouldn’t have had. He laughed them off as best as he could but didn’t know what to do with them. In the end, he decided to put them inside the unused drawer in his walk-in closet.

She might have disappeared, but she didn’t do it without a trace.

He checked his wristwatch and saw it was past midnight. If her assumptions and calculations were correct, it meant she had arrived on his bed last night around this time. He wondered if she made it to the future safely. 

He hoped so.

Hawks kept his feathers vigilant for any clues regarding the supposed surprise attack at U.A. High School. The mysterious woman would appear in his mind frequently because of the information she had given him concerning the near future. It piqued his interest because he found nothing about it. He couldn’t meddle at all even if he knew, which he could imagine, for her, was a good thing.

To his credit, he got the wind of the news before the press did. Class 1-A was attacked by a group called the League of Villains during an on-campus activity in the Unforeseen Simulation Joint training facility. People dubbed it as the U.S.J. Incident. The League of Villains aimed to put an end to All Might but failed in the end. Their leader, however, had gotten away. Hawks couldn’t help but consider what kind of trouble they would stir up in the future. He had to investigate further.

On the flip side, it further proved that the woman he encountered in his home was telling the truth. She was from the future. He opened the door to his penthouse and made his way to his bedroom, remembering her again. In retrospect, they had gotten themselves into quite a mess during the day she appeared. 

Not that he’d see her anytime soon, or so he thought.

It was a faint sound, but nevertheless, a familiar one. An invisible bell rang three times, and a feminine voice spoke beside him, causing him to stop in his tracks in wonder.

“Do you believe me now?” the woman asked, her head tilting to the side. Her doe eyes, framed with eyeglasses this time, twinkled with hopefulness.

“You’re here,” he blurted out, “again.”

“Yeah.” She leaned backward and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I have twenty-three hours this time.”

“One hour less than last time,” he pointed out. “But how did you know?”

“We had time to visit the doctor again. The young girl has a Quirk that sends people back in time. Time Quirks are rare, so existing studies about them are insufficient to undo the whole thing. I can’t elaborate too much on the details, but there’s nothing I can do but go through the whole time travel duration. After this, there will be twenty-two more instances when I will appear somewhere near you at a random moment, each time lessened by an hour.”

“For how long?”

“A year, more or less.”

“But out of all the places you could appear in, why does it happen where I am?” he asked, meticulously processing the information she had given him. “Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m just curious.”

“I…” she paused, contemplating whether or not to tell him, “because you were the one closest to me when I was struck by the girl’s Quirk.”

“How close?”

“We were standing next to each other.”

“And?”

“We were… holding each other’s hand.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So, we really do have that kind of relationship, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and averted her gaze, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not going to answer that.”

Despite her dismissal, the pink tinge of her cheeks betrayed her composure. It was all the answer he needed to his question.

They were together. Three years in the future, the two of them were in a relationship. How did such a thing happen?

Time would tell. For now, a cordial smile tugged at his lips, knowing exactly where to begin. “What’s your name?”

“If I tell you,” she said hesitantly, “will you promise not to look for me?���

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to change the present—I mean, my present—where I’m from. The future, if you will, in your case.”

“Okay, then.” Keigo nodded. It was a reasonable condition, after all. “I promise.”

“Great.” She grinned, relieved he gave her his word. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Fuyumi.”

Notes: The three-year difference in their timelines and the sound of a bell ringing was inspired by Kimi no Na wa, one of my favorite movies.

I was actually working on a fic for another ship, but I thought of Huwumi again and ended up writing this instead.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading! ❄️

Alone Together

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