#is a nicer thought than… the world runs on money

[everythingisarabbithole]

[bloodibambiidoll]

Angel Face, Devil Thoughts

Summary: The first time Rafe Cameron saw you, he knew he had to have you. Whatever it takes. Wk: 6.8K

•This is a collaboration with @babygorewhore🖤 I had so much fun working on this with you baby, I love you so much!!!•

Warnings: Possesive!Rafe, obsessive behaviors (Rafe and reader), kidnapping, drugging, kinda clueless reader (or is she…?), daddy kink, borderline stalker behavior, spanking, hair pulling, jealous!Rafe, bondage, age gap (Rafe is 35 reader is 26), spit kink, oral, unprotected sex. Dark fic, 18+MNDI!! (Divider by me)

Rafe Cameron’s legs turned as he swung the golf club, perfectly hitting the ball as it landed near the hole in the ground yards ahead. He smirked to himself. Topper clapped a hand on his shoulder. His grip firm and Rafe cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know how you do it. I’ve never beaten you.”

Rafe shrugged. “No one can,” He chuckled and scanned the scenery of the yards ahead of him.

It was a beautiful day. It wasn’t too hot and he was able to wear nicer clothing than he usually did for golf. A simple button down shirt and comfortable pants allowed him to easily pick up his bag of clubs and make his way to the small section of the park where food and drink was served. By Pogues and the middle class.

But he wasn’t as involved in the war between kooks and pogues. At 35, he truly had better things to do. Run the empire and look after Wheezie who was a young teenager now. After Wards death, his sisters random marriage, his own growth over the years, Rafe just wanted to make money, fuck, and…make more money.

But then his eyes widened and he almost stopped short when he saw you. And his entire world came to a halt.

You were wearing a simple outfit, a little black tennis skirt and a polo tee that bore the logo of the franchise representing the park. Your hair was out of your face, you were wearing makeup and you were currently talking to Wheezie, who giggled and blushed at a young boy across from you both. Rafe’s footsteps slowed but he continued your way. He was close enough to hear the conversation.

“I think he’s really cute. But I don’t know how to approach him.” Wheezie complained and he wanted to roll his eyes over her thirtieth crush of the week when you smiled at her. And he melted inside.

“That’s okay. All you have to do is wave and smile. Men are easy.” You winked at her and he swallowed thickly.

You were so beautiful. Delicate. Angelic. Perfect. You radiated kindness and a youthful spark that he hadn’t exposed himself to in a long time. He was probably about ten years your senior but he didn’t give a shit. When he saw Wheezie walk away from you and your adorable smile continued to grow, that's when he decided.

You were his.

He cleared his throat and prepared to further approach you after abandoning Topper. He had no issue with shyness or other bullshit younger men dealt with but something about you made him hesitate. Why were you working? Someone as perfect as you deserved to be treated gently, like a princess. You needed to be kept.

Rafe could do that. Easily.

As he walked to you, your pretty doe eyes looked up at him, and a smirk so faint crossed your face that he almost missed it.

“Haven’t seen you before. Sorry if my little sister annoyed you. But I have a soft spot for her.” Rafe didn’t bother with introducing himself. You’d be screaming his name soon enough.

“Hi,” when you gave him your name, he almost got chills. Even your name was perfect. You were an angel. The way your feet rolled, trying to shorten the distance between you both was adorable. “She was cute! I remember my first crush.” You twirl your hair and Rafe gave you a hum of approval.

“What’s a pretty little girl like yourself doing working here? With looks like that, I figured you’d be a model.” Rafe complimented and instead of becoming shy, you batted your eyelashes and grinned.

“I’m thinking about it.” You glanced back at the bar cart, “but I have to get back to work. It was nice to meet you finally, Rafey.” The nickname made his lips quirk in a sadistic smile. A nickname already? One he never allowed others to use.

But you weren’t anyone.

You were his little bunny.

Rafe stayed longer than usual, watching you from a distance and leering at the way your skirt hugged your ass and hips. You were a little clumsy but he enjoyed that. He knew you’d have to rely on him for everything. You needed him.

When you clocked out, Rafe was horrified to see you start to walk down the road. You didn’t have a car. And that made him feel rage. How could someone allow you to walk home alone? He certainly wouldn’t. Not his pretty kitty.

Rafe marched forward, catching up with you before his hand gently touched your arm. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to walk home. Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”

He expected you to deny it but then you grinned and nodded rapidly.

“Yes! That sounds great!”

This would be too easy. But he was worried. What if a bad man got a hold of you? How would he live with himself if something happened to you? He’d never let it go. No. His darling little girl would never get hurt.

“Come on. My car is this way.”

Rafe lagged behind you ever so slightly, despite his legs being much longer than yours. He couldn’t resist getting another peak of your ass in that little uniform. He also couldn’t resist when you stumbled as he was helping you into the passenger seat and one of his hands landed on the skin of your ass just under your skirt. He had to hold back a chuckle at the sight of you displaying yet another act of clumsiness. You were so helpless, fragile, too good for this world. He had to protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, even yourself.

“Alright, Angel face, where am I headed?” Rafe buckles himself in, one of his long fingers hitting the push to start on his fancy sports car. He glances over at you, noticing that you haven’t buckled yourself up yet. He lightly shakes his head before leaning over the center console to buckle your belt for you.

“Oh, thank you, Rafey.” You run your fingers down his forearm, batting your lashes at him again. He takes note of your chipped nail polish, he’ll have to remedy that immediately. He’s definitely going to be calling the nicest salon on the island first thing tomorrow. Get you the full treatment, hair, nails, massage, whatever you want. “It’s on figure 8, I’m actually staying three houses down from you, I think. It’s my grandparents old house.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard about their passing. I’m sorry about that, doll.” He smiles at you softly, earning the cutest little grin in return. “Is that what you’re doing here? You inherit their house or something?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. They left it to my mom but she doesn’t have any interest in living here so her and dad are selling it. We came here to go through all their stuff and get it ready to put on the market.”

“What about you? You like it here?” You cross your legs, and Rafe can see how deliciously your thighs squish together out of the corner of his eye. He stifled a groan at the sight.

“Yeah, it’s nice. It’s a lot different from my hometown but it’s really pretty here. And I make better money than I did at my waitressing job back home.” Your voice is so cute, Rafe wants to drown in it.

“If your moms parents left her all that money, how come you’re working?” He takes a chance to look over at you at a red light, eyes roaming your form, committing as much as he could to memory.

“They are still dealing with all the legal stuff, and I don’t really know if they’ll even give me any. I don’t think they trust me with it. I haven’t always made the best life choices.” You sigh, a frown spreading across your lips, a crease in your brow. Rafe hates it, how dare they upset you? How dare they not help you? If you aren’t great with making choices, he doesn’t mind making them for you.

“Ah, makes sense. But a pretty girl like you? You deserve everything you could ever want. Waited on hand and foot.”

“That’s so sweet, thank you, Rafe. But I’ve always worked for what I want, ya know? I don’t really mind it.” You shrug your shoulders, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Well, I think you deserve better than that, s’all im saying. I’m gonna set up a spa day for you, alright? What are your days off?” This is a win, win for him. He can spoil you a little and figure out your work schedule.

“Oh! You don’t have to do th-“

“Angel, I don’t have to do anything, but I’d really like to do this for you. Let me.” It comes out like more of a command than a request and he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches in your throat at his tone.

“Alright, if you insist. I work Tuesday to Saturday every week. So I have tomorrow off, since today is Saturday.” You smile at him, and he thinks it’s adorable how proud you seem to be stating simple facts. You seemed like a bit of an air head but Rafe didn’t mind, he liked that, it would be easier to guide you.

“Okay, I’m gonna call and make you an appointment for tomorrow.” He pulls into the driveway of your grandparents home and takes his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Put your number in here and I’ll text you the details.”

Your smile is wide and he feels like he can practically see a sparkle in your eyes. He wants to give you the fucking world. You add your number to his phone, putting yourself in as “Angel Face” with a little bunny next to it. You give him his phone back and he smirks down at it, you were almost in too cute to bare.

“Well, thank you so much for the ride, and for tomorrow too! You’ve been so kind to me and you hardly even know me, I wish I could repay you somehow.” A little pout forms on your lips as you look up at him through those god damned lashes.

“I’m sure we can figure something out, Angel face. For now, be a good girl for me and get inside safely. Make sure you lock the door behind you. I’ll text you soon about your little spa day.” He smirks at you, resting his hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. The cutest little squeak leaves your lips and he can’t wait to hear what you sound like when you moan his name. “Also, no more walking home, alright? I’m usually done with my work shit by the time the club closes so I’ll pick you up from now on.”

You look like you’re about to protest, but it’s almost like you think better of it. Instead you give him one of those sweet smiles.

“Sounds good, thank you again, I’ll make sure I’m a real good girl for you. Get lots of rest for my big day tomorrow. Good night Rafey.”

“Night, Angel.” You pat his hand before grabbing your purse and exiting his car. He swears you bent over a little extra to give him a flash of your little black panties, but he’s not complaining. As long as he’s the only man you’re doing that for. He’s totally and utterly addicted to you already, and he won’t stop until he owns you completely. Rafe quickly calls the salon owner's private number, knowing they’re probably closed by now. He offers her however much it takes to get you in the next day before typing out a text to you.

Your appointment is at 12:30 tomorrow, I think baby pink stiletto nails would compliment you well. I'll pick you up at noon, don’t be late. Sweet dreams, bunny.

Rafe eagerly pulls into the salon parking lot the next day. He picked you up at noon on the dot, you came bouncing down the driveway with a bright smile on your face. He must say seeing you out of your work clothes was a spiritual experience for him. You were wearing this little black mini skirt, and a little light pink tank top. You had on the most impractical shoes for a place like this, big, chunky, studded platform Mary Jane’s, with little white ruffle socks. The thing that really did him in though? The black o-ring choker around your neck. It was all so contradictory, the pink, the studs, the little socks. He’s never seen a girl like you in all his years. He needs you so badly.

Last night felt like one of the longest nights of his life, he never thought he could miss someone he just met so much. But he was up nearly all night, his thoughts riddled with you. Your thighs, the way your tits looked in that little work polo, the way your ass would bounce when he fucked you from behind. Rafe has never jerked off so much in one night. Not even when he was younger. All he can think about is filling you up, spoiling you, maybe putting a few babies in you once he’s gotten his fill of alone time with you. He walks into the salon with a pep in his step, his eyes scanning the room for your beautiful face.

His features immediately harden when he spots you though. You’re sitting pretty in one of the plush pedicure chairs your feet propped up while a man paints your dainty little toe nails. His nostrils flare, anger surging through him at the sight of another man’s hands on his angel. His expensive loafers thud against the ground as he stomps towards you.

“Rafe, hi! You’re early! But this is the last thing, so you shouldn’t have to wait for long.” You give him that saccharine smile, completely oblivious to his internal meltdown.

“Hi angel.” He smiles at you, but he doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You about done with my girl here?”

He looks down at the man as he coats the polish on your toenails, wanting nothing more than to cut his fingers off one by one for even thinking he’s worthy of touching you. Let alone doing it. He doesn’t give a shit if he’s paying.

“Yeah, this is the last step then I’ll have her out of here.” The guy smiles at him before returning to his task.

“I didn’t know dudes worked at places like this.” Rafe scoffs.

“Rafe! That’s kind of a rude thing to say… Everyone here has been so helpful and kind! I’ve had a great day!” Your lips form into a pout, your brows furrowed. The last thing he wants to do is upset you, or scare you off. He needs you to trust him. Plus he’s not the same hot headed guy he used to be, he’s a man now. He can keep this to himself.

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry. Thanks for treating her right, man.” Rafe forces the most polite smile he can muster in his direction.

“No problem, just doing my job.” He taps his fingers against the polish, making sure it’s dry. “Which I’m all done with, you’re free to go ma’am. You can pay up front.”

“Thank you so much!! They look perfect!!” You wiggle your toes, your hands clapping together excitedly. You’re so cute Rafe hardly remembers why he was mad, hardly. He still wants to singe that guy’s finger tips off. “You like them?”

“Yeah bunny, those are gorgeous.” Rafe smirks, pleased to see the baby pink polish on not just your fingers but your toes too. You even went with the shape he suggested. You’re such a good girl already.

He walks you to the counter, using his black card to pay for everything. He even leaves a generous tip, despite how much he’s still simmering with jealousy over that man touching you. He wanted to make a good impression on you, he needs you to see how perfect he is for you.

“Lemme see you, pretty girl.” Rafe offers you his hand so he can spin you around, a low whistle escaping his lips as you twirl. “Gorgeous.”

“Oh my god, thank you! I really had such a great day. I got a massage. Then they did highlights and a blow out on my hair. And of course I got these pretty nails!!” You giggle, holding your hands out to him to give him a closer look.

“Very pretty, bunny. The little bows are a nice touch. I knew that color would be perfect for you. You ready to go?”

“Yup! All set.”

Rafe leads you out to his car, helping you in and buckling your seatbelt just like he has the last two times you've been in it. He drives towards your grandparents house with an almost uneasy feeling. He doesn’t want to let you go yet. Or ever. He left you alone for a few hours and regardless if it was his job or not another man had his hands all over you. He didn’t like it. You were too precious to be going around without him. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

When he pulls up to your house you thank him over and over again, telling him no one has ever done anything this nice for you before. How could they not have? You deserve a thousand times more than just this, and he’s going to give it to you. You lean over and leave a sticky lipgloss kiss on his cheek. His heart feels like it’s nearly going to burst out of his chest and he has to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out and kissing you like his life depends on it. You make sure to bend over again when you get out of his car, and it just drives him even more crazy. He was going to make you his, by any means necessary.

Rafe carefully selected another item into the cart as he walked down the aisle at the store. The aisles were nearly empty since he picked the perfect time to arrive and buy things for his little girl. His shopping was usually done by someone who worked for him but how could he allow anyone to touch things that were yours? Only he could give you these things. His little angel wouldn’t ever have to worry about anyone ever again.

In the cart were stuffed animals, blankets, decorations and even coloring books. He had already assembled the basics in the bedroom he specifically designed for you two days later after he had been driving you home. The room would be ready tonight.

His caretaker nature allowed him to easily pick up on things you liked. Soft, sweet and gentle natured you. His baby girl.

As he returned to his home with several bags, he didn’t allow anyone to put things away. The room was a soft pink color. Completely removed of any objects that could cause you harm. Stuffed animals, a tv set, a computer that would be monitored, and a soft bed with fluffed pillows. Rafe stood straight and admired his work. Yes. This was perfect for a sweet girl like you. Everything about this plan would go perfectly. His little bimbo would fall for his trap and he didn’t have a moment of doubt or guilt. Why would he? You needed him. And he wouldn’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.

Like clockwork, Rafe heard the doorbell ring and he knew it was Barry. Here to accomplish his part of the task at hand. Rafe opened his front door after begrudgingly leaving your bedroom and Barry leaned against the frame.

“Sup, country club.” He dangled a bag full of small pills. “Got the dough. You have my money?”

Rafe handed over the wad of cash and accepted the plastic bag. “This better be the real fucking thing or I’ll kill you.” He warned and Barry smirked.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so scared of you big boy. Pretty fucked up though. What you’re planning to do with that chick. But it’s safe I guess. Not gonna hurt her.”

“That’s all I need to know.” Rafe pressed the bag against his chest and Barry crossed his arms.

“Ain’t ever seen you like this, bro. When you gonna get her?”

“Tonight. When she’s on her way home. Pretty little bunny doesn’t have a car. She’s making this easy for me.” Rafe chuckled.

“Aight, I don’t need to know anymore.” Barry held his hands up and walked away towards his bike. “Careful, Rafe. Sounds like you’ve really fallen for her.”

Rafe nodded and a twinge of emotion made him feel warm. He swore to himself he’d never fall in love. And now look at him. Planning on taking this poor girl but he was doing her a favor. She was his and his alone. He would protect her. Even if it was against her will. Even if it meant forcing her.

Later, Rafe was in his car waiting to pick you up with your favorite drink. A milkshake. His trembling hands gripped the steering wheel as the minutes went by on his digital clock.

You will be coming out soon. All his. His precious baby. Rafe craned his neck and finally saw you walking towards his car. His body tensed and his cock twitched with adrenaline as you smiled when you saw him. Twirling your braids, you waved at him while approaching the car with a half slip.

“Hi, Rafey! You’re right on time!” You said as you happily slid into the car.

Rafe nodded. “Of course I am, baby. I’m a man of my word. Here, I got you something, Angel.” He handed you the milkshake, his fingers twitching as you grinned and immediately wrapped your lips around the straw. You moaned at the taste and his mouth watered at your pretty sounds.

You fell for it.

Rafe inhaled slowly as he started driving, but not in the direction of your home. It didn’t matter anyway, you were drinking too eagerly to really notice.

“It’s a pretty day, Rafe! Almost as pretty as you are!” You giggled and Rafe reached over, placing a hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle yet firm squeeze.

“Thank you, bunny. You’re such a sweet girl you know that? My sweet girl.” He muttered the last part and he noticed your movements were growing slower.

You blinked, your doe eyes becoming unfocused. The Valium was taking effect and he smirked with satisfaction. God, you were such a little bimbo slut.

“Rafey…I feel so tired…” you yawned and he traced his ringed fingers along your skin where your skirt had rode up.

“Go to sleep, baby. You’ll be all nice and safe when you wake up.” Rafe trembled as you slumped over, your mouth parting as you drifted to a deep sleep.

That’s it. That’s my fucking girl. So obedient.

Your body feels weighed down, you try to open your eyes but it feels like someone put bags of sand on top of them. The last thing you remember is falling asleep in Rafe’s car, but what you’re laying on right now is definitely not a car seat. It feels like the most plush mattress you’ve ever laid on, even softer than the one in your grandparents guest room. Your head feels like it’s resting on a cloud, and the air smells nice. Like vanilla and strawberries.

After a few minutes of struggling you finally force your eyes to open slightly. There’s a soft warm light illuminating the room, and what looks like a sheer pink canopy on the ceiling above you. Your body still feels heavy but you’re able to move your hands now, spreading your fingers and running your palms across a silky soft blanket. You turn your head to the side and your eyes land on a pink wall with the prettiest vanity you’ve ever seen pushed up against it. You weave your head the other way, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. Up against the opposite wall there’s a rack filled with clothes and from what you can tell it’s all things you’d wear.

You try to push yourself up on your palms, now extremely aware of how dry your mouth is, how thirsty you are. But your body still feels too weak. You let out a little groan and lull your head back against the soft pillow.

“Hey, hey, don’t try to move, Angel. I’ve got you.”

“Rafe?” Your voice comes out a cracked whisper, you can’t see him, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s him.

“Yeah bunny, it’s me, daddy’s here.” The self proclaimed title sends a shiver down your spine.

“Daddy? What’s going on? Where am I?” You’re about to try to push yourself up again when Rafe comes into view. He’s towering over you, looking down at you with what only could be described as adoration.

“You’re home.” His large hand reaches out to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb running over the apple of your cheek.

“Home? This isn’t my grandparents' house - I - I’m so thirsty.” You nuzzle into his palm almost subconsciously. You’ve spent so many nights now dreaming about his touch, more than just the brief thigh touches or a hand on your shoulder. It felt so nice.

“Shh shh, baby it’s okay. Don’t overwhelm yourself. Here, I’ll help you sit up, I have some water here.” His snakes one arm underneath your head and the other behind your knees, hoisting you up against the headboard with ease. Now that you’re sitting up you have a better view of the room. It’s beautiful. Something out of your wildest dreams.

“Where - where are we?” You ask with wide eyes, your voice filled with borderline awe.

“I told you Angel, we’re home. This is for you. I did this all for you.” He takes the cap off the water bottle sitting on the nightstand and holds it up to your lips. You eagerly chug it down, the cool liquid calming the burn in your throat.

“For me? Rafe? How did I get here? Did you change my clothes?” Now that you’re feeling more aware you realize you’re no longer wearing your work uniform. Instead you’re wearing a little silk nighty with white lace embellishments. It’s soft and comfortable and honestly gorgeous.

“Bunny… I need you to listen to me, alright?” He discards the water bottle so he can sit on the bed next to you, his hand returning to your face. You nod against his palm, looking up at him with big wide eyes. “Use your words.”

“I’m listening, Rafey.”

“Call me daddy when I’m talking to you like this, alright baby?”

“Okay, daddy.”

“I - fuck - I did what I had to do alright? I did what’s best for you. You’re too fragile, too precious for this world. That first day I saw you working at the club, I knew I needed you. Knew you needed me.” You try to hold in your smirk, you really do. But you were already starting to crack as it was, and this? This isn’t something you would’ve expected.

“Oh I know, daddy, I see the way you look at me… you didn’t answer my question though. How did I get here, huh? Did you slip something in that milkshake? Knock me out? Strip me down and get a good look at my little body?” You look at him with a Cheshire smile, and a gleam in your eye he’s never seen.

“Hey, I didn’t fuckin’ do any weird shit if that’s what you’re thinking, I want you fully aware of your surroundings the first time I have you. That is until I fuck you so good you forget everything but my name…”

“So kidnapping and drugging me isn’t considered weird? Got it.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “You know, I knew you wanted me, but I didn’t think you’d go this far. I have to say, daddy, it’s kind of hot.”

“The fuck you mean you knew?” His brows furrow, his nostrils slightly flare and you can tell you hit a nerve. But you just couldn’t keep up this clueless girl act anymore, not after he went to all these lengths just to get you. You needed him to know you wanted him just as bad.

“I mean, I’m not blind. You look at me like you want to put me in a cage and never let me go. You drive me home everyday. You offered to buy me new nails the first day you met me. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice how jealous you got when you saw that guy doing my pedicure. And guess what? The funny part is, you didn’t need the drugs to get me. I would’ve just let you take me.”

“You knew this entire time how badly I wanted you?” You nod and his hand reaches out to grip your jaw, rougher than before. “I told you to use your words, bunny.”

“Yes, I knew.” You smirk at him and he adjusts his grip so he’s pinching your cheeks.

“And you still continued to tease me like a little slut? Bend over and flash me your little panties every time you got out of my car? Always pushing those tits up against my arm and batting your lashes at me? Was that all some kind of act? You trynna scam me?” His hand migrates from your face to your throat, his thick fingers tightening against your esophagus deliciously.

“Daddy, no. It wasn’t an act at all. I want you so bad. Just wanted to see how far I could push you before you finally cracked. I have to say, you exceeded my expectations. I can’t believe you did all of this just for me. That’s so sexy.”

“Oh, so you’re just a little fuckin’ tease. That it?”

“I wasn’t teasing, you could’ve had me any time. You just got in your head that you had to carry out this elaborate scheme to keep me, when I’m already yours.” Rafe practically growls, he feels tricked, he feels frustrated that he risked hurting you with those drugs when you wanted him all along. But most of all? He’s so fucking horny.

“Well, I want you right fuckin’ now.” He uses his grip on your throat to push you onto your back and eases his body over top of yours.

Your breathing intensifies as you give him a small smirk. Of course you knew he wanted you. You may be a bimbo but you had common fucking sense. His blue eyes burned whenever he looked at you with a hunger that was impossible to deny. The material of his shirt rubbed against your bare skin, your slip riding up from his movements that left you pinned on the mattress under his mercy. His palm pressed against your throat felt heavenly, his fingers locked around the sides of your neck held you down posessively.

“You fucking slut. You liked it this the whole time. Liked playing with me. I’m gonna make you regret it.” Rafe flipped you over, grabbing your hips and yanking you up on your hands, your ass up in the air. Your pussy clenches around nothing before Rafe’s hand slaps your ass, hard enough to make you jolt forward as his other hand flies to your hair, holding you in place with a makeshift ponytail.

“Apologize to daddy. Say you’re sorry.” He growls and you want to be a brat and say no, but his fingers slide from your hair down, down, down to your entrance, sinking knuckle deep in your cunt. His two digits play inside you, curling in a come here motion and your slick welcomes him in further as his thumb brushes against your clit with a delicious pressure. “Mmm, wanna give you love, bunny, but you’ve been a bad girl.” He grunts and you whine with your face pressed against the bed.

“Sorry, daddy! I’m sorry I acted bad!” You shriek when he spanks you again, this time hard enough to leave a mark. He spanks you again, and again and again. Tears prick your eyes and you hear him shift as he releases you. You fall forward, crashing onto the blanket and you feel his hands take your ankles. He moves you around on your back, dragging you to the headboard.

“Dumb little kitty. Bet you’re so wet from this. Let’s see,” He gives you a predatory smile and shoves off his black tie. He pins your wrists down, using your weakness to his advantage as he loops it around your hands. He ties you to the headboard and his knee spreads your legs, making you feel the air on your damp panties.

Rafe breathes through his mouth in a taunting huff, “look at that. You’re such a little whore for me. Wet from me hurting you? Drugging you? God damn you’re so pathetic. I love it.”

As you jerk, trying to move you realize you’re completely trapped by him. Rafe looms over you, cupping your jaw. “Open your fucking mouth,” He hisses and you immediately obey. He spits inside, “swallow it. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” You shudder at his filthy words.

Rafe crawls down, sliding your panties down your legs. A groan escaping him at your sticky pussy on display for him as he spreads your knees.

“Mmmm, so good. You’re so worked up.” He situates himself on the bed, burying his mouth against you, his tongue lewdly licks at your clit like an ice cream cone. His heated lips suck at your center with loud moans as he grinds into the mattress.

Your hips buck, his nose continually brushing against the underside of your clit as he laps all around before thrusting his tongue inside your entrance, gathering every single ounce of precum he can get.

“Fuck, daddy. Feels so good, I needed this.” You barely manage and he chuckles.

“Desperate, huh? Needed daddy to fuck this tight little pussy? My little girl is such a good bunny.”

Your stomach tightens, a tightening coil in your belly growing the more he licks you up relentlessly. He rips away, whipping your juices from his chin. His cock inside his trousers looks painfully hard.

“I’m going to make you fucking scream.”

Rafe pushes himself up on his knees, easily ridding himself of his button up and then moving onto his slacks. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock, you knew he’d be big, but it’s even better than you imagined. All those nights trying to stifle the moans of his name so your parents didn’t hear you.

“Fuck daddy, your cock is so pretty.” You’re practically drooling. “Fuck my mouth.”

He finds himself questioning if you’re even real at this point. His little angel all tied up and laid out, practically begging him to use your pretty mouth. He straddles your face, the head of his heavy cock brushes against your lips and you flick your tongue out. You moan at the taste of the bead of precum that gathered at the tip.

“Fuckin’ look at you, gonna let me use this little mouth?” He taps his cock against your outstretched tongue a few times before using his free hand to grip onto your hair, pulling your head back. “Open wide, slut.”

You stick your tongue out as far as it can go and he glides his length across it. He thrusts slow a few times before shoving his cock down your throat, causing you to gag.

“Yeah, that’s right, fucking choke on it.” You close your lips around him, taking a deep breath through your nose as he begins to assault your throat with rough thrusts. His groans are almost animalistic as he uses you for his own pleasure. You moan around his cock, clenching your thighs together at the feeling of being at his mercy. “Mmm bunny, this mouth is so fucking good. But I bet that little pussy is ever better. She was practically begging for me to fill her. Is that what you want?”

He uses his grip on your hair to pull you off his cock, leaning back so he can look down at you with a condescending pout.

“Please daddy, want it so bad. Want your cock, want your cum. Fill me up.” His large hand grips your face, punching your cheeks together as he tilts your head from side to side.

“You’re such a good little bunny, begging for daddy’s cock like my own personal little slut. That’s all you’re gonna be from now on. Mine to fill, to use, to fuck, to spoil. You’re never going to have to think about a single thing ever again.” He expertly undoes the tie binding your wrists, gripping onto your hips and flipping you onto your stomach again.

“Yes daddy, that’s all I want, just want you. Wanna be your good girl. Want you to take care of me.” You whine into the sheets. “Please fuck me daddy, please don’t make me wait any-“

You’re cut off abruptly when he pulls your ass up into the air, lining his cock up with your entrance. He fills you up in one rough thrust, your slick walls practically sucking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking into you at a brutal pace.

“Oh fuck yeah, this fucking pussy is even better than I imagined. You’re so fucking tight, never gonna stop fucking you baby. Gonna keep you full day and night.”

“Daddy daddy daddy, it feels so good. So good. You’re so big.” You let him take you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over. You’re gripping the sheets so tight you’re scared your new nails are going to tear through them and drool is dripping down your chin and onto the fabric.

“Yeah, fucking take it, slut. Take this fucking dick.” He leans forward, his thick forearm snaking around your throat. He uses his grip on you to pull you up so your back is flush against his chest. You didn’t think anyone could ever be so deep inside of you, and the pressure on your throat makes your head light in the best way.

“Oh my god, daddy, I’m gonna cum.” His free hand finds your clit, and the minute he’s circling it your orgasm is crashing over you. You thrash in his hold, a pornographic moan ripping through you.

“Fuck yes angel, fucking cum for your daddy. Pussy is fucking squeezing me. Gonna make me cum. Look at me.” His hand leaves your clit, roughly gripping onto your jaw so he can pull your head to the side. It’s borderline painful the way your neck is craned so you can look up into his blue eyes. But when he smashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss you can’t bring yourself to care.

Rafe continues to fuck into you, his tongue invading your mouth, intertwining with yours. He pushes his hips flush against your ass as he reaches his high, filling you with ropes of his cum.

“That’s it, good fucking girl. You're so good for me.” He releases your throat, pulling out of you slowly, causing you to whine. He eases you onto your back, leaning over top of you to place a much more tender kiss than before on your lips. “Let me clean you up baby.”

He gets up, quickly wetting a washcloth in the ensuite bathroom. He rushes back to your side, running the warm cloth along your folds.

“Mmm thank you, daddy. That feels nice.” You hum.

“Yeah? Gotta take care of my angel, you’re my responsibility now. I’m going to do everything and anything you need.” He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side so you can rest your head on his chest. “I am sorry about the way I went about this. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The first day I saw you I knew I needed to have you. Knew you were meant for me.”

“I feel the same, daddy. All you had to do is ask. Although, I must admit, it was honestly pretty sexy this way. You might be observant but there’s still a lot you have to learn about me.” You happily nuzzle into his chest. You’ve never felt so safe before. “I love my room by the way, it’s perfect. Does this mean I don’t get to sleep with you though?” You pout.

“Of course you get to sleep with me, Angel. I just wanted you to have a space of your own here.” He runs his fingers through your hair, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “There’s going to be ground rules that I want you to follow, but we can go over those when you’re more clear headed. Wanna take a bath?”

“Yeah Rafey, a bath sounds nice.”

[hemlock-dreams]

Hypothetically, if you were going to write hunting!spider as a fic, how would you do it? Like, where would the story start—with Peter as the bartender, or his backstory? Would you flash back to his old universe?

-🕊️

Like this: ITS A FIC NOW!!

Check is out: Here!

Peter hasn’t worn the suit since here got here. He hasn’t done much in the last two months of his new existence beyond haunting New York like a phantom, trying to figure out who he is and where he stands in a reality that hasn’t been unfortunate enough to have a Peter Parker in the first place.

Or a Spiderman.

Strange hadn’t been kidding about the magic. Peter feels like the victim of his own hubris, asking for a clean start, a world where no one knew him. He’d asked and he’d been delivered.

Almost. 

The world is there, technically, but it’s like looking at a painting he’s seen a thousand times, only to realize the details are off. It’s the phones with the home button on the bottom, the different slang, the green money, all his favorite songs with wildly different lyrics, so many painful differences- a slow death by a thousand cuts.

Peter thought it would be easier, like a new beginning stretching out ahead of him, the sea-breeze smell of a fresh start after stepping out of Ryker’s. 

But Uncle Ben isn’t waiting for him at the docks this time. Nothing is waiting except the uncanny arms of a city that used to know him. Like running into an ex after years apart, recognizing the same general shape, but being strangers all the same.

Damn it. He should have asked Strange to take his memories too.

At least then Peter would know what to do with himself instead of haunting Brooklyn at night like a ghost, fighting the cognitive dissonance of taking turns he used to know like the back of his hand, only to be startled when they lead into dead-ends or open out into streets that shouldn’t exist.

That’s why he hasn’t worn the suit. Because forget being Spiderman, who the hell is Peter, here?

His melancholy is interrupted by a woman’s voice, faint if not for Peter’s enhanced senses.

“Listen, you’re a sweet guy, but I don’t like mixing work and my personal life.” The voice is extra sweet in the way women get when trying to talk themselves out of a dangerous situation.

No matter the lifetime, Peter can’t ignore that.

So he changes course, beelining towards the source with silence that’s more instinct than experience. He sticks to the shadows, easily avoiding the few flickering streetlights between him and the alleyway. His night vision pierces the darkness, tracing down the detailed shape of the tall, lanky man cornering a woman in the middle of the alley. 

He’s leaning, off-balance, clearly drunk, and boxing her in with one leather-clad arm, “Come on, Scarlett. I been asking for your number for weeks. Just one date, give a guy a chance, huh?”

Well, it was comforting to know that no matter the timeline, scum remained scum. 

“Paul, you’re wasted.” The woman- Scarlett, is draped against the wall, seemingly at ease and deceptively loose-limbed, even as she fists a set of keys between her knuckles, “Why don’t we have this discussion somewhere a little nicer? There’s a cute cafe that’s open tomorrow-”

“Fuck that. It’s always one excuse after another with you,” The guy- Paul- snarls, swaying from one foot to the other. The frustration is a ticking bomb,  “Why are you bein’ such a fucking bitch?”

Like clockwork, the slurs come out, and a peaceful resolution is no longer an option.

Scarlett realizes it too, because the hum of anxiety lacing her syrupy-sweet tone finally bleeds into her body. Her muscles lock, visibly entering fight or flight. 

That’s Peter’s cue.

“Is there a problem?” Peter’s voice is like a knife in the dark, popping the bubble and making the two flinch.

“Who the fuck are you?” Paul sneers, face slack and ugly from drink. “The fuck you think you’re doing, butting in?”

Peter ignores him, glancing towards Scarlett, who flicks her eyes between them and the rest of the alleyway. Unfortunately, there’s only one entrance and he’s blocking it. Out of options, Scarlett plasters herself to the wall.

“This is between the lady and me.” Paul is still talking, stumbling towards Peter, “But I’m a nice guy, so I’m going to give you a chance to turn ‘round and walk away.”

“Generous, but I’ll have to decline.” Peter murmurs and crosses the distance, invading his space before the man can respond. The promise of violence always lights something in Peter’s stomach, but for all the man’s shit-talking, the fight, if it can even be called that, is pathetic. Paul is so drunk Peter can taste it in the air, and his spidersense doesn’t even bother kicking in as he dodges one wobbly punch after the other. 

He doesn’t bother dragging it out. It only takes one good fist to the gut to drop Paul to the ground, followed by one good kick to the chest to keep him there. The aftermath is anticlimactic, awkward silence punctuated only by the rattling wheeze of the unconscious man beneath him.

Even pulling his punches, Peter probably cracked his ribs. It would take more effort than he’s got to feel sorry, especially since Scarlett is still glued to the wall, eyes trained on him and practically vibrating with adrenaline.

Slowly, Peter creates some space, backing out of the alleyway so he’s not obstructing the exit. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.” Her reply is curt and wary, but Peter isn’t offended. He knows what he looks like, looming in the dark with his ratty clothes and unkempt beard. Best thing he can do to convince her of her safety is to walk away. 

So he does just that, and he’s almost halfway down the block when he hears her behind him, clacking heels loudly in the chill night air, “Wait!”

Peter pauses, turning around. 

Scarlett stops a few meters away, clutching the strap of her gym bag over her chest. “Sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you.”

Under the streetlights, her face is striking. Her bright green eyes are smoky and sensual, with bold cheekbones and dark lips framed by wisps of red hair falling out of a messy bun. She’s exactly the type of woman Peter would fantasize about back in Rykers, the kind he would see on pinups in Marko’s cell- tall and feminine, with lean legs and a waist Peter could span with both hands. 

The resolute look on her face reminds him so much of M-

He shunts that thought as soon as it appears.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter responds with a shrug. He’s not stupid enough to lecture a grown woman about walking the streets at night. “Was there something else?”

Scarlett chews on her lip, eyes flicking back to the alley before settling on Peter for a few long beats. Whatever she sees in him makes her sigh, and some of the tension leeches from her shoulders. “Feel like walking a girl to her job?” 

Peter is a little surprised, and he takes a second to consider, mostly so he doesn’t look threatening, then nods, “Where to?” 

“Maggies.” At his confused look, she raises a brow, “Saint Margaret’s?” 

Still not ringing a bell, “Is that a…church?” He doesn’t remember any Saint Margaret’s in his Brooklyn, and it just reinforces that fish-out-of-water feeling that’s been choking him for the past few months.

“A church, sure.” Scarlett snorts derisively, laughing under her breath. When Peter doesn’t join in, she shoots him a wide-eyed look, “Oh. You’re serious. It’s an dance bar”  

Walking at night makes more sense now. That, and the obvious stage name. “I don’t know where that is. I’m…kind of new in town.”

“I can see that,” She says, and the gold of her hoop earrings catches the light as she falls in step beside him. Peter keeps his strides short and even, staying in her line of vision as they walk. It doesn’t escape his notice that she’s still got her keys between her knuckles, though they’re no longer clutched in a tight fist, “What brought you to New York, Mr. Good Samaritan?”

“Peter.” He says. “I was looking for a fresh start and kind of washed up here,” Peter feels like he’s being called out on some lie, as if anyone glancing in his direction will peg that he doesn’t belong.

But Scarlet is just nodding, unawares, “Nice to meet you, Peter. And I get it. That's why I moved here, too. It might take a bit of time to get your bearings, but it's worth it when you do." They’re heading down the street, taking a turn on 81st that should have led into a main thoroughfare but doesn’t, instead turning into another little set of streets full of gated-off shops covered in graffiti. Even the gang signs don’t look the same. He tries not to think about it.

“I appreciate what you did,” Scarlett is saying, “Paul’s been a pushy bastard but I thought it was all drunk bravado, you know? I never believed he’d actually follow me. I’m glad you were there, but I’m sorry it had to end in violence.”

Resorting to violence is one of Peter’s favorite pastimes, but he’s absolutely not going to admit that out loud. Instead, he hums, tucking his hands into his stained hoodie, “Some people only listen when it's fists talking. Hopefully the lesson sticks.” Peter frowns, “You said he followed you, does that mean he knows where you live?”

Men like that tend to hold grudges. Especially if they've been had their head knocked around in an alleyway.

“Thank god, no.” She shudders next to him, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter at the thought, “He caught me coming from my day job. I’ll have to tell Weasel to put him on the blacklist for the club though…and change my shift. Ugh.” 

Peter nods in sympathy. Shiting schedules between two jobs is going to be a nightmare. “Weasel?” 

“The owner of Maggie’s.” She clarifies.

“Your boss is named Weasel?” Yikes. Peter can’t imagine what kind of shit someone had to do to earn that nickname.

“Yeah.” She laughs, “But don’t let the name fool you, he’s weird but he’s decent. There are lots of other clubs in the area but Weas lets us have a bigger cut than most other places. Plus, we get to set our own rules.” 

They cut the street, avoiding some dark patches where the streetlights gave out.

“That’s good.” Peter agrees, “Otherwise this is a pretty sketchy walk for a small paycheck.”  

It really is a sketchy walk, and his spidersense pings at odd moments, though nothing comes out of it save the odd junkie that wanders out of the shadows.

“I’ve had worse,” Scarlett shrugs, finally tucking her keys back into her purse. The stiff line of her shoulders has completely melted away now that they’re in what Peter assumes is familiar territory. “This is nothing compared to my last job.” 

“Which was?” 

“Telemarketing.”

Peter would rather take his chances soloing Thanos. “Point taken.” 

“We’re almost there. Just down the road.” Scarlett points one long acrylic nail toward a looming brick building punctuating the street. Peter wouldn’t have given it a second thought if not for the single garish neon sign of a scantily dressed nun at the corner, directing his attention towards a nondescript door.

“Welcome to Saint Margaret’s School for Wayward Children,” Scarlett enunciates each word with an eyebrow waggle, grinning when Peter cracks a smile. “Finest entertainment this side of Brooklyn. Thanks for walking me.” 

Peter doesn’t doubt it, especially if Scarlett is where they set the bar for dancers. “No worries. Stay safe, yeah?” Then he turns, intending to keep walking until his head is empty.

Scarlett pauses with her hand on the door, “You’re not going to come in?” 

“Not really my scene.” A true statement, one that doesn’t have to acknowledge that Peter is capital-b Broke. Hard to get a proper-paying job when he doesn’t legally exist. He’s done a few gigs under the table, but the last few weeks have left Peter sleeping on empty rooftops with an emptier stomach. 

“Really? I was hoping I could treat you to a drink. It’s the least I can do.” Scarlett sounds disappointed.

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

She puts a hand on her hip, “Fine. Let’s consider it a celebratory drink then.”

“For?”

“Ugh,” Scarlett rolls her eyes. There’s no way she doesn’t know how charming that is. “For getting rid of Paul. Making new friends- whatever you want.”

Peter huffs a small laugh, “Friends? We just met.” 

It’s not an outright refusal, because Peter is weak for the first real taste of human contact he’s had in months, and Scarlett smirks like she scents blood, “What can I say? I got a good feeling about you.”

Peter snorts. Now that’s a first. 

“C’mon, Tiger. One drink. What have you got to lose?”

Peter exhales a long, slow breath, “Nothing.”

[mickyschumacher]

style was so fucking good HOLY SHITTTTT can u please please please do a part 2 xx

[STYLE! PT.2]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after separating from carlos, you thought you would never ever have to see him again. but fate is demanding and it demands you bumping into him in a club. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy (bc where would we be without it), reader is younger than carlos but not like insanely, reader has vagina, angst, ferrari SLANDER, charles moves to redbull oop, GOOGLED SPANISH! I'M SORRY 😭, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies peeps!), oral sex, cumming inside, car sex = dangerous car driving, brief handjob, dry(?) humping, confession time AHHH, incorrect modelling stuff again lol, nicer!carlos ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: complicated ex!carlos sainz x model!fem!reader, bestie!lily he x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+ (whoops)

𝐀/𝐍: a lot of people wanted a part 2 so.... here it is! i hope this is up to your par with what you were thinking about ♡︎ has bit of a build up but the smut is there! decently proof read... i think? my eyes are vv tired from these exams :(

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Three years.

A lot can happen in three years.

For you that meant with some crazy luck becoming the World's top supermodel. Kendall Jenner, Gigi and Bella Hadid, Emily Ratajkowski... whoever the top once was, you had put them all to shame. You were booked and busier than ever. You could've sworn you used to get your beauty sleep but now you were lucky if you could even get an hour let alone eight. The billboards and the magazines loved you and the public, god the public, they cherished you.

Never had the world needed a relatable, kind role model more and there you were. A diamond in the rough, waiting to be seen. You were even on your way of becoming an entrepreneur in sustainable fashion.

Everything was going your way.

It was a surprise for you. After Carlos, you thought you would be moping forever. And you did, at least for a few days. But when your manager and stylist advised you to release your pent up emotions, you thought the best way to do that was fully committing yourself to your work.

No more relationships. No hookups. No races. No Carlos.

And somehow, it worked. You were a single supermodel who won over the public. No races, no Carlos. You were bringing your company money.

But yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop thinking about Carlos. His smugness, the puppy brown eyes, his touch, the little signs that he cared; the softening of the side of his eyes when he looked at you before they were ridden with lust or his need to have some part of him touching you; his hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, or soft circles rubbed on your inner wrist.

You missed him.

But that was three years ago.

You and Carlos didn't even run in the same circles anymore.

For Carlos, three years meant extending his contract with Ferrari, although God knows why, losing three chances at a championship, fighting with Adami over the radio far more than he liked, and losing Charles to Red Bull. All while feeling very empty. No one really recognised who Carlos was anymore. Not his family, not the drivers, and not the fans. Hell, he himself didn't know who he was.

Whoever Carlos was right now... it was the mere shell of who he used to be.

He was drinking far too much for an F1 driver celebrating other's podiums. And now he got angry. He didn't get angry, he seethed. He let himself feel vexed in order to get motivated. But now he was just angry and torn but not for no reason.

Carlos was an idiot. He had made an irrevocably stupid decision. Separating from you was the worse decision he had ever made. And that said something considering he had extended with the most infuriating F1 team of the past few years.

How could he have even made that decision? Normally, he thought things out. He was an F1 driver, for God's sake. Some sort of thought could be accounted for. But he didn't know what it was... maybe he was too emotional the night he was with you. Whatever it was, he should've thought it out.

God, Carlos should've realised that all he needed to do was put more effort it. You and him... it would've worked. He would've stopped hurting you. He would've been fully committed to you.

But no. He had fuck to it up.

To say Carlos hadn't been stalking your socials everyday was an understatement. Cumming to your name was a pre-race ritual that had now turned into checking what projects you were doing. Not to be dramatic, but to him, it felt like you were just keeping him alive, giving him a reason to live.

Carlos couldn't even muster the courage to call you and ask if you could talk. He didn't deserve that. Like he said, you deserved more. And all these fans and the fame and money... you deserved all of it and more. Staying away from you was the best thing he could do for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos had made a terrible, terrible decision to attend the Miami after race party after saying he wouldn't. In fact, he couldn't. Not when he knew for a fact that you were in a club only down the street.

The temptation to see you was strong.

The club lights flared across the dance floor while the heat and humidity of all these dancing bodies clung to his warm skin. Carlos' hands shook silently at his side while Charles and Lando mixed in conversation. Every fibre of his body was telling his feet to stick to this floor. He couldn't see you. He was only going to ruin your night. He bit down on his lip, feeling a familiar ache in his chest.

But his heart... it was a strong heart. And it was telling him to take that five minute walk.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air," Carlos yelled over the music blaring in his ears. Charles and Lando gave the Spaniard a nod before returning to their conversation.

Carlos tried to make his walk to the club as long as possible, veering off to the side, staring far too long into the windows of other stores. But eventually, he stood in front of the thriving club.

You were celebrating having reached 50 Vogue covers, including the Big Four twice. You told your manager you were fine with having dinner at home but the refusal was immediate and came with the claim of you needing a break. So here you were, dressed in the most sparkly, skimpy, backless deep cleavage silver slip dress, dancing your ass off.

When Carlos entered the club, it was hard to miss you. How could he? You were the centre of attention, dancing around in your little dress that was fighting to cling to your body while everyone cheered you on.

He shouldn't of come. He knew it. Because now, he couldn't leave. No matter how much he knew that to leave was the right decision.

You, on the other hand, didn't notice Carlos so easily. You were having the time of your life, swaying your hips side-to-side as the beat coursed through your veins. Your skin was dotted with sweat while a handsome stranger had come up to you, clearly looking to hook up. And while you weren't looking to screw just anyone, you couldn't shy away from the little bit of grinding your body so desperately craved.

The euphoria wasn't as high as you had once felt but it was enough to keep you on your toes. Heat travelled through your stomach while your eyes closed and your head fell back as another man moved behind you. You were in a haze of pleasure that made your pussy ache.

God, maybe you were too desperate for some pleasure. Because why did it feel like Carlos' cologne had engulfed you? Why did the fire burning within you flare up even further all of a sudden?

Your eyes shot open and a gasp fell from your lips when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"Cariño," Carlos breathed out, hooded eyes peering down at you.

Your throat felt constricted. Your eyes watered with anger and shock.

"No," You said, pulling yourself away from him.

"No, no, no," You repeated while Carlos took a step towards you, hand reaching out to stop freaking you out.

"Y/N... I–" Carlos was cut short as you raced towards your table and picked up your purse and jacket, heading towards the exit doors of the club.

You could hear Carlos jog to catch up with you. Sighing, you put on your jacket, striding as far as you could in those stupidly beautiful heels you had worn. But you seemed to forget that he was an athlete at the end of the day.

"Y/N, please. Don't do this," Carlos begged, an inch away from you.

Your lips sunk into your bottom lip, ears attempting to block out the warm voice you had been craving for the past three years. Your heart was racing against your chest while your mind fell into disarray.

"Y/N," Carlos repeated, grabbing your arm gently.

You sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, feeling the hairs of your body stand straight. You turned and looked up at him with with reddened eyes, making him pause for a second.

"Three years, Carlos, three goddamn years... of nothing," You exasperated with the familiar words falling off your tongue all too easily.

"I know. I'm–"

"'... so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses.' Is that what you were going to say, Carlos?" You asked incredulously, arms folded as if they were going to protect you from all this sudden pain.

Carlos winced at your words, staring at you helplessly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I was doing fine... and you... what the hell were you thinking, Carlos?"

A silence settled between the both of you as the cold night air raced to cool down your flushed cheeks. Carlos breathed deeply. "I-I... I missed you, cariño. That's what I was thinking. That what I have been thinking for the past three years. I miss you all the time."

You stared at Carlos silently, chewing down on your lip nervously. This was what you wanted. You had waited all this time to hear those very words fall from his lips. Yet all you could say was: "So? That doesn't change anything." The lie made you crumble on the inside but you continued to speak. "You said it yourself, Carlos, we aren't good for each other. That I... deserve more."

"And you do!" Carlos spluttered, hands flailing about. "You deserve more than a better man, Y/N. You deserve the fucking universe. But I was wrong! I was wrong to say that we aren't good together. We can be good together. I think you complete me and if you let me even have the chance, I would be the luckiest man ever to be with you."

Carlos' hands were now gently holding your face, thumb gently brushing your heated skin. Your heart was now pounding in your eardrums. Your throat was caught. You felt impossibly warm. Your eyes burned, but no tears came out. "I... I gave you so many chances," You whispered.

Carlos' eyes softened at your broken voice as a sorry expression fell over his face. "I know," He sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself, cariño. But if I have to spend forever trying to make it up to you, I gladly will."

"Carlos," You sighed, closing your eyes. You were annoyed with yourself. Annoyed at the fact you were leaning into his touch and annoyed at the familiar heartache that always let him get away with what he wanted. "I'm terrified. I don't want to hurt again. I don't want to hurt you either."

Carlos felt his heart clench, jaw taut with irritation. Every fibre of him hated that you even had to say that. But you were right. You always were. He whispered softly, letting his forehead meet yours, "You won't. I promise. I promise to be a better man. Just please give me a chance... give us a chance."

You opened your eyes to see those desperate puppy eyes boring into yours. You brought your hand to the one holding on your face, rubbing it gently. You knew your answer the moment he asked. "Okay," You responded with a small smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Initially, it was hard to get as comfortable as you once were with Carlos. You took every step with caution and he could tell by the scrunch of your nose and the chewing of you lip when you pondered for a moment too long. It was eating at him but there was nothing he could do but fufill his promise to you.

Carlos took you out on several dates as opposed to the few he previously taken you on. They weren't grand. No. Instead they were intimate. Dates that showed he was putting effort in. Like the time he decided to have a dinner date at his house where all the food was prepared by him. It was disastrous to say the least but you were also convinced he had gotten his sisters to help him out given that there was burnt food in the trash and it's aroma covered by candles and perfume in the air.

A sunset picnic followed after that. It was one of your favourites. The sun was setting, of course, and the warm breeze brushed past you while you ended up reading one of your favourite childhood books to Carlos. He listened intently as his hands roamed your skin. It wasn't necessarily sensual but it was intimate. Like all he wanted to do was just bathe in your presence. And bathe Carlos did as he began to ask you questions about your childhood and your family.

It bugged him that despite being with you for some time, he knew nothing about you. At least not really. Knowing your body reactions felt superficial in comparison to finding out you had a family pet that you cherished so much, your financial hardships, or that your parents disapproved of your modelling. That really hurt him. You didn't have anyone close to you. And he had just left you.

Carlos mentioned to you how much of a polla he truly was, apologising for all you had gone through. And while you laughed at his comment, you thanked him, hesitantly pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

Carlos gazed at you as his heart throbbed at your action. He stared at you with a twinkle in his eyes. There was something about this moment... he wasn't quite sure whether it was the setting sun that made you glow or that breeze that made your hair gently fly while your perfume consumed him, but it made him nervous and happy.

Carlos smiled at your raised brows. "You're just so beautiful, cariño."

You sucked in a sharp breath. That look in his eyes... it was the same one you gave him when you were just mesmerised by his beauty. And now he looked at you the same way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Three months had passed and you had finally stepped into the paddock after what had felt like forever. Everyone was psyched that you were back here. Fans were screaming your name and the drivers had finally seen the reason behind the sudden change in Carlos.

"So... you and Y/N?" Lando queried carefully, watching you talk to Lily and Alex about all the things the both of you had missed.

Carlos peered over to you, catching your passing eyes. His heart skipped a beat at your little wave and smiling eyes. He grinned at you and waved back.

Lando watched the exchange with curious eyes, pulling a feigned pained expression. "Yeah... you and Y/N."

Carlos rolled his eyes at the man who had become one of his closest friends. "Yes, Lando, we're together. We've... we've been taking it slow. So I don't fuck it up."

Lando smiled at Carlos' words. He slapped his hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "Good," He chirped, before dropping his smile. "You better not. That's basically my best friend right there. You hurt her, you better keep an eye out for Lily and I, and Alex by association."

Carlos chuckled. "Imagine if Fewtrell heard that."

"What Max doesn't know won't hurt him," Lando shrugged.

Carlos smiled in amusement, finding you walking towards him with the previously mentioned couple. "What are you two trying to get my lovely lady to do?" He asked with narrowed eyes when you appeared with a suspiciously wide smile. A beautiful smile, but suspicious nonetheless.

You flushed at his words, taking in a deep breath. "I may have been convinced to do a bit of... ugh, golf."

Golf. Your most dreaded sport. From the moment you knew what it was, you could not think of a more boring sport to save your life. No offence to Lily, but it was an old man's sport. And every F1 driver playing it did not help. But Lily being the amazing girl she was had changed your mind.

Lando cheered and Carlos' eyes widened slightly. "How did you manage to convince her? Even I couldn't get her to join me. Me out of all people."

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. "I think your win from me golfing is a little different from Lily's. Lily wants me to learn."

"Yeah? And what do I want that is so different?" Carlos asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to me.

You stood on your toes a bit, reaching his ear. "Quieres verme con esa diminuta ropa de golf," You whispered in Spanish, pulling away from his ear. "Esa es la diferencia." You want to see me in those teeny little golf clothes. That's the difference.

You felt a familiar tingle creep up your spine as you met Carlos' darkened eyes and tightened grip on your waist. His tongue darted out, swiping his bottom lip while he eyed you carefully. You were a vixen. A final smug smile rested on his face. "You're right, cariño. That's exactly what I want."

Lily looked at you two blankly. "Anyone catch that?" She asked Alex and Lando, who both shook their heads. She sighed, "Leave it to us to not know one of the most popular languages in the world. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. Try keep your hands off each other, there's kids."

Lando gaped at Lily's side glance towards him. "Well I never!"

Carlos grinned at Lando's words, keeping an eye on you. "I'll try."

You drew a sharp breath. What kind of mess had you exactly set up for yourself?

━━━━━━━━━━━

To be honest, Carlos wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting when you had told him that your manager had sorted out a golf outfit since it was not like you were playing an official tournament. But when you arrived to meet Carlos, Lando, Lily, and Alex at the golf course, Carlos let out the most strained sigh he had ever released.

You were a model, sorry, a supermodel, you looked good in everything already. But you dressed up for his favourite pass time was killing him.

You stood in front of him in the sun visor that hid your long hair, wearing the absolute tightest sleeveless polo shirt known to mankind tucked into small little pink skirt that rested at the middle of your thighs.

God, you were leaving very little for Carlos to imagine. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do to you first: 'accidentally' splash that white shirt with water because he just knew by those nipples that you weren't wearing a bra or excuse the both of you to the bathroom where he could bend you over and fuck you senselessly.

Lily let out a low whistle when she saw you. "Y/N, the woman you are..." She clicked her tongue while shaking her head.

You laughed lightly as Alex look at her incredulously. "I'm right here, you know."

"Alex, are you a woman named Y/N?" Lily asked genuinely.

"I– no," Alex stuttered with furrowed brows while Lando grinned.

"That’s what I thought!" Lilly gave a smug smile, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek before linking her arm with yours.

Alex stood with Carlos, blinking blankly at your retreating figures. “I don’t get it,” Alex told the Spaniard.

Lando chuckled while Carlos placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You don’t need to. It’s Y/N. Now come on. From what I know, you have a lot to learn from Lily.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos was already bracing himself for whatever antics you were going to put up. He was expecting your full on ass up against him, teasing him to the point where he did end up taking you in the bathroom.

But you had decided to go the hard way.

When Carlos was teaching you how to hit the ball and what angle to use the golf club, he severely used the opportunity to put his hands on your hips. He thought you were going to fall back into his chest and press up on him. But instead you decided to listen to his instructions all so intently.

Then he saw it.

Your tongue darting out past those perfect lips of yours, wetting all those crevices with a natural sheen before you sunk your teeth to concentrate on hitting the ball.

And after he had seen it, Carlos couldn’t see anything else normally. Or he would argue that you wouldn’t let him.

No way was the slip of the golf ball accidental. Not when he watched you slowly bend down to get it, revealing your delicious cleavage in the so very unfortunate cut of your polo. Not when he watched your pink skirt cling to your thighs tightly as your lips jutted out to blow away the dirt from the ball.

It was a golf ball, for God’s sake. Of course it was going to have dirt on it.

And as you stood up, you turned so your ass faced him, skirt hugging your ass tight enough so he could see a sliver of your bare pussy.

Carlos could swear that he had never clutched a golf club as hard as he had in his life.

To make matters worse, all you did was strut away with a smirk while you shamelessly checked him out all throughout the games, leaving him with a semi-hard he tried his best to hide behind the thin handle of the club.

You were torturing him without even touching him. And he hated it.

Carlos couldn’t even excuse himself nor you to the bathroom after you purposefully decide to cling to Lily, who was suggesting different methods to play.

The dreadful day had finally come to an end as everyone began to feel the kick of playing golf for so long. You and Carlos bid goodbye to Lily, Alex, and Lando, after your boyfriend definitely did not inform you that you were going back home with him instead of your manager.

After packing your things away in Carlos’ red Ferrari, you happily took a seat in the front, letting out a small yawn as you stretched your arms.

Carlos quietly eyed you as he reversed out of the parking lot. “Tired?” He asked.

You nodded with slightly heavy eyelids. “It takes a lot of energy.”

“I agree,” Carlos nodded. “Teasing takes a lot of energy, hmm?”

Your eyes were fully awake now. You peered at the side of Carlos’ face. His jaw was taut and hands tightly gripped the wheel. You tried to hide your teetering smile but it was difficult. You just loved riling up Carlos. Especially sexually.

“A lot,” You agreed, also nodding before you moved your eyes out your window to prevent you from fully grinning.

Carlos internally sighed. You were a menace.

As he drove to his hotel, an idea popped into Carlos’ head. He knew the way to hotel and golf course like the back of his hand. He also knew that in two left turns, there was the most sketchy but quiet road in town.

Carlos pushed down the indicator, watching the left arrow blink rapidly at him while he turned the wheel. He could see your head turn to him in curiosity.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

Carlos smiled softly, shaking his head as if it was nothing while taking the last left turn.

You raised a brow. You feigned a gasp. “Is this where you kill me? Is this how I die? On some road in Miami?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Yes. How did you know?” He deadpanned.

Carlos parked the car in between some trees, ensuring that all the windows were fairly covered because no matter what, at the end of the day, he cared for both for your images.

Carlos turned to find your eyes already on him, waiting for an explanation. “You know the last time we met in Miami?”

You blinked blankly at him. “How could I forget?” You retorted sarcastically, covering up any last few traces of pain associated with that trip.

Carlos pursed his lips, smiling apologetically. He took your hands into his, rubbing them gently. “Well, when we were in the car, I had this vision—well I always have this vision but it was strong then, anyways—I had this vision of fucking you in this car, on the highway, ass on the wheel, making a mess on me, and making you cum so hard that you cover that Ferrari logo.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes dilated in pleasure. Suddenly you felt tingly all over your body and a strong heat pulsating in between your thighs. You pressed your thighs together at the thought.

“So I thought,” Carlos confused, smirking at your action, “although you’ve been a tease, I would still like to fuck the life out of you, cariño. Isn’t that so nice of me?” He asked as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You wish you had the urge to roll your eyes. You really wish you did. But your breath was caught in your throat and you just felt a dribble of arousal leak past your aching core.

Instead you moved over to Carlos, putting a leg on either side of him and brought your lips to his.

Carlos immediately responded, hands flying towards your hips, gripping on your skin while he intensely kissed you back. He kissed you not just as a starved man, but a parched man. As if your lips were water and all he could do was drink you.

Your stomach churned with a familiar fire of pleasure. Your skin raised with goosebumps as Carlos’ thumbs circled your skin through the fairly thin fabric of your polo. A muffled moan was lodged in your throat the sound of Carlos’ grunts.

Carlos’ hands moved from your hips to the hem of your skirt. His hands dipped under the pink material that had been enticing him all day, feeling the ample flesh of your bare ass. An audible moan came from his throat as you had moved your lips to his neck to stop drinking those beautiful sounds.

“You’re such a tease, you know that? No fucking underwear so I could see those juicy lips of yours? Were you just waiting for me to take you from behind? What if Lando saw? Hmm?” Carlos queried, groping your ass while his fiery puppy browns pierced into your eyes.

You let out a small whine against his heated neck, bucking your hips against his cock.

“You like that, cariño? The idea of getting caught?” Carlos asked even though he clearly knew the answer if he looked down at the dark stain beginning to form on the front of your skirt.

Carlos smiled softly at your impatient eyes, pressed your hips onto his groin. “Grind on me, cariño. Make a mess on me,” He whispered, taking your lips with his once again.

You moaned as you rocked your hips back and forth in his bulge. The wave of arousal you craved slowly creeped up on you. The hard textured material of his shirt felt like a sin against your pussy. Carlos’ hands helping you keep your pace and making sure you felt every part of hard-on set you on fire.

Smoothly, Carlos used one of his hands to sneak up your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers leaving you in a blaze as he grazed your skin. “That’s it, cariño, that’s it,” He murmured against your lips. His fingers confused past the apex of your thigh, nearing your burning core.

Fuck, were you turned on. The heat radiating off your pussy was dangerous. His thumb edged towards your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves ever so slowly.

“Shit,” you swore, arching your back against the steering wheel. Your pussy ground up against his fingers while trying to press further on his cock; entertaining both levels of pleasure.

Carlos felt his cock tighten painfully against his hands when he moved his eyes from you and down to where your pussy met him. God, you had made a mess. His eyes flickered back up, watching you obscenely cover the Prancing Horse. “Merde,” He cussed.

This was how he wanted you. Fuck. Making a claim on everything that belonged to him with your body. Just the way he wanted.

You could feel Carlos dip his head forward, giving a long lick to your right nipple. You were sure your white polo was now see through, letting your pebbled mounds become available for Carlos’ disposal. You moaned, feeling your pussy become sticky with pleasure as Carlos pulled down the cut of your polo, freeing your breasts from those teasing confines, watching them bounce in admiration before he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

You arched your back even further, pushing your breast into his mouth while the other hand resting on your hip moved to fondle your lonely nipple, leaving you to do the rest of the work. "Carlos," You cried out breathlessly, speeding the pace of your hips as a familiar coil began to unwind at the pit of your stomach.

Carlos knew that tone better than he knew his circuits. Unlatching his swollen lips from your nipple, he looked up at you, making you moan even further. It was hard to disagree that Carlos was a good looking man, but right now, you were seeing him like no other: puffy lips, sweat-ridden tousled brown hair, cheeks freckled with pinks and reds, dark lust-hazed eyes... all for you.

"Don't cum just yet, cariño. I need to be inside you," Carlos panted, his tongue swiping his lips drenched.

You shuddered at the action before looking at him in dismay. "Carlos. Papi, no. Por favor." Please.

Just when Carlos thought his cock couldn't harden any further, you had proven the impossible. He held your chin in his hand, forcing you to hold his gaze. "Don't do that, cariño. Don't papi me. I'm already being so nice, hmm? Be a good girl and listen to be, okay baby?"

You sighed in frustration but you hips eased it's speed, succumbing to Carlos without a second thought.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of your head, continuing to rub your clit excruciatingly slow. "That's my girl," He praised, pressing you right against the steering wheel as he lifted his hips up.

Naturally your hands fell to his shorts, eagerly pushing down the pair of clothing as far as you could in this space. Your mouth salivated at the large bulge in his grey boxers. It was like his cock was greeting you; aching to me to you. In awe, you put your hand over his hard cock, softly brushing over the pulsating bulge.

"Fuck," Carlos sighed, eyes closed, feeling like he was on an obscene high already. He felt you gently trace over his thick cock, going even slower when you reached his tip, painstakingly grazing his slit through his boxers. He shot out his hand, holding yours in place.

Carlos swallowed all the saliva that he had gathered after seeing your wide, almost innocent, eyes beaming at him while a sickly sweet smile sprawled across your face. Jesus. How did he ever let you go? Now that he had you, he most certainly couldn't.

You grinned, knowing exactly how to awake the monster within him. You pushed down his boxers, letting him fully settle into the seat of the Ferrari and his cock stand against his toned stomach with a shade that almost made it look like it was angry with you for taking this long.

Gathering all the saliva in your mouth, you let the hot clear fluid slowly fall from your lips and onto his cock. Carlos sighed at the feeling, thumb reaching out to gather the last few drops from your lips before you brought it into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the pad of his thumb, giving him a pre-show before you released him.

Carlos watched as you bent down towards his cock, using your hand to rub your saliva down his throbbing cock. You could feel him pulsing in your hands, dying to be inside you. You lifted yourself back up, signalling Carlos you were ready.

Carlos' hands skated up your skirt, grabbing your bare hips as he guided you over his cock. All this time he had been teasing you as awfully as you had teased him today, so when you felt his cock against your wet folds, you let out a gasp while you hips bucked against involuntarily.

"Jesus fucking Christ," You swore, shuddering at the intoxicating high swarming through your body.

Carlos' cock throbbed against your pussy. He loved your sensitivity, so he pushed himself through your folds again, tip rubbing against your stimulated clit. He grunted against you. He could watch your body defy you over and over again.

But as much as he loved it, Carlos had been waiting to be in you liked a starved man.

Carlos' eyes flittered up to yours while he slowly pushed his cock into you. He memorised you carefully. Every twitch, every quiver. Your parter lips, the frequency of your moan. The contortion of your eyebrows while pleasure laced your eyes. He could remember you like this forever; his beautiful girl.

"Carlos," You panted, "more, please."

"Your wish is my command, princesa," Carlos whispered against your skin, pushing his hips further into you. His hands tightened around your waist, the warm grip of your folds pulling him in like a drug.

You knew it then and you knew it know. Carols had bewitched you. You would never be able to get enough of this feeling. The feeling of his cock jerking into your pussy because he just can't control himself. Nor the feeling of sucking him in like a vice because you want him all to yourself.

Carlos moaned, thrusting his aching cock while he muttered obscenities as if he was under some sort of spell. For what it was worth, he was. Every day, you entranced him. But right now, the sight of you against the Prancing Horse that was waiting to be covered in your cum... your saliva-covered breasts bouncing, your arched back against the wheel... it was driving him crazy. You were driving him crazy.

Your hands travelled to his hair, lips grazing past the bridge of his nose while you groaned. Your fingers wrapped his dishevelled brown waves around them, giving his locks a slight tug that coursed down his body.

Your hips ground against Carlos harshly, attempting to take any extra sliver of euphoria. His cock drove in and out of you at a rate that left no innocence in this car. It was lewd; the slapping of your sticky skin against one another, your breathless pants mingling together, and the fogged windows occurring from your feverish skin. Fuck, the both of you were in overdrive.

You let out a small whimper when you felt your body start to shake. You looked down at Carlos, who was peppering your bare shoulder with long sloppy kisses as he continued to thrust. Your eyes softened and the coil in your stomach began to tighten. "Carlos, I–"

Carlos smiled at the urgency in your voice. He began to pick up his pace, let out a few breathless pants. "Cum for me, mi amor."

You shook your head. "No, fuck, fuck, I–" You closed your eyes at the nearing high but forced them to open again, finding those puppy browns staring you down with confusion and maybe, just maybe, a bit of trauma from the last time. But you just had to say it. "I love you, Carlos. I love you so fucking much, mi amor. And I'll love you forever," You sobbed out.

Carlos gazed at you with wide eyes, his pace faltering slightly. As much as it turned him on, his heart was probably ten times happier. He felt warm; complete. He softened his gaze, bringing one hand to your cheek. His heart swelled at your natural lean in. Brushing his thumb gently, "I love you so much, Y/N. So much. And I'll never forget to remind you until my very last breath. You're my entire universe, querida (darling)."

Your eyes watered with a sickening amount of love as your body was hit with wave after wave. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed, clenching your eyes, a few tears slowly falling. Your hips bucked up against him, reaching for the high as Carlos rubbed your clit in fast circles.

"That's it, mi amor. Cum for me. Cover the the entire fucking wheel. Make a mess," Carlos encouraged, pushing you against the wheel, making your body convulse even further at the new texture.

"Fuck!" You swore, pussy throbbing and hips involuntarily jerking, reaching your climax.

Carlos groaned at the tight clench around his cock.

"Cum for me, Carlos. Look at the mess I made. All because of you. All for you," You coaxed, riding your sensitive pussy over him slowly.

His eyes flickered to the black Prancing Horse covered in your arousal; each little crevice of the wheel soaking up your cum. God, the monster you made him... He grunted, speeding up his pace as the coil in his stomach began to unwind quickly.

"Fuck, fuck," Carlos moaned loudly, holding you tightly to him. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," He muttered like a mantra, hips stuttering against you. He twitched inside you, feeling the hot salty strings of his cum spill into you.

"Oh, fuck," He sighed again, head falling on your chest while you moaned at the feeling of his cum inside you, clenching just one more time. His cock throbbed with another small high, pumping the last few ropes of his cum into you.

You let out a slow exhale, lifting Carlos' head by tilting his chin to face you. You rubbed his face gently, leaving a trail of kisses on his face as you both calmed down. You eyed the fogged windows and turned to see the Prancing Horse that had started this whole thing in the first place. You laughed softly.

"Well that was a stylish vision you had there," You remarked with a grin.

Carlos grinned right back at you. "Oh, cariño, we are doing that at least once every week."

"Oh, really?" You teased, putting your hands around his neck. "Well this type of car sex is definitely my style," You agreed after some feigned thinking.

Carlos smiled, tucking your sweaty hair behind your ears. He placed a long kiss on your lips. "It's our style."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[thepigeonhasapen]

🩷SFW A-Z: Aphrodite🩷

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Extremely! Aphrodite is pretty much always in someone's space, be that hanging off them, playing with their hair, climbing into their laps, grabbing them by the hand, etcetera. Gives absolutely no second thought to being physical with the people she's fond of. If she's not touching you, you can safely assume she's upset about something. Just stroke her ego a bit and she'll back to snuggling with you in no time!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Gives Dionysus a run for his money as most gossipy bitch on Olympus. As a friend, Aphrodite is constantly coming to you to tell you all about family politics and who said whats and who slept with whom. Aphrodite's favorite thing to do with you is sit with you in the mountain of pillows she calls a bed and chatter about anything and everything while she does her nails. She'll happily do yours too if you let her, by which I mean she's already picked out a color and isn't taking no for an answer. Also, if Aphrodite is your friend, you can fully expect her to insert herself into everything you do. Are you a singer? Aphrodite can be your muse! Painter? Don't worry, Aphrodite will always pose for you. Architect? Hmm, have you considered building a temple to Aphrodite? Also is CONSTANTLY chatting you up to everyone in the immediate vicinity even if you already have a partner or just have no interest in one. As far as Aphrodite's concerned, monogamy is just a suggestion, and if you don't want to have sex? Aphrodite takes pleasure in rubbing everyone's noses in the fact that they can't have someone as pretty as you. Not as pretty as her obviously, but close enough ;)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Aphrodite is extremely snuggly. Lots of wrapping herself around you like a human-shaped boa constrictor. Her favorite position is with you leaning against your chest so she can play with your hair.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Retire? From being worshipped and adored? Oh come now, really, you must be joking! Aphrodite's never getting sick of that! In fact, she's a little offended that you asked! Cook? Clean? Absolutely not. Such chores are for lesser beings.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Similar to Dionysus, Aphrodite just kinda... stops talking to people and hope they get the hint. If confronted however, she will be a lot nicer about it than Dio. She'll say things like how she's so sorry that it's just not working out anymore, but, oh, don't feel bad! It wasn't your fault, dear. Of course, she doesn't mean a word of it, but at least she says it. You'll never catch her saying the cliché "it's not you, it's me" thing though. The day Aphrodite admits she might even maybe potentially be in the wrong is the day the Underworld freezes over.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

For being the goddess of love, Aphrodite puts surprisingly little stock into marriage. So long as you love each other, who cares? And, like I said, Aphrodite things monogamy is overrated. There's a whole wide world out there full of things to love and people to play with, why would you limit yourself to just one? Aphrodite would be alright with a committed relationship, but not an exclusive one. And as for marriage... well, she already is. Marriages upon Olympus tend to be more political than anything else and splitting with Hephaestus would cause quite a bit of trouble. Also she quite likes Hephaestus. Marriage just isn't going to happen with Aphrodite.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Aphrodite doesn't bite... unless you ask her very nicely ;) She's a lot sweeter than some of the other gods and, assuming you're in her good graces, will be extremely careful around you to ensure you don't get hurt. Tends toward passive aggression and snide comments rather than outright yelling at you if she's annoyed with you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Aphrodite is a very clingy. She'll snuggle up tight to you, enjoying the warmth of your body against her own. Always mixes a quick kiss on the cheek (at the very least) into her hugs.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Aphrodite has no shame in who she likes and she will extoll your virtues at every available opportunity. New outfit? Look at how cute you are! Fetch her something? Well, aren't you just the most helpful, perfect person that ever existed. "I love you"s come frequently too. There's no set rhyme or reason for it, just whenever she looks at you and her appreciation for you bubbles over. Will always manage to squeeze an "I love you" in if she has to leave in a hurry.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Aphrodite doesn't get jealous. Love is her domain. So long as you're loving ANYONE, you're worshipping her. Any kind of dating or sex or even just close friendship is an appreciation of her and Aphrodite absolutely DEMANDS to hear about anyone else you have your eye on.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Aphrodite gives kisses like she's handing out candy. Kisses for greetings, kisses for goodbyes, kisses as a way to say thank you. A lot of her kisses are quick and fleeting, but when she really gets into it... wow. She's passionate and devoted, constantly chasing you and pulling you back in for more. She's prone to nibbling on your lips too. Generally nothing too harsh but she is for sure looking to mark you up. Aphrodite's favorite place to kiss you is on the mouth, but that's not to say she isn't leaving kisses everwhere else too. She's like a teething puppy; if she can reach it, she's putting her mouth on it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Aphrodite a solid yes about kids. She's the goddess of all kinds of love not just the romantic sort, and of course familial falls into her domain. I feel like she definitely has a breeding kink too and would absolutely adore using her pregnancy as an excuse to have you fall all over her. Would be a doting and attentive caregiver to her kids, although I imagine an incredibly embarrassing one. Mom, you don't need to come on to everything that moves. Mom, please. Mom, stop flirting with my teacher.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Sleepy. Lazy. Probably a quickie in there if Aphrodite has her way. She's quite fussy about her sleep and absolutely despises being woken up. If she's allowed to wake up by herself though, she is immediately herself. No brief period where she feels sluggish or languid. Nope, just instantly herself! If you get up before her, it's just best to let her keep sleeping. If you made her breakfast, she'd be over the moon for you. When Aphrodite gets up before you... honestly she'll probably wake you up by complete accident. She just can't help how cute you look when you're asleep! You can't blame her for staring at you and petting your hair!

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

However you want to spend it. If you want to have a bit of fun before bed, Aphrodite is of course, down, but if you want to just sleep? That's fine too. Aphrodite is a big snuggler when she sleeps and will spend the entire night wrapped around you like an octopus.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Aphrodite is pretty much an open book. If you've talked to her for even five seconds, you already know how she's feeling. Being Aphrodite's friend or partner wouldn't change that. She wears her heart on her sleeve and sees no reason to do otherwise.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Someone really needs to inform Aphrodite that pretty and petty are in fact two seperate words and do not need to go hand in hand. She is just... such a touchy bitch. Even a perceived slight will be met with her full wrath. Fortunately, like many of the Olympians, her moods never really last long. Give her like five minutes and a sincere apology and she's probably over it, threateningly sweetly booping your nose and telling you not to do it again.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Aphrodite knows everything about you. You're devoted to her and she is, in turn, devoted to you. Favorite color, favorite food, favorite thing for her to gift to you? Aphrodite remembers everything. She is kind of cheating though. Aphrodite can read your love and knows the way you feel about things without you even having to tell her.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Can't Aphrodite say all of them? No? Well, then she'd have to say anytime you do something unexpected or make her laugh. Any personal quirk is something Aphrodite loves. She finds everything you do absolutely adorable, especially if you do something out of the norm like make blanket forts or splash around in puddles. Sing to the shower, dance in your living room, basically anything silly and whimsical you do is something Aphrodite goes head over heels for.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Extremely. Aphrodite won't be constantly hanging over you but she is definitely keeping an eye on you, and if anyone messes with you, you can be sure Aphrodite's already heard about it. People often forget that she has an aspect of war in her. Aphrodite can be bloodthirsty in her passions and won't hesitate to rip hearts out over the people she cares about. In terms of protecting her, well... Aphrodite doesn't really need to be protected but that doesn't mean she doesn't find it terribly attractive when you try. Get into a fight over her honor and she will be doting on you for the next month.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She doesn't really. All those things are part of her domain so she doesn't need to put too much effort into it. It just comes naturally to her. Her love life tends toward the stereotypically romantic, with rose petals and hand feeding and candlelit dinners. So very "high-effort" even if Aphrodite isn't really expending much energy to make it so.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Aphrodite has a short temper and an easily bruised ego so extreme care must be taken to avoid upsetting her. Also, she is INCREDIBLY nosy. Personal space whomst? Aphrodite is squirming into every aspect of your life and honestly doesn't quite understand the concept of boundaries or alone time.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

You... you're serious? Narcissism? Sorry, I think you misspelled "Aphrodite." Any slight against her appearance can go so far as to cause a literal WAR. Touchy much? I'm not saying she'd rip you to bloody shreds if you dared say something even vaguely negative about her but I'm also not NOT saying that, you know?

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Probably not. I mean, she's got legions of devoted followers. If you ended the relationship, she'd move on pretty quickly. I mean, after exacting her revenge for breaking up with her. If you died, it would probably be similar. She's keeping you in her thoughts and sending messages to you through Zagreus, but she wouldn't like kick down the Underworld's door to get you back.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Aphrodite has a soft spot for weeds and common flowers. Daisies and dandelions and clover are all things Aphrodite would appreciate in a bouquet. Obviously she likes the more classic rose too, but the beauty found in mundane objects are no less pretty for their frequency. Aphrodite is the kind of person who'd admire a seagull or a simple grey pebble. There's love to be found in everything, if only you look.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Vanity. Ironic, no? But if you're spending more time on yourself than her, Aphrodite will get frustrated. She'll hate when you talk badly about yourself but if you ever claim to be prettier than her... I hear the Underworld is nice this time of year. She's also not huge on homophobia. Excuse me? That is HER domain you're hating on.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

A very fussy sleeper. Must have an extensive amount of pillows to the point her bed looks like a literal nest. Must be in complete darkness but hates sleep masks. Has curtains on both her windows and her bed to achieve this. Hates total silence so she has a fountain near her bedchambers. If any of these things are missing, Aphrodite will wake up cranky and in an absolutely terrible mood. Wars have been started because Aphrodite didn't get a good night's sleep.

[alexanderwales]

Castle Solutions was the only time travel company in the world. They had a giant corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago, which was the only place in the entire world with a time machine, at least as far as anyone knew. They were worth hundreds of billions, and the only reason they weren't worth more seemed to be that they didn't care all that much about money. The time machines were used for everything: reporting, media, market corrections, the surveillance state, and industry. Castle Solutions was the lynchpin of the modern world.

Daniel had thought the waiting room would be nicer.

He sat in a blue-gray chair that would have been at home in any waiting room anywhere else in Chicago. Slightly tinny music played over speakers from the ceiling. A fake potted plant sat in one corner, failing to look lively. There were no windows, because the waiting room was deep in the heart of the building, close to the machine itself.

Daniel was the only one in the waiting room. He'd come half an hour early, lugging all his gear, and now the only thing left was for the clock to run down. A bored-looking woman had come in to tell him that it might be awhile, that they were running behind schedule — the time travel company, running behind schedule. So there had been more waiting than expected.

A man in a charcoal gray suit with a simple blue backpack came in. He slung the backpack down onto the ground with a sigh and rubbed his face. He had stubble there, but an artful amount of it, like he'd spent some time in the mirror making sure that it was the right amount of scruff to offset his expensive suit.

Daniel looked straight ahead, trying not to look, keeping his face blank, like he was passing by a homeless person who might ask him for money he didn't have.

"Wow, you've got a lot of stuff," said the man. "Is that a sword?"

"It's a katana," said Daniel. He didn't match the eye contact the man was giving him.

"Oh, cool," said the man. "You're going to ... katana times?"

"Edo Japan, yeah," said Daniel.

Daniel was trying his best not to engage, to get this conversation over as quickly as possible. He wasn't making eye contact.

The man picked up his backpack and moved across the waiting room to be closer to Daniel.

"You speak Japanese?" the man asked.

"Hai, watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu," replied Daniel. He wished that he were more fluent, that the words had come out less rote.

"Cool," said the man. He had apparently also come closer to get a look at all of Daniel's stuff. His eyes moved over the duffel bags. There wasn't much to see, everything had been carefully packed away. "Wow, you sure are prepared, huh?"

"It's a different time and place," said Daniel with a shrug. It represented five years of planning, five years of training, learning, honing himself.

"Personally, I'm going to 1946," said the man, though Daniel hadn't asked. He held out his hand. "Archie Vedder."

Daniel reluctantly took the hand. "Daniel Strom." He had never really gotten the hang of shaking hands. He worried that his hands were too clammy, a worry that proved founded when Archie wiped his hand on that expensive charcoal suit.

"I went with the kit," said Archie, pointing to his backpack. "I've got papers, I've got a computer with a backup, I've got a projector, a media library, a science library, the whole works, plus some forged bonds and a stack of cash. I got a sweet deal on it, they're overstocked now."

Retreating into the past had seen its heyday. Now most of the people who had been most enthusiastic were gone, and there were only the dissenters left. Everyone agreed with using the machine for the mundane stuff, but simply leaving, never to return, rubbed people the wrong way.

"I guess they don't sell kits for Edo," Archie ventured.

"They do," said Daniel. "They're trash."

"Ah," said Archie.

"This is all custom," said Daniel. "Higher quality, field tested, everything I'll need to set myself up there." Only some of it was stock. He had two computers, three smartphones, chargers and plugs, solar panels, replacement batteries, and redundant media libraries and science libraries.

Archie raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean, field tested? Because people don't come back. You're there for good, right?"

What it actually meant was that Daniel had gone out into a field and tested it, made sure that it worked under various conditions, set himself up like he might be explaining all this to a carefully chosen daimyo. There was only so much that camping in the woods and taking dry run vacations could tell him though.

"Some of it is theory," said Daniel. "Research."

"Yeah, see, that's why I went with 1946," said Archie. "It's really well-trod. You know, I was reading an article the other day that maybe the Baby Boom was a little overstated? Like, we're obviously living in the wake of time travelers, but that's the prime time to come back, anywhere from 1946 to 1960. The economy is doing well, tech is advancing, it's familiar enough. The culture is so close you can sell some stuff from a media library, it's brilliant. You're five steps away from becoming a multimillionaire in a time when that meant something."

"Sure," said Daniel.

"Any reason you're doing hard mode?" asked Archie. "I mean, samurai and ninjas are cool, sure, but —"

"It's not about that," said Daniel.

"Alright, sure," shrugged Archie.

Daniel looked over at the waiting room's lone clock. You would think that a waiting room for a time travel company would have better clocks, but it was a cheap utilitarian design, thin plastic and wobbly hands.

"What's it about then?" asked Archie.

"I was going to go with a friend," said Daniel. "We had practiced together, trained together. Then he got cancer."

"Ah, shit," said Archie.

"He lived," said Daniel. "He's fine. But he's on medications now, and will be for the rest of his life, and he can't go anymore."

"Huh," said Archie. "So there's a friend who you're leaving behind?"

"No," said Daniel. "I mean ... this was what we did together. We talked about it a lot. We read history books and practiced crafts and skills. At the start, I didn't really take it that seriously, it was just a hobby, but I got invested, and I guess I kept seeing it as — I don't know."

"I mean for me, it's a way out," said Archie. "Most people feel that way, yeah? My wife filed for divorce, I got fired from my job, so hey, time to start over in 1946, pretend I'm part of the Greatest Generation, ride the waves I know are coming. Exploit it."

Daniel grimaced. The Vietnam War, segregation, the Red Scare? People had a rosy view of that time. He'd never felt particularly aligned with people like Archie who were just looking to make a quick buck.

"Oh come on," said Archie. "You think you're better than me? You're a, you know, what's the word. Colonizer."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "No."

"What, just 'no', it's not, you know, what we did to the Native Americans?" asked Archie. "The whole 'conquer the past' thing?"

"I'm a single person," said Daniel. "I'm bringing back things that will change their culture forever, but I'm not an agent of my country, and even if I were, I think those people who want to be a god king are morons. And sorry, I'm not spending my last minutes in the present on badly rehashing a debate I've had a thousand times already."

"Why not?" asked Archie. "See, I think having arguments right before you go is great. You can leave on a high note. I've spent the last few days saying whatever the hell I wanted to people. It's great. I went to my dad and said 'hey, you were a terrible father, I never liked you, and it's sad that you thought I needed your approval'. And then you know what's hilarious? I get to just walk away and never be seen again. How's that for a power move? How's that for a mic drop?"

"Seems immature," said Daniel.

"Well, see, I'm actually fine being immature," said Archie with a little laugh. "And when this conversation is done, one or both of us is going into the past, never to be seen nor heard from again, and isn't that great? You don't like me, I don't like you, and then we're strangers again."

Daniel had been looking straight ahead, but he turned to Archie after that. "You don't like me?" he asked. "You don't know me."

"I know your type," said Archie. He leaned back. "You spent what, three years cooking up a plan, making this trip back in time your entire personality, and now you think you're better than me, better than everyone, like you've got it all figured out. You talked yourself into throwing away everything you've got going on here. You got dreams of a future in the past. It's quitter talk, is what it is."

"Fuck off," said Daniel. In his normal life he'd have never said it, but he was on the precipice.

"You think going into the past is going to transform you?" asked Archie. "That another world, a second chance, you'll somehow become the man you think you were supposed to be? Well let me tell you, if you were a loser here, you'll be a loser there."

Daniel stood up and drew his sword. He'd practiced the draw a thousand times. The sword gleamed, even under the ugly fluorescent lighting of the waiting room. "Fuck off, or you'll be going back to the 50s missing a hand."

"Bah," said Archie. "Fine." He stood up and took a seat further away, the same one he'd taken when he first came in. He was bouncing his leg and reading something on his phone.

Daniel was putting his sword back in its sheath when the receptionist came into the room.

"Daniel?" she asked, glancing only briefly at the sword. "They're ready for you."

"Finally," Daniel thought but didn't say, because even though he wasn't going to be around anymore, he believed in basic politeness.

He gathered his things and left the waiting room, ready to leave.

~~~~

Archie sat outside Castle Solutions, in their little courtyard, vaping.

It wasn't long before the receptionist, Lydia, came to sit next to him.

"It didn't really seem like you wanted to convince that one," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

She shrugged and pulled out a vape pen of her own. "Sometimes you just want to yell at someone. I get that. But you're risking us getting caught. And if we get caught in the future, we probably get caught in the present."

"Yup," he said. "Won't happen again."

"Give it a few days before you come back," she said. "Three, let's say. He didn't file a complaint, so there's nothing in the system."

"Mmm," said Archie. He made a long, slow drag of the pen. They sat there vaping together for a while. It had often occurred to him that vaping was impossibly lame, but it felt less lame when done with someone else. He watched as the vapor left her mouth in a thin, concentrated stream. "You wanna go out sometime?"

"On a date?" she asked. She gave the tip of her vape pen a casual look. "No, not really."

"Alright," said Archie.

"I don't really know what your deal is," she said. "Why this is important to you. Why you want to talk people back from the brink, or yell at them."

"Mmm," said Archie. "You want to tragic backstory?"

"Meh," Lydia replied. "I'm not going on a date with someone who has a tragic backstory. That's all. Sorry. I've got my own tragic backstory, thanks very much."

"Fair," said Archie. "It was my kid brother, that's the short version. He up and left one day, left us a note that read like ... well, you know." He drew a finger across his neck.

"Where'd he go?" asked Lydia.

"England, 16th century," said Archie. "He thought he was going to take Shakespeare's place." He shook his head. "Only eighteen, you know? Unconscionable that they let kids that young through. He had his whole life ahead of him and he just ... disappeared."

Lydia sighed. "Yeah."

She turned off her vape pen, then mimed stubbing it out on the bench like a cigarette before slipping it into her purse. He felt a surge of attraction for her.

"Alright, I'll go on the date," said Lydia. "But if we're going to be dating, you've gotta stop this."

"Vaping?" asked Archie.

"You know what I mean," said Lydia. "You going in there trying to convince them to back out, that's one thing. It's noble, almost. But if it's going to be fighting, if it's you trying to work through some shit, then I'm not sticking my neck out for you. Doubly so if you want to get together. You process your trauma some other way, or repress it like the rest of us, alright?"

Archie thought about that for a moment. "Alright. Sure."

"I've got to get back to work," said Lydia as she rose from the bench. "You have my number."

Archie nodded, and after she had left, he stayed, looking out at the courtyard.

He wondered how Daniel was doing out there, in that other timeline, but he supposed that he would never know.

[starsfic]

The Other Side

Summary: A wealthy business owner must convince the survivor of his recent death games to play again over drinks. Notes: This is a blend of "The Other Side" and the ending monologue, so sorry if some of the dialogue is weird. Ao3/Ko-Fi

The large manor was quiet. It was also nestled in the countryside, far from any towns or cities, meaning it was isolated. As screams rose up from the building, once shiny and now worn down with age, nobody would respond.

Pounding footsteps echoed through the courtyard before the grand doors threw open, revealing a panting adult. They were wearing what had been a fine grey suit, which was now torn to shreds and covered in sweat, blood, and ash. Their dark curls stuck to their skin. They gripped their side and the satchel resting against it, one leg dragging behind them, as they sprinted to the road.

There was no visible sight of… anyone, not even the watchmen that had popped up at one point. The adult bit back a sob at the realization before looking around. There had to be something, some way to escape-

Horses! They had been brought here by carriage-

The adult sprinted to the stables, uncaring about their limp or the clinking sound their satchel made. It took a few precious seconds to throw open the stable doors, but it was enough to reveal that one horse was saddled up.

“Fuck, thank-” The adult sprinted towards the horse, biting back a scream of pain as they threw their injured leg over the horse’s side. The horse whinnied, but did not buck, thankfully. As soon as they were secure, Morgan snapped the reins. “Giddyup!”

As the horse ran past the house, they saw a figure sprinting out.

They snapped the reins again, getting as far away from the manor as fast as they could.

Hurt. But alive. And, based on the blind amount of gold they grabbed from the chest they had discovered, set enough for life.

A bubble of laughter escaped them.

One year later…

“See ya, tomorrow, Mx. Cleery.”

“Next round’s be on me!”

“Not tonight, lads,” Morgan called, grabbing the broom. “I’m closing up.”

“Alright, alright,” the dockhand said, chuckling as he set his payment on the counter. The others followed, jostling and laughing, merry on good drink. Morgan felt a smile form as they grabbed the coins, tucking them in the small chest they kept behind the counter before moving around the bar to begin their sweeping.

The bar had been a risky idea, but it was one that was paying off over time. Sure, the smell of alcohol clung to their skin, and they had to be wary sometimes, considering it was just them and a bunch of drunks, but it was much nicer than their old workplace. They had been able to decorate this place, with the popular green wallpaper and nice wooden chairs. Yep, it was nicer than the place before. Or…the place in between.

Morgan brushed that thought off with a sweep of the broom. The space was small, so it was easy enough to sweep and grab the glasses left scattered about on the tables. Once the glasses were all arranged in the back, left to soak in some water, they headed to the front to wipe up the counter.

It wasn’t until they were polishing a few glasses that the bell hanging over the door rang. “Sorry, folks,” they called over their shoulder. “Bar’s closing for the night.”

“Oh, I don’t suppose you can spare the time for one drink?”

The glass slipped from their fingers.

Damn. That was gonna eat up money.

Morgan slowly turned, ignoring the slight crunch of glass under their foot, and felt the blood rush from their face.

Frankie F. Franklin, who used to be part of the most famous magician’s act in the world, waggled his fingers. He wasn’t exactly the most handsome man, greying in his forties, wearing a grey suit that was similar to the suit they had run out of his house in, but there was something in him that drew people’s attention. “Hello, my dear!” he said, like they were old friends. “I heard about your…” He looked around, and his wide, constant grin faded into a sneer, just a bit. “Lovely establishment, and I was hoping to spend some time catching up.”

Morgan glanced over his shoulder. One of the footmen that had driven them and the other contestants to what they had thought was going to be a silly contest stood next to the door, not quite blocking it but probably willing to grab them if they tried to sprint. The grey mask hid their expression. Damn. 

“Alright,” they said, summoning whatever courage they had and summoning up the barkeep act. “What’ll it be?”

“Whatever you prefer,” Frankie said, pulling out a small money pouch. The coins inside glinted as he pulled a few out. “I am paying for both of us, after all.”

“I don’t drink on the job.”

Frankie’s smile returned. “Didn’t you just say you were closed for the night?” He had a point. He pushed the stack of coins, more than required for two small drinks, forward. “Whatever you prefer, my dear.”

Morgan bit back a snarl as they grabbed the stack and turned to the stock, hearing him shuffle. They had a feeling that Frankie didn’t just come for a drink, and it made their blood run hot. They grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two small glasses, setting the latter on the counter and pouring both quickly, ignoring the smell of smoke as he lit the cigar he had pulled out. “Here you go,” They pushed the glass forward and grabbed their own. “If you’re here for the horse, I sold him,” They threw back the glass.

Frankie was still staring when they lowered the glass, except he looked a tad more sheepish. “Oh, yes. I forgot you stole a horse.” Morgan raised a brow, and he raised his own glass up. “This isn’t about the horse, though, or the money you stole.” He sipped his glass, his dark eyes staring them down.

He was in control, and they both knew it.

Morgan grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured some more in. “Then why are you here?”

The asshole waited until they were sipping the second glass to speak. “I’m here to convince you to rejoin the show.”

Their sputter sent the alcohol flowing the wrong way, turning the sputter into coughing and gagging. The first word that came up was “Hell no-” The vest and tie they wore felt too tight with the sudden ache in their ribs. They started to undo it, glaring him down. “No.”

“You did win,” he said, reminding them of what had been cast in a fever dream of pain and terror. “The audience loved it. They loved you, the first person who ever won. And more than earned your prize.” Frankie pulled out a large bag. It shook the counter when it landed, spilling out to reveal several hundred coins.

Morgan felt their jaw drop as they stared at the sheer amount. This was more than enough to set them for life, enough to make the bar one of the best in the city. Their hand reached for it-

“Hundreds of people lasted a few seconds, a few lasted a few minutes. But stars don’t just stay for one show.”

There it was. There had been something he wanted, common sense dictated. Otherwise, he would’ve just sent the money.

Frankie leaned forward, as if he was sure he had already won. The red gleam of his cigar cast sinister shadows over his face. “You want something colorful, something crazy, something more than…” He gestured to the bar again. “This.”

“Look, I appreciate that my entertainment value was enough that people want me back,” That was a lie. “But I enjoy breathing. I enjoy my life here too much to risk doing something stupid.” They left the bottle on the counter, next to their glasses, and grabbed the broom again to start sweeping. It wouldn’t exactly be the best weapon, but it would be something if Frankie had brought his brother. “I enjoyed the show,” Enjoyed hearing the stories from the staff who attended, who kept their mouth shut and waited on the wealthy members of society who gathered at the Franklin home to watch four members of the poor be slaughtered. “But one time was enough for me.”

“Really?” Frankie chuckled. A hand wrapped around their own and Morgan gave a start. They hadn’t seen him walk up. “You really want to spend your days in squalor, with the scent of alcohol clinging to you, lonely?” He yanked them forward, and the broom clattered out of their hands as they landed, gripping his shoulder with their free hand as his other hand rested on their waist. “You’re different than that, and we both know it.”

“Not that different.” They stepped forward, and he followed suit, pushing them both towards the bar. They released his shoulder to grab his glass, some amber still left inside it, and threw it back.

“Different enough,” he said, more of a purr. “I like that.”

He had made that known when he found them and brought them into the game. Morgan had to admit it. They hadn’t been blindsided like the other three clearly had been. He had been amused when they tried pickpocketing him.

“But, let’s be honest,” Frankie suddenly spun until Morgan’s back pressed against his chest. “We need each other, especially you. We were on the verge of bankruptcy, and then you dazzled everyone.”

Their blood was hotter now.

The crowd had cheered when they slammed Frank into the fireplace. It had made their heart rush even harder, staring into his eyes and seeing the pure shock in his expression.

His hands suddenly pulled away.

“But,” Frankie sighed, shrugging as though he had just given up. He flicked away the remains of his cigar. “I guess I’ll leave that up to you.” He turned and started heading to the door. The footman had his cane and his coat ready.

Morgan was left standing there, unsure of what to say or do.

Fuck off? Good riddance?

They glanced around the bar. Despite his claims, it wasn’t a pit of filth and squalor. They tried their best to keep it clean and tidy and well-lit. But the smell of alcohol and piss hung in the air, clinging to their skin and hair, and there were stains they could never scrub out, both on the green wallpaper and the wooden stools. It was fine, but…

“So what percentage of the show would I be taking?”

Frankie paused, long enough that Morgan could pour two more glasses, grinning at him.

He turned and his grin revealed it all.

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “I’d give you seven.”

Morgan felt a feral, loud cackle form as they poured another two glasses. “I wasn't born this morning, eighteen would be just fine.”

Frankie sputtered. “Why not just go ahead and ask for nickels on the dime?

“Fifteen.” Two more.

“I'd do eight.” Another step forward.

“Twelve.” Two more.

“Maybe nine.” A wince and another step.

“Ten.” Morgan grabbed a bottle over the counter, one of the most expensive bourbons they sold, and poured two glasses. They held one of the glasses out, staring him down with their grin.

Frankie stared. Once again, he looked like they had just slammed a fist into his gut. His eye twitched. 

His smile reappeared as he took the glass. 

“Deal.”

[13as07]

Spitting Image #3

(Gaara Sabaku)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Tamengkay]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,874

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Should I do a prequel of their night together? Hmm… probably

———————————————————————

The opal eyes my son inherited from his father are staring back at me from the door frame of my apartment. "Yoshiki isn't here right now," I mutter, clinging to the door I've cracked open.

     "I know. Shikadai and Inojin were playing with him at the flower shop when I stopped. I stopped at the flower shop, on the way, for these," Gaara races out, shoving one of the fancy bouquets toward me. Ino and I tease that it's the 'I fucked up' bouquet since its starting price is twelve thousand yen.

     "The thought is appreciated but flowers aren't a good present for a nine-month-old," I point out, a ting of sadness aching in my chest. Yoshiki has officially been out in the world longer than I carried him for.

     It's been about two months since Gaara met his son and since we met Yoshiki's family. The Hokage keeps randomly showing up, never going longer than a week without appearing back in the village. More often than not he's only gone three or four days, and while he's away his older sister tends to show up.

     The extra help is nice, for the most part. I'm still a bit on edge about letting Temari help though. I don't like someone I barely know around my kid, even if it is his Aunt.

     The only person stressing me out more than Temari is Gaara himself. He seems cold most of the time, definitely not the blushing 'oh my this is happening' guy he was the night we spent together. He also seems to not know what he's doing, which I get if it wasn't for the older son he has. It leaves room for speculation.

     That and I can only imagine how the sand village is reacting. It's a good half-a-day trip either way, and with him spending so much time in the Leaf I'm sure his council isn't too happy, especially since rumor has it our council isn't too happy with his constant appearance.

     Pair all that with the constant shove of money in my face and it doesn't sit too well in the gut. I know he's doing it in good nature, the fancy dinners, constantly buying new things for Yoshiki and leaving money around the house when I deny it from him. I know it's all meant in good faith... I think, but it stresses me out too.

     I don't need Gaara to take care of us, to take care of me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Yoshiki's father can offer him the nicer things in life and a part of me is glad that he wants to. But it still stresses me out. It makes me feel like he's setting himself up for a 'you owe me'. Another worry that doesn't get stomached too well.

     I haven't used any of the money Gaara keeps leaving behind. I have been saving it though, squirreling it away, keeping it as a little nesting egg in case Yoshiki and I do have to make a run for it. My father might have kept me blind to the Shinobi world but he didn't keep me blind from ways to keep myself safe. Rule number one: always have a packed to-go bag and an exit plan. At the rate things are going, that might just come in handy.

     "I know that," Gaara says a bit defensively, pressing the flowers to his chest before leaning them back towards me. "I got them for you," he mutters, eyes jumping around the apartment I'm in the middle of cleaning. "What is it that you are doing?"

     "Cleaning," I answer, eyeing the flowers. Is Gaara acting suspicious or am I being paranoid? We shall see. "Yoshiki has grown out of his pre-me clothes and some of the other outfits he has so I'm going through them. Whatever Konah and his wife don't want is going to be taken to the women's shelter."

     "Pre-me?"

     "It's short for premature. Yoshiki was born just short of thirty weeks. He was really small, three point two pounds. He's doing good now. His doctors say he's still a bit underweight but it's nothing to worry too much about. Just something to monitor." During my rant I've shuffled away from the door, focusing on folding more of Yosh's clothes and placing them in the box to bring Konah.

     "I was born premature," Gaara whispers, following behind me to watch as I fold.

     "My mother was too, so the chances of Yoshiki being a pre-me was always there. Besides that's a thing that comes from the mother's DNA, so don't work yourself up over it."

     "I was not going to," he murmurs, eyes jumping around the small space as his cheeks slowly dust themselves pink. I hum in disagreement, carefully watching as Gaara makes the short walk from the living room to the kitchen. "Where do you keep your vases?"

     "I don't have any vases."

     "What do you mean you 'do not have a vase'?" He asks, face scrunched up as he looks at me.

     "Exactly what it sounds like. I don't own a vase. Never have cause I've never needed one."

     "I am going to get you a vase."

     "You really don't need to, Gaara. I don't need a vase and I don't need flowers. I appreciate the gesture but I'm good," I tell him, panic banging around my chest at the thought of him buying me something else, much less more flowers.

     His head tilts and his face scrunches more before he shakes his head. "I am going to get you a vase," Gaara says more to himself than me, nodding in agreement with himself. "And new cups," he mutters, opening the cabinet, being met with the mix-match cups I've somehow gained over the years. "You shall have a vase and new cups next time I stop by."

     "I really, really don't need a vase and those cups work just as well as any others. I don't need new cups or anything else from you. I'm doing fine for myself and my son."

     "Our son."

     "My son," I repeat, feeling like I'm going to throw up despite the hardass tone I've managed to maintain.

     Gaara blinks at me a couple of times, seeming a bit dumb-founded and looking it as he stares, still holding the 'I fucked up' bouquet. "As you wish," he mutters, finally back in motion. He sets the flowers down before opening random drawers in search of something. When he finds it - a pad of paper and a pen - he goes to work scribbling on it. "Nonetheless, I shall walk around and make a list of things you two need."

     I let out a laugh of disbelief, clothes completely forgotten because of the madman's words. "No, you are not. I already told you -"

     "If you wish me to stay out of your room I will, but yes, I am going to figure out what it is that the mother of my child and our son needs," Gaara freezes for a second, imaginary eyebrows jumping up. "My apologies, what your son needs."

     "Are you being a smart-alec right now?" I ask, another disbelieving laugh leaving my lips. "Is that what you're doing?"

"No," he says matter-of-factly. "You are not okay with me referring to Yoshiki as something we share, so I will avert from doing so."

"Dumbass," I mumble under my breath, turning my attention back to the pile of clothes I'm giving away. "I got knocked up by a dumbass."

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"I'm just saying, Gaara is being a little much," I grumble, messing with my keys in search of the one that unlocks my front door.

"And I'm just saying, Gaara wants to take care of you. What's the harm in letting him?" Ino asks, her eyes are shiny with amusement.

"If you like the idea so much, ask him to take care of you," I groan, finally managing to get the key in the lock.

She laughs focusing on the grocery bags she's shifting in her arms. "Ya let me just ask Gaara to give me a baby too. I'm sure that'll go over well. Honestly, I still don't know how you managed to talk him into bed."

"You and me both," I mumble, pushing the door and leaving it open for Ino to follow. She does follow after me, silence flaking between us as we head towards the kitchen to place my groceries down.

     "Welcome home!" Shinki calls out, racing into the kitchen to greet us. "Oh! Hello Auntie Ino!"

     As Ino greets him, I head back out to the living room in search of Yoshiki. Panic starts to rise a bit when I don't find him - or Gaara.

     The panic doesn't last long though, the two of them falling into view when I push Yosh's nursery door open. Gaara looks uneasy as he sits in the rocking chair, my - our - son fast asleep on his chest. "Hello," he calls, stiffening when our son stirs in his sleep.

     "Hello," I echo, softly closing the door before I head towards them. "You know you can lay him in his crib," I tell him, carefully picking Yoshiki off his chest.

Gaara stiffens again, face scrunching up as he inches forward. "I am aware. I did not wish to."

A smile weighs on my lips as I cuddle with my son, pressing soft kisses to his head as I rock the sleeping boy. "Do you want him back when I'm done?"

He blinks at me in his slow way, his face slowly softening as he thinks. "Yes," he mutters, relaxing in the rocking chair again. "I enjoy our time here."

"I'm glad," I hum, soaking in my greeting to Yoshiki for another beat before I gently lay him back on his father's chest. "Yoshiki enjoys it when Shinki and you are here too."

"Do you enjoy when we're here?" Gaara asks, eyes locked on me, his stone-face expression on it like usual.

I think about it for a moment, trying to decide what answer to give: honestly or sugar-coated. "I enjoy spending time with Shinki, he's a sweet kid. I absolutely adore him. I'm happy the two of you are in Yoshiki's life." Both, that works.

"Are you happy we're in your life?"

"Yes," I answer before I have the chance to fully think about it. It's not a lie, I do enjoy having the Sand Shinobis around. I truly adore Shinki and like having him around. Gaara isn't terrible to have around either, it's nice having an extra set of hands, to have a man for Yoshiki to grow up looking up to, and I might have grown a bit fond of the flowers and the pale blue vase he got me.

He nods to himself, slowly rocking himself and Yosh in the chair as he spaces out. "How was your grocery shopping trip with Ino?" He finally murmurs, opal eyes set on me in their intense way. I swear Gaara can't look at anything calmly.

"It was alright. I think I'm going to make homemade ramen for dinner. I'm thinking of topping it with pork and boiled eggs."

Another spaced-out look and agreeing nod. "You should wait until Yoshiki wakes up so I can help you."

"I think I'm capable of - "

"- I know," Gaara cuts me off, eyes scrunched in a way that makes the markings of his eyes stand out. "I am aware you are capable of a lot of things. I am here to help, so I shall help. I wish you would let me help you more often."

I open my mouth to respond but get cut off again, this time by a knock at the door. "Hey, mamas," Ino's voice rings out as she opens the door, slowly poking her head into the room. "I have a meeting soon so I'm going to head out. Shinki is working on putting the groceries away. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Enjoy your meeting, I'll see you later," I call back, waving at my friend before she pulls the door closed again.

"Let me help with dinner," Gaara butts in once the door is closed, ending my attempt to respond before I can even start it. "I want my sons to see me helping around the house. It is not fair for you to work all day and then come home to do the household duties. Let me help."

I let out a long sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as my eyes jump around the nursery. "Fine, you can help with dinner," I say, giving in to Gaara's request.

I suppose there's no harm in letting him help more around the house, especially since he and his son spend most of their time in the village here. Of course they don't sleep here, it's only a small two-bedroom apartment, but if they're not sleeping or spending time with friends and family in the village, they are here. Which means they're here most of the day.

As I leave Yosh's room, thoughts of getting a bigger apartment cross my mind. Should I start looking for a three-bedroom or a four-bedroom? Probably a three-bedroom, I don't think Shinki would mind sharing a room with his younger brother... maybe. I'll just look for both. After all, at the rate we're going Gaara isn't going to let up anytime soon.

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"You're doing that thing again," I grumble, shifting the strainer back and forth to shake the water out of the noodles I'm prepping for dinner.

"What thing?" Gaara asks, his eyes still intensely on me as they have been for the last ten minutes. I swear he hasn't even blinked during the time.

"That thing where you sit there and stare at me. You did it during..." My mouth snaps closed, not sure how to refer to our night together so long again. Not really, it's only been eighteen months. Though a lot has changed in that year and a half. "Our time together," I murmur, shaking the strainer harder.

"Did what?"

"Just sit there and stare. Even in my drunk stupor, it creeped me out a bit."

Gaara finally blinks a few times, slow and steady as he thinks of his response. "You are a very beautiful woman. Besides, I like to look at the mother of my children."

The plural use of the word makes the strainer tumble from my hands, crashing into the sink as I lean down to rest my weight against the edge of it.

"Are you okay?" Shinki asks, his head popping up from the wood blocks he and Yoshiki are playing with. Shinki is trying his hardest to teach his younger brother how to spell his name. I don't think he has grasped the concept of how young Yosh is yet. Still, it's been cute watching him try.

"Yes, sweetie. We're fine," I call before letting out a silent sigh, my eyes snap closed as the sink edge digs into my palms. "What the fuck, Gaara?" I hiss out quietly, refusing to let the boys see me lose my temper with their father.

"What?" He asks, blinking in his slow 'trying to comprehend' way that's starting to piss me off.

"Child, the mother of your child. Singular, one, I have had one baby. In total. Not just one of your sons, one in total."

"Yes, I know that," he says, face scrunching in lack of understanding. "But you are the closest thing to a mother Shinki has known, and I fully intend to get you pregnant again. Perhaps we will have a daughter this time."

"What the hell, Gaara?!" I yell before I can stop myself, snapping my eyes open and standing up straight.

"There is no need to yell. It is not something I plan on doing soon. There are things we need to get in order."

"Like what?" I hiss quietly, shifting closer so it's easier to keep my tone quiet. I don't need the boys noticing the fit heating up, and Shinki's glancing eyes let me know he's starting too.

"Well, I would like to get Yoshiki and you situated in the Sand Village, again not anytime soon if you don't wish it but preferably within the next couple of months. Then we will need to get the events in place for the wedding and of course the papers to update Shinki's adoption order. Then the matter of getting pregnant again. I do not mind the age gap between the boys but I think it would be best to have our next child sometime before Yoshiki is three or four."

"Get out." The words come out airy, disbelief and anger rooted in my mind.

"What?"

"Get out," I repeat, anger quickly outweighing my disbelief. "I need you to get out of my sight. I need you out of my home, I need you out of the village. I need you as far away from me as humanly possible. Get out, now."

"What is it that I've - "

"Get out!" I repeat, shouting at him now. My hands jump forward, connecting with his chest before I start shoving him out of the kitchen. "Out! Get out! Get away from me! Get away from my son! Go away!" I yell, continuing to shove him.

"I do not understand what it is that - " Gaara tries to say, his hands jumping up and gently cupping my elbows, he's not even trying to stop my shoving.

"I swear to the lord I'm going to stab you, Gaara. Go away," I shriek, tugging myself from his grip before slamming the front door open. Once the door is open, I go back to shoving him out of the house, leaving the Sand Hokage in the hallway before slamming and locking the door shut.

When I turn back around, Yoshiki is crying and screaming in fear because of my yelling. Shinki is wide-eyed and his mouth hangs open as he stares at me. "I swear," I mutter under my breath, taking quick steps towards my son. I swoop down, picking him up before I try rocking him. "It's okay, Yosh. I know, I know. Mommy is sorry for yelling. Everything is okay," I coo, shifting us back and forth as I rub his back.

"Are you kicking me out too?" Shinki's soft voice calls out, the volume being his failing attempt to hide his sadness.

"No, no. Of course not, sweetie," I continue to coo, my fake calmness aimed at him instead of Yoshiki. "I'll never kick you out of my home, okay? You're always welcome here," I continue to soothe, dropping the arm not holding Yosh down so I can run my fingers through Shinki's hair.

"This is a safe space for you, Love. I'm sorry I've made it unsafe," I continue to soothe the older boy, placing his younger brother back on the ground now that he's calmed down. I fall to my knees in front of Shinki, wrapping my arms around him and pressing his head to my shoulder. "How about we put Yosh in his high chair and you can help me make dinner, okay?"

"Okay," the older boy whispers into my shoulder, willingly laying his head down now. "I'm sorry Papa upset you."

"You don't have to be sorry for him. Just because I'm mad at Gaara doesn't mean I'm mad at you, Sweetie," I tell him, littering the side of his head with kisses. "Let's finish making dinner now, okay?"

"Okay."

————————————

Ino lets out a loud chuckle, hunching over the counter as she giggles. "I'm sorry, it's really not funny... except it is."

A groan escapes me as I lay my head on the counter, rolling over my fight with Gaara again. "I do not know what is funny," Sai says, looking quite confused as his head switches between his wife and me. "I think it is nice that Gaara wants another child."

"My dear," Ino says, wrapping herself around Sai's arm. "Gaara's bluntness is what's funny. They barely know each other, they are nowhere near close enough to get married, let alone have another child together."

     "Well, why not?" He asks, head tilting as he looks at his wife. "Gaara is here about as much as he's away. They practically live together and already have one child together. The only person in the village who knows Gaara better than her is Temari... well, and possibly Naruto. It seems that the only way they are not married is by the law of the Great Nations."

     Now it's my turn to giggle at Ino's unaware father of her child. "Well," she starts, mouth gaping like a fish as she struggles with her words. "The... there's not the emotional part of it. No one should marry someone they don't love, Sai."

     "Are you blind, my love?"

      "What?!" Ino shrieks, letting go of Sai's arm.

     "Please calm down. I meant it in a joking way, not literally. I am just saying it is obvious that Gaara enjoys her company."

     "What do you mean?" I ask, turning my attention away from the hissy fit Ino is throwing.

     "Like I said before, Gaara spends a lot of time in the village. I am aware it is to see Yoshiki, but he seems quite interested in taking care of you as well. If he did not love you, why would he be interested in your specific needs? Personally, if I was not interested in the mother of my child, my sole focus would be on my child. I would not care about the mother is all I'm saying. My child's needs would be met and that's it."

     Ino's lecture about the hypothetical situation goes into full swing, a few groans of manners and politeness thrown into the mix. As she gets after her husband, I replay Sai's words in my head. Maybe he had a point, or maybe he didn't. I don't know.

     Gaara's and Shinki's constant travels have been weighing on my mind recently though. They travel to and from the village at least once a week, if not twice. It would be a lot easier on them if we all lived in the same village, and well... it would be easier for Yoshiki and me to move to the Hidden Sand than Gaara and Shinki moving here. After all, Gaara is their Hokage, and leaving that job wouldn't be easy or smart, financially.

     "Maybe I will," I mutter, letting out another sigh.

     "Maybe you will what?" Ino asks, stalling her discussion with Sai.

     "Maybe Yoshiki and I will move to the Sand Village. It's the least I can do since Gaara is doing so much for us. Besides, it would be easier for me to get a new job at the same pay I have now than it would be for him."

     Ino and Sia fall quiet for a couple of minutes, the weight of my words hovering over them as much as it's hovering over me. Ino finally pipes up, saying "Whatever you choose to do, we'll support you. Always."

I swear I'm never drinking a margarita for the rest of my life.

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[kentokrazy]

a/n: 🙈 this is terrible but my mind is rotting

ex-sorcerer!nanami kento x gn!reader

warnings: death, grief, could be considered toxic but not in my opinion

nanami kento's red flag

* i saw a tiktok edit so now i'm thinking about this

* but dating nanami kento, he's the perfect man

* brings you flowers

* walks closest to the street

* listens to you, like actually listens when you say things

* he always keeps a level head, during arguments, during stressful moments and even when he's upset

* when he dated in you he invested in you

* that means there are no big life changes made without talking about it

* his finances are even stricter than before, he's going to save every penny he can

* his eyes are on the housing market every other day, checking houses in malaysia and nicer neighborhoods

* if you so mention the idea of kids, he's got schools bookmarked, scribbles of life long plans

* he remembers anniversaries, holidays, birthdays

* but there's one thing

* one, small, tiny thing

* the littlest of red flags

* and if you didn't know him, it could've sent you running

* because nanami trusts you completely, he loves you deeply and wouldn't make this much of a change in his life if he didn't

* but if he could lock you away from all harm he would

* you can feel it when he holds your hand, when he doesn't stray from your side for more than a minute in public

* when he requested you share your location

* if you don't answer your phone when he calls, his heart seizes and his palms get sweaty

* when he doesn't get a single text from you, he can feel the rippling of an anxiety attack

* sometimes, if you sleep too stiffly, his fingers on your neck can stir you.

* he doesn't mean to be overbearing, not really, but can you blame him?

* at the ripe age of 17, he carried his best friends dead body back to his school

* and sometimes the nightmares reminding him of the fact aren't always haibara, sometimes they're of you

* those are the days he seems to be incredibly nervous, driving you to work with a hand on your thigh, picking you up, walking so close he might as well be a backpack when you go to the grocery store

* he doesn't trust others to get close on those days

* he was banned from the convenience store down the block

* nanami's left the sorcerer world for good this time, he has a good reason to do so

* but sometimes he can't help it if he notices a curse getting too close to you (or anyone he deems worth saving)

* sometimes he finds it hard to breathe, thoughts of what could happen to you when he's not around drown him, in those times all he can do is close his eyes, try to remember that those days are behind him

* and when that doesn't work, he calls you, leaves work early, finds you and just needs to feel you

* there are few days he cracks under the pressure, and those come months after shoving those feelings away but you can always see it coming

* he forgets things when those days come, not important things- no, but little things like drinking, eating, sleeping

* he lays down next to you, sure, his hand is somewhere on you but he just stares at the wall, the back of your head or the window

* his bags are deep, his hands are shaky and he becomes the husk you first met, where the only thing on his mind was money and forgetting

* but when he breaks it's bloody and red skin, his nails are bitten and fingers with hangnails

* his hair is tussled and his clothes are disorderly, tie discarded and sweat soaking the fabric of his shirt

* his eyes are watery and your phone is filled with missed calls and panicked messages

* a cool cloth and silent holding is the beginnings of piecing him together, brushing his hair out of his face and whispered assurances bring him back from the fog in his brain

* nanami is well spoken, polite and god forbid he use the wrong honorifics around you, but here he's choking, spitting up and crying, his hands are clutching you like he's not sure you're really there

* that's he's not sure he's real

* propping him up in the bathroom, washing his red skin and sitting with him ground him

* trying to remind him of his change, his growth and his safety

* nanami is a foodie, he prides himself on cooking the best food and buying the freshest vegetables he can find

* but his dirty secret is that on days when he can't stomach anything, can't do much but cry and worry and sometimes call an old student that reminds him of a friend to make sure they're okay, he likes one thing

* a cup of noodles that a friend used to buy is the one of the only things that he can digest, as much as he wishes it wasn't true

* there's a shelf full of them, tucked away from the rest of the world, and each time one gets used another takes it's place

* noodles with the side of a particular soda and a childhood candy stitches together the bleeding part of his heart

* and when that meal is over and his mental fight has exhausted him, nanami sleeps like a rock, for hours (once he slept for two days) he keeps his arms wound around you so tightly

* because his red flag is in the shape of his bleeding heart

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter 12

Once-ler turns evil. Gets dark at the end. Read the whole thing on Ao3. Excerpt:

It was nice when he could get a second guitar without even thinking about it. Perhaps even nicer than it would have been to someone who didn't have heartbreaking memories of always being told his parents couldn't afford a good one for him. After all, hadn't it been just the other day he'd asked for one on his eighth birthday in front of the music store window and gotten tears in his eyes when his dad told him no?

He didn't have any memories of clothes-shopping as a child either. All he'd gotten was hand-me-downs for short people from his church's charity drives. Surely other people had always gotten measured at tailors to get jackets and trousers of the highest quality to fit them perfectly. This, of course, justified the exorbitant bill when he bought a new designer wardrobe complete with extra tall top hats in his favorite black and bright green colors.

It turned out, the world was full of things he'd never been able to appreciate before he'd had money:

Clothes, drinks, cars, trips, events. There were so many more opportunities when you weren't just a poor helpless urchin…

He would never go back to being poor. Never. He was even worse than his Ma, after a short time.

"Oncie, don't ya think maybe we could take a day off to have a family picnic and celebrate the end of summer like in the old days?" she said to him one day.

Once-ler looked up from the photos he was studying for a new billboard advertisement. He'd almost settled on what he thought was a charismatic picture of himself with his arms spread wide and an eye-popping grin on his face, though Brett had remarked it made him look rather possessed.

"Ha!" He slammed down the photos. "You mean the old days when we were poor and miserable? Why don't we take the whole week off and have a real party? Or better yet, a month-long tropical vacation?"

His Ma blinked. "Sounds real nice, honey, but who's gonna run the company? Didn't you just get back from a cruise? Ain't ya gettin' just a little too extravagant these days?"

"Who cares? I'm rich! We got a million employees now. Besides I deserve it cuz of all the sufferin' I went through before."

This excuse got less impressive by the day as Once-ler's new luxuries quickly outweighed any misery he'd previously endured. His identity as a lower class citizen faded even more quickly from his own memory and personality than it did into the past.

"I'm so glad that in the last year I was finally able to discover the real me," was something he'd told everyone in his family more than once since they'd returned. It never occurred to him that what he meant was: "I'm so glad I finally have money to do whatever I want without any consequences."

***

2nd excerpt:

"I just wanted to tell you, the Barbaloots are dying."

Something got through the iron-clad self absorption that had enclosed Once-ler for the last few months. He was surrounded by terrible people all the time now, but when harm fell upon innocent creatures, it was different. He remembered the little Barbaloot that had given him a hug after the fiasco in the river.

"What do you mean dying? How can they be… Surely they're not actually dying ?"

"There was something in the water that made 'em sick. Something from your factory that set in quick. It's making 'em not move and lay around. And some of 'em…" There were tears in the Lorax's eyes. "Some of 'em ain't gettin' up from the ground."

READ THE FULL THING ON AO3!!!

[crossroadsnumber1doctor]

Goodnight, sweet prince dear medic

---

[ The unseen timer clicks, then stops. ]

[ Time has run out. ]

---

...

Quiet. It was far too quiet in crossroads. Perhaps everyone was asleep? Busy? It's none of his business anyway.

The tip of his tail twitched and swayed a bit as he sat similarly silent at his desk, arms crossed on it, head nested in arms, thoughts running rampant again.

Thinking about everything that led up to him getting this filthy disease, everything he's ever done up to that point, everything he's done WHILE infected. It was all for not, every last bit of it. And he still barely actually had anything.

Sure, he had pets, but two aren't even his and were just creatures that were put into his care.. And his cat.. Someone could surely just take her and care for her themselves when he's gone. He doesn't exactly want to leave her behind, in someone else's care, but he doesn't exactly have a choice.

He had friends, two of them, perhaps three. But Sword and Rocket had eachother, no matter how much they care, no matter how upset they get about it, they still have eachother. Other than healing or having someone else to drag around on their little shenanigans or to nag them for doing stupid stuff, did they really need him? Probably not. And that ghost.. He still wasn't quite sure what to think of him. He seemed to be acting nicer, but what if that's just a way to get him to let down his guard again. The spirit could just leave him without a word and he wouldn't know anyway, it doesn't matter.

Hell, the clothes he wore wasn't even his.. It belonged to the cult, it was a cult uniform. They could just take that too.

He didn't have much money to his name. Hell, he made ROCKET pay for HIS meal, not that it matters..

He had the apartment he lived in and all the little furniture he put around the place but what does it matter if he's just going to die. They'll just take the house and sell his stuff for an extra buck.

His mechanical and technological skills were all but useless because of that freak's actions back when they worked together, that attack, the fact he got the whole faction against him now. He couldn't trust anyone because of him, he would never truly be safe. Not when he's alive, and probably not while he's dead either.

None of it matters, he has nothing. Absolutely nothing and he can't do anything about it, especially now that he's in his condition.

.. His eye is aching again..

Oh how he wanted to scratch it.. Rip and tear at the flesh of that hole like his fellow scientist did him. Perhaps then he could get his mind off everything, pay more attention to patching it back up, getting out that feeling of maggots chewing away at the decaying flesh and making a living in his socket even if he knew deep inside that nothing was in there, to hopefully stop feeling so disgusting.

Maybe he was right. He was worthless, a waste of oxygen. Nothing he did truly did matter in the end, he never got to make something that could help millions, make that huge impact that infected the entirety of the impherno and make that world a better place for everyone. How was he supposed to help everyone if he can't even help himself.

Everything he's ever made, discovered, all his hopes and fears, the connections he's made, all that he had actually managed to gain on his own, all the time he's spent here. It was all for nothing, nothing at all.

And yet.. Somehow, he felt content with all this.

Gods.. What a useless, insignificant, disgusting bug. What a mound of garbage and grease he was to be FINE with this all... What a useless piece of-

...

God.. He was making himself tired with his own thoughts again

oh, who is he kidding, he was already tired. He was just too caught up in all his thinking to notice it, but now..

He doubt he could even move..

His head hurt, it's starting to get fuzzy. Maybe from the mold particles that were left from that anon? He wasn't certain.

.. Maybe a nap couldn't hurt, he needed to be well-rested to be able to hang out with either one of those two some more afterall.

He breathed.. Before closing his eye, and drifting off

into a slumber that would last longer than he wanted

-

Cream blinked her eyes awake, uncurling and stretching out a bit with a yawn before getting out the catbed and padding over to Medkit, tapping his leg with a paw like she always did. It was a daily routine at this point, to bother him a bit in the morning until he eventually gave in and got up to get her food and then bother him some more. All in a day's work for her.

But something was wrong. No matter how many times she poked at him he just wouldn't get up.

" Mrrp mrow? "

Her ear twitched, tail flicking a bit in annoyance.. Before she decided to move onto more drastic measures, clawing up his leg to get onto his lap and curl up, surely then he would finally get up.

..

There was something missing..

She couldn't feel him breath.. She couldn't hear it either.

Was.. He even breathing?

Cream meowed at him again. She kept meowing, increasingly getting louder in volume until it became akin to yelling.

He's not getting up

Why is he not getting up

He isn't moving at all..

get up.

get up...

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Ok first id like to share some good news: finished all my tests for the semester, and i think i only failed like 2 or 3!! More good news, more fics that ill get around to writing!! Or ill just post my unfinished drafts. I mean there's a yandere Jake (platonic dad yandere) fic and a "spider w permanant brain damage from the scanner fic" and even more just absolutely collecting dust in my drafts

New idea that I'll def finish this time tho: Humans but there unrealistically better than they are. There's no RDA, no big mining operation, no deforestation or driving natives out or dying earth, just humans being natural born explorers who are mind blown at an entire different planet with life.

And that's wild! They thought they were alone, the universe looking back on itself, explorers of a vast and endless yet lonely expanse. Then boom! Life! Life on a different planet, life so different yet similar. A life that has their own culture and languages, that's so intertwined with nature, they're capable of forming a deep connection at a moments notice! That's amazing! (Forgive me for my amazement, watching Rio and i just love the movie)

Anyway, in this au with no evil corporation only interested in money heading this operation, humans are way nicer! And weirder.

I imagine the Na'vis early experiences w humans are like what some of us think that aliens are doing (crop circles, abducting cows, just standing around naked) (and i say naked because most photos of aliens have em in no clothes. Or they're wearing a full body grey suit). I imagine that at first they don't believe humans are real because they don't show themselves often, only spotted by like a handful. Like "i saw this small pink creature by the river today! It had hair and eyes and hands and feet, and walked on it's legs!" "What the Eywa are you talking abt"

I imagine the first human they meet is a weirdo who's exceptionally brave. They walk up to a Na'vi and just start speaking in the most nonsensical Na'vi ever, that they managed to learn from observing them. They just follow them atound all day, keeps saying Na'vi phrases until whoever they're following just walks to camp and presents them and they're like "hey what is this."

Or, alternatively

Humans try staying away from them cause they're like twice their size and capable of making weapons, except for one person. This one spends their time following around a specific Na'vi and annoying them. They hum little tunes, they're spotted once and disapear behind the trees, they're daring enough to get ahold of their tools and try to study them. Then they start trying to communicate with them, little phrases yadda yadda. All while the Na'vi is going back home like "no mom, i promise i didn't loose my knife, this small pink creature stole it!"

They're like so fed up with the human and everyone around them cause they're like "what are you talking abt" so they're trying to get evidence of their existance. Eventually they do get them and present them to the tribe like "see!! I told you they were real!!!" And they're like "huh. Ok. What is this thing."

Dont have any idea how im gonna further w this but ye! Humans are way nicer and not run by a greedy corporation au

VERY EXCITING! I'm very sure you didn't fail anything. I want bOTH of those collecting dust drafts please and thank you.

No Rio and Avatar have been going hand and fucking hand lately lol. This idea is so fucking funny dude. I'm CACKLING. I absolutely adore the idea of humans being perceived as the aliens in any context and just how weird that would be, and it's not touched upon ENOUGH in Avatar because we come into the world when they have known each other. Hit us with that Grace and Mo'at developing friendship dude. I've always loved that and wanted it explored more.

[drivinmeinsane]

So I can't stop thinking about when I bought my minx coat Ken and these where the frequently bought together items.

I'm left imagining a Ken left out on a dog tie only being thrown very expensive Pecans as sustenance. It's haunting me and I think someone should write it as a way to exorcise this demon from my mind (��◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

I now require all requests to be as delightedly weird as this one. Thank you for sending this in and making me get it done. I had a blast writing this. <3

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: He’s got no money. He’s got no car. He’s got no house. He’s got artisanal pecans.

※ Rating: G for generally upsetting all audiences

※ Word count: 853

The screen door creaks obnoxiously as you shove it open and step down onto your back porch. You barely have the time to let it shut behind you before a blond man comes barreling towards you on all fours. Ken all but tackles you in his excitement.

“Easy, Ken, easy,” you admonish.

He settles at your feet, chastised, faux mink coat spilling around him. His glittery blue collar is in sharp contrast to the gray fur. His tag jingles against the clip at the end of his tether. It’s a necessary precaution to keep him from wandering too far. Despite all his protests otherwise, you know he would be liable to set out on a three hour walk to some unknown location and take another three hours to return only with some misguided ideals in his head.

You run a gentle hand through his hair. He leans up into your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation of your nails against his scalp. He would gladly be petted all day if possible.

“I brought you something,” you say with a smile.

You give the bag of expensive pecans that you’re holding in your hand a shake, drawing the blond’s attention to it. After careful research, making sure to do a deep dive on each company, you were sure you had found the best pecans to give your hungry boy as a treat. He was so fond of dried fruit and glazed nuts that you would be shocked if he didn’t like the Sahale Snacks® pecans in the ‘Valdosta’ variety.

Ken puts his hands on your legs, forgetting himself in his delight. He’s almost panting in his eagerness for the treat in your grasp. You can’t allow bad behavior so you step back, dislodging his hold. “Off, Ken. You know better.”

He immediately pulls his hands away. He rests them against the outdoor rug, digging his fingers into short fibers in the effort to contain himself. A wide smile spreads across his face when you praise him for obeying. He loves nothing more than to make you happy. He can’t help the wiggle his body does in excitement as you open the bag and stick your hand in to grab a small handful of the mix. The crinkling noise has his rapt attention. The glaze is sticky on your fingers.

You withdraw your hand and offer him his good boy treat. He props himself on his knees and makes eye contact, he waits patiently for your permission. You give him an encouraging nod. He presses his mouth into your cupped hand and eats the pecans. His lips are soft against your palm and there’s a whiskery hint of his stubble. You feel the wet brush of his tongue as he seeks out every crumb.

He pulls back, a thoughtful look in his usually vacant, blue eyes. “Is it me or do these pecans just get dreamier and dreamier?” he asks, his tone a little congested with emotion.

“That’s because they’re Sahale Snacks® pecans. They’re a nicer brand than you’ve been getting.”

He looks stunned that you upgraded him from the Great Value™ Dried Cranberries & Candied Pecans to this new brand. From a salad topper to an actual glazed nut mix? It’s like you had just given him the world, like you respected him in a way that was beyond ordinary®.

You offer him another small handful and he all but lunges for them. The kneeling man finds a cranberry amongst the nuts and lets out a pleased groan. He vacuums up every morsel. You giggle a little at the way his eager snuffling against your skin tickles. He looks at the bag in your other hand and his eyes inexplicably start to well up with tears. Before you can reach out to give him a soothing pet, he bursts into hysterical sobs.

"Don't look at me!" He's crying. He's actually crying over the pecans.

"That good, huh?" You ask gently.

He nods, sniffling pathetically as he swallows. “They’re sublime.”

You take a seat on the patio and set the bag aside. You give your leg a coaxing pat and suddenly, Ken’s on your lap like an overzealous dog. You take it in stride.

“You’re a good boy, Ken.”

He whines at the praise. You follow up your approval with a scritch under his jaw. He squirms delightedly, almost getting tangled in his tether. He rolls over for a belly scratch and you oblige him. You almost think his foot is going to start kicking, he’s that into it. You let him lay across your legs for a while, letting him enjoy the aftertaste of the glazed mix and your affectionate petting. All things must come to and end though, and before long you’re encouraging the man off of you. He scrambles to his hands and knees and gives you a betrayed look that’s not eased by a smoothed over his head. His coat is slipping down, revealing a bare shoulder. You grasp the material and straighten it before getting ready to go back in the house.

“I’ll see you later. Be good. I know you pecan.”

[arthurian-aita]

AITA for offering money to the fair maiden in love with me instead of agreeing to marry her?

I (1547M) am in love with my boss’s wife, “Jen” (1543F), who happens to be the queen. It sounds bad, but she’s also in love with me. My coworkers were getting suspicious, so I’ve been pulling away to avoid being found out. She was not happy about this and accused me of flirting with other damosels. I haven’t been, but she kicked me out anyway, and things have been tense ever since. 

My boss/sovereign lord, “Anthony” (1545M), was getting ready to head out for a big joust, and I was supposed to go, but I was still pretty hurt from the last one, so I was going to stay behind. Jen was also staying behind, and she said it looked too much like I was staying to spend time with her. (Mixed messages?) I left for the joust the next day because… what else was I supposed to do. 

When I got to the castle where everyone was staying, I asked to borrow a shield with a less obvious symbol on the front so no one would know who I was during the fight. I met the host’s daughter, “Ellen” (1536F), and she very sweetly offered me a token of her affection (red sleeve with pearls) for the joust. Now, I’m pretty well known for never wearing any lady’s token, and I told her as much. I thought this would make my disguise even better. I asked her to hang on to my branded shield until I got back, but I didn’t tell her my name to avoid word getting out by accident. 

Long story short, I won the joust anonymously, but my old wound started acting up, so I left early. At this point, I was a little delirious. Ellen found me, and, okay, I did kiss her. Just this once, though. I’m not proud of it, but you try being in pain and seeing a fair maiden who’s come to take care of you. 

She told me one of my coworkers, “Wayne” (1538M), dropped by her house and that she had shown him my shield, which is how she learned my name. I immediately realized he would’ve taken this back to the team huddle, and Jen would definitely find out about the red sleeve and think I was in love with Ellen. 

After a while, one of my other coworkers, “Boris” (1559M), shows up and tells me about another joust I should probably attend, and I’m just itching to get out of bed. Being waited on hand and foot and nursed to recovery is great, but I’m a guy who needs to be out in the world. So I sent Ellen out to gather herbs while I got my buddy to help me get my armor on and saddle my noble steed. Unfortunately, I may not have been fully healed because riding reopened my wound, and the maiden heard me shout and came running. She absolutely caught me sneaking out, but luckily blamed the hermit we were staying with and my coworker for letting me out of bed. Love makes people blind and all that.

I missed the joust, and Boris returned and told me all about it. I realized I really needed to get back to my life, but when I went to leave, the fair maid was all: “Have mercy upon me,” and I was like, “What would ye that I did?” And then she proposed. I mean, I was flattered, but I can’t be tied down. I said no. And then she asked if I would be her lover instead, which would ruin both her honor and mine, so again, I said no, and she threatened to die of her love for me. 

As a compromise, because I couldn’t marry her, I offered her and her future husband and heirs a thousand pounds a year. I think that’s more than fair, considering we were never even together. She passed out, and then her father got involved, basically asking what his daughter was supposed to do now. I argued that I never gave her any reason to fall in love with me and that I was sure she could find a nice man to marry her. 

When I finally made it back to work, Anthony and Jen summoned me because, apparently, a dead woman showed up in a barge with a letter in her hand explaining her love for me and how that caused her death. Not a great look. Jen asked if I could’ve been nicer to Ellen to save her life, but I think I handled it pretty well by countering, “love must arise of the heart, and not by no constraint.” I explained that Ellen only wanted to marry me or be my lover, so I offered her money. Anthony was on my side, and Jen ended up apologizing for misjudging me. So:

AITA for offering the fair maiden money instead of marrying her so I could remain loyal to my relationship with my boss’s wife?

EDIT: I guess the names were too close because one of you snitched on me to “Anthony.” Watch your back at the next tournament.

[infiniteinoblivionn]

1- don’t worry darling, the chair, Hamilton

2- they’re white and hug my feet so nicely

3- I love smoothies

4- a dress. Which isn’t much different from what I usually wear but I’ll do my hair nice and put earrings on and maybe nicer shoes

5- scrambled. Very cooked. I’ll eat it…not scrambled (with a bagel or ramen), as long as the yolk is cooked.

6- I use anything around me as a bookmark

7- black. but I have lots of navy blue and army green too

8- nope

9- hmmm. rain came calm me down, but it also excites me. same with the smell

10- I’m a huge fan of lyrics

11- I wear contacts sadly (but only in one eye cuz my other eye is too far gone for contacts)

12- i love their loyalty and humor and bravery and fashion sense

13- write in pen, draw with pencil

14- hp world lol idk

15- no. I cant keep any plants alive

16- I wish I had a favorite hoodie. I run hot so I usually don’t wear long sleeves/jackets. But I do wish I had a really comfy oversized hoodie I could wear

17- fanx tickets

18- hmmmm. I can’t think of any rn that I’d like to experience but I do have many I’d like to observe as like a ghost lol

19- belle. easily.

20- good at no math

21- man idk the words exactly but I love 1800/1900s art. The paintings of people and landscapes. I love oil paintings

22- iced drinks always.

23- I don’t sing in the shower. But if I did it would be musicals probably

24- my eyesight isn’t great but I consider myself a timid, yet good driver.

25- I currently have 2 piercings!! (Or I guess 4 holes). I have tons of tattoos I wanna get when I have money, and I’d like to get a couple more piercings too.

26- I’ve just started actually cooking. I like it more than baking tbh. I wouldn’t say I’m good at anything specifically but I do make spaghetti a lot

27- I have lots. I have a keychain I bought in nyc, I have a Spotify keychain with the song “peace” by ts, I have foldable scissors, I have a “fuck the patriarchy” keychain, and I can’t remember anything else rn

28- I always thought I was a pretty strong swimmer but I don’t like swimming.

29- loved legos. I didn’t use the sets, I just used the regular blocks. I would build “houses” for my MLPs and I would build flowers and cars and whatever else my child brain thought up.

30- I currently don’t have a “closet”. I just have an armoire which isn’t the same imo😭 and it’s organized in the way that my shirts are hanging up

31- I usually don’t watch mvs so.. probably I Can See You by Taylor swift

32- maybe black or blue or strawberry blonde?

33- earbuds

34- duh, cant everyone 😭😭

35- I had this dolphin I got from my mom and I think her name was crystal and she had a specific place she’d sleep. But now it’s this winky emoji pillow that I “borrowed” from an old friend (his name is choji don’t judge me I don’t even like naruto)

36- uhhh air hockey maybe?

37- I prefer to be alone so I can sing and also I don’t like people watching me

38- I info dump on my friends all the time lol. So idk if they could recite anything but I’ve definitely told them lots about key points/dramatic moments

39- hanging out with my sisters

40- idk trees really but I like the white bark ones and weeping willows and pines

41- plain kind

42- lots of games. Rn my fav is Ludo Club

43- do people shower with the lights off?!?!?!

44- nerve use it unless it’s in my car and then I’ll use it for soda or smth

45- usually

46- uhhh bodycandy.Com if that counts

47- I hate walking. Much rather bike or scooter or anything

48- I like these one..floral? plates and the white bowls

49- listen to music and dramatically walk in the rain. or just watch it

50- very cold. lots of blankets.

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[mechanicalauthor]

CHAPTER ONE (PT. 2)

Dad's disease was only worsening. He picked it up from working at the toxic Serpentium mines for nearly a decade, and had to quit after collapsing on the job when Jack was five years of age. The hospital stay drained all they had, and forced them to move from the posh urban lifestyle they had. Jack remembered it fondly, and due to great efforts from his mother, he still got to attend the school in that peaceful town.

Dad threw the rag coated in blood and filth into the bin, filled nearly to bursting with similar rust-colored messes. The Serpentium was taking its toll. Dad's illness wasn't uncommon where they are now, most of the other kids Jack knew had a family member or two with the same sickness. It manifested in muscle and organ failure. Dad's legs hadn't worked properly for the last two years, in order to leave bed he needed a cane and a hefty amount of motivation. The time in bed wasn't helping any either, it made his muscles even weaker than they already were. Not that it was really anyone's fault, dad had had an accident, a large, heavy shard of Serpentium fell on the mining suit Dad was piloting, breaking it open and directly exposing him to the horrible waves of radiation that it produced for an uninterrupted two minutes. As he scrambled to remove it from the suit, hoping it would not become his tomb, the shard also directly pierced his thigh, it's thought that the radiation going directly into his leg was what damaged his ability to walk.

Jack left the room to go assist his mother, and brought back the light vegetable stew and a set of clean rags for his father, before taking the bin out to the rear of their home so the dirty ones could be washed. Jack ate his own stew quickly, seeing his father in that state, and waiting in line for rations, always wore him down.

He went off to his own room, and lay in his soft cot. It was the softest, most comfortable one they could get their hands on, and was by no means an unpleasant place to rest. They were able to keep some of their things from their nicer life, and thankfully one of those things was plenty of warm, soft blankets. Jack pulled the plush cover to his face and fell asleep promptly.

When Jack awoke the sun was still below the horizon, but painted the sky with a soft yellow hue, forecasting its arrival. He quickly changed into his school uniform and grabbed his bag. He had to make the tram before it passed him by. He scrambled into the kitchen, grabbed two pieces of bread, and rushed out of the door. His mother and father were still sleeping. He made a mad dash for the station, it was half a mile from his house. It wasn't a hard distance for him to run, he wasn't an athlete by any stretch of that description, but he was still able-bodied and had enough stamina to run such a distance.

He got to the station, and ran his wrist over the one turnstile still working, before walking directly into the clear glass barrier and smashing his nose against it. After rubbing his face he looked down at his wrist. His ID band was missing. After groping around in his pack, he checked his pockets and found it in his left one. The ID band had a small display with all of his information on it. Name: Jack Rosling, Date of Birth: December 15, 5047. It also contained his blood type, home address, universal identification number, access to any money he happened to get, and most importantly, his tram pass. He put it around his wrist and set the metal latch. The display blinked to life after confirming his DNA matched the one it would permit to use its data.

He placed his wrist on the tram entry point again, and the barrier lowered for him to pass through with a smooth hum. Stepping over that barrier was akin to stepping into another world. One made of white marble, neon lights, and colorful displays lining nearly every wall. This was the world he had left five years ago. He could scarcely remember it, being only ten years of age now, but this place still felt a little more like home than the tattered building he and his family now occupied.

After sitting down on a silver bench, the sensor in it brought it to life, putting a display in his face and warming the chill metal. The holographic display was a projection from some hidden source above him, the light riding an electromagnetic field to stop it at the precise spot in front of his face. It displayed the trams, he saw that he only had a five minute wait for the next one that would take him to school.

It arrived riding a silent cushion of air, and stopped rapidly at first, but then slowly brought itself to a complete halt. The side of the tram opened from a seamless wall that pushed itself inward and to the side. Jack stepped on, feeling the familiar change in the sense of ground underneath him as he boarded the tram. He took the nearest seat, constructed of a thin blue resin material, and put on the safety strap. School was still an hour away by this rapid transit system, but luckily, the ramshackle city he resided in was still populous enough to deem it worthy of a tram stop. The tram began to ride its cushion of air, and slowly glided forward on its nearly invisible tracks as it left the station.

The tram was a marvel, it rode over what only looked to be a thin metal bar hanging in the air, linking the cities together, but it practically flew over it. The mass transit system peaked at the speed of sound, but it only went that fast for a brief moment and had to slow back down before arriving to the next station, so as to not disturb the cities it would stop at. The white bullet moved slowly at first, but quickly ramped up speed to near its maximum as it left town. The first sonic boom wouldn't happen for another ten minutes, and the train would begin slowing only five minutes after that, as it cruised through the metropolitan capital at a high speed to reach the school's station. Jack rested his eyes and tried to get as comfortable as he could in his seat while the tram pitched towards its destination.