#if at any point your answers are lackluster

[delopsia]

Ingredients: Miles Miller, food "Two sodas and a large fry!"

Your eyes scan across the empty diner. No, the sign still says closed. "Did the restaurant ghost place another order?"

A plate appears to your left, piled high with still-fizzling crinkle-cut fries. That's a lot bigger than any large fry you've ever seen.

"Everythin' we had left in the fryer," Miles hums, ghosting his hand over your lower back as he steps behind you. Always letting you know where he is. "It felt like a waste to...y'know, just throw it out."

Placing the last of the salt shakers back into their designated space on the counter, you turn to get a proper look at what he's brought you. "Were the sodas also from the fryer?"

"No..." those guilty eyes dart away, shrugging meekly, "but we deserve a drink after that late rush, right?"

There's no point in rationalizing it now; he's long since popped the caps off. You reach for the one closest to you, and he takes the other, holding it out to clink the glass against yours. A lackluster cheers, celebrating another overworked, underpaid day.

"What do we have left to clean?" Miles asks, and you don't have to look to know that he's spinning the bottles of ketchup until their logos perfectly present to the empty diner. Every night, like clockwork.

"I think I've gotten everything," you pause, biting into a fry. Hot! Hot! Hot! "I'm sure that morning shift will find something and remind me of it for the next week, though."

The front door shakes.

You duck beneath the counter before you've even seen who it is. Miles is right behind you, his wide eyes meeting yours, searching for an explanation that you were hoping he would have.

"Hello?" A woman's voice calls out. She pushes on the door again, the weak hinges threatening to break open and let her in at any moment. "Google says that you're still open for another hour!"

Well, clearly, the closed sign and lack of lights would indicate that you're not!

"Will corporate ever fix that?" Miles groans.

"Not unless it costs them money," and that's wishful thinking, for this restaurant.

The door rattles again, keys chiming. "I know someone is in there!" Another rattle. Rougher now. "I saw you in the window!"

And as if she didn't just say that, Miles reaches up to the counter, stealing a fry from the steaming plate. But it's not for him, no, he's handing it out to you.

Well, if he insists. You open your mouth, lazily taking it from him without using your hands. In return, you reach up as well, plucking an obscenely long fry from the batch. Mirroring him, you hold it out for him to bite into.

Again, he gets you a fry.

And again, you get him a fry.

"Is this a game now?" He whispers, his smile big enough for you to see in the dim lighting. "Cause if it is, you're not winning."

You tilt your head. "Oh?"

His mouth opens. You shove a fry into it.

"You—!"

He's grabbing for a handful, and you're reaching over him for an even bigger one. But your 'fries' are just his squirming hand, caught in each other's traps. He's stronger, yanking you down first, and right into his lap you go.

Knees slam into the hard tile. Dull pain gnaws at your senses. Miles is already kissing it better, lips meeting yours as easily as breathing. The tension melts from your shoulders within a matter of seconds.

God, you should have pulled him aside during that five minute slow down. You needed this.

And by the feel of it, so did he, gentle arms drawing you closer, hands sliding beneath your wrinkled shirt. He smells like coffee and a smorgasbord of fried foods, but his mouth tastes like the cherry pie that suspiciously went missing after dinner rush.

The need for air drives you away. Foreheads thump against each other, labored breath intermixing.

"Think the coast is clear?" You pant, not quite sure which answer you'd prefer.

"No," Miles shakes his head, that devilish little glint in his eye. "We'd better stay down here 'til we're sure they're gone."

Those cold sodas sure are going to come in handy later.

[rhiannonsknife]

I DONT KNOW JUST. RABBITS INNIT. R FINDING THE IRONY FUNNY IG AND JACKIE NOT BEING AMUSED AT ALL UNTIL SHE TRIES IT AND IS LIKE. ABSOLUTELY TAKEN BY THIS THING

I feel like she'd be skeptical anyway at first, like... she'd probably take one look at it and go 'what the fuck is that it looks like an alien'

Oh my GOD Jackie watching r use it first. Getting massively off on that and then being convinced into trying it when she'd seen how it works. Jackie being unused to such strong stimulation simultaneously. Jackie afterwards laughing at how r had bought it half as a joke because of the rabbit thing and now she's asking if they can use it all the time.

Ironically, the rabbit becoming Jackie's favourite toy?

-🔆

(this was literally all just a stream of consciousness because I had barely thought about it at first outside of 'haha rabbit toy... jackie... rabbits... haha. Wait she'd actually probably quite like those')

‘i’m just gonna answer this ask real quick’ i say, before i proceed to write a whole think piece on jackie taylor’s sexuality. enjoy my inability to keep any thoughts to myself. nsfw content so mdni.

now i raise you: catching jackie using one. LISTEN. LISTEN!!

maybe this is like a no-crash au? ooooh WAIT! college roommate!au???? (this is just me brainstorming guys; welcome to the mind of rhiannonsknife)

anyway, so jackie went to rutgers but is still with jeff. not because she’s madly in love with him, but because it’s easy, because he’s familiar. she’s not a virgin anymore because there’s no way in hell jackie taylor is going to college still a virgin, right?

so, she sleeps with him before leaving for school. once. twice. enough to confirm what she’s been suspecting for a while now: sex is the most disappointing thing she’s ever experienced. the few times with jeff don’t just fail to get her off. they leave her feeling emptier than before.

sex, to jackie, becomes a routine of quick, lackluster encounters behind closed and locked doors. closing her eyes, letting him fumble inside her, rocking back and forth a few ridiculously short seconds before he finishes. then, he’s out the window, because god forbid her mother catches him there. technically, she’s old enough to make her own decisions, but as her mother so frequently reminds her: ‘as long as you live under my roof, jacqueline…’

it becomes faking it (not that she thinks anyone could realistically cum from his poor attempts) before rolling over in bed, waiting for the sound of him actually leaving so she can sigh, reach under the sheets, and shamefully finish the job herself.

because jackie isn’t a stranger to her own body.

she knows exactly what it takes to get there. she knows because she’s practiced. not that she’d ever tell anyone just how much (nor of that one time shauna forgot her flannel, and she held it to her face as she rode out an actual mind-blowing orgasm on one of her pillows).

the point is: jackie understands pleasure. unlike her sexuality, this is something she has a grasp on. she knows where she needs to be touched, kissed, licked, even.

by whom, though, is a murkier subject. a fantasy. a blur of stolen moments with shauna, of faceless girls she conjures up when her hand moves beneath the waistband of her underwear.

by whom is something jackie pretends not to care about. anyone but jeff, she tells herself.

and then she moves out. into her own space, into dorm life and freedom in a way she’s never had before (and a place that’s her own, without her mother snooping around). then there’s you.

you, with your easy confidence, your quiet certainty. you, who is so openly, unabashedly queer in a way jackie envies.

you, who makes her realize, suddenly and without warning, that her desire can take shape. that it doesn’t just have to exist in secret, in the late-night haze of almost admitting it to herself.

she tries to drop subtle hints without needing to say the words. without needing to come out to you and having to explain it all over.

‘i think i’m a lesbian. yes, i have a boyfriend back home. but only because he’s the only sense of security i have there. no, he doesn’t get me off. no, i don’t think i’ve ever truly loved him.’

that’s a conversation she’s not ready for. subtle hints and long nights of masturbation it is.

and then there’s the one horrendous time jackie musters up the courage to enter the local sex shop to make the most of the little sex life she’s got.

you bring it up over breakfast, laughing into your coffee as you mention your latest purchase like it’s nothing. jackie, meanwhile, nearly chokes on her toast. she spends half the conversation pretending to sip from her very much empty cup to hide the angry red of her cheeks.

you talk about sex so easily. you are open about this in a way jackie longs to be.

so she goes.

fifteen whole minutes, she spends pacing the block, making sure no one she knows is within a five-mile radius before finally mustering up the courage to step inside.

it’s worse than she imagined.

the woman at the counter asks if she needs help, and jackie panics. stammering her way through a string of half-coherent words before blindly grabbing something and bolting for the register.

she leaves as embarrassed as she’s entered, minus the $60 for the rabbit vibrator she bought.

oh boy is it worth the money, though.

the first time she uses it, it’s bliss. overstimulating in a way she wasn’t aware she liked quite as much. jackie is thankful to have waited until you were out late, otherwise, she doubts that she could’ve come up with an excuse for the noises echoing through the thin walls or the soaked bedsheets she takes to the laundry in the middle of the night.

then there are the times jackie begins to experiment with it, testing her limits, the number of orgasms she can force upon herself before she can’t stand the constant buzz anymore. how much pain is still pleasure, how many times she can deny herself of it until her body goes on autopilot. jackie has spent so much time of her life denying herself of what she wanted, so what’s a little more, right?

and then there’s the time you walk in on her, too.

as confident as jackie has gotten, she’s grown more careless. learning that it thrilled her to imagine herself getting caught by you (or watched, more precisely: picturing you by her bed with a hand down your pants, her go-to fantasy), came with the downside of unconscious recklessness.

she could’ve sworn she locked the door, even though she thought you weren’t home and that she didn’t hear you enter the apartment.

it doesn’t matter though. not when you’re suddenly in the doorway while jackie has got her rabbit vibe buzzing at the highest setting, on the brink of an imminent orgasm when she sees you.

“holy shit,” is all you can manage before jackie tears it from between her legs, only half aware of the sharp sting through the embarrassment. she tries to cover herself up, whimpering as the blankets brush against her throbbing clit.

a moment of silence passes between you, followed by the realization jackie has dreaded. you cover your face, immediately turning to leave. “i’m sorry!” you call on your way out, suddenly looking at least as embarrassed as jackie feels as you flee the scene to the safety of your own room.

it’s the sight of her that doesn’t leave you, and that you can't seem to escape: the picture of those few seconds she didn’t see you standing before her and you, wrongfully so, didn’t make your presence known.

over the next breakfast, where both trying and failing to play things cool, all you can see are soft, spread legs. manicured fingers holding the pink toy in place. parted lips and a free hand palming breasts through the fabric of a lacy bra.

even when you’re the one touching yourself, pictures of your roommate keep coming to you in flashes.

you hear the soft, whining noises jackie made, and they instantly send you over the edge. you see her hair sprawled out around her head and the way her back arched, like she was close to cumming. you see a sliver of her body when she tried to cover herself: hair, a shade darker than what you’re used to, a birthmark on her hipbone, a stiff clit, practically aching for your mouth.

you’re fucked, you realize as you cum to the memory of your roommate touching herself.

what can i say?? one hour worth of word vomit guys!! 😝

[choism]

Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize. 

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something. 

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him. 

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Fourteen: 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, gun play, GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, not necessarily all apply]

Info: Ghost is whiny, He’s feeling petty, he told you so!![diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. Stalker!Anakin Character art (as Ghost) MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: September 2nd

I lied. I said I wasn’t mad at you, but I am.

It’s not like I tell you no to anything, so why wouldn’t you just ask me first? Are you just desperate for a moment away from me and too nice to tell me that? Running from your problems won’t help especially when your problem is me.

I did what I should’ve done a long time ago. A new software has been installed on your phone, very similar to the screen cloning software linked to my laptop. Only this one is active all the time, a constant feed of live audio that I’ve taken the liberty of flagging a few words within the code.

Anakin, hate, love, Ghost, annoying, angry… so on and so forth.

The software flagged several sections of audio within the timeframe of your drive to the cabin. I must say, I’m surprised about the things the two of you talk about, I’m never going to be able to look Han in the eye ever again.

I also lied to you about something else. I don’t work tonight, or tomorrow. I switched up my schedule with April for you, cause I have a little something planned for you. A little thing I’ve had tucked away, actually never intended on getting it out and doing anything with it really. It was a gift from Cliegg after there was a murder on the college campus last year.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t me that time.

Anyway, I think it might be fun. For me at least.

“Okay but I don’t get it.” Luke said, propping up his feet on the dash while you drove.

“What about it don’t you get?” You snorted, slowing to a stop at a traffic light. “I think it’s pretty self explanatory Luke.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come equipped with a cooter and I’ve never, nor wanted, the opportunity to see one.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head back and rolled his shoulders. “I just don’t see the benefit.”

“First of all, it’s pretty.” Holding a finger up and adding a second, “second, it feels heavenly.”

“I am a gay man.” Luke scoffed, “Dicks aren’t very pretty. A little jewelry can’t fix that.”

“How does it even work? Does he have to take it out to piss? That’s inconvenient.”

“No!” You laughed, covering your mouth as you turned the dial to quiet the radio. “No, he doesn’t have to take it out. To answer your other question, it’s the metal balls on either end of the jewelry. That’s the point of the piercing you know? It rubs up-“

“Okay that’s enough, thoughts have been thunk.” He covered his ears and did a dramatic shiver of disgust.

“You asked!”

“I didn’t know you’d be so descriptive!”

“You described in great detail all about the massive ingrown hair on-“

“Oh my god! I told you never to mention that again!” Luke reached across the console and whacked you up the back of the head.

“I’m driving!” You squealed, your hand shooting out to the side and shoving his shoulder. “No, don’t you dare touch that radio! For fucks sake if that’s-“

“It’s ABBA.”

“Go to hell.”

————————————————————————

After two hours you reached the small lakeside cabin that was to be your home for the weekend. A cute little place with a loft and two small bedrooms. The kitchen was… lackluster; a fridge and a stove with a whopping number of three cabinets. The living room however did have a pool table, which in Luke’s eyes made up for the fact that your sister beat him to claiming the loft room, because she’d driven separately and arrived before you.

You chose the room to the left of the living room and Luke chose the one on the right. The view from your window was beautiful deep forest green, leaves and moss and huge tree trunks. While Luke’s was the deep blueish green lake water, the occasional white wake following a boat zipping past.

After tossing your bag onto the floor in the general direction of the nightstand you jumped onto the squishy and super cheap springy mattress on the tacky ‘rustic’ log bed. Pulling up Anakin’s contact you tapped the call button and listen to it ring on speakerphone.

“Hey pretty baby.” Anakin’s rich timbre flooded the line.

“Hi Ani.” You smiled despite him not being able to see you. “Just got into the cabin and picked my room.”

“Oh you got to pick?” He said curiously, “you got the loft didn’t you?” You could hear his grin.

“No, my sister did.” You scoffed, “I thought Luke would have a cow over it but he decided the pool table here would offset his disappointment.”

“Pool table hmm?” Anakin tsk’d.

“Hot tub too.” You grinned.

“A fuckin’-“ he groaned and let out a loud huff, “a hot tub?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmph.” He snorted, “someone finally taught you some manners huh?”

“W-what?” You asked nervously, bringing the phone closer to you and hopping off the bed to shut the door. “Manners?”

“You just called me Sir didn’t you?” He laughed. “Been taking some etiquette classes?”

“Oh shut up.” You breathed out a sigh, a breath you’d almost choked on. Your guilty conscience was really beginning to steam roll your daily life, even on your mini-vacay you can’t escape your wrongdoings. Ghost was still haunting you all the way out here.

“Just teasing doll.” He snickered, “Anyway, what’s on your agenda?”

“Nothing for tonight, probably gonna sit on the dock and have some drinks, do a little bonfire, hot tub maybe.” You told him, beginning to relax again.

“Drinks? Be careful baby. It’s not exactly safe to drink and get into a hot tub.” He chided, “I’m serious.”

“I know.” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Good girl.” He said, pleased enough with your response. “So what room did you say?”

“Oh! I didn’t actually oops. I got the one looking out into the woods, it’s real pretty, I’ll send you a picture after we hang up.” You said, shifting your weight to sit more comfortably.

“Aw thanks babydoll.” You could hear his little smile through his words. “Well, I should probably let you get back to it huh?” He sighed.

“If you wanna talk more-“

“I always wanna talk more but I don’t want to keep you from your fun.” He said a bit quieter. “Uh, just don’t forget to call and leave me a message before bed okay baby? I’d love to hear your pretty voice when I get off work tonight.”

“Okay Ani,” nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll talk to you soon then… I miss you.”

“I love you too.” He made a kissy noise and hung up quickly, leaving you with a frustrated, pinched brow that you reached up to sooth with the heel of your palm.

After snapping a quick picture of your view through the bedroom window, you rejoined your trio in the living room where Luke was teaching your sister to play pool. You stood and watched for a moment, seeing them bicker like they were just reminded you of how much you loved summer trips with them.

Growing up with a sister close in age to you was fun, except for when it wasn’t. She went to school before you did, made friends before you did. Of course you were only two grades behind, but there is a big difference between kindergarten and 2nd grade. She had always been happy to play with you until then.

So when she was meant to be paying attention to you, or at least making sure you were alive, while you were both outside… she was busy on the swing set in your backyard. Which is how you found yourself with scraped knees and (surely, most definitely) a broken ankle from your scooter.

A new family had moved in across the street from you not too long before the summer started, you hadn’t met them, didn’t even know they had kids, until you were being pecked on the shoulder by another child’s finger. After that, Luke was found wherever you were; glued at the hip was an understatement, your families were convinced you were soulmates, that you’d grow up to be married.

Jokes on them.

His sister Leia was outgoing and confident in ways that Luke lacked, so during that first summer she gravitated toward your sister. The twins became a binder, something that held the four of you together. Bridging the gap perfectly between kindergarten and 2nd grade as 1st graders.

It stayed that way, for the rest of your school years and after.

Your parents got along swimmingly, the four of you floated between the two houses. Nights often ending up with a pair of kids asleep in the floor, where one of those children did not belong. A quick phone call to the house across the street to make sure your sibling was there, then all was well and your parents would scoop Luke and you up and tuck you in.

You were seven the first summer your parents had the grand idea to spend a week on the lake. It was a tearful goodbye, kids who spent every possible waking moment with each other are not easily pried apart.

Your parents drove the full two hours to a cute lake house they’d found online and within the first 30 minutes of being there your father had enough of the sniffles and whines. By dinner time Luke, Leia and their parents were sitting around fire pit with you.

Thus your annual tradition was born and kept even after the horrid aftermath of Luke’s unexpected outing. Sans parents of course. Your father supported your mother even if his views didn’t fully align with hers. He was a ‘be gay, just don’t be gay in front of me’ type of person, while your mother was more of the ‘send him to conversion camp, he’s tainting my children’ type of gal.

That didn’t really jive with the whole ‘love and positivity’ approach that the twins parents had about the situation. Which leaves you where you are now, reminiscing on those happy childhood memories before everything got complicated, before you discovered the world outside of your safety net, before the consistent visits from your uninvited house guest.

A loud clap broke you out of the fog and suddenly you were hyper aware of your sister’s nose right in front of your face.

“Lauren!” You gasped, your eyes wide before softening into a grin.

“You’ve been staring into oblivion for a solid minute,” she giggled, “I thought about sticking my finger in your mouth but I was afraid you’d bite it off.”

“My mouth?” You asked confusedly.

“Yeah you’ve been catching flies, looking like a mouth breather.”

“Eew! Don’t call me that!” You scoffed, standing up and following her over to the pool table to discuss your evening plans.

——————————————————————————

Anakin watched your little blue dot travel back and forth from the cabin to the dock, he listened the chatter between the three of you as he drove the two hours out to the pine forest your weekend getaway was taking place. The mile long gravel driveway was perfect to stash his car off to the side of, no one would be coming in or out of the drive all weekend.

He walked through the woods, backpack slung over his shoulder, his hood up and mask on. It was 9:57 and the three of you were still on the dock. He could hear you talking about getting into the hot tub through the Bluetooth earbud he had in, that new software was really paying off.

He hadn’t planned to do this next bit, but he couldn’t help himself. He purposefully got his left shoe dirty, twisting his foot side to side in order even dirt for a proper footprint. Then he left his mark on the first step up to the front porch.

*ping*

‘Having fun?’

You laughed, picking up your phone and leaning back in your chair as you crossed one leg over the other and switched the sound off. You’d only had it on for when Anakin texted, and now he was. Or you thought he was until you realized the text came from your own number.

‘No. Don’t engage. He’s not going to know where you are, how could he possibly know?’ You thought to yourself. ‘I planned this in person, I told Anakin at his place not mine. All Ghost knows is that you’ve left for the weekend.’

You swiped the message away and let out a huff, deciding to take the opportunity to walk back up to the house and call your boyfriend.

“Guys I’m going up to the cabin, gonna call Ani.” You said, standing up and taking your hard lemonade with you. “Need anything?”

“Nope, we’re about ready to head back anyway.” Lauren answered, waving you off. “We’ll be up soon.”

With that you walked away, taking the worn dirt path back up to the house and dialed Anakin’s number, waiting for the voicemail to pick up your call.

‘Hey Ani.’ You smiled, crossing one arm across your chest to rest your other elbow on while you talked. ‘I’m probably not going to bed just yet, but I am going back up to the house. I just wanted to fill you in a little bit I guess.’

Once your shoes hit the gravel you absentmindedly kicked a larger rock off to the side, swinging out your leg and shifting your position to walk backwards, looking down at your sister and Luke on the dock.

‘We’ve been just hanging out all evening, made some sandwiches and had drinks by the water.’ You pivoted again as you neared the porch and looked down to ensure your footing before taking the first step up. ‘We’re going hiking tomorrow morn-‘

You scrunched up your face and took another look before backing away from the steps completely, your eyes scanned the porch and saw the cabin door was still shut.

‘Sorry, thought I saw something…’ you muttered into the phone, spinning slowly in a full circle to take a better look at the tree line. ‘I- okay, anyway. Going hiking tomorrow… probably swim too. There’s a canoe moored down there so maybe we’ll try that out.’

Off to the left of you behind your sisters car you swore you heard gravel crunching underfoot, but when you looked toward the dock, Luke and Lauren where still sitting there. You marched over to the opposite side and saw nothing, going so far as to look under her car and yours.

‘Okay well…’ You were certain now that someone was outside and you were not alone, your phone buzzed against you ear and you pulled it away to swipe away the message, not even registering the sender before holding your phone back up to your ear.

‘Uh alright well I’ll talk to you in the morning,’ you quickly walked back over to the porch steps and side eyed the footprint as if you’d expected it to disappear by now. ‘Goodni-‘

A strange feeling passed over you, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a chill ran down your spine like a drip of cold water. You were almost afraid to turn around.

‘I gotta go, Miss you bunches… goodnight.’ In your panicked state you didn’t have the same thought process you normally would, you’d simply ended the call and whipped your head around, expecting to find someone, something, that might’ve caused that hair-raising fear. There was nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief you laughed at yourself. It had probably just been a rabbit, maybe you’d startled it and it kicked up some gravel. The footprint… it could have been there when you arrived, it could’ve been made by one of your group, including you.

You checked the message you’d swiped away and your blood ran colder than ice. Your rational explanations were bulldozed in seconds.

A picture of you, standing in the drive way, taken from behind your sisters car.

The breath was stolen from your lungs. Your sight was locked into tunnel vision, all you could see was the front door as you ran to it and pushed it open. Colliding with something solid and warm as you stepped inside.

Something living and breathing that gripped your hair and cradled you to its chest, something that kicked the front door shut and pressed a cold, blunt object to the temple of your head.

Something that made you want to scream.

Diary Entry: September 2nd continued

I have time to kill and nothing to do while I wait for you. So I figured I’d write alittle bit.

I’m currently sitting under a tree, watching you and your cute little ponytail swishing around while you giggle. You’re so beautiful. Everything you do is beautiful. I’ve never seen something as exquisite as you.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I want to ruin you so bad. Leading you, my innocent doe, down the path of corruption could quite possibly be my life’s work. How would you like that sweetheart?

You wanna be my magnum opus?

Though of course we do have the one small identity issue to take care of. I need to get my shit together and figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. It’s not like I can tippity tap it into Google: ‘how to tell my girlfriend I’ve been stalking her for almost a year’.

No thank you. I don’t trust WikiHow with the fate of my love life.

Let’s be for real. I don’t even trust myself with the fate of my love life because I’ve already managed to fuck shit up. I’m continuing to fuck shit up. What I’m about to do? It’ll fuck the fuck out of the shit.

What can I say other than love makes people do crazy things?

“Ghost.” Your voice was wobbly and unsure. “Is that a-“

“Gun? Absolutely.” He grunted, pressing the barrel into your skull.

“What are you doing? They’re gonna be back soon, you can’t be here!”

“I came to chat.” He said simply, leaning his head down to put the cheek of his mask against your warm skin. “I missed you.”

“Did you miss me? Is that why you left your boyfriend back home? Wanted to let me have you all to myself for a weekend?”

“No!” You snapped at him, twisting your head away from his.

“Heard you on the phone.” He cooed, “still can’t say the L word? Why’s that?”

“If Luke sees you… my sister- they’ll call the cops, you know that.” You pushed against his chest and felt it rumble with a low laugh beneath your palms.

“Stop deflecting, answer my question.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to talk about Anakin with you!” The whisper left your lips tainted in unease.

“I’m aware. That’s why we aren’t talking about it. You’re going to tell me.” He barked, holding you close to his chest and walking backwards toward your chosen bedroom.

“N-no, I won’t. That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair?” He scoffed. “I don’t care if you think it’s unfair.”

“How did you find me?!” You wriggled from his arms the moment he closed the bedroom door.

“I know everything about you baby.” His voice low and much too confident for you to believe anything otherwise. He looked relaxed in the way that he reached behind himself and locked the door, leaning back on it and crossing his arms, one long leather finger running parallel to the barrel of the pistol.

“I just wanted one weekend!” You shouted taking off your sneaker and throwing it at him, he gave you no reaction and it only pissed you off more. “Just one!”

“One weekend away from you! I know you can see everything on my phone, you see and hear everything I do, why do you think I wasn’t the one planning this trip? I didn’t want you showing up here!” Yelling at him in a way you never had before as you stalked toward him with your other shoe pointed at him. “I don’t want to talk about Anakin with you! I don’t want to tell you how I feel!”

“Do you want to know how I feel?” He asked calmly.

“I don’t give a shit!” You chucked the shoe at him and he batted it away easily.

“I think you do.” The gun raised up to his mask as if he were scratching his forehead with the barrel. “I think you care a lot and that’s why you won’t tell me.”

You didn’t answer, because he was right. You did care and you did care a lot. You’d been avoiding telling Anakin you loved him to spare Ghost the hurt of having to hear you say it to someone else.

“No.” You stuttered, hesitating and hating the taste of the word on your tongue.

“Don’t lie to me.” He barked, holding out the pistol and motioning for you to move. “Kneel. Now.”

“Gods, seriously? Put your arms down, you idiot.” He scoffed as he watched you lift your hands and put them behind your head like you were being arrested as you knelt down slowly.

“Well I’m sorry. I’ve never been held at gunpoint before.” You snapped, scowling up at him.

“I’m so lucky to have to honor of being your first then.” He grumbled, tucking it into the back of the waistband of his jeans while pulling the pink silk from his pocket and tossing it at you.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” His voice gruff as the toe of his shoe tapped your knee. “Put it on.”

Ghost shook his head, undoing his belt buckle, the tail end of the leather now forever imprinted with your teeth marks. You did as you were told and heard his pants unzip along with a soft grunt.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, holding his flat palm out to the side to make sure you couldn’t see, rearing back to slap you.

“How should I kn-“ *smack* “ow?! What the fuck?”

“Just making sure.” He snickered, taking off his gloves and putting them in his hoodie pocket.

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

“What was that?” He asked with a playful tone. “You want me to fuck your asshole? Is that what you said?”

“Shut up. You know that’s not what I said.” You muttered, unable to keep your lip from curving upward just a fraction of a centimeter.

“Ah well, the offer still stands.” He chuckled, tapping the side of your jaw with the cold metal barrel of his pistol.

“You’re making me nervous waving it around like that.” You huffed, jerking away from it.

“Good.” He snorted, “open your mouth.”

You did exactly that, thinking you’d feel the warm weighty head of his cock hit the tip of your tongue. Hoping for a taste of the salty precum that wept from his cockhead. You weren’t expecting something small, cold, metallic and pellet shaped.

“Don’t swallow; this is the only time you’ll ever hear me say that so you better listen.” You could hear his smarmy grin. “Roll it around, you feel that?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, feeling the smooth metal and the grooves carved into it, opening your mouth again and he plucked it off the tip of your tongue.

“Your initials, or well… what your initials should be.” He mumbled the last bit.

You hear a series of mechanical and metallic noises, followed by the unmistakable sound of a firearm cocking back.

“You did not just-“

“I did.” He snickered, holding the gun sideways and pointing it directly in the center of your forehead. The blunt edge digging into your flesh and pressing down against your skull.

“Spread your fingers.”

“Why?” You asked as you splayed your hand.

“Do you have to question everything?” You felt thick metal circle your middle and ring finger, dropping to the base of each digit, barely making any contact with your skin on its descent. It really put in perspective just how much bigger than you he was.

Even more so when you felt his warm, calloused fingertips weave their way between yours and squeeze gently. The tender gesture did nothing to quench the fear sitting heavy on your chest. A loaded gun, a loaded and ready to fire gun was about an inch from your brain.

“C’mon, you don’t want to talk? Not even like this?” Condescension dripping from his lips. “Loaded gun to your head and you still won’t talk about your feelings.” He tsk’d.

“It’s not your business.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong. We’ve already had this discussion haven’t we?” He crouched down in front of you, air rushing past from the quick motion. “It is my business. You were mine first.”

The curved edge of the barrel traveled down your forehead, across your cheek and rested heavily on your bottom lip.

“Give it a kiss for good luck little doe.” Ghost spoke low and steady, almost monotone. Considering your situation you did as you were told once again.

“Good girl.” He stood back up and pushed the waistband of his boxers down by hooking his thumb beneath the elastic. “Now get to work, bitch.”

His tone had changed again, now a sharp and hard edge that smacked you like a cold wind. Emotional whiplash was to be expected in every encounter you had with Ghost, but none so far was as bruising as this.

He’d never brought a gun to a knife fight before.

You hesitated for a moment longer than he was willing to wait, so he dropped your hand, the small bit of comfort he’d allowed you to have. Grabbing the back of your head and forcing his swollen cockhead past your lips, cool metal returning to the center of your forehead.

You gagged and spluttered around his length, the hot and leaky cockhead bruising the back of your throat. Ghost seemed to love the sound, loved feeling you cough and try to gasp for air, his hand tightened in your hair as he let out a loud and gravely moan.

“You suck cock so much better with your life on the line.” He laughed, pulling you away from him and releasing your hair. He watched you cough and wipe drool off your chin and neck with the back of your hand.

“Ready to talk?” He asked, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“Fuck you.” Spitting the words out with venom.

“Sorry sweetheart that’s not on the agenda tonight.” You felt the rush of air before his palm made contact with your cheek, your hand immediately lifting to cradle it and feel the heat radiating from the irritated flesh.

“C’mon doe, I don’t have to be mean about this.” He barked, “Just use your big girl words.”

“L-Luke’s gonna be back up here any minute.” You stuttered, lifting your head in the general vicinity of where his would be.

“You realize you’re only making this more difficult for yourself right?” He asked, not giving you the opportunity to answer when he fisted your hair and forced your lips to meet the tip of the barrel of his pistol.

*shk* *click* **click** nothing.

Before you had time to process the fact that he had just pulled the trigger of a loaded gun in your mouth, you were being choked and not given any hope for breathing. His forefinger and thumb tightly clamped over your nose and his cock lodged in your throat as he fucked your face. Instinctively you tried to draw in a breath, accidentally breathing in saliva, making you cough so hard that Ghost had no choice but to back off.

“Ghost...” You dry heaved on your hands and knees. “I’m n-not gonna tell you.”

“What’s it gonna take huh?” He asked angrily, you could hear the sound of clothes rustling just before he lifted you up and shoved you over toward the bed. “What’s it gonna take for you to admit that you love me?”

“I don’t!” You yelled, taking off the blindfold and tossing it aside.

“I didn’t say you could take that off.” He snapped at you while pulling his gloves on, snatching the ring off your middle finger and shoving it down in his pocket. He whipped his head around toward the door suddenly.

“Shit.” He shoved the gun in the back of his waist band and grabbed his bag without explanation.

“What?” You asked sitting up on the bed.

“Gotta go.” He grumbled.

He grabbed the blindfold and slipped it back over your head, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head back, his lips met yours in a soft embrace. His tongue piercing gliding across the slit between your lips before pushing past them slowly, the taste of cigarettes and gum flooded your senses. He hadn’t tasted like this last time he kissed you.

He took one of your wrists in a gentle grip and brought it to his cheek. Ghost kept a loose grip on your wrist but he allowed you to feel the smooth skin beneath his eyes, your fingertips collecting the smallest amount of moisture in the outer corner of his eye.

He was crying.

He broke the kiss, your lips begging to stay connected to his. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself that kiss felt like home. The fact that he was shedding tears was unsettling, the car crash that was this relationship had officially gone beyond whiplash and into ‘trapped inside, in need of the jaws of life’ territory.

He took the same hand and pressed it to the center of his chest and left it there to put both his gloved hands on either side of your face, pressing his lips to your forehead. Their warmth left your skin and you immediately wanted it back.

He took the blindfold back off and smoothed out your hair quickly, putting the silk in his pocket and putting up his hood. The mask back where it belonged, those black pits where his eyes should be held an emotion that was pouring from every inch of his being. You felt like he was staring through you and straight into your soul. He stood beside the window with his bag slung over his shoulder. Who knew such strong emotion could be felt… seen, without ever laying eyes on the person emitting those feelings.

“Lock your window back.” He nodded toward you and promptly climbed out just as you heard the front door opening, he was gone before you even had a chance to get a second look as he ran off.

You did as he asked and locked the window before checking your appearance in the mirror, a mess was reflected back at you. You looked as if you’d been lost at sea. Tangled hair and ashen skin covered in streaked makeup. The churning in your stomach only rocked the proverbial boat more.

After a deep breath you brushed your hair and pulled the makeup wipes from your bag to clean up with.

“Hey!” You heard a sharp knock on the bedroom door and answered it while still wiping away at your face.

“What’s up?” You asked your sister as she pushed past you.

“Just checking on you before I went to bed, Lukey and I were out there for longer than we meant to be.” She shrugged on her way to jump on the bed, “Ow! Fuck.” She winced and picked up her bare foot, rubbing the sole with her thumb as she picked up the offending item.

“Who’s ring?” She asked, holding it up for you to see.

“Oh it’s just Anakin’s!” You lied, laughing anxiously and plucked it from her fingers, encasing it in your own hand. “Probably just fell out of my bag.”

“He has such a weird taste in jewelry. What even is that?” She pointed to your closed fist, and watched as you peeled back your fingers and exposed your palm.

It wasn’t a lie, it was Anakin’s.

“A centipede.” You swallowed, staring at the hunk of metal. “It- he always wears this one. I don’t… I’m not sure how it ended up in my bag.”

Your throat felt dry, your palms started to sweat. You felt like you might be sick. Why did he have Anakin’s ring? He hardly ever takes it off.

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I should have never taken those fucking rings off. I had to lie to you. It’s stupid I know but lying about something little like that is almost worse than the big secret you know? Cause I don’t want you to think I’m untrustworthy, I am. I’m very trustworthy.

You just let me shoot what you thought was a loaded gun in your mouth. I’d say that means you trust me quite a bit. Ghost, not me I mean. You trust Ghost with your life, but you can’t trust Anakin enough to tell him you love him?

Date

September 3rd (1:45 am)

Anakin jogged to the end of the driveway and hopped into the front seat of his car, taking off his mask and gloves. With the steering wheel in both hands he leaned forward to rest his forehead on the back of his hands. Keeping his grip at the top of the wheel with one hand he leaned back again, looking up at the roof of his car, his other hand going to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone started ringing, he quieted himself and quickly strategized a set of half truths and full lies that he might need to use before answering the phone.

“Hey princess.” He sounded cheery as he picked up the phone, “lucky you, I was just going out to smoke.”

“Oh?” You asked, feeling relieved to hear that he sounded fine. Maybe ghost didn’t chop off his finger after all. “Sorry, I- I have a weird question.”

“I love weird questions.” He snorted, you could hear him flip open his zippo lighter and snap it shut after a long inhale.

“Are you missing any rings?” You asked, hoping he said no and that this was just a very odd coincidence.

You heard rustling on the other end of the line while Anakin frantically searched his pockets, coming up one ring short.

“Yeah I am actually, why?” He answered clearing his throat nervously.

“Which one?”

“My many legged lad.” He answered, instinctively flicking his cigarette ash with anxiety, the miniature embers floating down to his jeans. He quickly swiped them away and tried to remain focused. “I took it off to shower at your place last night.”

“I figured the cat knocked it off the sink or something.” He shrugged to himself, hoping it was enough of a lie to convince you that maybe Ghost snatched it off the sink.

“S-somehow it ended up in um, my bag I guess.” You said, turning the jewelry over in your palm, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Huh, well that’s fucking weird.” He chuckled, “I don’t know, babe. Just keep it safe for me til you get back I guess sweetheart.”

“I will, I’ve got it on the nightstand right now.” You answered, licking your bottom lip.

“Thanks babydoll, listen, I gotta go back inside.” He grumbled, sucking air through his teeth the way he always did on his last drag of his cigarette. “I love you doll. Sleep good.”

“Night Ani, text me when you’re home.”

“You got it baby." Anakin answered, his voice low and smooth.

A perfectly normal conversation. A perfectly normal explanation on his part. A completely plausible assumption that Ghost simply took it from Anakin. Though you’d never known him to be brazen enough to come around with Anakin there and awake.

A perfectly dreadful whisper floated in one ear and out the other.

—————-

Date

September 3rd (2:27 am)

Anakin walked circles around his car, desperate to find an escape, an excuse, an explanation. Something, anything to help him backtrack. He couldn’t go back to your cabin tonight. He’d made you lock the windows and he knew Luke would quadruple check that the front door was locked. He didn’t know your sister or Luke’s sleep habits so he didn’t feel comfortable picking the lock.

He would have to tough it out until tomorrow night.

You were very much in the same boat as him. Waiting anxiously to see if he would come back, to see what would happen.

You wanted to call Anakin again, just to hear his voice, to listen to the calming comfort of it. To affirm that all was well, he was safe and fine. That was the only reason. You just wanted to make sure he was safe. Anakin was perfectly capable of handling himself, but to your knowledge he didn’t own any weapons that he could defend himself with. As far as you knew, Anakin Skywalker was sweet and kind and soft. He was loving and gentle. He was the perfect man, the most wonderful thing to walk into your life.

Anakin loves you and you love him. You love him so much, so much that it hurts. You love him so much that you’ve refused to say it. To protect him, to protect yourself, to protect Ghost from the hurt of it.

That’s just it though, there is Ghost. He’s there at every corner, he’s the creak in the floor boards at night, he’s the figure you see in the corner of your eye, he’s the creepy feeling of being watched, the voice you swear you hear saying your name.

He cares for you, and he cares deeply. You know without having to hear it from him that he believes you’ve hung the sun and the moon, he knows all the stars in the galaxy twinkle just for you and he believes you should be treated as such.

For all his wrong doings he’s done something right, not the helpful little things nor the occasional softness he’s begun to show.

No it’s something else.

It’s a feeling so oddly tangible that you can feel it in your throat each time you swallow. There isn’t a name for it, no term that you’ve ever heard could properly define it. You know that much to be true.

It’s a pull, a strong and undeniable tether. Like a child and their security blanket. Visible or not, where there is one there is always the other.

You’d miss him if he were gone, much like you’d miss the comfort of a fresh from the dryer blanket. The fuzzy warmth that wraps you up so tightly, the feeling of being tucked away from the world in safety.

That heat fades quickly, just like he does. He’s present one moment and the next he’s left you alone and you have to start the cycle all over again. You stare at your reflection and watch the world tumble around you and he watches you from behind the glass until he’s ready to come out again.

You want to fold him up and lay him across the end of your bed. Within reach at all times, you don’t want the dryer door between you anymore. You don’t want the few moments of heat from the fabric.

You want consistency.

Anakin can give you consistency in a way that no one else ever has. You never have to worry about him leaving or being disloyal, you never have to voice your feelings or opinions if you don’t want to because he just knows. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Ghost.

With Ghost you know that you are without a doubt the safest person alive. You don’t have to think, you can just be and know he is there to do anything and everything for you. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Anakin.

————-

Date

September 3rd

Hiking had never been your favorite summertime activity, but you’d come to realize it wasn’t because of all the walking or the bugs, it wasn’t even because of the horrid, atrocious memory of the time you’d walked through poison ivy.

You didn’t like it because it gave you too much time to think. That was exactly the opposite of what you needed right now. Right now you needed nothing, you needed the cold emptiness that comes along with burying yourself in something that took up all your brain power until there was none left to dwell on your troubles.

By the time you’d reached your destination you were drenched with sweat in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. Your shirt stuck to you, the cups of your bra were damp and itchy, your shorts had ridden up and you weren’t entirely sure that you were wearing shoes instead of walking barefoot in a bog.

“Luke.” You grumbled, taking a long drink from your water bottle. “How long have we been out here?”

“About two hours.” He replied casually, not nearly as winded as you and your sister. “Let’s eat and we’ll head back.”

“Are we lucky enough to be on one of those trails that the start is long but the loop around is short?” Your sister asked, wiping her forehead with the inside of the collar of her shirt.

“You’re both wimps,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes, passing out sandwiches and chips. “No, the way back is the way we came.”

“You’re joking.” You complained with a scrunched up expression.

“No ma’am.” Luke responded and thumbed over his shoulder at the overlook you’d made the journey to see. Yes it was beautiful, but worth the blister forming on the back of your ankle? Definitely not.

“Unless you’d like to take a dip off the cliff edge.” He snickered, knowing damn well that you’d rather gnaw off your fingers than jump from this height. “It’d be a couple minutes swim to shore and you’d be at the cabin.”

“No way really?” You said, standing up and biting into your sandwich as you walked cautiously closer to the edge. Gazing down you saw the dock, your eyes traveling up the tiny- hardly visible- dirt path until you reached the cabin.

He was right, you tracked your hiking trail up the curve of the incline you’d suffered through, it was a massive arc. Leaving you staring at the comfort of the cabin, so close but impossibly far away. You looked for a moment more, the lake sparkling like glitter in the bright sunshine. A few boats disrupting the water as they sped past, far off the shore.

You snapped a few pictures and scrolled through them, nearly choking on your food as you spotted something you’d missed with your naked eye. Only seeing it now that you were scrutinizing the photos quality to decide which one you’d keep.

“Jesus, you alright?” Lauren asked, watching you thump the side of your fist against your chest. Breathing heavily through your nose while chewing the food to swallow it and chase it down with a gulp of water.

“M’fine.” You coughed, looking back down at your phone and then to the landscape below to see if he was still there.

You should’ve expected to find him, expected the way he made himself at home on the porch, rocking in a rocking chair. The scene was still jarring, even more so when you realized he wasn’t wearing his hoodie.

His bare arms on display, his chest and abdomen covering by a loose black tank top. You frantically tried to zoom in with your camera. But of course all you could see was a fuzzy blur of inked skin.

What luck.

He was there, in broad daylight without a staple piece of his ensemble, one he didn’t remove in front of you. Now you understood why he told you he’d be recognizable if you were to see his skin. He was covered in tattoos.

And it’s your unfortunate luck that despite being so close to him, it’d take an hour to get there. Your great luck that he’d left himself vulnerable to your gaze at a distance that would prove impossible to decipher his identity. He was doing this purposely, there was no doubt about it. Why else would he do something so risky?

Ghost was baiting you.

Like the stupid little fish you were, you nibbled on the hook until he was able to reel you in.

‘I see you’ You texted him,

‘Creep.’ He texted back, standing up from his rocking chair and walking to the front porch steps. He waved dramatically, the sun shining down on him and catching on the white plastic of his mask, making him plainly visible. You watched through the zoomed in and grainy image of your phone as he moved, hoping maybe it would clear up and you could see something identifying.

Suddenly you were reminded of something you’d learned in school, a book you’d read… maybe Nancy Drew? Signaling using a mirror or something reflective to catch a person’s attention, sometimes used as a means of communication in Morse code. Though this wasn’t nearly as sophisticated.

He had pulled out both his knives and flipped them, the sunlight refracting off the shiny silver blades erratically until it became one concentrated beam as he crossed the sharp edges over each other. Forming an X to direct to light straight at your face, promptly blinding you.

“Fuck.” You winced, stumbling backwards and causing your sister to gasp.

“Christ, what the hell are you doing?” She asked worriedly, standing up and walking toward you but not daring to move as close to the cliffs edge as you were.

“A- a bug or something.” You lied, rubbing your eyes to clear up the imprinted flash of light you saw each time you let your eyelids fall shut.

*ping*

‘See me now?’

‘Asshole.’ You mumbled under breath, looking back over the cliffs edge to see that he’d managed to get out of sight in the time it took for you to recover.

“Alright, let’s go back. I’m hot and sweaty.” Luke said, standing up and stretching. He packed away our trash and then shoved Lauren forward when she complained.

“I’ll push you off the edge if you don’t shut up and leave me be.” He snorted, dodging her water bottle that she swung by the handle at him.

“C’mon let’s go before you kill each other.” You said with a laugh, feeling better now that Ghost was -probably- gone for now.

After another hour of hiking back down the steep incline you’d just traveled up, you were grateful to collapse on the cold wood floor of the living room and bask in the cool air supplied by the window unit nearby.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I’m so jittery waiting around for you guys to get the hell out of that stupid cabin. I have shit to do and you’re gumming up the works. I need to get your bathing suits, I scouted out around the lake last night when I couldn’t sleep. Not in my Ghost mask, I used a bandana. I think it’d be real unfortunate to get the cops called because Ghostface is roaming the pine woods.

Anyway, your bathing suits. I’m taking the ones I disapprove of. Did you know there’s a cabin full of jockey college boys right across the lake from you? You better not have planned that. They have a perfect view of the dock you’ll be swimming off of. Which means they were probably watching you last night when you were having your drinks.

I’m the only one who can watch you like that. Especially when you’re gonna be prancing around with that fucking ass of yours on display. ‘Ani, I’m just gonna wear it to tan in!’ Yeah alright. That’s the only reason doll? That’s the reason you brought a thong bikini to the lake? With a cabin full of testosterone waiting to catch a whiff of you from across the way?

I can’t believe you’re so stupid sometimes. I love you but damn do you have no self awareness? I’d let you wear it when I’m around. But I’m not. Not the way I want to be at least. I want to be there fucking you with my eyes and smacking your cute ass every chance I get. If I’m not standing there watching over you then those idiots might get the idea you’re wearing that shit for them and not me.

They don’t know you’re tanning, making that bangin’ fucking body sun kissed for my viewing pleasure when you return. They just see ass and tits and drool. I might drool yeah… but it’s only for you. I love you. I have eyes only for you and I always will.

Those dick-wads don’t know you or care about you. They lust over every bitch they see. You don’t want to make it easier for them do you? No? That’s what I thought. I know you didn’t do it purposely little doe. You can’t help it. You’re used to me being by your side and keeping you safe, used to wearing whatever you want when I’m around because you know I’ll fuck shit up if someone looks at you wrong. You’ve gotten used to it and didn’t use your little girl brain to make adjustments for the fact that Anakin wouldn’t be there for you.

Just another reason you should’ve brought me along.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Oh my fucking god it’s so fucking hot outside. What the hell is wrong with Luke? Making you walk up that MOUNTAIN. I totally would’ve followed but I’m actually busy trying not to fucking drown in my own sweat. There’s a bunch of reasons Ghost is mostly nocturnal. This is one of them.

I was being baked alive.

Anywho, I showered and now I smell like you, so I’m gonna wander about, have a wee little snack. By the way, I’m really sad you forgot the mustard.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Baby, don’t be mad I didn’t mean to almost make you trip. I just thought it would be a little funny. I was right. But I’m still kind of sorry.

I wish I could’ve seen your face.

‘Oh my god! His shoulders are out!’ Scandalous.

Risky? Yes. Worth it. Yes, can’t wait to hear you whine about it when I fuck you again.

——————-

Date

September 3rd

“Okay, let’s get ready for the lake.” Luke stood up and clapped his hands together once, a loud *pop* resounding through the living room.

“Already on it.” You huffed, throwing yourself forward into a sitting position and hopping to your feet.

You entered your room and noticed two things immediately: 1) the ring is gone 2) your red one piece swimsuit is on the bed. Upon further investigation you discovered a note laying on top of it.

Written in quick scratch was a short note from Ghost.

‘Doe,

I’ve taken the liberty of making adjustments to your wardrobe.‘

‘Adjustments?’ You thought, grabbing your bag and dumping it out on the bed.

The only things missing were your other bathing suits and your shower stuff, quickly grabbing the red suit you rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in to change. Pushing back the shower curtain you saw your body wash and shampoo, the walls still wet from his shower. You couldn’t help but let out an annoyed huff.

Your phone vibrated on the side of the small bathroom sink, sliding across the porcelain and falling into the sink basin. You quickly fixed the straps of your bathing suit and retrieved your phone before the leaky tap could wet the screen.

A video message awaited you from ghost, the image from the thumbnail made you laugh in a choked kind of surprise. He was outside giving you a leather thumbs up, your hot pink string bikini on overtop of his black hoodie. As you pressed play the video was mostly silent other than the nature noises of the background until he flipped the camera around and zoomed in.

A low modified whistle left his lips as his camera focused on the bathroom window, your bare back in the frame for a moment before he shifted the camera slightly to get the mirror in front of you, showcasing your breasts as you changed into your swimsuit.

You swiftly spun around going to the window to scan the area, he couldn’t have possibly gotten too far away. Throwing open the window you stuck your head out and looked to the left and then to the right where Ghost had suddenly appeared, inches from your face.

“Ow! Fuck, agh-“ You yelped, whacking your head on the window pane while he laughed at your expense.

“Hey! You okay?” Luke banged yelled from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Y-yeah!” You shouted back, turning to look inside the bathroom again before turning back around to see Ghost had crouched down, out of view if you were to open the bathroom door.

“What are you doing? You’re takin’ ages.”

“Uh- sorry. Wardrobe difficulties.” You squeaked out, glancing back at ghost who was still wearing your hot bikini bikini top, sans bottoms… which was honestly a bit disappointing. You heard Luke walk off, yelling to your sister that you were probably ‘on the throne’.

“Who is he? The Queen?” Ghost’s mechanical voice came from beneath the mask.

“Close enough.” You shrugged your shoulders and watched as he stood up to his full height, his knees cracking upon the ascent.

“Why did you take my shit Ghost? I wanted to wear that!” Whisper shouting at him while you hung the upper half of your body out the window.

“That’s why I took it.” He said plainly. “I don’t want you looking like a fucking slut out there without me around to keep other eyes off you.”

“Who the hell is gonna see me out here!? You shouldn’t have even seen me out here!” You pointed angrily.

“Shut up, I know you’re happy I’m here.” He snarled, getting right in your face, reaching up to grab your chin. “I heard you last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoffed as if you hadn’t done exactly what he was insinuating.

“I don’t want the girl who moans for me to be ogled at by some fucking frat guys.” He barked, shaking your chin and digging in his leather fingers.

You turned bright pink. You couldn’t argue with his statement. You did moan for him. Under him, over him, even without him.

“What frat guys?” You stuttered, avoiding acknowledgement to the first half of his sentence.

“Across the lake.” He pointed, flicking out his knife to gesture in their direction. “Big group of ‘em. Paid them a visit last night just to check things out, you know I worry about you.” He said in a quieter tone, bringing the blade of his knife to your bottom lip and tapping it with the flat side.

“I would’ve never known they were there if you hadn’t told me.” You narrowed your eyes, speaking carefully as the knife rested against your lip.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe not.”

“What’s that supposed- shit, why?” You flinched and brought your hand to your mouth touching the nick he’d left when he quickly jerked the knife away.

“So you’ll think of me when you’re yapping to some no-count bitch boy from across the way.” He snapped back. His leathered thumb came up to spread the blood across your bottom lip and past it onto your tongue.

“It’s just a bonus that you bleed so fucking pretty.” He pushed your tongue down with his thumb, rubbing the crimson liquid into the squishy muscle, then curling the same thumb behind your bottom row of teeth and shifting his cock in his jeans with his free hand.

“Clean it for me baby?” His modified voice lower than usual.

“No, use your mouth doe.” He chuckled when you reached out to grab the knife from him to rinse in the sink.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows but opened your mouth anyway. He placed the blade on your tongue and nodded at you.

“Now suck it.” He grumbled, affectionately patting your cheek twice before using two fingers to push up your chin and close your mouth around the cool steel.

————————————————————————

“What happened?” You sister asked, touching the scabbed line that traveled up your ass cheek and disappeared beneath your swimsuit.

“Well, I just fell.” You muttered, pulling the hem line to cover more of it. “Don’t really know what cut me but it happened a little bit ago.”

“You need to be more careful.” She shook her head, finishing up her job of rubbing in your sun tan lotion. “I swear you’re worse than my toddler.”

“Oh shut up, I am not.” You scoffed, “there’s a difference between something you don’t have any control over and choosing to shove a pebble up your nose.”

“I- that was only one time! When will you let that go?” She asked grumpily. “What am I supposed to do, carry around a fucking periscope so I can see behind me?”

“I’m not- I was kidding.” You sighed, shoving her out in front of you, making her stumble.

You clicked the lotion shut and shook it up, slamming it down on the heel of your hand before putting a generous amount in your palm. You slapped it onto her back and rubbed it in, ignoring the hissing sound she made when the wet glob of sunscreen in your palm smacked her flesh and splattered messily across her skin.

“Caleb is just… an explorer.” Lauren said, trying to make it sound better than it was.

“I never shoved anything up my nose.” Luke chimed in from behind his sunglasses, sitting up against one of the dock posts. “Lauren, you know I was an ‘explorer’.”

“No. You were a bug boy.” You snorted, looking over at him with a little smirk.

“So what? I liked… like bugs. They’re cool okay?” He grumbled waving them off.

“Remember when you had Ants on a Log with actual ants?” You giggled, Lauren crouching down as she let out a guffaw.

“I was seven!” He said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Caleb is two. He can shove a pebble up his nose and it can be excused.” Lauren snorted, catching her breath. “You were seven, you knew better. You have no room to talk.”

“Okay mom,” Luke huffed, you knew without a doubt that he was rolling his eyes behind those glasses. “At least I don’t still pick my nose.”

“Hey! Sometimes you just gotta get up in there.” Lauren pointed at him, a scowl on her face. “Don’t lie, you pick your nose. Everybody does!”

“Uh… I mean I technically pick my nose. Just with a tissue.” You said, supporting your sister in your useless argument.

“So you’re both gross then.” Luke gagged and grabbed his stomach dramatically.

“If I’m gross, so are you.” You said, getting settled on your towel. “Lauren’s right. Everyone picks their nose.”

“You’re both horrible.” He grumbled, shaking his head before standing up and lowering himself into an inner-tube so that he could float on the water.

You all had a peaceful first half of your day, it was refreshing after the hike to relax in the sunshine, letting the heat lull you into a state of calm and the opportunity to think of nothing save for the concentration of singling out different nature noises just because you could. Cicadas, the occasional grunt of a bullfrog, Whippoorwills calling out to each other in the trees, the gentling lapping of the lake against the dock.

None of the city sounds that clouded your head and made it feel cluttered.

It was cleansing, a nice reset for your mental state. Exactly what you needed, exactly what you were so happy to be here for. Now if only you could get some clarity on the difficulty you’d return to after your weekend of being at ease.

Even in peace times nothing is perfect.

The gentleness of the world you’d drifted into was being infiltrated. The distant sounds of a boat zipping through the water at much higher speed that it should’ve, especially with the water skier attached to the towline. What could make it worse? Two jet skis flanked the boat at a good distance away, though it was clear they were all in one group. Shouting and laughing like drunken fools, which you were sure they were considering the way they were behaving.

You licked your bottom lip, reminded of the small nick Ghost had left you with. These must be the ‘no-count bitch boys’ he was referring to earlier. You had to admit, he was definitely right about that. Wrong about your willingness to speak with them though.

You huffed and stood up, deciding now would be a good time to take a refreshing break in the water. The liquid enveloped your skin, the heat of the sun having beat down on you had your flesh soaking up the warmth so much that the water felt cold. In involuntary shiver tickled your spine as you swam over to Luke where he’d floated a way from the dock.

Slowly but surely the boat along with its entourage weaved its way across the water to your side of the lake, you pushed Luke’s inner-tube back toward the dock to give -them- yourself some space.

“Thanks babe.” Luke said, dipping his hand into the water and flicking it at your face.

“Hey! I was trying to be nice!” You scowled, reflexively sliding your hands beneath the tube to dump Luke out of it.

“I could’ve drowned!” He gasped as he resurfaced, taking off his sunglasses so he could wipe the water from his face and shake out his hair.

“Oh whatever, don’t be whiny.” You grinned.

“Me? You’re telling me not to whine?” Luke tossed his glasses up onto the dock and made his way toward you quickly. “All I did was flick you with water and you tried to drown me!”

“I did not!” Squealing as he lifted you up and tossed you farther into the water. How such a scrawny little guy could do such a thing was beyond you, but you had no time to contemplate.

You only had time for revenge. Squinting beneath the murky waters you made your way to Luke, hearing him call out your name in garbled syllables.

Ever since you’d known Luke, he’s had an irrational fear of the tiny possibility that there may be an alligator in any body of water. Didn’t matter how far from the wetlands of the states you were. There was always a slim chance, to him at least.

Holiday Inn pool? ‘But it’s outside, it could’ve crawled in! Will you just check it?’

Tiny dollar-store-bought blow up pool in your backyard? ‘But the creek! The creek’s back there… I’m not going in till you do.’

It got to the point that it was so severe his dad had to come up with a ‘gator gauge’ which was really just a hand-held tennis ball launcher he’d spray painted green and put a ‘gator free’ sticker on the back of so he could prove it was safe. Top-notch, high security, military grade ‘gator gauge’ that doubled as the lazy way to play fetch with their dog.

It was mean. Maybe a bit cruel… but he deserved it. So you swam behind him and put the heels of your palms together, spreading your fingers and creating jaws. You’d disappear from sight for long enough that a hypothetical alligator could’ve dragged you off and you heard Luke call out for you again.

Your lungs started to burn and you knew it was time to enact your plan. Luke stood on his tiptoes in the water, the perfect opportunity to press your fingers and nails into the muscle of his flexed calf. He screamed and thrashed about, you let him go and backed up so you could resurface. You popped up and sucked in a deep breath that turned into a choked laughing fit.

“You little bitch!” He yelled, splashing as he swam at you, pushing you under the water by your shoulders. He quickly pulled you back up and shoved your shoulder. A pink tint to his cheeks from embarrassment, he huffed and splashed a wave of water at you.

“I could’ve drowned!” You mocked him, pretending to cough.

In your short time of distraction the boat and its occupants had cut the engine and let the momentum carry them closer. The jet skis now tethered to the back, the ladder down in the water. Despite the safer option a group of five guys jumped over the side and made themselves at home in your space.

“Hey! How are you ladies?” One of them asked, completely ignoring that Luke was right there with you.

“No soliciting, thanks.” Your sister popped her head up and shook her left hand to show off her wedding ring.

“Whoa, didn’t mean anything like that!” He laughed and his friends agreed. “Just wanted to say hello, see if you guys were up for a drink.”

“I think we’re just fine.” Luke spoke up from behind you.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Sighing you turned around and swam until you were able to touch the lake bottom, walking the rest of the way to the shore.

“Hope you’re going to get some mixers.” A different guy shouted.

“Going to get a restraining order if you don’t leave.” You shot back over your shoulder, earning a round of laughs from them, the opposite of what you’d hoped for.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that! Just give us a chance. We’re good people.”

“Good at ruining my day.” Luke mumbled, following behind me and scooping up his stuff and getting ready to leave.

“You’re going? Serious?” One of them laughed.

“You came over here uninvited, you’re not entitled to our company.” You said, turning around and walking toward the house.

“That may be true but you’ve certainly made up for it by jiggling that ass.” His friends snickered and one smacked his arm.

You reminded yourself that you were here to have fun. Not to argue with a man who has half the brain capacity of a drunk squirrel.

Deciding you couldn’t let them win, you figured you’d beat them in your own way. You continued on without another word, pretending you hadn’t heard them, instead pulling out your phone and sending a simple text message.

‘You were right.’

The answer was an immediate: ‘I know.’

Diary entry: September 3rd

I hate to say I told you so. But I will.

I. Told. You. So.

I was having a great time watching you, it was reminiscent of how I used to watch you have dinner and I’d eat with you. You’re so cute and playful… I love you so much. I know that Luke is super gay, that’s not why I’m jealous. I’m not worried about that. I’m not stupid and I’m not paranoid, I know better. I’m jealous because it should’ve been me that you were playing around with.

I’m jealous cause you didn’t invite me. I’m jealous that you got to swim and I’m sitting in a tree, soaking my shirt with sweat. I’m jealous that Luke had a beer. I’m jealous that your sister took a nap. I’m jealous that those shit-for-brains tried to talk to you. (I love your sisters fucking comeback though.)

I’m jealous that they got a better look at your sweet little ass than I did too.

I’m pleased that you were so off-put by their behavior that you texted me little doe. What a very good girl you can be, but, oh so good at being bad too. You’re just like me. Maybe I’m making it worse, maybe better. I don’t know, I don’t really care either.

I’m just excited.

My little doe is feeding that flame of deviancy hanging out deep within your stomach. I knew you had it in there somewhere, gods you’re just so fucking perfect. I’ve never felt more lucky. ‘Ghost, I’ve got one more day here. What if they come back?’

What if indeed.

Men can be unpredictable. A woman is safer in a pit of snakes that being alone with a man she doesn’t know. Which is why I try so desperately to protect you especially in situations like this. That delivery guy? He seemed harmless. But I dug a bit deeper and well, he wasn’t so harmless after all.

Now, these boys might be disgusting pigs who prefer to wallow in the squalor and bask in the glory of their custom made beer can wall. They don’t deserve anything too harsh. Also; Wow. It’s amazing how they’ve managed to drink that much and none of them have been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. But back to business, I personally don’t feel like killing anyone. I know for a fact you don’t. I also know that even if I did feel like it, I couldn’t because you’d definitely know it was me. Then what the hell would I do?

You had no good ideas. Which is not your fault, you just can’t think about these things on your own. You need guidance and that’s what I’m here for. So, I settled on something you’ve never done, I haven’t done in a long time, and it’s not technically illegal here… just heavily frowned upon. I hate their shit attitudes, they’re gross and they’ve disrespected you and that’s unacceptable. So a nice little bit of property ‘destruction’ is in order. Middle school memories, how sweet.

TP the cabin? Absolutely. Destroy their beer can wall? Definitely. Silly string their vehicles? Duh.

Fuck you before and after? Yes. Always.

Part Fifteen

Tag-List:

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Thanks to @rottencandyblood and all their love❤️

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

[kyri45]

Is it q&a time?

It's q&a time, it is.

✨SBP: Second Star Q&A! 22/04✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If it’s not answered here, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@dezzyboo ha chiesto: Hi kryi I wanted to ask. In the new part when Mac got upset was that because potentially doing the ritual it had weakend him and so when tang spoke it hurt his ear or did he get upset because he could tell the ritual failed

because the ritual failed.

@elle-the-fan1 ha chiesto: okay. Here is me guessing the stone egg name and gender. If it’s a girl her name has to be Yuebei Xing. If it’s a boy it could be Wei-Chen or Pāramitā, (Depending if you wanna go either Journey To The South or American Born Chinese) HOWEVER!! ….If it’s twins there names could be either Jidu and Luohou or the more popular Rumble and Savage. If it’s triplets, it would be Yuebei Xing, Luohou, and Jidu…..any of the ways work. For me anyways.

good guess to all of them except for Rumble and Savage, who are shadow clones in the AU and already made an appearance .

@goldenunicornmaster ha chiesto: Love the update! I love that everyone is getting involved contributing energy to the new egg. Really shows how big the monkies’ family is. Neither are alone anymore. Sandy tearing up really got me, he’s so sweet and he’s gonna be a great uncle. Also Red! I see you! Definitely getting some ideas of a potential kid ideas with MK in the future. I see you ya aren’t slick.

Oh yes, Red is totally thinking of that (but they are too young to even marry, so yeah)

@pan999flo ha chiesto: Ever considered of drawing Ao Bing once? I thought about him because I always see how cool you draw Nezha etc.

Thank you! Maybe in the future, I liked the movie.

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: We've seen how Macaque acts when he's injured and Wukong's response to that, but what would happen if the roles were reversed? Wukong is injured and behaves a certain way because of it, and Macaque reacts to it.

Wukong would be a drama queen about it for the attention. Mac would be both annoyed for that and angry bc he got himself hurt.

@injuvanillafruit ha chiesto: Hey Kyri 👋, Can you share with us your shadowpeach headcannons. The past and present ones to be exact.

I'll give u just 2 cause I'm too tired and I aint got the time:

Past-> The 2 of them had an almost co-dependency at some point, the ones that even when they argued they would come back to the other because they didn't had a healthy way to be able to solve their own issues by having me-time.

Present-> Macaque still goes almost everyday at his dojo, but Wukong sends one of his clones around midday to quickly check on him and give him kisses (although he gets jealous if the clone start to be too touchy.)

@shevijra ha chiesto: Will you ever draw a fankid for Red Son and MK? And maybe their parents (every single one) reaction to them, or to the news that MK is pregnant or smth. Love your art as always!

yes. once

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: Do lmk gang ( Mei, MK, Wukong, Macaque, Red son etc) get emotional when watching movies/TV shows ?

Mei not as always, MK literally everytime. Macaque is more composed and Wukong will try to hide it. Red Son once cried watching star wars: the return of the Jedi.

@chernobylcatfish09 ha chiesto: I’m currently reading your shadowpeach bio parent au for the first time bc it seems to be completed now (I may be wrong, I am pretty lackluster in the smarts department), absolutely delicious btw But question, this ain’t an important question this is just for for funzies: If wukong and macaque collected anything together, what would it be? (examples being like figures, different coin types, plushies, discs of something, anything like that)

I think Macaque is one of those who would collect dools. Or statues. While Wukong kids of collects every single kind of his own merch.

@yourlocalclown-emily ha chiesto: Fav Spicynoodles fics?🙏

I guess Happy and Provided For

@stinkyexhaust ha chiesto: Will Kai also inherit MK's monkey powers?

Some. Not all of them. Actually in terms of powers he's much more Red Son than MK.

@internet-grab-my-tumblr ha chiesto: Am I the only one who thinks it’d be really funny if while everyone is focused on the ShadowPeach baby drama, IronBull decided they also want another kid but don’t bother telling anyone and just…pop up in a few months like “hey we made one too” with no warning and everyone freaks out? And then the ShadowPeach baby gets a buddy to grow up with and Red Son is unexpectedly a big brother too …I may or may not have an IronBull OC I could turn into that theoretical baby lol

it would be so much in character of them bc I bet they went "oh our arch-enemies are having a kid? Then we will have one as well and it will be even MORE powerful than theirs and they shall battle once reached the adulthood!"

@drpepperlover545 ha chiesto: Question, if the baby is born will the celestial realm find out?

Eventually yes, they can't hide them forever.

@selein13 ha chiesto: So... how did wukong and macaque react to the courtnapping tie? Also, how long was Mei laughing at them before she was able to get enough composure back to untie them?

they untied them a couple of hours later. Mac already foresaw how it would have happened and Wukong just laughed and told his kid good job.

@pettrainer ha chiesto: Hi just lil curious will you do a spin off of a time-skip? Like thousand or a few hundreds in the future ( whatever you think is far enough ) of the monkey family. Like what’s going on in there live, who doing what, or if Mac/Wuk have baby # 4 or 5, lol I can see them having a big family, but of course if that’s how you want your story to go.

mmmmhhh probably not. Might write something instead.

@weaverpop ha chiesto: Would Nezha ever take over as Jade emperor? I mean, he IS the rightful heir bc he’s the grandkid of the previous Jade Emp.

he is WHAT?

@loverfella ha chiesto: Sooo what would happen if there was a scenario where Wukong gets jealous and what would he do? I've seen so much Macaque getting jealous I wanna know what would happen if Wukong was the one that got jealous. Same goes for Mk, what would happen if he saw someone flirting with Red Son (I ADORE YOUR ART OMG ITS SO GOOD AIEBEJDJWJSJ)

@quesocheeso made a lot of lovely shadowpeach comics featuring jealous Wukong.

@macaquethemoon ha chiesto: QUICKKKKKKK QUESTION who do you ship more with MK outside of the comic? Mei x mk Or Redson X MK Or chimera(forgot how to say it) Redson x MK x Mei ALSO IM SO INLOVE WITH YOUR ART STYLE AND COMIC LOVIES

red son x MK

@epicloversposts ha chiesto: Hiya just wanted to ask would Macaque ever use the secret knowledge of Wukongs and Mk's weakness against them if he ever catches them trying to over train themselves? Or would he just join them instead?

yes he would. (playfully of course)

@sugerstem ha chiesto: About the ShadowPeach Bio Parent AU, I didn’t see Ne Zha at the coronation, was he not invited or not allowed? My guess is that he wasn’t allowed or too busy but I think surely he would’ve gotten an invite (I say hopefully)

He was the person tlaking to Guanyin

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: How'd the honeymoon go? (Assuming shadowpeach had one)

They went to the othe side of FFM and made it every monkeys problem.

@anxiousbb-witch ha chiesto: Thank you Kyri for making this wonderful AU and for introducing me to LMK with it! It was a roller-coaster of emotions and I still blame you for every tear dropped and everytime I almost snapped my phone in half with your wonderful art and storytelling.

aww thank you!

@craftyphilosophercreator ha chiesto: Are we going to see Bai He and Mk interact anytime soon? I'm curious about their relationship with each other.

maybe, I haven't planned much yet

@amc-2-wild ha chiesto: So side question. Who did you get to voice act for the comic finale you posted on YouTube? Also, I absolutely loved your comic, enjoyed the ride and I can't wait to see what else you create (been following the ISAT AU some and everything you do is amazing thank you-)

@hyperwukong012 as Sun Wukong

Ender as Red Son

@sam-i-am-27 as Mei

@wee-dopey as MK and Macaque

@shevijra ha chiesto: Heya Kyri! Did you perhaps watched the latest Nezha? Even if not, does your AU has Ao Bing, Nezha's boyf- I MEAN- best friend? I'm curious what would happen if our celestial monkey, or/and Mei met Bing, what would happen? He is such a sweetheart, I bet he would be happy for Macaque and Wukong about *you know what* Anyway, I love your works, your sense of humor and your gayness. Be well, my friend!

Well, don't know why he would be happy actually but yeah i watched the movies. Glad you like my sense of humor ahah.

@nanayobiznes ha chiesto: can we perhaps see bai he's fit during the coronation? :]

uuuhhhhh I'm so sorry but unfortunately i really don't have the time to draw that as well rn.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Hi! Firstly, thank you for creating this blog and helping all of us out! Secondly, and sorry if this is such a silly question, but how do you write an engaging summary?

I find my own fic summaries are so… lackluster… and not even I’m interested in reading it — so how I can I expect others to be? Even if I like my story, when I write the summary in the start of my fic/in my masterlist, I’m like “Wow… this is not even remotely interesting! 😭”

So yeah, I was wondering if you had any tips/advice for that? 😭 Totally fine if not, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks and have a great day/night! 😘

HOW TO WRITE AN ENGAGING FIC SUMMARY THAT WILL DRAW IN AUDIENCES

Summaries are the bane of many writers’ existences, including my own. It’s already hard enough to get the words down on paper for the actual story, and now people want you to convince them to read it with something more than “I WORKED REALLY HARD ON IT PLEASE IT’S GOOD I PROMISE!!!!”

Squishing a ton of context into a small blurb seems impossible, but I promise it can be done!

Obviously everyone goes about things differently, and a lot of these tips may not work for everyone, but nevertheless, here are some tricks on how to write an engaging summary!

Here’s a simple template I like to use, which will be the focus of this post:

Hook (Draw the reader in!)

Context (What are the core elements of your story?)

Cliffhanger (Introduce a question/scenario that the reader will want to click to know more about!)

1. Start With a Hook

Just like with the first sentence of a story, the first sentence of your summary should immediately spark the reader’s interest.

A bold statement! A good (short) quote from your fic! A shocking discovery! A cool word definition/the definition of your title!

I always like to put the hook of the story on its own line/paragraph, just to emphasize it.

Examples of a hook (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "It all started when Character A puked on their Uber driver." - "War was inevitable." - "Character A would be dead by sunrise. That’s what Character B vowed." - "By the time they got to the city, it was too late."

Your hook is probably the most important part of your summary; someone will know within milliseconds whether or not they will continue reading.

Once you’re past that initial hump, it’ll be easier to convince a potential reader to skim the rest of the summary. Giving something that jumps out at them will set your story apart from others and ensure it gets that click you deserve!

2. Give Some Context

For shorter one-shots, sometimes a single hook is enough! But if your fic is longer, with a bit more moving parts, you might want to choose a few highlights. Get the essence of your story on paper.

This can be super hard, so don’t feel discouraged if you feel like you’re not getting it. I’d suggest keeping your context to about 1-3 sentences depending on the length of your story, so make sure they count.

Buzzwords are a key factor in getting the main points across. Use ones that relate to your main plot to your advantage! 

For example, if I were to make a short summary of Game of Thrones for someone who has never watched it before, I would definitely include some of these buzzwords: - Dragons - Conquest - Succession - Revenge - Slaughter - Betrayal

Using powerful words (i.e. slaughtered instead of killed) can help draw in your audience!

I can't dictate exactly how you should write your context, since every fic is different and shouldn't be brought under an umbrella of the same rules, so it might help to find inspiration from other people’s summaries.

3. Pose a Question the Reader Will Want the Answer To

The biggest point of a summary is the “so what?” factor. You have all of these tags, but how does the fic make use of them?

A summary shouldn’t be giving all of the answers, but it should still leave crumbs for the reader’s imagination! This doesn’t mean that you literally need to put a question in the summary, but rather pose an unresolved scenario/problem that the reader will want to click to know the solution to.

Here are some example sentence templates that pose an indirect question, often put at the end of a summary to spark interest (Note, these are rushed and off the top of my head. Just meant to give a general idea, not be literary masterpieces): - "Everything changes the moment Character A makes a choice they can't take back." (What is that choice? How does it affect the other characters?) - "As the truth comes to light, nothing will ever be the same." (What is the truth? How does it change things?) - "A dangerous game begins, and only one can emerge unscathed." (Who will be that person?) - “It’s the first time they meet, but it won’t be the last” (What will be these next instances? How do their worlds collide?)

4. Some General Advice

If you don't think the above format works well with your fic, here's just some general advice that can help you out!

DON'T MAKE IT TOO LONG

The biggest mistake I see writers making when posting their work is having a giant four-paragraph summary for their story that takes up half of the feed.

Unfortunately, in an age of fast swiping and instant gratification, a reader may skip over a super long summary simply because they don’t feel like reading all of it.

(The reason why long summaries work for books is because people are more patient when they intend on paying to read something; they’ll take more time considering investments than they would with a free read, since they want to make sure it's worth their money. It’s not fair, but that’s kind of how it goes.)

In my opinion, a fic summary should be no more than one short paragraph, two or three sentences max for a one-shot and maybe five sentences for a long fic.

This isn't exact. It really depends on the length and complexity of the sentence, because no matter the how many you use, if there are enough words to make folks comprehend it as a big block of text, then they’re going to be more likely to skip it.

People looking for long fics will be more patient (since they’re making an investment with their time, rather than money) but if you want to appeal to a wider audience that may be casually browsing and stumble across your fic, definitely consider a more brief route.

PROOFREADING MATTERS!

Because summaries are often an afterthought, many writers don’t put as much effort into it as they would the rest of their story.

I wouldn’t recommend this; people are basing their ENTIRE initial opinion of your fic on this small blurb.

If you rush it and make spelling or grammar errors, people will assume that the rest of your fic is also riddled with errors and scroll past!

Make sure to proofread!

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[aventoru]

four seasons

aventurine x stoneheart!reader

word count : 6.8K (what is happening to me???)

warning(s) : angst, hurt/comfort, a sprinkle of fluff, canon details may be inaccurate aka i make up some stuff, mentions of aventurine's past (murder, trauma, death of family members, etc.), brief mention of suicidal ideation (but he doesn't actually want to die), aventurine's nihilism/pessimism, less romantic than i thought it would be, more of a character exploration than anything, inconsistent writing/formatting, misunderstood aventurine, argenti cameo!!

a/n : at the bottom!

summer / the curse

“He’s supposed to go on trial? For what?” you asked Jade. “Murder,” she replied, lowering herself onto the velvet chair. “And you’re recruiting him?” you asked in disbelief. “He’s blessed by Gaiathra Triclops, it’ll make him a very valuable asset to us,” she explained. You couldn’t argue with that.

As if on cue, the wooden doors opened, and a young boy stepped in. Despite his small, frail figure, he radiated determination and confidence from across the room. “Welcome, Kakavasha,” Jade spoke as he strode to the podium where she sat, standing directly under the spotlight.

From the moment he entered, you were, to say the least, intrigued by his unique appearance. He had pale skin, and shaggy golden locks with even shaggier clothes. But what really caught your attention were his eyes. They were bright purple, with black irises outlined by a striking blue. He held a fierce gaze , as if he knew he would win before the game even started. There was no questioning why Jade wanted to recruit him. You tuned back into the conversation, just in time to hear Jade raise the question :

“Tell me, what are you prepared to wager?”

His answer struck something inside you.

“My life.”

His life? You were rather shocked by his bluntness. You had only ever seen people wager their money, assets, power, but never their life. It was the one thing that remained when they were stripped bare of everything. Apparently, that wasn’t the case for this kid.

It made sense, in a way. What else could he possibly have to give? And with luck on his side, the only ending Kakavasha had ever known was victory. What a tough, lucky kid, you thought as the meeting came to an end.

Your eyes traced Jade’s figure as she descended from her seat and led the new recruit to you. Seeing him up close and personal fueled your curiosity even more (god, those eyes really were something).

“(Name), let me introduce you to your new partner. This is Kakavasha,” she said. You stood unimpressed as Jade ushered a now (suddenly?) timid boy towards you*. He was so passionate just a few minutes ago, what is this lackluster attitude?* “You two are around the same age, so I’m sure you’ll get along,” Jade smiled, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same.

“(Name),” you stuck out a hand to him. The boy hesitated before speaking. “Kakavasha,” he whispered, barely audible. “Can you tell him to speak louder? I can’t hear,” you turned towards Jade. In truth, Aventurine didn’t see any point in speaking to you. He came here to talk business, not make friends. “Be courteous, he’s still new to all of this,” Jade chided. “We’re nearly adults now, he should at least speak for himself,” you argued, without missing a beat.

“I’m Aventurine,” the boy spoke again, louder this time. Jade observed your reaction closely as you two shook hands. “It seems you’re finally getting accustomed to each other,” she seemed satisfied by the brief interaction. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it,” she walked off, her expensive heels clacking against the marble floor.

To avoid the awkward silence that accompanied first meetings, you tried to make small talk afterwards. “I heard you’re blessed by the God of Luck. Must be how you got to work for us.”

He stayed silent at that.

Ever since that day, it has been cat and mouse between the two of you.

Day 2 : “Good morning, Jade,” you chirped as you sat down next to Kakavasha in the meeting room. Without so much as sparing a glance in your direction, you saw him move a seat away from you in your peripheral vision. “Hey, are you allergic to me or something?” you whipped your head to face him. “You’re the one who couldn’t be bothered to greet me,” he clapped back.

Day 57 : “Hey! Get back here asshole! You’re going to need me for the negotiation you know?!” you yelled hopelessly as Kakavasha ascended into the sky on the spaceship, leaving you behind at the port. Your frustration grew as he mouthed “I can’t hear you” through a small gap in the door before shutting it completely. Good partners my ass.

Day 409 : “So, what will you bet on this time?” the host asked. You were currently involved in a very intense game of poker with Numby, Dr. Ratio, and Jade. “All in,” you smiled mischievously as you dropped a black card onto the table. Your smile dropped as soon as you lost everything that round. A frantic Aventurine sprinted in soon after, announcing to everyone that all the money in his spare bank account was gone. You hurriedly slipped away before he caught on.

It had been over year working with Kakavasha, and nothing much has changed between the two of you. Well, except for the fact that you both were promoted and were now part of the 11 Stonehearts. He took the name Aventurine, and you, Citrine. But despite that, your love-hate relationship remained the same, and your judgement of his character didn’t waver much either. That was, until the fateful mission regarding Planet A.

‘A’ was a newly founded planet with a surprising amount of rare resources underneath its barren surface. As one would expect, the IPC immediately seized the chance to obtain it. However, numerous corporations were one step ahead, and the IPC could only assist in terms of mining, which resulted in this meeting.

Halfway through the conversation, Aventurine began pressuring for the IPC to obtain full control of the territory, not only of the resourcing sector, as they were clearly more capable of management. This unfortunately rubbed the other parties the wrong way, and to make matters worse, they had brought more backup than you thought. In this fight or flight situation, you and Aventurine were given the order to choose the latter, as the IPC would prefer not to make any more enemies.

As the two of you rushed towards your spaceship, the partner-turned-enemy at your heels, you were pulled back from behind and carelessly flung to the side. You fell down, hopelessly awaiting death’s embrace but before the darkness could swallow you, Aventurine stepped in and scooped you up in his arms, running like your lives depended on it.

You felt your feet touch stable ground once you two safely entered the spaceship and fled what was now considered enemy territory. Before you breathed out a sigh of relief and muttered a ‘thanks’ to Aventurine, you reached downwards to make sure your cornerstone was still tucked safely inside your pocket. But upon feeling nothing but empty fabric, you realized you had dropped it in the snowy terrain. You pursed your lips as the regret sank in. The thought of dying in the snow back there didn’t seem so bad.

You and Aventurine were soon ushered into the emergency clinic on board for a check up due to the rough encounter earlier. Fortunately, you both were fine, minus a few small wounds here and there. After those were swiftly tended to, the physician sent you both to your rooms for some rest. The walk back would’ve been silent if not for the friction of your shoes against the burgundy carpet, reminiscent of your first meeting. You were one step short of reaching your cabins when Aventurine suddenly spoke up.

“I didn’t want to see anyone else die because of me,” he stated. Despite his monotone, you could sense an underlying current of desperation in his voice. “It’s not your fault,” you replied, confused by him taking all the blame.

When you finally had the courage to look up at Aventurine, you were unable to face the intense emotions blazing in his irises and quickly turned away. That was the first time you realized it, the curse that had been placed upon him.

“I see,” you whispered.

The ride back to headquarters was eerily silent. You had lost your lifeline tying you to the IPC, and with this failed mission, your time at the organization was surely over. It was a shame that the moment you felt like you finally understood Aventurine, you had to say goodbye to him.

But his luck must have rubbed off on you because when you returned to your dorm after landing, you found your cornerstone on the table, glittering beautifully under the starlight. You breathed out a sigh of relief as a massive weight lifted off your shoulders.

I see you, Aventurine.

fall / the beginning of the end

Horror coursed through your veins as you observed Aventurine’s figure in the skies of Penacony. You watched as he delivered an onslaught of attacks onto the Astral Express Crew and that supposed Galaxy Ranger, Acheron. Before the plan was put into action, he had told you there would be great risks and advised you to stay out of it for the most part. But never in your life had you seen Aventurine take such a gamble. Although his life-long motto was ‘high stakes, high reward’, you knew this was something much more personal.

Under any other circumstance, you would’ve been thankful he was putting everything on the line to secure a valuable territory. After all, it was easier to dismiss his actions as performative and arrogant rather than admit them as self destruction. Yet you couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry spread across your chest as his poker chips rained down from the sky. The only words that rang in your head were the ones he had said to you that day.

I didn’t want to see anyone else die because of me.

You thought he was truly gone when Acheron unsheathed her sword and delivered a fatal blow to his body. Your entire being was filled with remorse and grief as the Emanator’s slash cut through the Dreamscape. In a blinding flash, Aventurine’s attacks disappeared, and him along with them.

At this point, you didn’t know what to think. How could this possibly happen? He was blessed by luck for goodness sake. You wracked your brain for an explanation, but the only conclusion you could come to was that wherever he was, you would never be able to see him again. It was later that night when guilt settled in next to you in that bathtub.

You drowned in self pity, fixating on how you were rendered useless in the face of danger despite being his companion. And what was worse, you had known of his conniving and reckless actions for years now, so why didn’t you stop him sooner? Were you that cowardly? Or was Aventurine over-reliant on his luck this time around? You couldn’t help but twist and turn in your dream, dwelling on these thoughts for a long time. If only you could see him again.

And then, you heard him calling out your name.

“Citrine, are you finally awake?” you heard his voice again, clearer this time. “Aventurine, is that you?” you whispered.

“No, it’s Veritas Ratio. Of course it’s me you idiot.” Since when did he crack jokes with you?

“Y-you’re alive?,” your eyes snapped open as Aventurine faded into view before you. “Or wait no—am I dead?!” you gasped in horror. Your perception of time had been skewed after laying down for what felt like an eternity.

“If you’re dead then I don’t have a gambling addiction,” he laughed forcefully. He just did it again. “Anyways, Penacony has been secured with minimal casualties. In these past system hours, it seems you’ve been trapped in a dream, which you’ve awoken from just now,” he answered.

“Oh, thank the Aeons,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, trying to process the situation.

“Guess I really did you a favor, huh? How about you cover all my paperwork for the month as a thank you?”

“See, you’re being annoying again,” you complained, playing along with his antics to hide your growing suspicions.

“I risked my life for you and that’s all you have to say to me?” he teased.

And again.

You thought Aventurine would be more serious in the aftermath, planning for the future of Penacony, or scheming like he always did. The last thing you expected was for him to joke around on the job. Out of all your colleagues, Aventurine was the most corporate-oriented person you knew, so what was this attitude? But you resisted the urge to narrow your eyes. The interrogation could wait. Currently, you had more important things to take care of.

“Yeah, I know you did,” you replied earnestly. “It’s just, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you on the mission. I can’t believe I didn’t stop you from carrying out that crazy plan—”

“You know I chose to sacrifice myself, right?”

“Yes, and I let you,” you pursed your lips. Aventurine raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had never seen you look so remorseful but he chose to ignore your apologies for the better.

“And then after that you—wait, what happened exactly? You disappeared, so how did you suddenly come back?”

“It’s a long story that doesn’t really matter. In the end, the mission was a success. You did great, Citrine,” he reassured, patting you on the shoulder. But I didn’t do anything?

“We should get going, HQ is calling for us.”

After the door clicked behind Aventurine, you hurriedly shoved all your items into your luggage. Well that was strange. Aventurine only acted aloof when he was lying. You were certain he was putting up a front to hide something from you. Something about him was different. Something was wrong.

There was only one thought lingering at the back of your mind.

Where was he all this time? And what happened?

“Be honest with me, what’s going on?” you asked once you two had stepped foot back onto the IPC. Despite reading over the detailed report he shared with the rest of the Stonehearts, you were still left with many unanswered questions. You knew he had purposely left out the more personal details of the mission. So here you were, hot on his heels as on the way back to his office.

“Acheron pulled me into Nihility’s void. Then, a knight by the name of Argenti came to my aid at the last minute, and we managed to escape. Simple as that,” Aventurine summarized, never once slowing down his pace.

“Are you, I don’t know, okay?” you pried further, barely managing to match his step.

“Hmm, I am,” he replied.

“You’re lying to me,” you stopped in your tracks just outside his office. Aventurine’s hand had already reached the doorknob, ready to turn it and ignore your efforts to try and understand him. Because if you really knew him, you would’ve known he hated confrontation, especially when it came to his emotions and intentions.

“Why would I?” he deflected.

“You don’t tease me so casually, you call our relationship “strictly business”, and you never joke around during missions. Yet all of a sudden you’re being friendly and nice? Don’t try to fool me. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” he muttered. You’ve had enough.

“Stop that, Kakavasha!” you exclaimed more loudly than you expected. A few employees walking by turned to face you in surprise.

“You have no right to call me that,” Aventurine finally turned to face you. He held his usual poker face showing no sign of weakness, his heart completely frozen over. But his eyes held the same fire that was lit when he saved you that day. Aventurine was pitying himself again. To make matters worse, he thought you were pitying him, too.

“Listen, I may not know the full story, but just know that whatever happened isn’t your fault. In fact, it was my—”

“Why are you doing this?”

A sudden sadness washed over you.

“Because we’re friends.”

The only thing you managed to catch before Aventurine slammed the door to his office shut was the unreadable expression in his eyes. The fire had been extinguished, but the embers still remained.

Aventurine leaned against the doorframe and heaved a sigh of relief once he’d heard your footsteps fade down the hallway. His shoulders sagged as he sat down in his office chair. You had no reason to pry about the events at Penacony, really. It was far beyond what he was capable of sharing to others.

Aventurine closed his eyes, and for a split second, recalled the moment he came face to face with his past.

“Farewell Kakavasha,” Aventurine handed his younger self the dark hat, which the kid accepted with kind eyes. He waved goodbye as he walked off into the distant, not daring to turn around. For if he did, he was certain he would want to stay here. Forever.

His time at the IPC had left him colorless and barren. The corporate system he once trusted picked at his vulnerabilities and tore him apart, creating an emotionless robot out of the innocent child he once was. It hacked at his flesh, leaving him with even more unfaded scars than before. Gambling was no longer the one luxury that made him special. Now, it was his only lifeline, the one thing that could ensure his survival in this cruel world. He felt like he had reverted into a hopeless little boy again. Like he was Kakavasha.

Aventurine was awoken from his river of thought when a figure came crashing through the darkness, landing right next to Aventurine. “Hello, stranger. I have come here to save you as I see you have been trapped in this…realm,” the redhead paused briefly to take a look around. “I am Argenti, a Knight of Beauty. We must hurry, for something bad is happening in Penacony!” That must mean Sunday has made his move.

Before Aventurine could respond, he felt himself being hoisted into the strange man’s arms and carried off. “Where are we going?” Aventurine asked. This was, to say, the least weird thing that had happened to him since arriving at Penacony. He had never encountered this knight before, but from the name and appearance, he vaguely remembered looking over the Knights of Beauty and recalled the man being associated with the Galaxy Ranger Boothill.

“To safety!” was the vague response he received.

Safety, hm? Aventurine was left to ponder again.

Why did he have to struggle against his own destiny? What was his purpose in life? Would anything he do make him worthy of seeing his family again? He knew he had to move forward, for his family were, undoubtedly dead, but some things were easier said than done.

Aventurine started to lose himself. His mind was racing a million miles a minute. He was sure of nothing and doubtful of everything. The only place that gave him room to breathe was here. Perhaps he really should turn back and—

“Kakavasha, where are you going?” a familiar voice called out. Aventurine turned around, trying to find the origin of the voice. “Sister, what are you doing here?” he asked in surprise when he saw his sister standing in the snow, a lamp in her hand.

“What do you mean? I’m heading home with you, of course?” she cocked her head to the side. “Heading…home?” he asked again. “Kakavasha, do you not want to attend the celebration? In the end, it was thanks to your luck that we managed to defeat the Katicans and survive.”

“We survived? Does that mean that mom and dad are at the celebration, too?”

“Yes, of course! And, I’m sure they wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world,” his sister smiled before stepping forward and grabbing his hand, “Now let’s go home.” She tried pulling him along, but the little boy planted his feet into the snow, refusing to budge. “Kakavasha, is something the matter?” she turned around, confused at his stubborness.

“Did my luck really save us all?” he inquired.

“Of course. We’re still here together, aren’t we?”

“I just…I recently had a nightmare that I was the only one who was lucky enough to survive. And you all died, leaving me alone. I thought it was all my fault,” he started to cry.

“No, Kakavasha,” she set down the lamp, crouching down to give him a hug. “None of that would be your fault,” his sister pulled away to wipe the tears on his face. “It’s just a nightmare, okay? I’m sure your luck will continue to bless us so that we can stay together for a long, long time. Think about it. Your blessing will grant your wish to become successful, and our family will be happy, and everything will be good,” she reassured. Kakavasha felt his earlier torment settle and slowly disappear. Turns out, it was just a bad dream.

His sister held the lamp, illuminating both their faces in the dark, and he could see her expression was filled with hope. The siblings smiled at each other as a small warmth enveloped them in the cold winter night that settled upon what was once a battlefield. Kakavasha could feel it in his soul. This was where he belonged. He was home. “Kakavasha,” his sister whispered tenderly, “Never stop dreaming, okay?”

And suddenly.

“Dreaming.” He studied his sister’s face.

Why am I seeing (name)’s face?

The lamp.

“Dreaming.” She had morphed into you.

Why does it have to be (name)?

It started to look weird.

“-dreaming! You’re dreaming! Please wake up!” Aventurine’s eyes snapped open as he abruptly sat up in the bathtub. So that was just the Dreamscape. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, collecting himself from the series of events that have recently transpired. After opening them again, Aventurine came face to face with a frantic figure standing in front of him, the Knight who was in his dreams now appeared in real life.

“Oh, thank Idrila you’re awake. It seems Mr. Sunday is trying to use the power of the Dreamscape and those trapped in it to awaken the Order,” Argenti explained the situation.

“Ah, I had a sense the situation would turn out that way,” Aventurine nodded, unsurprised. Technically speaking, he had taken part in the ordeal this entire time.

“Come, we must find a way out of here. How lucky we are to be awake, or else we would have been trapped inside our dreams forever,” Argenti helped Aventurine stand up, pulling him out of the bathtub.

“Yes,” Aventurine briefly glanced over at the dark hat resting on the bedside table,

“How lucky indeed.”

3 days later

After the mission at Penacony, an awkward tension settled between the two of you. Here you were, sitting at an executive meeting on the redevelopment of Penacony, trying your best to avoid any interaction with Aventurine. Despite having your eyes glued to the wooden table in front of you, you could still feel him staring holes to the back of your head.

As soon as the meeting ended, you hurriedly stood up from your seat and brushed passed the other executives, exiting the room as quickly and quietly as possible. As soon as you stepped outside, the stuffy atmosphere dispersed and you headed to the bathroom to freshen up. You stalled, hoping that by the time you stepped out again, everyone would have filed out, including Aventurine.

Your hasty strategy seemed to have worked because by the time you finished, the meeting room was empty and the hallway was quiet. You breathed out a sigh of relief, and upon checking your watch, you realized it was time for lunch. You were scanning your head through all the possible meal options, lost in a daydream when suddenly —

“(Name),” a familiar voice entered your ears.

You flinched, not expecting there to be anyone remaining. But you knew that voice. That cheeky, lighthearted tone could only come from —

“Aventurine,” you turned to your left, “What are you doing here?”

You tried to remain as cheerful as possible, putting on a smile that was genuine but still reserved. After all, you two were, in his words, strictly business.

“I was waiting for you,” he stated. You cocked your head to the side, intrigued by the straightforwardness and the look in your eyes urged him to finish. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he continued. You pondered for a second. The meeting had just ended so that must mean…

“Ah, you must mean the redevelopment plan for Penacony! I’ve been so busy these days I’ve only managed to draft it. I’ll try to review and email it to you by tonight,” you reassured him. Upon his silence, you assumed your talk was done and continued, “Well, I’ve got to get lunch now, so I’ll be off.”

But before you could brush past him, Aventurine caught your wrist, pulling you back. “Let’s get lunch together,” he said. Now this was surprising. You slowly turned your head, completely caught off guard by the sudden predicament. “What? Why?” you questioned.

“I just…” Aventurine looked away for a second before his eyes drifted back to you. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Since when? We’re colleagues, yes, but not friends,” you clarified.

“You said we were friends.”

“And you said we were strictly business.”

“Well, I’ve thought it over. And now I’ve changed my mind.”

“Aventurine,” you sighed in exasperation, “After our conversation last time, you’ve clearly established that we’re colleagues. I’m sorry I overstepped my boundaries and won’t be doing so again. So could you please, just let it go and stop bringing things up?”

“But I thought you wanted to be my friend. You do, don’t you?” he asked, testing the waters.

“You’re acting strange. Have you been scheming something again?” you asked skeptically.

“No, I—,” he sighed, seemingly frustrated at himself. “Listen, when you asked me about Penacony, I thought you were doing it out of pity. I thought you were looking down on me and my incompetency despite being blessed by this so-called luck.”

“Did you really think I would stoop that low after everything that you did?” you asked in disbelief, “Just what kind of person do you think I am?”

“I just couldn’t believe someone would genuinely care for me,” Aventurine admitted. He knew he was projecting. That he expected others to hate him like he hated himself. He had spiraled so far down a rabbit hole of self-deprecation he found your genuinity a surprise.

You almost failed to decipher his true feelings from his monotone voice and usual poker face. But his eyes told a different story. They were regretful. He was somber.

“Don’t you dare think that again,” you hesitated, “I care about you, okay?”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Good, now let’s go get some lunch, I’m starving.”

“I’ve…finally let go of my past,” Aventurine said. You looked up from your cheesecake in surprise. You two were sitting at a local cafe after another mission, debriefing all the events that had happened. You had attended an important gala the night before, meeting other entrepreneurs and successfully sealing deals thanks to his luck and your charm. Aventurine claimed it was because you looked stunning in your formal outfit that made everyone entranced, but you begged to differ.

“What do you mean..?” you trailed off, confused at his ambiguous words.

“On Penacony, I mean,” he clarified.

“Oh, I see,” you tiptoed around the subject, afraid you would accidentally dig too deep into his fresh wound. Seeing as he stopped there, you continued.

“Well, as long as you’re happy, that’s what matters,” you said, taking a sip from your drink.

“Hey, don’t be nervous. I’m fine now,” he reassured you, “I realized I had to move on, to use my luck and achieve greater things until I am deserving to face my family again when the time comes.”

You nodded in agreement, but upon observing his expression opposite from you, you realized he wasn’t content like you had expected him too. In fact, he looked troubled.

“Are you, happy?” you questioned further.

“I guess,” he mumbled with a shrug. The usually confident look in his eyes wavered. He wasn’t too sure about anything anymore. Aventurine’s mind was preoccupied. Was his destiny ever truly his? Or was this another one of luck's plans? Why was he still doing something he had no passion for? What was the point of it all?

After a moment of silence, he spoke up.

“Do you really care about me?” he responds to your question with his own. You were taken by surprise, but that expression soon morphed into one of content. Your reached across the table, your hand barely brushing against his in an act of comfort.

“More than you know.”

winter / the escape

Months passed, and you completed one mission after another, oftentimes with Aventurine. After the successful mission in Penacony, Diamond saw the potential in your teamwork and assigned joint missions between the both of you more and more. You both completed them all with ease, but something felt off.

Aventurine had stopped scheming. His plans weren’t as meticulous as before, his words not as slither-tongued, his gambles not as daring. It was as if he had reached a slump; his motivation to work was lost and he was burnt out. But you knew better than that. He wasn’t just lost. Aventurine was spiraling.

You saw it in the way his smiles don’t quite reach his eyes. You heard it in his high-pitched laughs, a telltale sign of his facade. You felt it in his touch as cold as his poker chips. Your mind often drifted back to the question you asked him at the cafe. The contemplation in his face back then gave him away, but you chose not to comment on it until now.

You had scheduled a business meeting with him tonight, but it had been half an hour and your coworker was still nowhere to be found. You were starting to get worried. Despite his aloof personality, Aventurine was always punctual. But not today.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door to Aventurine’s office. The atmosphere was pitch black, but you could still make out his figure on the couch from the starlight streaming through his windows. Aventurine had a glass of wine in one hand, his broken Stoneheart in the other; it had yet to be repaired, but by the look on his face, it didn’t seem like he wanted it to be. Upon closer observation, you noticed an empty wine bottle on his coffee table. Your coworker wasn’t just drinking, he was drunk.

The blonde, contrary to the concerned look on your face, couldn’t help but chuckle dryly to himself upon seeing your arrival. Aventurine had gambled that you wouldn’t come looking for him after his disappearance. And for the first time in his life, he had lost. But upon seeing the concerned look on your face, it was also the first time he was glad to lose.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked, turning on a dim light to better see him. “Nooo turn it offff, it’s too bright!” Aventurine complained, raising his arm to cover his eyes. He was in a worse state that you previously thought. With his cheeks flushed and eyes dazed, you were sure the man was one sip away from blacking out.

You quickly sat down next to him and removed the wine glass from his hand. “Nothing’s wrong, (name), give it back,” he slurred, trying to reach for the cure to his pain. “Aventurine, you’ve drank more than enough tonight,” your sternly replied, “Now tell me what happened.”

“I’ve recently realized…that my life has become meaningless,” Aventurine hiccuped. “Is that why you’ve been slacking off at work?” you asked. “Not just that. I’ve also given up,” he turned to face you. “Hey, is this about Penacony?” you inquired. You were met with silence on his end. “Hmm, I thought so. You know I would be more than willing to listen to your troubles, right?”

“I just don’t get it,” Aventurine stated, his eyes trained on the glowing Stoneheart in his lap. “Why does my blessing feel like a curse? Is this really what I’m meant to do? Survive alone and leave my family behind? Would this make me deserving to face them again?”

Aventurine was in deep thought, the inner turmoil and conflict apparent on his face. “Well, I’m sure that above anything, your family would want you to be happy,” you repeated the same words you had said to him. You had nothing else to give in this situation. No grand philosophy, no wise words, no unsolicited life advice. Just the truth.

“It feels like an obligation to gamble. I have to keep winning,” Aventurine pursed his lips and raised his head. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over the edge. This was the closest to crying you had ever seen him.

“I’m not Kakavasha, I’m not Aventurine. I’m the boy blessed by Gaiathra Triclops. The only valuable thing I have is that gift, which feels more like a curse, and that’s all I’ll ever be,” his voice broke as the tears silently succumbed to gravity. One by one they fell, salt streaming down his face. The light reflected off the trail they left behind, creating a broken image on his porcelain skin, reflected by the broken Stoneheart in his hand.

“Hey, you know that’s not true. I see you for much more than your luck,” you reassured him.

“If I disappeared tomorrow, would you remember me? Would you take this broken rock and smash it to pieces and scatter them over my grave? So that everyone would stay away? Would you be the only one to visit me, even when the shards of glass could hurt you?”

“I’m not letting you go. I care about you too much for that,” you pulled him into your embrace, “And I know you don’t want to die. You just want to leave this haunted place.”

“And how would you know that?” he looked at you, almost scornfully.

“Because I know you.”

“How can you be so sure? I’m just this empty shell without a path in life. I have no ambitions, no purpose. I’m just…this.” A silence passed by as he fiddled with the stone once more. “I don’t even know who I am,” he whispered, broken.

And then, Aventurine felt your lips on his.

“What was that for?” he blinked in surprise.

“I-,” you quickly pulled away, “I-I’m so sorry, I just wanted to distract you so you could calm down but I didn’t even think it through properly—”

“So it wasn’t because you love me?”

“It’s not that I don’t love you, I just—” you quickly clarified, only to realize what you’d just said and raised your hands in protest. It really wasn’t the right time nor place for such romantic endeavors, but you realized your efforts weren’t in vain when a small smile appeared on Aventurine’s face.

“Hmmm, then maybe you should distract me some more. I wouldn’t mind.”

“T-that’s,” you hesitated. He gave you a look, like he was challenging.

So you kissed him again. And he kissed you back.

“You were right, (name). I do want to leave this damned place,” his eyes were closed as he laced your fingers together.

“I know,” you offer him a small smile, almost proud of yourself for finally being able to decode him after years of knowing each other.

“I think you know me better than I know myself.” This time, he gave your intertwined hands a squeeze (and you squeezed right back).

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Together,” you emphasized, pressing your forehead against his.

He fell asleep in your arms that night, and you stayed.

Aventurine was awoken by the annoying familiar ringtone of his alarm. White Night rang through the still air, and despite it being set on medium volume, it still felt like someone was transmitting the sound through a megaphone right by his ear. Aventurine woke up like this every morning, grumpy and tired with thoughts of the day’s agenda running through his mind nonstop. But before he could reach for his phone and turn off the sound of his nightmares, someone had already beat him to it.

Aventurine’s hands brushed against yours as he groggily opened his eyes. “Name?” he whispered, voice still raspy from sleep (and crying). You were already sitting up, your head resting against the headboard. “Go back to sleep, it’s still pretty early,” you tried getting him to lay back down only for him to sit next to you.

Was it still early? His perception of time was rather inaccurate. There was no such thing as romantic morning sunlight streaming through the window when you’re on a spaceship. But why would he need that when he’s got you?

Aventurine took you by surprise when he leaned in and gave you a slight peck. He pulled away before you could react, eyes darting from your lips to make eye contact with you. “Morning,” he mumbled, pulling away with a smirk before you could react. He held your hand, thumb gently stroking your skin.

“Aventurine,” you started, looking down at your intertwined hands.

“Kakavasha,” he intercepted, “Call me Kakavasha.”

“Kakavasha, what are we?”

“After that stunt you pulled yesterday you’re seriously asking me this?”, Aventurine asked, a judging undertone was clear in his voice. “Should I buy you a planet to make it clear that you’re mine now?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know about a planet, but a proper date sure seems nice,” you teased.

“Consider it done,” he laughed.

You two basked in each other’s morning presence for some time before you speak up again.

“Do you still want to escape?”

“Yes, I do,” Aventurine faced you, a newly found glint of hope in his eyes.

This time, he was smiling.

spring / the lucky charm

“Are you sure about this?” Jade asked, seated at her desk. Your letters of resignation were in her hands as she examined them carefully, almost in a scrutinizing manner.

It had been a few months since that conversation with Aventurine and you two had silently agreed on leaving the IPC for good.

So, after a careful process of tying up some loose ends, you both officially hand in your resignation letters ten minutes ago. Your main reasons? Aventurine had paid off all his debts, so there was no reason for him to stay tied down anymore. When all is said and done, his luck had done more than enough for the organization. On the other hand, you were, for a lack of better terms, getting tired of this place anyway.

The verdict of Jade’s careful deliberation was in. She smiled in acceptance and said, “It seems that you both have moved on to a new chapter of your lives, and I believe it is for the better.” You breathed a sigh of relief before glancing over at your lover. “Yes, I believe our deal is done,” a look of reminiscence coated his eyes as he responded.

Jade was like a mother figure to him, the person who had saved him from the attack on his homeland, the one who had given him a choice. But this corporate asylum had also morphed into a monster. The only thing that managed to keep him afloat was his luck, which had also run dry over the years. The desolate, inhospitable land had used him for all he was worth, stripped him of his joys, his ambitions, his purpose.

The only one who could treasure what was left of him was you.

The Xianzhou Alliance was peaceful. Well, as peaceful as it could be after everything that transpired. But you supposed it was good enough to harbor the two of you for the time being.

The streets were lively and the market was always bustling with activities. Things were definitely different from what you were used to. No longer were the corporate meetings and forced smiles, or those lengthy contracts that took away half your lifespan. It was just you and Aventurine. It was nice.

You admired your intertwined hands, swinging back and forth happily as you two strolled along. The sky shone brightly that morning, illuminating the golden locks on Kakavasha’s head, almost giving him a glowing effect. That seemed to happen a lot these days.

The lively atmosphere, the warmth, your warmth had nursed him back to life. His eyes lit up when he smiled, his lips lifted more often, and his heart seemed to beat just a little bit faster when you rested your head against his chest.

At last, he had found his way back. With you by his side, of course.

Kakavasha,” you called out as light as a feather.

“Hmm?” he turned to you, nearly missing your voice over the chaos and chatter.

“I love you.”

Kakavasha smiled as he grasped your hand even tighter, the matching bands on your fingers glinting underneath the sun’s rays.

At that moment, Kakavasha truly believed that luck was on his side after all.

a/n : (1) i named reader citrine bc according to google it has good synergy with aventurine, (2) i read through this so many times i physically can't anymore so it's kind of badly edited, it's been sitting in my drafts for a YEAR and im TIRED, (3) honestly kind of surprised i managed to complete such a long oneshot but here we are, so enjoy!! (4) original outline based on a vnmese song about loving someone for 4 seasons but things took a turn

tags : @popponn (i told u abt the wip last MONTH and it's finally finished!!!)

masterlist

[writingquestionsanswered]

Describing Scene Locations

Anonymous asked: I've been writing for a decade, mostly short stories, and have recently started writing a fantasy set in the 17th century. My setting is a world pretty much like ours, but with made-up names for specific towns and whatnot. The characters are pirates, and a few are non-human. I'm finding it difficult to figure out where certain plot points take place when the story is mostly character-driven. There are parts where they need to be on land, but apart from 'vague port/island', I don't know what else to do with it. (Am I overthinking this?) I suppose my question is: How specific do secondary locations have to be for it to be immersive and realistic (for their world) without it being lackluster or overdone? I don't want it all be "it's a beach with a village," but adding a giant seaside kingdom seems overkill if it's only mentioned in passing once or twice. Thank you so much for taking the time to answer these - this whole blog is a gift, really.

[Ask edited for length]

First, thank you... that is very kind of you to say! ♥

So, I think it really helps to think of your story in terms of scenes, and to think of each scene almost like a scene in a play. Your scene's setting is like the stage in the play, and the amount of description is the amount of scenery and props on the stage.

If you've been to plays, you've probably noticed that the scenery can be very minimal or very elaborate, depending on the needs of the show:

With fiction, it works the same way. How little or how much you describe the scenery (setting) depends on the needs of the scene, but you do need to make sure to give the reader a sense of place. Looking at the first image, just with the little bit of scenery that's there, we know this scene is taking place in a home, perhaps a living room. If the two men were just sitting on chairs with no other scenery, we wouldn't have that sense of place.

However, that doesn't mean that any of your scenes need to be set in sprawling seaside kingdoms. There are all sorts of land-based settings for pirates:

-- bustling port town like Port Royal or Tortuga -- coastal village, town, or city -- isolated island or cove -- small fishing village -- seaside castles or estates -- pirate's stronghold on a hidden island/cove/cave/bay -- tropical jungle or rainforest -- remote island -- colonial outpost -- swamps and marshlands -- rural countryside -- ancient ruins

There are all sorts of reasons pirates might go ashore in these places:

-- to resupply (food, water, liquor, gunpowder, ammunition) -- to buy specific items (weapons, clothing, equipment for ship) -- to sell, trade, deliver, hide, or bury loot -- to hunt and gather resources -- to recruit crew -- to maintenance, repair, or refit the ship -- to meet with allies, informants, business partners, etc. -- to visit friends/acquaintances -- to avail themselves of various goods and services -- to drink in a bar, gamble and carouse with friends -- to enjoy some much needed rest and recreation -- to learn or exchange information -- to seek medical treatment/medicine/remedies -- to seek legal assistance or meet to discuss legal matters -- to "case" a potential target for a raid -- to visit family and love interests

Within these settings and potential errands, there are many specific settings you could use:

-- the docks of a bustling port -- the tavern of a coastal village -- a quiet moonlit cove where pirates are laying low -- the great hall of a seaside castle -- a masquerade ball at a country estate -- the crumbled ruins of an ancient civilization in an isolated jungle -- at a freshwater lagoon on a remote island during resource stop -- busy market at a colonial outpost -- fisherman's shanty in a quiet bayou -- an official's luxury town home in a big city -- the coastal farm belonging to a family member

So... having the different locations in mind, how much or how little do you describe them? Once again, all you have to do is create a sense of place for the reader. If your pirates are having a heated argument on the docks of a busy port town, you may at least want to give a vague description of the docks, whether it's night or day, what the weather's like, how crowded it is, and maybe a brief sampling of what the crowd is doing, notable sensory details (sounds, smells, visuals) etc. You can also weave those details into the narrative in a way that serves a dual purpose. For example, maybe in the argument, one pirate gestures to a toothless fish monger and uses them as an example in a point they're trying to make. Not only is this a necessary part of the dialogue, but it also fills in some of the scenery detail. Or, maybe instead, they're perusing spices in a bustling seaside market while they talk/argue quietly. Here are some posts from my description master list that will hopefully help further:

The Right Amount of Description (5 Tips!) The 3 Fundamental Truths of Description Description: Style vs Excess/Deficiency How to Make Your Description More Vivid Adding Description to Your WritingWeaving Details into the Story Guide: Showing vs Telling When “Telling” is Okay

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[bloodcasket]

“ BLOOD BOIL ”

PAIRING: DI!Jill Valentine x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW! (Death Island Jill), age gap relationship (not as specified as my previous fic), female described reader, dominant Jill Valentine, submissive reader, manhandling, rough intimacy, mentioned use of strap-on toy, words used to describe toy such as “dick” - etc, hair tugging (ive tried my best not to specify hair texture), pinch of degrading, concept of power-play dynamic, jealousy & argumentative situations, use of “gaslighting”. LIGHTLY PROOF-READ!

WORD COUNT: 6.4K+

DESCRIPTION: Jill’s jealousy is like spitting fire, just from one simple glance of a man speaking to you. Perhaps she’ll use her words against you. Force you on your knees to make you understand.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sigh. Not my best work, but here we are my friends. I acknowledge this is lackluster, but I missed writing for Jill, and so I at least want to do something for her. My apologizes! I will edit later if there are any mistakes. And hopefully, my brain will be ready to write again.

You’re invested thoroughly, thumbs bending into the hardened wheel, and your pink tongue wiggling in place, caught between your two front teeth, canines gnawing down amongst the moist muscle, all whilst you remain burrowed into a blanket of concentration.

So close, and nearly there. The banner sign is spread wide just up ahead, the crimson finish line taunting you, and the wheels of the vehicle skidded against the road, engine humming as the speed heightens. The countdown is in white bolded numbers in the upper right corner of the screen, approaching the last few seconds, there’s only a few more feet left-

That is, until an all-too-familiar ringing soon began to vibrate beside you. Perhaps it’s been the fourth time that she’s answered a phone call today. You couldn’t exactly give an explicit or precise answer, you had lost count a few hours back. Nonetheless, it drew your attention away all the same, hands loosening against your wheel.

“Gotta answer this, just give me a sec.”

A gruff response is heard from your right, and you watch from your peripheral vision as the other woman sits up from the false car seat. She trudges along the neon star-patterned carpet, her calloused thumb tapping with haste against the brightened screen of her phone as she sauntered over to the exit door. Clearly leaving no chance of objection from your side, too quick on her feet to even spare you a mere glance.

The car seat rumbles from below, the vibrations resembling a mini earthquake just against the flesh of your thighs, signaling your loss. Your softened eyes peer upwards and flicker toward the games’ screen. “Last place” taunts you in a pixelated format, the letters spinning around in repetitive loops. You had lost, and now the game was finished. The taste of triumph now blemished and dulled. An abhorrent sink of your heart weighs down in your rib cage, strong enough to plummet into your stomach.

You’re almost beginning to question whether this was all worth it or not. The plans, the date, the broken promises she always manages to cultivate off the tip of her tongue. You hadn’t forgotten the way the older woman’s rough hands circled your waist earlier this morning, pulling you close. Velvety lips tracing your cheekbone; leaving chaste kisses in its wake.

All about you, today. That’s what the middle-aged brunette had ensured. But ruined plans were practically habitual when it came to such a relationship with a woman of her degree. Ensnared in her work. Drowned in stacks of reports and hour long meetings. Body battered and aching by the time she’s finished training. It’s always “saving civilization” and “eradicating bioterrorism” first— and, of course — you came second. The way she has been so adamant on abandoning you today makes that point even more crystal clear, with each individual call she’s making, more words exchanged about sudden work relations rather than her own girlfriend on a well planned date.

It takes all your willpower not to let it dilute your mirthful attitude. With a shrug of your purse’s strap over the arch of your shoulder, and the shimmying of your hips out of the vibrating car seat, you begin to stand. Make your way over to a different game across the expanse of the arcade room. The area is dimly lit, save for the intensely hued lights flashing from each individual game screen.

Whilst you stay immersed by mashing blue and red buttons inside, a grin over your youthful features, Jill Valentine is much on the contrary. She’s stood outside, a scowl cast over her pink lips as she speaks with her colleague about information she could, quite literally, give two shits less about. Her boot is kicked up against the wall of the building, an expression of irritation clouding over her already-hardened features, wrinkles of age twisted around the flesh of her waterline, smile lines curling downward against her frown.

“Tomorrow, alright? I’m busy today. No more calls, got it?”

She warns, swallowing down the hiss that nearly pounces out from between her lips. She wants to say something worse than that. Maybe even a good, ‘go fuck yourself and stop calling my number’ sounds more appealing, but she diverges from actually saying that venomous remark. Doesn’t stop her from muttering a few curses under her breath once she’s hung up the phone, though.

There’s two sides of the story here, but at the end of the day, both of you are unsatisfied with how today's events are being twisted. The older woman is aggravated that she's being interrupted from her time with you. The younger, you, becoming rather solemn over the fact that your girlfriend is constantly being taken away.

The short-haired brunette rubs a palm across the stretch of her forehead, long fingertips and wide knuckles bumping up against her pale skin, and she breathes in before exhaling a hefty amount of air.

“Alright”, she shrugs, saying this more to herself in reassurance than anything else, mentally preparing herself for that look of despair in your pretty eyes that she’ll soon be faced with. God, she felt terrible.

She shoved her phone back into the small pocket of her jeans and pivoted on the heel of her shoes, hand grasping for the door handle. She brought herself back inside the arcade. She almost smiles at the sight of you. All excited and giddy, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. ‘Like a kid in a candy shop’, she’s chuckling to herself, boots shuffling along the soft trim of the patterned carpet.

Almost.

But seeing another form pressed up against your side sours something deep inside her. Large hands guiding yours to certain buttons on the machine, hip brushing up against hip, boisterous laughs echoing in the air, all whilst the cartoonish music and spirited sound effects synthesize in the background.

The woman can feel the pumping organ within her chest palpitate, it’s warm and uneasy, a maelstrom of heat broiling at the pit of her stomach and seeping into the pores of her skin. Her flesh is set aflame, fists clenched, and her jaw tensing; her teeth grit inside her mouth, white canines squeaking and clashing against each other in a slow grind.

Jealousy is the easiest way to describe the scorching sensation. Seeing what’s rightfully hers — melt under the presence of another?

‘I left her alone for one goddamn second.’

Jill Valentine scowls as she feels her blood singe. ‘The hell does he think he is? What gives him the right to just fuckin’ walk right up and get into my girlfriends personal space?’

She tries to be bitter, tries to find a reason for her unreasonable irritation. Beaming brightly, the apples of your cheeks uplifted and shimmering, round eyes focused on some stupid fighting game that resembles Mortal Kombat. Jubilant and content, obsidian pupils dilated. This beautiful display, and yet, it wasn’t for her to indulge in, was it? It’s as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart.

Her ego has deflated, and like a dejected child, she glumly sits herself down close nearby, slumped in her seat as she watches you chatter with the male stranger.

Her phone vibrates. Another message. She ignores it purposefully, thoroughly imprisoned into the wreck of her own insecure psychology.

The evening has improved, for the most part. At least, it’s more appealing for your half rather than the middle-aged woman. The two of you eat at a nice restaurant just downtown, settled into your seats at a wooden table, a view of the lively city; just outside the wide casement windows beside you, a serenic display.

Not even a nice meal can save the grimacing brunette's mood. Not when you’re rambling on and on about the new combos and tricks that you’ve learned today, or about how much you’ve improved on a specific fighting style game. It only seems to tamper with Jill the more she’s listening to you.

You speak with tones of exultation and glee, fascinated and bewildered from the mere fact that something you once were intimidated by is now mastered by a smash of your finger against a button. So many clashing statements of ‘he taught me this,’ and ‘he taught me that’ had been eagerly pronounced amongst the opening of your lips and the click of your wet tongue.

Jill tightened her hold against her cutlery, her fork scraping along the edge of her porcelain plate. Watching your facialized jocundity does nothing but dampen the warmth she once envisioned for today.

“Yeah”, she hums in response, nodding her head, her discouragement concealed by a pleased facade, “I’m glad you had fun, baby.”

Veins bulge, and her body heats up. She can feel her blood grow scalding hot once more, that air of vexation and covetousness swirling around her head and mixing her brain into mush.

The car ride home is no different. Her skin has grown white around the bulbs of her knuckles, hands gripping firmly on the steering wheel. It’s a silent drive, unpleasant. Even more-so when the two of you return to the comfort of your shared apartment.

That’s when everything unwinds. Now away from the curious eyes of the public, finally concealed underneath the roof of your own home. You make an attempt to speak again, but are silenced immediately.

The middle-aged woman kicks the door closed with the heel of her boot, sending it slamming behind her, the lock on the knob jittering as it connects into place. You had acknowledged that perhaps she was upset, but to this length of such physical force? She was damn mere seconds from breaking the door. You really couldn’t read her as well as you always thought.

You had winced, crumbling into yourself at the sudden act of outrage. Shoulders hunched up so far that you felt them brush up against the outer shell of your earlobe. You cowered and trembled, bones threatening to just melt into jelly, and shrink away into a meek puddle of nothingness. An image of a mouse, so small and fragile, standing in the shadow of a warlike fiend.

“Can’t shut your goddamn mouth for one second, can you?”

The seasoned agent scowls, her jaw tightening up and falling stiff. When in a moment of anger and fury, rationality seems so far from the field of vision, and right now? The blue-eyed older woman was blinded. Jaded from her own sense of possession and childish jealousy.

“Do you think I really give a shit about how much fun you had with some stranger? I leave you for one second-”, her pink lips are pruned and falling agape as she spits out words of poison, eyes widened and nearly bulging from her sockets, “one fucking second, and you’re letting some dickhead breathe down your ass? His hands all on you?”

Evocation crosses her, a vision of the man in the arcade. His eyes descend upon you just behind the gleam of his rimmed glasses, lanky fingers drawing against your wrist. Staying firm and still, his body just adjacent from yours. Both faces painted in frames of magenta and indigo, pearly whites showcased from behind the curve of his thin lips; admiring every crevice and curve of your physique and womanly structure.

That’s all that it took for the older woman. She gave it time to marinate in her past memory, but the inner ache had failed to dissipate. Her blood boiled.

“You-”

An immediate expression of confusion unveils, drawing over your quivering features. You’re intimidated by her sudden hostility, the tailbone of your spine colliding against the marble surface of the kitchen counter in a cowardice attempt to escape the situation.

“You looked fine earlier- you said it was alright- I just-”, you’re trembling over each word, you’re beginning to ramble, “I don’t understand why you’re so upset? I didn’t mean to do anything wrong- me and him were just playing together, it wasn’t anything like that. I didn’t even know him, Jill.”

The brunette's lips curl into a cruel, and nearly incredulous smirk at your response, her head shaking whilst she draws her hand out in a physical gesture of her own exasperation. Her face, creased with age and experience, now flushed crimson. She looked crazed.

“Oh, save the bullshit. You liked it, I saw you. Talked about how much fun you had with him all day. Should have just gone home with him.”

“You should have told me!-”

You pipe out, voice drawn out squeaky and timid, your words drowned by the booming shouts she’s hissing out, seething as she dares not face away from you. Determined to win this argument.

Having the audacity to convince you that you’re in the wrong here. As if your innocence and sweetness toward passersby meant that you were unfaithful rather than enjoying simple pleasures. Your one interaction with a man deemed nothing but cheating, and all because he versed you in a mortal kombat game.

“Oh, what? I’m supposed to tell you not to go out and fucking flirt with other people?”

Jill has never acted like this before. Had always bathed you, her beautiful and prized girl, in dollops of sugary sweet words and reassurances. She’s the older woman here. Shouldn’t she be more understanding? But so stuck in her old-fashioned ways, brain clearly riddled with arrogance and self-righteousness.

An argument had never been formulated, emotions never stirred. Maybe a few huffed words were exchanged over which groceries to buy, or what dinner to eat — but such verbal abuse was nonexistent. Had never happened in your “tranquil” relationship. Except for now, that is.

So much effort, all for the middle-aged woman’s tender facade to be burnt down into smithereens, and her jealousy is like spitting fire, making your eyes well up with liquified warmth. You harshly remind her of her mistakes prior. Your planned date with her, the arrangements and proposed ideas. All for her to be entwined in her cellular device, making calls and sending out texts for the whole day.

“What about earlier? When you ignored me, and were glued to your phone all day? Clearly your job is more important than me.”

The waterworks threaten to spill over the dam that is rightfully your rounded eyes, glistening tears mounting in transparent pearls along your rows of onyx shaded lashes. Something in Jill’s face twists at the sight, her stomach churning. Realization, but it’s blurred away quickly.

“You couldn’t care less about me, could you? You promised me— promised you’d spoil me today and give me your undivided attention. I guess I don’t matter?”

You swallow mid-sentence, heart thumping against the structure of your rib cage. Each word of yours is so weak and broken, resembling a sickly and puny hiccup. Your trembling palms are grasping for the counter behind you, nails clutching for the cool surface. You were tired of the accusations. Exhausted from being denied her love and affection, and instead being faced with taunts and insults. You deserved better than this.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. Because he gave me a better time? Because he didn’t toss me aside for hours and avoid me? Break promises?”

The way you bit back was unexpected, but the moment you let it sink it, regret soon molds over.

The air surrounding the two of you is thick and heated, so sweltering that it threatens the capability of breathing. Your words had struck Jill deeply, aiding the maddened concoction that bubbles in the blackened abyss of her belly. The acidity rising up the tube of her esophagus, bile trapped inside her throat.

“I’m done with this conversation, Jill. You’re just- you’re not being fair. I’m not going to argue with you over this.”

And when you turn to face away from her? Daring to flee, even in such a time like this — strict actions soon come after the exchange of harsh words.

Jill crosses the room, a large hand stretching to reach you. Her calloused hand circles around your wrist, clutching you firmly and with much purpose, thumb dipping toward the head of your ulna bone. She pulls you in a sharp and precise yank, not caring about how she manhandles you, even after the exaggerated yelp that is pushed from your plush lips.

The rough pads of her fingertips dip into your smooth flesh, her blunt and trimmed nails digging crescents along the velvety surface, forcing you to succumb to her forced authority. So many years she’s spent using those fingers to wield weapons and train in combat, now abusing their force of power by bending you into a cage of submission.

“The hell do you think you’re goin’?”

Another tug, and your shoulder blades collide against her chest, your figure taut and almost held in a paralyzed state, not daring to move an inch. Nor a bare centimeter. Your face grows pallid, knees wobbling beneath you and nearly failing to stay balanced.

“Don’t ever walk away from me when I’m talking. Do you understand me? You listen when I speak to you.”

Moist heat fans over the stretch of your nape, and your neck hairs curl up in response. Goosebumps prickling up along your arms and legs the moment you are subjected to the humidity of her breath blowing out along your ear, her robust anatomy pressing rigidly against your own limbs.

You can hear the clack of spit draw atop her gums, echoing along the press of her tongue whenever she’s vocal. Her voice is gruff and deep, yet feminine and rich all the same. Drawing out sentences of dominance and command that make strange waves of heat lap at your tummy, pooling in the center of your cotton panties. You mistake the sudden dampness for a burst of anxiety.

“Do you have any idea…”

She pauses, as if holding back from lashing out on you entirely. She’s being cruel. Scowling as she stands behind you. Her breasts flush along your back, and her firm hands trapping you down. Making sure you don’t run away this time. Not that you’d even contemplate it.

“Do you have any idea how I felt? How I feel? The shit I do? I’ve got a job. Risk my life every fucking day. I’ve been in this mess probably longer than you’ve been alive, you know that?”

A gulp resounds from your mouth, tastebuds along your wriggling pink muscle now wrought with parchedness, lacking any formulation of moisture. Valentine continues after taking a sharp breath, each syllable she pronounces is rough and gnarled.

“So I can buy you stupid shit, like a ticket to the arcade. So you can sit around, and let some shithead drool over your head. And now you’re blaming me? Because I had some calls to make? Because you couldn’t be patient for a split second?”

Her calloused digits release the grasp along your wrist, now shooting upward to thread through the roots of your hair, curling into the locks and giving a firm tug. Controlling the position of power so tortuously. She pulls so hard that a squeak is forcedly erupted from you, stars swimming in your vision.

“And the funniest thing?”, she grimaced, still scowling beside your ear, “you haven’t apologized once. You didn’t even try.”

She yanks along the strands as if your tresses are some sort of personalized leash, nails scraping along the slope of your scalp, bringing you so far back that the arch of your throat is craned downward. The crown of your head pushed into her pronounced collarbone, doe-like eyes peering up at the older woman.

“Do I have to teach you how to apologize now, too? Have no goddamn manners for your age. Always want everything.”

Warmth floods your tummy once more. Something runs slick along the square of your gusset. You feel it whenever you wobble and shake, the sensation of stickiness webs elongated strands across the bridge of your puffy labia. It’s not your self-proclaimed anxiety. It’s your undeniable arousal.

“I’m sorry”, you sputter out a hoarse response, your supposed apology that the older woman demanded. She doesn’t seem to let up though, but of course she wouldn’t. Jill Valentine has never been the type to easily succumb — or sugarcoat, either. And with the current events? Consider her praise and sugary sweetness gone for tonight.

“You’re sorry”, she grunts out mockingly, condemnation swirling in the depths of her obsidian pupils. “I’m sure you are.”

With your hair still firmly gripped between her fingers, she presses her hips into the softness of your rear, propelling you forward with a quick shove.

You stumble on your clumsy feet the moment she ushers you into the kitchen, steps unpurposefully misplaced, and soon enough — your right cheek is smushed along the crisp white marble countertop. You find yourself bent over the kitchen’s island, memories of dicing vegetables along cutting boards, and preparing supper for your lover have been eradicated. Replaced by an image of sheer wanton destruction.

It’s filthy the way you writhe along the hardened surface, thighs spread apart and separated by Jill’s intruding knee. She wedges her toned leg in-between, the warmth of her kneecap placing cruel pressure against that specific swell that hides inside your undergarments. You have to bite back the urge to grind your hips downward; the temptation is so intense that it makes your brain fog.

“If you’re so sorry, you know what you did wrong, I take it?”

Both of her slim and scarred hands abandon your hair and slide down the bend of your spine, digits rolling up your pretty little skirt in each palm, crumpling the cotton material into an irrelevant lump of creased fabric. Jill shrugs the hem of the garment to the top of your hips until it’s shriveled and stiff, baring your back-end to her hungry eyes.

“So”, she begins to speak, the trace of her hands along the suppleness of your right cheek was nice and simple, her voice devoid of any real emotion, “tell me

what you’re apologizing for.” She cups the soft flesh, her fingers dipping into your ass as if it were dough. “And what you did wrong.”

What you did wrong? The hilarity of it all was tremendous.

You can’t find the words to speak, no reasonable way to reply to her command. You nearly huff from the audacity, but your words grow choked up, and your voice is drained due to the spreading ache that suddenly engulfs your rear. She’s spanked you, quick and sharp, the edge of her calloused palm dragging against your soft flesh like a whip, the texture like dry sandpaper as it strikes you.

A cry bursts from your lips, a wail so pitiable that Jill can’t help but chuckle with dastardly amusement. Any other moment, and she would have soothingly brushed her fingers against the crimson welt that shapes into your ass, offering cherishing caresses in replacement of a verbal apology. But In her current belief? Your lack of response challenges her patience, nearly ready to land a firm hit against your flesh for a second time.

“I’m- I’m sorry for talking back-”, words tumble out in a clustered mess, your speech impaired due to the throbbing ache that courses up along your hip. You grit your teeth once the same treatment spreads to the surface of your adjacent hip, Jill’s hardened blows lashing along the unmarred skin, leaving no patch of muscle unattended.

“And for speaking to him-”, three spanks she’s planted, and yet you’re already a quivering mess, shrunken and beaten against the solid countertop. There’s no doubt in hell that she’s not being easy with you, and the experience behind her proficient hits proves that.

“Jesus Christ.”

The older woman mumbles out, and the way she hisses under her breath is akin to something of judgment and surprise. A blunt nail curls into the hem of your underwear, tugs it, and stretches the flimsy and sheer fabric upward.

It’s only then that you realize what she’s scrutinizing. Especially after you feel the drag of her thumb dipping toward your clit, rubbing slow circles against the cloth in a devilish tease. Your teeth clash and bump against each other, a pathetic whine almost escaping, and all due to the older woman’s perverted touch.

“Your panties,” a boisterous laugh bellows from the pits of her stomach, and you flush with embarrassment as you understand what she means, “you’re soaked.”

Lo and behold, you indeed were “soaked” (as Jill had quoted). A patch of wetness soils the gusset of your undergarments, arousal seeping past the threads of fabric, darkening the material that’s clung against the swell of your cunt. To make matters worse, you’re bare and vulnerable, right in front of the older woman’s eyes. She won’t live that down, you just know it. Not until the day you die.

A grunt resounds in the kitchen, her form separating from yours to stand upright, lengthy fingers lazily threading over the zipper of her pants, tugging it downward, hearing the sound rip its way loose.

“So goddamn mad at you right now”, she mumbles under her breath, glowering at your crumpled figure. “Can’t fucking believe you. First, you’re arguing with me — and now this?”, the scowling brunette's fingers finish plopping open the last few buttons of the jeans she’s wearing, navy blue boxers snug underneath. Her pants slither down the hardened muscle of her thighs, undressing herself with impatience.

“Get to the room. Now”, she demands of you, and with that mere order, nothing else needs to be said. There’s no need to delay the inevitable. “And take off that skirt, while you’re at it.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, each thrum of the frenzied and wild organ so heavy that you feel the weight of it sink into the depths of your body. With every singular step, you risk stumbling against the wooden floor; your shoes barely touch the ground as you practically race and scramble just to reach the bedroom door. Like a delicate flower, you are — carried by the gusts of wind that are Jill's oppressive instructions.

With clammy palms and trembling fingers, you grasp for the steel knob and swing the door open, wasting no second to wobble forward and seat yourself off the edge of the mattress.

Metal collides and clinks together in warning, telling you she’s coming. Undoing her shirt, and wrapping the belt around her hand. The processed leather screeching and creasing underneath the grind of the older woman’s digits. She follows your shadow in leisurely strides, turning the corner with measured composure and a solemn expression. As if she hadn’t already planned on how she was going to fuck you dumb.

It only makes the thickened heat between your thighs dribble further into its cotton bed, as each crisp and rough stomp of her boots along the solid floorboards makes you warm with want. Eager. Anticipating. Thighs grind together once you manage to slither your heels off, toes curling into the carpeted material below the bed.

And when you finish unzipping the top of your skirt, allowing the fabric to lower from the dip of your waist, and pool around your ankles — a figure of dominance and control stands in the doorway, the hall devoured by darkness.

Over the course of time, love and intimacy came in their own, individual ways. Between the two of you, that is.

The middle-aged woman found herself to be consistently busy, her nose always pointed and buried into the stack of reports she needed to finish, wrists tight and strained from how long she’s spent scrawling notes amongst the white sheets of torment.

Sex wasn’t as common. Lovemaking being quick and rushed, soft words spoken, honeyed kisses exchanged between bated breaths and velvety lips that speak words of encouragement and devotion.

Nights spent wasting away by the creaking wood of Jill’s office desk. The one she has propped away in some messy room of the apartment. Cork-boards filled with maps and pinpoints, a few pictures of you propped up in irrelevant areas. Atop the cabinet — framed photos of your beaming face furnished along the white walls. She’s got you everywhere, along with her crumpled balls of paper that are strewn around the floor, obvious that she grew too tired or lazy to throw them into the trash bin. She loves you so much that it’s sick.

The brunette finds herself arching her spine into the back of her rolling chair, bony fingers threading through your tresses, curling into it as she grunts. Her head is thrown back as she huffs out sequences of sultry content, your tongue laving bundles of spit over her clit, dipping near her entrance and tasting the drip of her cunt, humming as you feel the press of her fingertips along your skull.

Another night you’ve searched for her, desperate and deprived and begging on your knees. Another night she orgasms, groaning and gasping as she spasms against the lap of your tongue. It repeats like a record, over and over. Until the next day she goes back to work, and refuses to make time with you all over again.

It’s different today. Where everything tumbled down the rabbit-hole.

The sight of her now is so rare, you’re sure you’ll never forget such an image. Obsidian shaded silicone protruding from her pelvis, tilting toward the ceiling as if it’s some striking weapon, foreseeing a prophecy of impending doom. A toy she purchased months before, buried in the past. Clearly forgotten about, and never used — unfortunately kept tucked away into the bottom of her wardrobe. Sleek and shiny. Brand new, and ready for a good breaking in. Tonight’s the night, you suppose.

Her almond shaped eyes bore into yours, rich-colored cerulean swirling around dilated pupils, speaking words without volume. She’s as enchanting as she is daunting, threads of syrupy strands curling down the stretch of her sharpened cheekbones, hair falling as she keeps her gaze on you. The portrait is so beautiful and provocative, you’d never wish this memory to diminish.

“Open your mouth.”

Jill drawls, low and raspy as she waits with her palms laying flat on her hips. Glancing down at your feeble figure which kneels before her, staying balanced whilst you clamp your hands against her thighs.

Poor thing you are, so cautious and wary when your mouth opens, your jawbone taut and rigid, feeling like weighted stone as your quivering lips press forward.

You’re new to this, inexperienced to the bulbous head that is welcomed into the accommodated warmth of your mouth. The plastic has no taste, just the scent of its artificial realness drifting past your nose hairs and swirling around the dizziness in your head.

You clamp tighter around her thighs, swallowing waterfalls of anxious drool down the well of your esophagus, your timid tongue curling up and hiding beside the security of your tonsils. Too nervous to thoroughly take her in.

Like an infant against a pacifier, suckling the tip further into the wetness of your gums, keeping your eyes closed all-the-while the rubber like-plastic protruded from your right cheek. Terrified to be face-to-face with her snarling and haughty judgment.

“You think that’s good enough?”

A calloused hand soothes across the hairs of your nape, laid to curl and rest there as she draws you near. A reminder that she’s in charge. The hardened press of her thumb into your neck confirms that.

“Stick your fucking tongue out. Blow me like a big girl, yeah?”, her tongue runs over her enamel and she sucks, swallowing dryly against the glistening whites of her teeth. “Do it how I want”, and so you try.

With you kneeling, bare and naked, tits hanging below you, and your cunt squeezing around thin air between your legs — you comply. Your cheeks hollow out as you take half of the length into your waiting mouth, plopping the heavy silicone amongst your writhing tongue, allowing the pink muscle to curl around the mushroom-shaped tip. With the rough and warm hand guiding you, you bob your head to a steady rhythm, spit and gargles conjoined.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just keep quiet and put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Slick draws cold over the flesh of your lower lips, arousal potent and thick like molasses as it drips between each pulsating fold. A piteous mewl reverberated in your throat, sweet eyes flitting up to catch Jill’s gaze, and she swears to the heavens she could come from that innocent look alone. The salty tears brimming along the corners of your waterline, mere seconds from spilling — the flush of your skin. You take her so well, you always do. It almost makes her want to croon, and to apologize for being so filled with contempt.

That’s not to be easily given, though. Especially not with the way you gag when the rubberized cock dips past your tonsils and tickles along the slimy walls of your throat, reflexes causing you to choke. You're quick to gain composure, though, too cock-drunk to allow the show to end. You’re back to bobbing your head, nails digging crescents into Jill’s thighs as you clamp tighter and tighter.

You want this. It’s a fact that aids in inflating Jill’s ego.

The bedroom mirror captures the image just across from the both of you, and the older nearly groans at the vision. Watching your pebbled nipples fatten and swell within the reflective glass, breasts swinging as you brought your mouth down with every push. Imitating the way Jill ruts her hips carelessly into your mouth, matching your rhythm. Jesus, it was a sight.

A hand fists into your hair, halting your desperate movements and dragging your mouth off her spit-lathered dick. A sheen of drool pearls along the plastic veins that wrap around the black shaft, glimmering and glistening under the wax and wane of the yellowed lighting. Leaving with an obnoxious pop — you gasp for breath after the separation, spittle soiling your pretty face and coating your lower chin in patches of saliva — all in which had gushed out when you were too busy blowing Jill’s length.

“That’s enough”, the brunette says, respiring heavily, “lay on the bed.” The harness strapped to her hips rattles, the toned muscles in her abdomen rippling with every sharp inhale she takes. She directs you with the point of her chin. “On your back, legs up.”

Spots of black speckle your vision for a second, your sight blurred from the liquid pooling in your eyes, and pearls of sweat lining in columns within the pores of your forehead. It’s hard to almost process what she says, but you understand after a moment of catching your breath, your palms separating from her thighs.

Your knees wobble once you physically begin to stand on your feet, and you internally chastise yourself for not being quicker and more precise. You totter over a couple of feet, crawling atop the silky sheets without much complaint, and she’s in your peripheral, right behind you.

The comfort of the bedsheets surround you, cushioning your form and laying you like a princess amongst her throne. It’s necessary, of course, due to the older woman’s authoritative press of her hand into your chest, sinking your naked body further into the comforter. Might as well get snug before your brain is fried from sex, which leaves you as nothing but a pile of sizzled, meaty mush.

“Atta girl”, Jill coos with a salacious glint in her eyes, her hips meeting the backs of your thighs the moment she grasps onto your legs and keeps you held upright.

She slants her head to the side, brunette strands falling astray as she examines your pussy, calloused hands kept firm around your ankles. A few seconds of examination, and then a shit-eating grin becomes pronounced over her features. Thoroughly complacent after acknowledging that you’ve grown so wet that she doesn’t even need to prepare you.

“Don’t even move an inch”, she warns, “Just like that.” A hand slithering down from your ankle to her pelvis, taking a moment to stroke her silicone dick for a moment, a palm wrapped firmly around the thickened shaft; making haste to rub the head up against your cunt. She lubricates herself in your juices by rocking her hips to a steady rhythm, the toy dipping back and forth beneath the cushion of your lower lips, watching the moisture disperse. A generous coat of your sloppy spit and arousal scillinates over the deeply shaded rubber.

A whine escapes your lips, head thrown back as she teasingly stimulates your clit just from the gentle prod of her cock slotted up against your pussy, and you sob, hands clamping down on the sheets with desperation. The friction is delicious and brutish equally.

But nothing in this universe compares to the euphoria of when she fills you. Guiding the toy with one hand, watching the girth fill you with ease. It’s a tight fit, your cunt swallows her up within mere seconds, squelching cervix walls wrapping around her length. As if never wanting to let go, mirthful at her forceful entry. You’ve never felt so stretched before, it’s almost indescribable how big Jill Valentine is.

“Jill….”, you cry, but it’s with bliss rather than pain. The sound of your high-pitched squeaks are enough to make her rasp out a moan, scarred hands pressing your legs up to your chest, basking in the submissive portrait you’ve painted. The brunette feels her own heat build up beneath the restriction of her strap harness, salivating whilst she watches your adorable little bud grow erect. No longer thinking about the guy from earlier, now, are you? Neither is she.

The older woman drives her dick further within you, in and out, in and out — all with a precise rock of her hips, her muscles relaxed. Beads of salty sweat slip down in rivulets, the lines of liquid traveling past her neck and in between the supple dip of her cleavage. Consumed by the ample swell of her tits hiding beneath the gray fabric of her sports bra.

She fucks you until you orgasm too many times to count — and what else is there to do? With you, so weak and whorish beneath her, always bent from her instruction. She’ll continue until you’ve learned your place.

[thiccremoch]

Some miscellaneous thoughts I’ve had about MHWilds (mainly the roster) recently

Spoilers for Monster Hunter Wilds Ahead

• I think the reason Balahara swarm after one to two small individuals is because they’re doing a piranha style form of hunting, where the plan is to mob a prey item and then selfishly feed. I also think the reason they mobbed such small prey items when there are a lot of them is because we know they have bad eyesight (only having oyster-like eyes that likely can only really sense basic shapes and light gradients) and an instinct that causes them to mob when others get active in a form of feeding frenzy. If one starts to hunt and crosses through the space of a few others, then everyone gets riled up for what could be a massive prey item, or a smaller one that doesn’t need the whole mob.

• I love the Guardian monsters conceptually, but I wish we’ll get some weirder ones soon (maybe even Guardians who’s base species isn’t in game. A Guardian Seltas & Seltas Queen duo would go incredibly hard). I also don’t want Wilds’ DLC to ignore the Guardians and Wyverian plot line, instead I want it to go deep into the esoteric lore and worldbuilding.

• Zoh Shia is clearly a modern interpretation of the Equal Dragon Weapon. BUT, I really want to see what monstrosities other ancient civilizations made. Wyveria doesn’t have the vibes of being the ones to have developed the SwAxe, ChBlade, and the various advanced mechanical tech we’ve seen peppered throughout the game. I want to see the equivalent of Guardians that are fucked up and mechanical, cyborganic horrors like the original Equal Dragon Weapon art. Also, like, fully mechanical monsters would be kickass.

• As much as I like the new monsters, the retuning ones all feel… kind of lackluster? Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love that Congalala, Blangonga, and other more niche low-tier monsters gets attention, but with some notable exceptions, the returning roster doesn’t feel all that interesting. As a whole I think World’s starting roster as a whole was stronger, but I really enjoy Wilds’ new monsters about as much as World’s.

• I don’t like that Gore Magala is in the game. I think its presence was better than it was in rise (making the Frenzy somewhat of a minor plot point), but if you have Gore then you should have huntable Frenzied monsters. Gore is cool, but it has a lot of story implications if it’s in the game that NEED to be answered or addressed.

• Once the inevitable Master/G rank DLC comes out, I really want Dire Miralis to show up. I know it might be difficult with a lack of water combat, but the fight designers at Capcom know what they’re doing. Miralis is a full bore Black Dragon just like Fatalis and Alatreon, so it should get more respect.

• Kinda hoped we got some Frontier monsters. Not even like any of the three that have shown up in mainline before, but some of the truly weird and fucked up ones. I really think they’d fit the aesthetic of Wilds incredibly well, given so many of the monsters in the roster are wacky and fucked up (I’m looking at you Jin Dahaad. You’re a cool fight, but your design feels like it’s just a Frontier monster)

• I LOVE THE CEPHALOPODS, AND I WANT MORE OF THEM.

• Give us snake wyverns ;-;. I saw some folks say that Jin Dahaad should have been one, but most of its length is in its tail rather than its whole body, so it fits being a leviathan more. But I desperately want my snaky boys back ;-;

• I know it’s this game’s gimmick feature and those don’t typically return, but I want wounds to be a mainstay for the franchise. Destroying the wounds sends a jolt of dopamine to my brain each time it happens, I need more of it (also if the Slinger can become a mainline mainstay, wounds can as well. PLEASE CAPCOM)

• the dlc needs to add a romance mechanic for the various NPCs. I don’t care if there’s no precedent in MH games, I want to give Alma a hug ;-;

[itadores]

my type of person.

note: on a tōdō kick rn ... sorry

pairing: tōdō aoi x gn!reader

word count: .9k

tags: gender neutral reader, meet ugly, threats of violence

“What’s your type?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the strange subject of the question. You really didn’t expect for the large and imposing man who suddenly appeared before you only minutes prior to ask that of all things. Perhaps, you should have anticipated it though. You’ve never had the displeasure of meeting Tōdō Aoi in the flesh, but many of your close colleagues have.

“Depending on your answer, I’ll beat you half to death right here. If your answer bores me that means you’re boring, and I hate boring people,” he says through gritted teeth.

He shrugs off his sleek black jacket, allowing it to drop to the floor. Then, he tears his t-shirt into shreds with his bare hands.

What. The. Fuck.

“Huh?!” You put your hands up in surrender, slowly backing away from the man, who (you’re confident) must be out of his mind. “Do you really need to resort to violence? Can’t we just, I don’t know, not fight?” You try and reason with Tōdō, who doesn’t look very receptive to what you’re saying.

“Hurry up and answer the question before I run out of patience,” Tōdō says, stretching his hands that he holds out in front of him. He’s already in a fighting stance, prepared to attack you once he deems your answer unsatisfactory.

Your eye twitches, and you scowl. Fine. If he wants you to answer, then you’ll answer. You take a moment to think about it. You fold your arms over your chest before dignifying Tōdō with a response.

“My type is someone kind.”

He pauses, his hands dropping slightly. For a moment, you think he’s going to be satisfied with your answer and leave you alone. Sadly, it’s too good to be true.

“What kind of answer is that?” He exclaims, clearly unhappy with what he perceives as such a lackluster answer.

“My answer obviously,” you say, giving him a dirty look. Why did you have such bad luck that you had to cross paths with Tōdō Aoi today of all days? All you wanted to do was enjoy your day off, free from missions and free from classes. Instead, it was being interrupted by a massive brute. “I bet your answer isn’t any better,” you retort, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“It’s much better than whatever you just said,” he scoffs, folding his strong arms over his broad chest. Your eyes dart down, following the movement before quickly meeting his gaze once more. At least, he’s nice to look at.

“My type is tall people with big asses,” Tōdō responds, looking especially pleased with himself. His brow twitches with irritation when you start laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

You quickly calm yourself down, regaining your composure, so you can respond without laughing in Tōdō’s face again. “My answer clearly didn’t meet whatever,” you wave your hand around, motioning towards Tōdō’s face, “standards you have in mind, but your answer is just as bad. If anything, it’s worse than mine. At least, I focused on personality. You just focused on someone’s physical appearance.”

Tōdō’s expression grows more and more displeased until he looks like he’s on the precipice of lunging towards you. Uh oh. You take a slow step back, ready to bolt if Tōdō decides to suddenly attack you. You’re really not in the mood to fight on your day off.

Much to your utter surprise, Tōdō begins to cackle. It borders on maniacal as he clutches at his stomach and throws his head back. This may be more unsettling than Tōdō attacking you outright.

“You’re interesting,” he states. A large grin stretches across his cheeks, and his chest still heaves with the exertion of laughter.

“Thanks?” You’re not quite sure if Tōdō means it positively or negatively, so you don’t know if you should take what he said as a compliment or not.

He takes a step forward, and you're tempted to take a step backward, but you decide to take a leap of faith and stay put. You only hope you won't regret your decision. He stands close enough that you can smell the scent of his cologne, a surprisingly pleasant aroma. Not strong and overpowering like cologne often is.

He sticks a hand out.

"Tōdō Aoi. Grade 1 Sorcerer."

You blink, surprised by the sudden introduction. You provide him with your own name and grade, clasping his hand with your own. His hand is massive in comparison to yours, his palm rough with callouses, which is not exactly surprising, but somehow, still relatively soft. You're not quite sure how that can be, but you don't think to verbalize your questions to the man. The sudden change in his personality is strange enough as is.

"Go out with me."

Oh. Things just got much stranger.

"I thought you wanted to beat me up," you sputter, shocked by this turn of events. How does a guy go from threatening to inflict bodily harm onto you to asking you on a date?

"I was only going to beat you up if I found you to be a boring person," Tōdō says as if it's a perfectly normal and logical thing to say. "But you surprised me. You're...interesting, so let's go out."

"You're out of your mind," you bluntly say. Tōdō only grins. You shake your head in response. But maybe, you're out of your mind too.

"Okay. I'll let you take me out." Tōdō's grin widens, but you hold a finger up to tamper his excitement. You don't want him getting ahead of himself now. "But if it's not a good date, I get to beat you up then."

Tōdō's smile threatens to split his face into two.

"Challenge accepted."

[fumiscripts]

🃁 SHINING DIAMOND

masterlist . prev chapter . next chapter

You stare at the screens, not entirely focused, just watching. Your group wasn't playing in matches three and four, so they decided it would be nice to watch the match that team W played, to prepare or something. You couldn't care less, since they were nothing to note of. You'll just destroy them again, just like any other time.

“This is boring,” Shidou yawns beside you, and you couldn't agree more. He bounced his leg, getting bored quicker than an ipad kid. He sighs, huffs and rumbles, pink eyes darting around the room for anything that could serve as entertainment. Picking a fight could cure his boredom, but with you showing zero interest in it when he did it last time, he decided it wouldn't be any more entertaining.

There was a zone of chatter from everyone around, none of it worthy of being entertained by you. Flawed formations, half-assed plans— did they take account of their individual skills and teamplay with their eyes closed or what? It almost made you laugh, but decided not to do it in front of their faces. You stood up from your position on the floor, abruptly taking your leave, not caring if they thought of you as a lackadaisical person for not joining in on their plans. They can't do anything without you, anyway. They have no right to complain.

Shidou stared and thought he should do the same. It's stuffy here.

Cold water splashed down your face, rinsing off the facial cleanser you put on. You sigh, grabbing a towel and drying off, leaving the faucet open. You'll go to bed early tonight. Have a good sleep and all while the rest are busy worrying over nothing— they're gonna get their asses carried, anyway— and watching game replays. The mattress was stiff, though. You should get a luxury bed or whatever it was called next–

“How is it going so far, [Name]?”

You almost jump. Almost. Who the fuck wouldn't? The guy had silent footsteps, just to talk like a living jumpscare. Ego, you bastard. “Jeez, old man,” you sigh, peering your head over the cloth, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re like a ghost.”

Ego said nothing, leaning on the washroom door with his hands in his pockets, not looking at you just yet. Why was he here in person, anyway? He had those screens he could project himself from in most of the rooms in the building, he could've used one of them to talk to you. He waited for the answer to his previous question, head lowered so you couldn't see his face clearly. How overly theatrical…

“It’s too easy,” you decide to answer, a slight complaint hidden in your tone. He catches onto it, as usual. You've been complaining like a professional ever since he took you in as his disciple. “Boring, uninteresting, lackluster…” you add on a few more adjectives to get your point across, placing the towel on top of the counter. “...and hella disappointing. Why am I in team V, anyway? You know I'm too good to be stuck with that lot, Ego-san.”

He hums, not denying it. “Any letter above team V doesn't exist,” Ego dropped a spark, not much of a bomb. Though it would be for anyone else. You had your suspicions, having known him for a while before. “Every wing thinks they're the fifth one.”

“What for?” you question, curious. You leaned back onto the surface, listening to his words, surprisingly— since you tune him out most of the time— perhaps because this time, it was something new rather than a rant you've heard from him before. Your mentor is an interesting fellow, and this whole blue lock thing was something that was right up his alley. Who would put three hundred high school strikers in soccer's equivalent of squid games? No one else than Ego Jinpachi, that's for sure.

“So that the majority think they're at the bottom of the barrel,” he stated. “What better motivation than the thought that you're barely hanging on? Of course, it doesn't work with the likes of you, who are already self-assured,” Ego tilts his head, glasses glinting under the lights. “It’ll filter out those who don't have the desperation, too. Those who don't have what it takes to be the best striker.”

You pause in thought, staring at the plainly tiled floor. “‘Turning zero into one’ and ‘focusing on your own goals rather than your team,’” you list off. “... The majority is already failing those things, then,” you recall how dependent your team is on you and Shidou. Sure, you displayed the latter one, but your team is hopeless when it comes to individual goals. How disappointing.

“It’s just the first selection, [Name],” he assured, seeing your dwindling engrossment in the project. “Rest assured that the fight will only get more heated after narrowing the players down,” he pulled away from the wall, standing up straighter, taking a hand out of his pocket to push up his glasses. “Don’t waste your energy just yet.”

A blink, before a slow exhale. You'll keep playing at this level for now, then. Not like you could do otherwise, as the game is over before anyone could trigger you to play seriously. The sound of running water filled your silence, faucet knob remaining unclosed.

He walked towards you, relaxed with sure actions. “I’ll use Blue Lock for you just as much as I use you for Blue Lock.”

You run a hand through your hair, pushing yourself up from the counter. “I figured you would, Ego-san,” you replied, walking off to continue with your nightly routine before hitting the bed. Ego watched you through the mirror, following your retreating back until you turned the corner. He looked down, seeing the tap which you annoyingly left open. Out of the heap of unpolished gems, you were the shining diamond he'll turn into a masterpiece.

Ego turned the faucet off.

“Fifth match of wing five goes to team V!”

Your team won 7-2, and that leads you to eight points saved up. Finally, you can sleep on top of a proper bed now. Team W fell crushed, most of them on the ground, clutching at the artificial grass because of yet another loss. For them, the only chance they had is to be the highest ranker in their team.

Team V left the field, not sharing that problem thanks to you, having yet another celebration for standing there and cheering you on. The time for dinner rolled in, and you faced the point-system screen once again.

You purchase the luxury bed, knowing you just crushed the soccer dreams of ten people.

“Yo, [Nickname], give me your number,” Shidou says from beside you, having just bought his phone back. You raise your eyebrow at the sudden nickname, receiving his phone— which had an… interesting case. He grins at you, watching you sigh like he's some admirer who wants your number. You still gave it, anyway.

“Is this a sperm phone case?” you couldn't help but ask, almost amused. Where the hell did he even get something like this? Actually, nevermind. You can buy a shit ton of diabolical shit online, nowadays.

He beams. “Yeah. Makes a big statement, doesn't it?” it's certainly unique, you think, handing it back towards him, now with your contact. He can get a reward for having the most unexpected things. Last time, you found out he somehow managed to get eyeliner from the staff. You wouldn't be surprised to find out that he brought in hair dye next.

“It sure does make people look twice,” you shrug. And of course he takes that as a compliment.

The rest of the meal went as usual, with you deciding to sit on the farther side of the team’s proclaimed table. There wasn't a sitting arrangement, of course, but throughout the days spent in blue lock, everyone started going to the same seats, every group sat together, out of habit and for convenience.

You pick at your food, not really feeling the need to eat. Eating the same thing again and again gets old. A sigh, before poking the pork cutlet on your plate, making yourself take a bite. Your eyes roam across the room, observing, taking in the interactions between players and silently judging them in your mind.

That brunet has fun eyes, they must seem amber under the sun. That one sits like a shrimp, what a bad posture. That other one shouldn't have that haircut, it isn't flattering and— oh wow, you accidentally held eye contact with someone across the cafeteria. A second. Two. You didn't even try to look away, acting like it was a staring competition.

A few moments pass, before he tore his gaze first, suddenly gaining interest on the table. Oh, he's flustered? That's cute. Must be someone from team V, since that's the usual area they take. His light purple eyes were still trained on the surface, as if the shade used on it was fascinating. You didn't miss the way he peeked up from his ravenet bangs, though, fiddling and adjusting his headband until you finally decided to look away.

You could practically hear his sigh of relief from all the way over here.

(a/n) expanding more on mc and ego’s relationship djskajia backstory soon? (not next chap tho)

do people care about the hype moments in the field? yeah prolly... dunno if I execute it well tho...

if you can guess who the character is at the end you'll get a free smooch from me

oh yeah btw mc is acquainted w some of the new gen 11 lolol guess who those are

taglist:: AEoM: @sxnnee, @shidousprincess, @lakeside-paradise, @shrii-kk, @neversam, @motchilyn, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @sabrina-senpai, @justanotherweeb666, @kaikaidenkai, @beepbopzlorp

© fumiscripts 2024-2025. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[carefreecoffee]

.~°~•~.~°Fluffbruary Day 3: Music w/ Shigaraki Tomura.~°~•~.~°

Word count: 507, Gender-neutral reader

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! You’re popped out of your slumber by a loud knocking at your room door. It had to be at least 3am, no way anyone in the league was either here or awake. You grumbled before making your way over to the door, cracking it open. “Huh…? Shigaraki, what are you doing?” You rub your eyes, trying to focus them from the light coming in behind him. 

The nature of your relationship was..less than professional compared to the others. Lingering looks, touches and even conversations had you two drifting closer in no time. Recently it had seemed that he was keeping his distance much to your confusion, so seeing him here now at your doorway was bewildering. Without a word he throws what seems to be a jacket at you, a small ‘oomf’ leaving your mouth as you look at him quizzically. 

“You left your damn hoodie in the lounge again, idiot” He scowls before walking away, not giving you another chance to think about it. You stand there dumbfounded, “Thank…you..?” You close your door, the dark enveloping you once more. With a sigh, you put it on as you walked back over to your sad excuse of a bed. A mattress and a.. Blanket? Sheet? Funding for the league has been lackluster lately but oh well, at least you still have your hoodie to substitute. 

Crack.

Huh? You hear something hit the floor. It was a cassette tape, was it in the hoodie? You pick it up, looking over it in the dim lighting of the moon, it had the word “Listen” scrawled onto the side. Sighing, you turn on a lamp, illuminating the room enough to find your cassette player, gently pushing it in and turning it down to a respectable volume. 

Songs played one after another, nothing like any bands you’ve heard, probably something he had uncovered in the mess that was his room. However, the songs evolved into less sound and more…melody. Why had he given you something that seemed so sentimental? 

A creak breaks you out of your trance, looking up to find shigaraki standing in your doorway, the door open a tad. That was his signature at this point, just observing without much care or thought. 

“Jesus, Shigaraki, could’ve at least kno-” 

“Do you like it?” 

You glance up at him curiously, “Huh? I mean- yeah. But why'd you give something like this to me?” His answer is delayed, a sense of nervousness coming from him. 

“Tch, it was nothing, just forget it” He doesn't seem to leave, even if he was so dismissive. You turn back to the player, smiling softly “I like it, thank you.” Thank god you weren't looking toward him. The blush that had broken out and crawled its way up his neck was unbelievably obvious at this point.

Even if he couldn't be perfect or what you deserved in the long run, he was still willing to do whatever he could to bring that smile back to your face, one way or another.

Please request! <3

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Unexpected meeting

Your little brother just wanted to visit their crush, don't be so dirty minded Hyde, if you keep it up you won't be invited to the wedding

Wc: 440

Cw: Hyde thinks you two had sex

This dumb banner took like 10 minutes but at least it looks nicer than just throwing the logo in jsjs

Hyde lazily walks away from the chancellor's office, a small stack of papers in his hand “mhh… a similar anomaly caught in Shibuya? This might as well be their birthday gift” he smirks strolling to the old Clementia dorm, even if the cats managed to fix it felt lackluster compared to the other dorms but it made do with the bare minimum a bed, kitchen and a bathroom.

He knocks on the old wooden door expecting to find you still half asleep at 6 am on a Saturday but is greeted by a familiar white hair.

"what would any want-... What are you doing here?" Sho asks, the smell of the same pancakes he would always cook at home in the air, vanilla, cinnamon and honey reaching his nose.

“What am I doing here? The real question is what are YOU doing here?” He points his finger as if he was scandalized at the implication of finding his little baby brother so early in the morning in someone else's room.

“Huh? Why do you even care?” Hyde doesn't answer, still too stunned “I'm an adult, find yourself a real problem”

He breathes in and thinks for a second ‘he could just be visiting the student and nothing more’ yeah his innocent brother isn't in that stage, he is still in the ‘girls have cooties’ stage like when he was 5 “I just wanted to give the student some informs they could find interesting from the last mission”

As they banter you walk down the staircase and as Hyde is about to call you over he notices you are wearing one of Sho's old shirts and his highschool jacket.

Without noticing both of them you are lured by the sweet vanilla-y scent to the small table next to the stove and grab one of the fluffy pancakes, some steam leaving the place where you just bit. When you see them you wave at your professor while munching on the sweet.

Hyde grabs Sho's shoulders and lightly shakes them “Sho did you use protection?! Does the kiosk even carry? Why didn't you ask me if you were embarrassed?!” if he wasn't wearing his eye covering Sho would see his eyes almost pop off their orbits.

Sighing the younger one snatches the files and slams the door closed.

“Mmh? What was all this ruckus about?”

“I think the old man is going senile”

“was that freak out because of our sleepover? I didn't know sleepovers banned in Darkwick?”

He snickers as he slides the papers toward you and grabs his cup with coffee “I don't think so. Either way, he wanted to give you this"

[voidponiies]

lstrn mirrors lifesteal in so many different ways and it’s genuinely so insane. it all obviously comes from the fact that we're lifesteal fans, and tend to recreate things we see in ls becuase they seem cool – like the lstrncord mod election, having our own smp, and obviously “we are fraudsteal”.

but there's also the deeper level, which comes from the way lifesteal’s story is told – also in an unconventional, unscripted format just like lstrn; we also took something random and made it a compelling story with group efforts. a parallel i’ve noticed lately is the recent burnout of the doomed yaouri tournament really reminds me of season 4. it wasn't enjoyable for anyone, i don't think anyone had actual goals they tried to achieve and a lot of unpleasant events happened.

lifesteal works in cycles, and so does lstrn – because lstrn mirrors lifesteal with the very way it works. like in lifesteal we have conflicting relationships and grudges in the multiple stories we fabricate. we tell a LOT of stories, and play roles without discussing lore, and despite some relationships being sourer in lore everyone's still having fun with their friends.

i'm still stuck on the doomed yaouri tournament, i really think the collective burnout was something necessary for every side. it sucked for everyone, but it had to happen eventually. i for one thing hated all the ties and treaties in this; i've resented the ties since the very beginning and same as the people who worked for the tie when they were sad that it failed, i was sad that it even tried to come to fruition. i think it could be very lifesteal-y if everyone wasn't burnt out. i do think it was definitely a fault of how often the polls happen (luckily that won’t be a problem anymore everyone say thank you juniper)

understanding how lifesteal works is essential to understanding the intricacies of lstrn in my opinion. we as lifesteal fans have adapted it's way of storytelling and conduct amongst each other, and it's been like that since the very beginning. the very first conflict on the blog already had a lifesteal-y vibe and it was established from the beginning that conflict was real. this tournament was lacking in conflict and at the same time full of it, both sides were unsatisfied, everyone's burnt out… sounds familiar?

let’s quickly take a look at eclipse federation. it fell apart because vitalasy and subz held more knowledge than zam and didn't share it. same in here, no matter who you're fighting alongside with, they can withhold information – and it will suck for you. information is a very valuable resource; who's frauding for who; who's doing what. when you know those things you can easily plan everything out and use fraud as a tool to create your ending; a reality where you achieve your goals.

the polls aren't fair, they're not meant to be. i think that's a really important thing to remember – you can never fully know what happens, anything can happen at any time and you can never fully prepare for whatever might happen. the polls are unpredictable, and unfair, and for them to be satisfactory you need a winner and a loser.

at the end of the day, this is a tournament; someone has to lose for the other side to win. you can consider something a win, you can consider something a loss, it doesn't have to be the outcome of the tourney itself, but as long as you have a win someone has a loss and if you have a loss someone has a win. there can never truly be a way to satisfy everyone and i think that’s wonderful.

i think it's a huge point in the story we are telling, because lstrn relies on conflict for there to be a story. if there's no conflict there's a high chance the story's going to be lackluster, it's same as lifesteal – you need conflict to push the story forward.

i feel like everyone wants to achieve the lore success of the jumperwho tournament, but what made it so successful? after all it created the base for the worldbuilding of the lstrn universe! i have the answer right here – it's conflict and it's unsatisfactory endings.

the dyd poll was sad; it was sad but there was content of it – we used what was left to further push a narrative with the survivors.

that tournament really relied on the community to create a story, because the tournaments themselves aren't a story. they're a storytelling device which WE use to make a story. you need frauder impact for there to be a story, but everyone was burnt out and they didn't push a story too much, and i think that's why the tournament was lackluster; nobody had the energy to tell a story.

once you have a base to tell a story, look how far it can go – like wemmbob saga or yumeverse these all are just the same thing in a different font. we come together to tell a story seemingly out of nothing.

this tournament really made me think, because i hated it. i hated it all, and i sat down and i thought: "why do i hate it so much?" and the answer came to me. i thought about the meta so much, i formed so many thoughts about it and i truly realized what makes lstrn itself – voter fraud.

it all comes around to voter fraud. voter fraud is a device to make conflict, to cause poll results, to manipulate something seemingly uncontrollable, and with that you can tell a story. you can do anything you want. it becomes a sandbox, where you can play creator. but like most things – doing that alone isn't fun. telling a story alone, where it should be multiple people isn't fun. 

i think about failed ties a lot. the first thing i involved myself in heavily was a failed tie, and at the beginning i was really genuinely upset about it. it's like that with all ties, where as time went on, and i spent longer in lstrn i stopped caring on a personal level. i'm able to appreciate ties failing now because i see how great of a story they created; how great of a community they brought in; and it's so upsetting seeing people get upset on a personal level over them, because that's just harmful to yourself and the story. 

you need to learn how to take those emotions and inflict them into your storytelling. what happens ooc can and should affect your behavior ic – but what happens ic shouldn't affect you ooc; and if it does it's a sign you need to step back.

it's only fun when there's conflict, no one would care if there wasn't conflict. what i resent nowadays is how we avoid conflict, as to not hurt each other's feelings. i think we should embrace conflicting goals and interests and take those motivations and work towards making a good story for everyone – because that's what it's about, at least for me. it's not about who wins it's about how good of a story we told.

[ivymarquis]

An Honest Woman

Pairing| Gaz x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader, Ghost x F!Reader, Price x F!Reader, All x Reader Rating| M Word Count| ~700 Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author wants to write a gangbang fic but suffers from “I have to explain why they’re fucking”-itis. Each guy will get his own chapter and then an epilogue with the gangbang. This is the prequel/set up to the premise. (Just the 141 guys Alejandro is not involved this is just the only gif I could find with all 4 of the 141 guys lmao) This is some toxic shenanigans on the reader’s part BUT no cheating on reader’s end ayo

“What would you do if you found out I cheated on you?” Her (unbeknownst to either of them) soon-to-be ex boyfriend asks.

She blinks, already deciding she doesn’t particularly like this question.

“I dunno. Probably fuck your chain of command.” If he is stupid enough to try and get his lick in, she’ll get hers back.

But he isn’t a stupid man, and she is content that this is just a random question in the same vein as her asking him if he’d love her if she was a worm.

It’s a smartass answer to what she foolishly assumes is a tongue-in-cheek question. Who the fuck asks something like that and is serious about it?

Much like she doesn’t like the question, he does not like the answer.

Rather than rolling with it like she did, his reaction is immediate. “Is that really fucking necessary? Glad to know I’m with a class act.” The question snaps harshly at her.

Hm. Well, things have been too peaceful for too long lately, haven’t they? She supposes they’re overdue for a blow up.

There’s a part of her that realizes it’s not good that she’s so ambivalent about this. She should care, in some direction, that her boyfriend is blowing up at her. She should either be pissed beyond all belief that he’s mad about a situation he fabricated, or be sad that he’s mad at her. Something.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” is all she says before standing up. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” I’m not dealing with your shit tonight is the part she doesn’t say out loud.

“Fuck you, I don’t have to deal with this.” He snaps at her, jerking to his feet and hurrying out the door.

Why the fuck does she put up with him, again?

He’s been doing this shit a lot lately. Picking a fight, and blowing up; whether she rises to the bait or not. It’s like he’s desperate for any reason to justify walking out on her in the middle of the night.

The most telling part about their dynamic is that she doesn’t really even care.

She’s got her suspicions about what all he is up to when he storms out; once or twice, she believes him when he says he went drinking with his buddies. But when it becomes a several-times-a-week occurrence?

She sees the writing on the wall.

“It’s like you don’t even fucking care anymore!”

She doesn’t. Not really.

Her total ambivalence to anything he does is testimate enough to the fact that she’s done with the relationship.

She just needs to get her shit sorted so she can move out and state the obvious; tell him that she’s over it.

Maybe she’s being cold hearted, but she didn’t just wake up one day and decide she doesn’t love him anymore. It’s every little miscommunication and dissonance that neither of them took the time to mend. Eventually that shit piles up and one day she looks at him and doesn’t feel the affection that she used to. There’s no flutter in her stomach or heat in her groin. He’s just there.

Really she shouldn’t be surprised when a few days later she finds an open condom wrapper mixed in with the laundry. Which, considering she hasn’t slept with him in over a week, pretty much solidifies that he’s a cheating prick.

Okay. Fine. He can’t say she didn’t warn him.

It’s pride and ego and spite that makes her act out. She doesn’t have any attachment to him at this point but it’s the principle of the matter. He doesn’t get to act like this and expect to be free of repercussions.

And- well; if she’s being perfectly honest he’s a lackluster lay at best.

When she was in love and being wooed and he was coming home to her and sweet talking in her ear it didn’t particularly matter that he treated her like a living fleshlight. Relationships can take compromise and he’d been checking enough boxes she has been willing to acquise on the good sex one.

Now? There’s no affection to keep her warm at night and she is simmering with pent up energy.

A very simple I’m fucking done. We’re over text, paired with a picture of the wrapper, is frankly more than he deserves at this point, but even she’s got a line she won’t cross and cheating is firmly on the other side of it.

And she knows exactly who she’s going to start with to knock the rust off.