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emotionalcadaver · 1 year

Text

Part 4: Until Time Stops

Fandom: In Time

Pairing: Raymond Leon x OC

Summary: With Salas continually slipping through their fingers, things continue to get worse for Raymond and Rose.

Word Count: 3,266

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence and references to prostitution and past sexual assault.

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Chapter 4: Countdown

Their cars screeched to a halt in front of the…well, it used to be a bank. Glass was strewn everywhere, a massive truck having been driven straight through the front window. Emptied time capsules littered the street, and a crowd was still gathered around, many with capsules from the bank’s vault still clutched in their hands.

“No one’s watching their clocks, huh?” Raymond asked, stepping from the car and pulling his gun from the holster in his thigh. He surveyed the crowd coldly and authoritatively, almost like a parent scolding their child after they’d caught them doing something bad. “Get outta here. Or I’ll confiscate every second.”

They approached the bank slowly, the four of them looking at the truck rammed through the window. Had it been under other circumstances, Rose would have almost been impressed.

“Must’ve thought it was a drive through,” Jaeger said.

∗ ∗ ∗

Leaning against a desk with her arms crossed over her chest, Rose fought to swallow the lump of dread in her throat as she watched the stolen time from the bank robbery rapidly disperse across Dayton.

You idiot, Salas. You fucking idiot.

Raymond was pacing back and forth as he spoke on the phone. “Yes, sir, I do know that, sir,” he spun on his heel to look up at the map. “There are years that shouldn’t be there,” he resumed pacing. “I will stop him, sir.”

She was probably the only one who knew him well enough to recognize the strain of anxiousness in his voice. Reaching out, she patted him lightly on the shoulder as he hung up the phone and handed it to Jaeger.

“Doesn’t he understand he’s hurting the very people he’s trying to help?” he growled out to no one in particular, stomping away. Rose followed him back to their desks. He collapsed into his chair, rubbing a hand across his face. Sinking into her seat next to him, Rose eyed him worriedly. “They’re going to increase the taxes in the ghetto.”

“That’s to be expected,” she sighed wearily. That was what always happened, after all, when one Zone had more time that they should. The taxes went up enough to compensate. It wasn’t fair.

A lot of people in Dayton were about to either starve to death or time out. Salas wanted to help, that much was clear, but he never would be able to. Not like this. The government would strangle Dayton to death through taxes and hiked prices before they allowed the equality that Salas was hoping to achieve.

“I got that map drawn up that you asked for,” she said, hoping that would somehow raise Raymond’s spirits, if only a tiny bit. She pulled it up on her computer, zooming out so that they could see the entirety of Dayton, little marks pinpointed to each of the banks that Salas and Sylvia had hit recently.

“Where was the latest robbery?” he asked.

“Um, here,” she pointed.

“Hm,” he rested his chin on his fist, eyes narrowed at the screen.

“What?”

When he looked at her, she felt her stomach drop. There was a haunted look in his eyes that only ever crossed his face when he was recalling a very specific type of traumatic memory.

“I think that I know where they are.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Sir? They’re still there,” Kors spoke with a level of wonderment in his voice.

“How did you know, sir?” Jaeger asked. Rose glanced at Raymond’s face, fighting back the desire to tell them both to fuck off and leave them alone.

“This is where the hours in the days are,” Raymond spoke in a dead, detached voice that almost frightened her. She wondered if he was actually really there with them, or if he was lost in his own mind; reliving one of the horrid traumas he’d been forced to experience. “He’s paid them all off,” he checked his gun, weighing it in his hand. “And this is where I would hide.”

“Go get ready,” she ordered their companions, waiting until they’d retreated out of earshot before she took Raymond by the shoulders. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Ro.”

“No, you’re not,” she glanced warily at the dingy hotel across the street. He’d told her pretty much everything that there was to know about his past over the years. She could not even imagine the level of turmoil he must have been in, to be forced back here. He heaved out a sigh, resting his forehead against hers. “We’ll do this fast, in and out. I’ll be with you the whole time,” she knew better than to suggest that he just wait out there while she, Kors, and Jaeger went in to get Salas.

“I know,” he cleared his throat.

“I’ve got you.”

He nodded, once. She wanted to kiss him, but the last thing she wanted to do was trigger anymore terrible memories associated with this place. Instead, she just squeezed his shoulders firmly once.

“Let’s go.”

They split into groups, each of them searching the different levels. She and Raymond went one way while Kors and Jaeger went another.

“Hey! Stop!”

Their heads snapped around at the shout from the other hallway, racing towards it. There was a boom of what sounded like a door being broken open, a shriek, and the crash of breaking glass.

By the time they made it into the hotel room, it was to find Jaeger and Kors gathered at the broken window, staring after Salas and Sylvia. The pair had raced across the street, glancing back at them just before they rounded the corner, hesitating.

Without hesitation, Raymond hoisted himself up and through the window, jumping down to land on the car below. Rose sighed, and hurled herself after him, grunting as her feet hit the metal of the car’s roof.

The things that I do for you, Raymond…

She took off after him, only a few paces behind. They followed Salas and Sylvia down roads, twisting and turning, then into a narrow alleyway. Salas was fast, but he was clearly slowed down by Sylvia, who probably couldn’t run nearly as fast anyway, and certainly couldn’t keep up with those ridiculous heels on.

They climbed a ladder, and Raymond stopped for a brief moment, raising his gun.

“Stop! Stop!” he shouted, firing three shots at them as they scrambled across the ledge above. Climbing the ladder, they continued the pursuit across the rooftops. Raymond fired off another shot, and Rose tugged her gun from her holster, firing a little blindly as she continued to run. This time, Salas returned fire, and they both ducked, weaving to avoid his shots. It slowed them enough for Salas and Sylvia to make it to the edge of the roof.

They exchanged fire again, but this time, when Salas fired back, they had to duck for cover, Raymond’s hand flying out in an attempt to push her behind him.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “You?”

He nodded, turning to fire at Salas again, then ducking back behind their cover at another shower of gunfire.

When they both popped out again with their guns raised, Salas and Sylvia had vanished from the roof. Rushing to the edge, they stared down at the drainpipe that the pair had clearly climbed down.

“Really?” she groaned. Holstering his gun, Raymond slid down it easily, waiting for her at the bottom. She climbed down about half way. “Oh, fuck it,” jumping, she huffed as he caught her with ease, her feet barely having been set down onto the ground before they were off again, racing down the road after Salas and Sylvia. She internally screamed when she caught sight of the bus that they were headed towards.

No, no, no, don’t you even think about it–

Salas and Sylvia jumped onto the bus, and a moment or two later, the doors swung closed and it pulled away from the bus stop, driving down the road.

They skidded to a stop, watching it disappear silently.

“Fuck,” Rose groaned, stuffing her gun back into its holster, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. Raymond huffed, turning away from the bus and running a hand through his hair.

“You okay? Sure you didn’t get hit?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she sighed dejectedly. “I thought we had him.”

“Me too. Come here,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, letting her rest against him as her breathing evened out. “We should get back.”

Glancing up and around, she frowned. “I’m not climbing that drain pipe again.”

He snorted, taking her hand. “Come on.”

“We haven’t had to run like that in a long time.”

“It was kind of fun.”

“You’re bent.”

He laughed. “At least we now know that he likes hotels.”

Rose cocked her head. “You really think he would be stupid enough to still go to one after this?”

Raymond shrugged. “You never know.”

∗ ∗ ∗

Raymond tilted his head as he stared down at the bodies strewn out in front of them on the sidewalk. Four Minutemen, including their leader. Three of them shot, one of them timed out.

“All the time he’s taken…” Raymond mumbled.

“Don’t you mean the time that he’s given away, sir?”

Rose felt herself start at the defiance in Jaeger’s voice, pulling her eyes from the bodies to stare at him over her shoulder. Jaeger didn’t look at her, instead staring at Raymond’s back.

“Even to you,” he muttered. Raymond turned on his heel, striding forward until he was right in Jaeger’s face.

“I have given fifty years of my life to this job. I am not about to see those years go to waste,” he jerked his head. “Go on.”

Jaeger shot him a look of deep seated contempt, turning away with Kors right behind him. Raymond went back to staring down at the bodies strewn out on the sidewalk. A crowd had gathered around them, staring. Sweeping his cold eyes over each individual, Raymond approached some of them.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, but by tomorrow, you won’t have time to stand around.”

Giving one last look to the bodies of the Minutemen, Rose sighed. Price hikes were set to go into effect tomorrow. The cost of living raised to compensate for the sudden wealth that had recently been flooding Dayton. Boots thudding dully against the asphalt, she shoved her hands in her pockets as she headed towards the car.

“Jaeger,” she called to him before he could get into the driver’s seat of the car parked beside her and Raymond’s. He huffed, looking at her in annoyance. “What the hell was that about?”

Jaeger shrugged. “Salas is helping these people.”

“No. He’s just causing them to raise the price of living until the city either returns to being in poverty, or dies out.”

“At least he’s trying something. The way that things are run now…it’s not fair.”

Jesus. “Few things are Jaeger,” she tried to add a touch of sympathy to her voice. “But fairness isn’t our concern. You’ll drive yourself insane before you manage to fix this system,” an image, almost long forgotten, of her older brother’s face, flashed behind her eyes. She mentally recoiled from the memory as if it had burned her. “Trust me. I’ve seen it.”

“Nah. You just follow him. Blindly. Without ever even thinking for yourself.”

She had half a mind to bark at him for that. Or report him for insubordination. “Oh, believe me, Jaeger, my eyes are very much open. Go back to the base. Now,” she didn’t wait around for him to say anything else to her, opening the door to her car and sliding into the leather seat. Raymond joined her a minute later.

“At least we don’t need to worry about the Minutemen any longer,” she said, after they’d been driving for a while. Raymond grunted in response. “They got what they deserved,” she glanced over at him, but still he said nothing. “Don’t listen to Jaeger. He’s a child, he’s still got traces of that…idealistic, bright-eyed view of the world. It’ll get stamped out of him eventually.”

“The last thing we need right now is dissent in our own ranks.”

“I know. We’ll just keep an eye on him from now on,” glancing back at him in time to watch him rub at his eyes, she raised her brow. “What’s going on, Ray?”

“You know…I do wish that what Salas was doing actually would help those people.”

“I know, babe.”

“I’m not some…some heartless monster who just wants people to suffer or, or starve, or time out…”

“Raymond,” she said firmly to pull him out of his spiral. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain or justify yourself to me.”

He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “The others don’t understand.”

“Most of them weren’t even alive when we crushed the first rebellion. They didn’t see what happened, what the rebels…became over time,” her eyes squeezed shut. Just for a moment. “They don’t realize how bad things can get with this shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What Salas and Sylvia are doing…it isn’t sustainable. They can’t just continue to go around, robbing banks and playing Robin Hood forever.”

“No. They can’t,” his eyes glazed over as he stared at the road.

Frowning, she cupped the side of his head, kissing his cheek and nuzzling him with her nose. “You’re not a monster.”

He let out a quiet scoff. “Thanks, babe.”

She didn’t really think that he believed her.

∗ ∗ ∗

The sound of the alarm beginning to blare sent his heart plummeting into his stomach. Rushing down the stairs into the main room of the base, he broke into a light jog, barely aware of Rose behind him.

“What was that?” he raised his voice. “What was that? Hey, what just happened?” the numbers on the boards displayed on the wall were changing too fast to be able to count.

“It must be a mistake. A million years just went off the clock in New Greenwich.”

“It’s not a mistake,” he said.

“It’s gotta be a mistake, sir,” Kors tried to reason.

“It’s not a mistake. Rose!?” he spun around, searching for her. He’d promised he wouldn’t go running off into danger without her again…

“I’m here. Let’s go,” she said, after he almost crashed into her when he turned. She’d been standing right behind him the entire time. “Kors, I want you all setting up roadblocks at all the exits of New Greenwich,” she ordered. Seizing her hand, Raymond broke into a run, hurtling out the exit doors and to their car. None of the other Timekeepers were with him. It was just her now.

Jumping into the car, he brought the engine to life, roaring out of the parking lot. Rose clicked her seatbelt into place, fingers twisting anxiously with her braid.

They cruised around New Greenwich for hours, watching the sunrise steadily, higher and higher into the sky.

“Dispatch, wire me my per diem,” Rose said, sliding her hand into the silver ring.

“Time transfer,” an automated voice said. She watched the numbers count up, then removed her arm.

“You should collect yours too.”

“I will, in a second,” he promised. “Dispatch, what can you see?”

“There’s a lot of traffic in the vicinity,” a voice on the other end responded.

“Alright, look for the slowest car,” he ordered. Then, more to himself, “you have a million years, you are definitely not in a hurry,” his eyes scanned over the roads. Again and again. Nothing. Pulling back the sleeve of his coat, he eyed the ticking numbers on his arm. “And wire me my per diem,” he said, again to dispatch. But before he could slide his arm into the silver mechanism, his eyes caught on something. “Wait! Never mind. I have them,” he spun the car into a U-turn, siren whooping to life as he floored the gas. “Give the order: shoot on sight,” it was time for the gloves to come off. No more games.

“In New Greenwich? That’s against policy, sir.”

“So is having a million years leave the Zone,” he felt his jaw tense harshly, focused on nothing else than Salas’s car, barely even hearing as Rose called it into base on the radio. “Set that to the open channel, will you?”

“Sure,” there was a sudden shriek of static as she clicked a few buttons. They were approaching a roadblock on the way headed into Dayton.

“That time cannot leave the Zone, shoot on sight!”

The Timekeepers open fired, but it did little more than create dents in the car’s paint. It blew right past them, smashing through the time check booth, and kept on going. Twisting the wheel expertly, he whipped past the other Timekeeper cars, following Salas into Dayton. They whizzed around a bend, and then at the last moment he made a right where Salas went straight.

“What are you doing?” Rose asked.

“Short cut,” his eyes narrowed at the road ahead, foot pressing more firmly to the accelerator. “Hold on,” the second that Salas’s car began to appear at the crossing, he floored it, sending the car hurtling forward, slamming into the side of Salas’s car with a scream of metal and a flash of sparks. Smoke billowed up from the two cars. Beside him, Rose was coughing and groaning.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hand falling to the back of her neck as she doubled over. She nodded weakly. Probably lying. From the way she was holding onto her side, he wondered if she’d cracked a rib or gotten the wind knocked out of her. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Ray, wait–!”

Shoving open the car door with his gun out, he tried not to stagger, holding it level to Salas and Sylvia. They both held up their hands in surrender. The street was busy, full of people beginning to make their way to the Timeline at the end of the street.

“You lost a lot of time, Mr. Leon,” Salas smiled at him smugly.

“Looks like you’re about out yourself,” Raymond growled.

“Time!” someone behind him hollered. Something was happening at the Timeline, but he couldn’t see with the crowd of people around them. And suddenly they were surging forward in a rush of bodies.

“Move!” he tried to shove them out of the way, and in the moment that the people were between Salas, Sylvia, and him, the two criminals took off running. He tore after them, shoving people out of the way, trying to find a clean shot to take out at least one of them. But he couldn’t risk it. If he did, he might hit an bystander.

I’m not a monster.

“Move!” he shouted. All around him, there were people racing towards the Timeline at a furious pace. He was half worried that they were about to have a stampede on their hands. They had blocked his line of sight of Salas and Sylvia. He could only hope that he was still heading in the same direction as them. Towards the edge of the city.

There was a Timekeeper car parked at the end of a block, the door open as the man inside looked about questioningly. “Get out!” Raymond roared, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and all but hauling him from the car, tossing him to the ground. “Get out!” he leapt into the driver’s seat, barely even managing to close the door before he was starting the engine and barreling down the road.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#raymond leon #raymond leon x oc #in time #rose mason #rose mason x raymond leon #my ocs #my fanfiction #fanfiction #until time stops

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gatheredfates · 1 year

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To what extent does it matter that you are being "original" when you create an OC? Or is it OK to base them on an existing character or celebrity, so long as you enjoy it?

Little OC Creation Ask List | accepting! | @thefreelanceangel

I sort of answered this a bit on this ask, but I'll elaborate further here.

For me, personally? It doesn't matter. No one's ideas are a hundred percent original, and I'm really glad in more recent times ( at least in my circles ) people have strayed away from the idea that they need to be.

However, let me add a slight addendum to this: whilst I personally don't care if you want to play a self-insert, celebrity or character from another game series, that doesn't always mean I want to write with you. I think far too many people equate something that isn't to their taste as being 'wrong', when in fact it's completely harmless and just not what you want to engage with.

For example, I don't like interacting with NPC's at in-game events. This is not because I hate NPC roleplayers, but it runs the implication that every single NPC potentially has to adhere to the interaction I had with the first - or that my relationship with that npc trumps the players comfort. If I want to write with an NPC, I'll write on tumblr or in private places with said people where I can cultivate a relationship in an au that doesn't break my in-game lore (like I did with Kor's WoL verse). I'm also not a fan of people who are like 'my character is so-and-so from x series who found their way into ffxiv!' It's not bad, I just don't want to play with the lore implications of it when I'm roleplaying in-game. But there's nothing wrong with a player wanting to do it. It doesn't harm me that the concept exists; therefore, it doesn't matter to me

I remember roleplaying in WoW way back when - and some people might actually remember this because it was one of the few times I have ever made a 'call-out' post - and there was a player running around roleplaying as... I think Bolvar's daughter? I can't properly remember. But, for those who know WoW lore... it's not the most plausible situation, especially in Silvermoon. Yet I watched these roleplayers tear into her in /s chat calling her all kinds of names, telling her to quit roleplay, she was bad, etc. I called them out at the time and they had a go at me about it. So I went, y'know, fuck it. I posted the logs and they got reemed. Because, whilst it's not everyone's cup of tea, you can be at least respectful enough to tell that person you don't want to play with their concept without making them literally cry in front of their screen. I was absolutely appalled by that kind of behaviour. You're not an elite, better roleplayer for it; you're a bully and a gate-keeper. It's why I HATED the term mary-sue back in the day.

I'm of the firm belief that everyone deserves to create ocs and concepts that make them happy, whilst having the courtesy to acknowledge not everyone will want to play with them. I would prefer to play with a character heavily based off an existing concept that's been integrated into ffxiv, rather than a one-to-one, but that's my choice. Originality is dead. Own what you want, make it yours and have fun. It might not be my taste, but I'll fight for your want to have it.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea answers things #this got long but i hope you all know what i MEAN #do whatever you want have fun with it #i may not wanna write with it #but i'll support and enjoy you having fun with it #cringe is dead #be weird #be cliche #have fun #fuck about and find out #literally kor is like a 1 x 1 to lightning ffxiii and i made her before i even played the game #down to the hair #do i care?#fuck no

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myriad-mage · 1 year

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Update

Will be available on Mondays and Tuesdays, Will respond to current threads Friday or over weekend.

Also, going to make a multi-muse side blog.

List will be below the cut due to length.

Nova Butterfly (Star Versus the Forces of Evil [SVTFOE] OC)

Toffee (SVTFOE Canon)

Globgor (SVTFOE Canon)

Ethel (Fairy Fencer F [FFF] Canon)

Karin (FFF Canon)

Tiara (FFF Canon)

Fang (FFF Canon)

Cui (FFF Canon) *

Eryn (FFF Canon)

Apollonius (FFF Canon)

Seguro (FFF Canon) *

Harley (FFF Canon)

Bahus (FFF Canon)

Soji (FFF Canon)

Pippin (FFF Canon)

Galdo (FFF Canon)

Marissa (FFF Canon)

Terasion (FFF OC)

Amaria (FFF OC)

Luchs (Lord of Magna: Maiden Heaven [LoM] Canon)

Charlotte “Lottie” (LoM Canon)

Beatrix “Trixie” (LoM Canon)

Elfriede “Frida” (LoM Canon)

Gabrielle “Gabby” (LoM Canon)

Diana “Di” (LoM Canon)

Francesca “Fran” (LoM Canon)

Adelheid “Addie” (LoM Canon)

Gewalt (LoM Canon)

Kaiser (LoM Canon)

Creed Diskenth (Black Cat [BC] Canon)

Echidna Parass (BC Canon)

Kyoko Kirasaki (BC Canon)

Shiki (BC Canon)

Master Moro (BC Canon)

Saya Minatsuki (BC Canon)

Charden Flamberg (BC Canon)

Durham Glaster (BC Canon)

Sven Volfied (BC Canon)

Sephiria Arks (BC Canon)

Train Heartnet (BC Canon)

Rinslet Walker (BC Canon)

Eve (BC Canon)

Zagine (BC Canon)

Marche Radiuju (Final Fantasy Tactics Advanced [FFTA] Canon)

Ritz Malheur (FFTA Canon)

Llednar Twem (FFTA Canon)

Shara (FFTA Canon)

Remedi (FFTA Canon)

Cid Randell (FFTA Canon)

Babus Swain (FFTA Canon)

Ezel Berbier (FFTA Canon)

Amarus (FFTA OC)

Sissi Delmas (Code Lyoko [CL] Canon)

Lila Rossi (Miraculous Ladybug [ML] Canon)

Gabriel Agreste (ML Canon)

Seymour Guado (Final Fantasy X [FFX] Canon)

Auron (FFX Canon)

Torell (FFX OC)

Leblanc (Final Fantasy X-2 [FFX-2] Canon)

Nooj (FFX-2 Canon)

Ormi (FFX-2 Canon)

Logos (FFX-2 Canon)

Nagasumi Michishio (Seto No Hanayome [SnH] Canon)

Sun Seto (SnH Canon)

Gozaburo Seto (SnH Canon)

Shark Fujishiro (SnH Canon)

Lunar Edomae (SnH Canon)

Maki the Conch (SnH Canon)

Kirone Todoroki (SnH OC)

Jak (Jak and Daxter [JaD] Canon)

Keira (JaD Canon)

Sig (JaD Canon)

Ashelin (JaD Canon)

Torn (JaD Canon)

Baron Praxis (JaD Canon)

Kor (JaD Canon)

#wanted to put this out before I go to bed.#//Lot of muses but want to bring some of them to light and want to portray others.

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genork-the-fandork · 4 years

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Okay, you wanted it so you got it Gen! Kor and Rowena,five times she denied dating him while he said they are and one time she admit it

A/N: You tried to hide @pizzapuffungi / @neineandvalerian [Bell], but you gave yourself away by mentioning Rowena! Hehe. In any case, this sounds like an opportunity for some excellent teasing >:) and that’s always my favorite.

Word Count: 668

Pairing: Kor x Rowena (Bell’s OC)

WE’RE NOT DATING Okay We Are

In Rowena’s defense, she had no prior knowledge to equip her for this exact situation.

But so what if she spent nearly every day with Kor? So what if he’d shared his snickerdoodles with her more than two (okay, five) times? And what on Vallauria did his falling asleep on her shoulder have to do with anything?

Umi especially seemed to make a big honking deal about it. Every time they went into his shop, he’d lean on the counter and give them a shit-eating grin. Today was one of those days. This time, it was accompanied with an even more annoying greeting: “Ah, so it’s the lovebirds again! What can I do for ya?”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you four times before, and I’ll say it again: we’re not together.”

There was a muffled sound to her left, presumably from Kor, who seemed to be pretending not to have anything to do with this conversation. Umi tipped the brim of his hat. “Keep telling yourself that, Miss.”

Kor glanced at Rowena before grinning over at the shopkeep. “Thought fifth time was the charm, huh?”

“Had to try.”

“What have you been telling him?” Rowena asked, narrowing her eyes in Kor’s direction. It didn’t matter how much time she spent with him, he always seemed like he was up to something. It was probably the smirk. Or the scar. Or the fact that she couldn’t even tell if he had pupils sometimes. One of those. Most likely the hoodie.

“Nothing much. Just the truth,” Kor said, patting her on the head like she was a cat that needed reassurance that everything was okay. Which, she sorta was, but still.

Gods, he was suspicious. “Which kind of truth? You seem to have multiple versions of it.”

The adventurer just chuckled and shook his head before waving to Umi and leading her out of the shop. He folded his arms behind his head and whistled off-key as they strolled down Main Street. It was jarring to Rowena’s ears, but she was too focused on what had happened in the weapons shop. “Kor, what have you been telling Umi?”

“Certainly not that we’re together, or anything,” he said with a slight sarcasm that made Rowena’s eye twitch. How could he be so infuriating while also being the one she wanted to spend the most time with? Too bad Gerald wasn’t around to glare some sense into her.

With a huff, she continued following him down the street until they passed outside a bakery and Rowena spotted a certain treat in the window. “Looks like they made snickerdoodles today.”

Kor stopped in his tracks, one foot in the air and his hair almost seeming to perk up. Or maybe it had already looked like that. “Snickerdoodles, eh?” He backtracked his steps to the front door of the bakery, pushing it open and revealing the scents of sugar and baking bread.

Rowena’s nose twitched as she stepped inside after him, glancing around at all the different breads and other baked goods. It was pleasantly warm inside, which felt great after the slight breezes outside.

Her companion approached the counter with a jovial grin on his face. “Two snickerdoodles please,” he said, holding up two fingers.

The baker smiled, glancing between him and Rowena. “You two together?” There was a familiar twinkle in her eye, one that reminded Rowena of Umi’s stupid grin.

She didn’t have time to rein in her words before she was shouting, “So what if we are?”

Wait. Shit. No—

But Kor was already laughing, as if he’d been planning for this all along, and even the baker seemed amused with her outburst. Rowena bit the inside of her cheek and folded her arms tightly against her chest, incredibly put out by this day. “Idiot,” she muttered.

“Ah, I like you, too,” he replied, handing her a snickerdoodle and ruffling her hair again.

When they returned outside, Rowena was thankful for the breeze that cooled her burning cheeks.

#kortia valentine's day event #gen writes #kortia #kortia kor #kortia drabble #kor x oc

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derpyslurpy-da-derp-master · 5 years

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@khoc-week Day 3-Friends Or Foes

Welp, this one took a good long while simply deciding which of my Keykids to introduce (along with writing the drabble below that includes the final member of this trio that I didn’t have time to draw) and I finally settled on my actual Main Keykid (my actual Union X avatar) who’s a lad named Kor and he’s basically like a little brother to Chase. He’s also in Ava’s Union just like Chase. He’s smart, a strategist, equipped with good medals, and... Rather timid actually. While Chase doesn’t do the normal missions anymore because there’s just too many to do, Kor is legitimately stuck on his current mission because he’s a completionist and doesn’t want to do a single level without getting all three extra goals finished and that just isn’t possible most of the time. He’s also only an inch or two shorter than Chase but that doesn’t mean Chase isn’t going to lovingly tease him about it. Usually whenever Kor does a mission, Chase will tag along to make sure Kor doesn’t get hurt doing something he really shouldn’t. Kor’s favorite Keyblade is the Starlight Keyblade and he’s upgraded it into the 30′s because he loves it so much for both it’s look and how balanced it is in every element. His favorite medals are a mix between the Foreteller’s (especially Ava/Gula) and this mysterious ‘Xion’ girl, he collects any medal that has the latter on it out of curiosity to learn more about her. The latter also earns him a fair amount of friendly teasing from Chase too. Despite how much Chase teases him, Kor knows that he never intends any harm and Chase never goes to far, it’s more like how an older brother would tease their younger sibling.

Anywho, onto le Drabble!

“Sup Shorty?” Chase grinned as he ruffled his best friend’s already messy, curly hair. Kor gave his usual timid smile and chuckled a small bit.

“Nothing much, I’m just trying to figure out how many Jewel’s I need to get the main medal of this next pull.” Kor replied, returning to his number crunching.

“Let me guess, another Xion pull?” Chase teased, poking Kor’s cheek which caused Kor to shove said hand away.

“Hey, this medal is actually really good stats-wise!” Kor pouted, puffing up his cheeks with a huff as he pulled his goggles over his eyes.

“Riiiight, that’s why you’ve got every other Xion Medal. You just think she’s cute don’t you?” Chase teased further as he sat down, grinning wolfishly at how his friend’s face erupted into a dark scarlet color.

“N-NO! T-THAT’S NOT IT A-AT ALL!” Kor waved his hands in an ‘x’ for ‘no’ frantically as if to physically kick the notion out. Chase broke down in laughter, putting an arm around Kor with a more friendly smile.

“I kid I kid, I know you just want to know who she is. I’m pretty curious about who these people in our medals are too. I mean, there’s two different names for the same guy in different clothes! That’s just weird!” Chase reached into Kor’s satchel sitting on the table where he kept his medals and pulled out two medals, one labeled Roxas and the other labeled Ventus.

“Yeah, that’s pretty weird... Just as weird as all the different ‘Xehanort’ medals. Why would we get medals of the same man in different stages of life? Why is one of them ‘Terra’ but with silver hair? Why is the youngest one labeled ‘Kingdom Hearts III?’ And I swear I saw some guys that looked a lot like younger versions of the ‘Marluxia’ and ‘Larxene’ medals, what could that m-”

Kor’s rambling was cut short by someone else sitting next to them and bopping the top of his head to get him out of said ramble. He glanced up in confusion only to quickly smile brightly.

“O-Oh, hi Anya! I was rambling again, wasn’t I?” Kor chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. The strawberry blonde just chuckled in response, her low pigtails bouncing a bit at the movement, her lavender eyes filled with amusement.

“Yep, you were. I’ve got something for you two actually.” Anya smiled and held up a gift bag, the kind you get from the medals shop. Both boys tilted their head almost in sync, eliciting another chuckle from the girl.

“Chase, this is for you.” Anya reached into the bag and pulled out a rather strong-looking Terra medal, causing Chase’s eyes to light up as she handed it to him.

“Duuuude, I don’t have this one at all! Thanks man!” Chase smiled brightly, checking its stats over before putting it in his pocket along with the rest of the medals he keeps on Moogle ‘O Glory, planning to upgrade and add it onto the Keyblade later.

“And Kor, this-” Anya reached in and pulled out none other than the medal Kor had just been doing calculations to get and handed it to him, “Is for you.”

Kor’s eyes widened then proceeded to dart between Anya and the medal questioningly.

“I did the pull just to get some new better medals, I didn’t really want the main one they were selling since there aren’t any Power slots on this bad boy,” Anya summoned her favored Keyblade, Divine Rose, to illustrate her point. “And I figured hey, if I get it I’ll just give it to Kor. So, there you go little buddy, have fun.” Anya pat his shoulder before taking her leave, probably to upgrade the medals she wanted to keep from the pull.

“Thanks Anya!” Chase called after her retreating figure before glancing at Kor who was still looking at the medal buggy-eyed, pulling his Goggles back onto the top of his head.

“...This is exactly the medal I was missing, not just in my collection but in my Keyblade-” Kor quickly summoned Starlight, taking out a rather mediocre medal out of the power slot directly in front of his already extremely powerful Gula Medal and placing the HD Xion in it’s place.

“...This’ll let me do my second most powerful medal twice. I’ve been looking for a medal like this!” Kor smiled brightly, seeming as excited as a kid on Christmas Morning as he always did when he found medals better than the ones he already had.

“Well lookie there, your obsession with Xion has finally come in handy!” Chase started to tease Kor again but he was too excited to care at all. Chase just chuckled and smiled, leaning back in his seat.

As he sits and thinks a bit, he remembers the three trio’s that always appear in the medals. He definitely gets why they stuck to three, ‘cause while Chase was pretty friendly with pretty much everyone, it was nice to have two close friends too...

#Kingdom Hearts #Kingdom Hearts Fanart #Kingdom Hearts Union X #KH OC Week #Chase KH #Kor KH #Original Art #Original Oneshot

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darlingofdathomir · 5 years

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Got my next chapter of my Knights of Ren fic up (Kylo/OFC) I cried a little at the end of this chapter not gonna lie :P “The others that followed you are still here, but their training will be… different. They will be shaped into the tools you need to achieve your destiny, and there is no need for you to concern yourself with them quite yet. Now please, sit, let us get better acquainted.” Snoke wanted to know every detail of every facet of his life to better control his new apprentice, and he wanted to start with what hurt the most. “Tell me about your mother…”

“I thought she loved me, but she was afraid of me. They all were… I see that now.” “Should they have been?” His gut reaction was ‘No’, but as his mind worked his face darkened. He looked up at his master, some of his usual awkwardness gone from his tone. “Yes.” ----- Chapters: 7/20 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Ben Solo/Original Female Character(s) There's the pure, good brightness of light- and the evil, corrupt sickness of the dark. That's the only two brushes they seem to use when painting you a picture of a villain. It's easier that way.The story of Kylo Ren's descent into darkness and the Knights that followed him wasn't as black and white as the galaxy wanted it to be. There was goodness. There was suffering. Hearts were broken and dynasties were laid to ruin. There was betrayal, flames, torture, and death; but through it all there was one unbreakable bond that only death could sever.Dying, it turns out, isn't black and white either.

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clonesimpextra · 2 years

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A Shattered Peace: Chapter 6

Water and Ruin

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Pairing: Commander Wolffe x FemJedi!OC Word Count: 7.1K Series Rating: Mature/Eventually Explicit Chapter Summary: The mission on Tibrin is not going to plan, and Wolffe has to grapple with some complicated feelings. A/N: Part Two of the Tibrin Arc! And we're getting somewhere, I promise. Also available on AO3

Clones weren’t supposed to have names.

The Kaminoans had given them numbers and designations - identifiers so they could be singled out for tasks or punishments. Each number was just another addition to an ever-growing larger total. And, just like their numbers, each clone was only meant to be one part of a larger whole.

But when the Kaminoans made the clones - when they took Jango Fett’s DNA and broke it down into copies - they didn’t account for the fact that controlling people’s base instincts would never be as easy as controlling their biology.

Perhaps the biggest mistake the Kaminoans made when creating the clones was allowing them to form bonds. With one another, yes, but also with their trainers, all of whom had names of their own.

Some clones might say that their names served only the purpose of being easier and quicker to call out during battle than their numbered designations. Some might say that what they’re called doesn’t even matter.

But names mattered to Wolffe.

He’d earned his own at five years old from Mar-Va Eldar, one of the Mandalorian trainers assigned to the first batches of command clones. Mar-Va was strict but kind, demanding but loyal. He taught Wolffe and his brothers how to lead without forgetting who they were.

When Wolffe thought back to those early days before he’d been named - back when he was just CC-3636 - he felt like he was looking at himself from a distance. Who was that child who was so certain of his place in this galaxy? Who never questioned what was demanded of him? Who never would have dreamed of calling a commanding officer by their first name?

If he was still just CC-3636, how different would things be now?

CC-3636 wouldn’t have stepped into that briefing room.

CC-3636 wouldn’t have offered to eat a meal he wasn’t even hungry for just so he could spend more time with his co-commander.

CC-3636 wouldn’t currently have his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes closed so he could pretend the rough calluses on his palms were the ones he’d seen on Commander Kor- on Amara’s instead.

CC-3636 would be a good soldier, following orders. And he hadn’t been given an order to do this.

But he wasn’t just CC-3636 - he hadn’t been for a long time. He was Wolffe, too. And Wolffe wanted, needed, to relieve himself of the aching tension that had been building up in him ever since he saw Amara leaning over the holotable earlier that night.

The tension that had reached a pinnacle when she’d told him he could call her by her first name.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Wolffe heard General Plo say her name all the time. Hell, he said her name in his mind, whispered it sometimes in private, often enough, it shouldn’t have been any different saying it out loud.

But names mattered to Wolffe.

And so when he said hers - when he finally allowed himself to curve his mouth around the shape of something that belonged to her - every fantasy he’d ever had about her came rushing to the front of his mind.

Earlier frustrations with her weren’t forgotten, but were overshadowed by ideas of how many different ways he could say her name, in how many different places.

He wondered what it would taste like whispered in the curve of her neck.

How it might feel vibrating across the skin of her inner thigh.

How it might sound moaned into her mouth as he filled her with everything that was him.

Getting up from that table and walking the short distance to the officer’s quarters had been a struggle - a painfully uncomfortable struggle with his stiff cock begging to break free from his codpiece and growing impossibly harder every time Amara so much as glanced at him.

He swore his body had never ached so badly for the touch of another person as it did when she turned to say goodnight. A few more minutes and Wolffe was sure he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself in check - something he’d have to think more about later, when his mind wasn’t occupied with images of her reaching across the threshold of her quarters, grabbing him by the chest plate, pulling him onto her bunk and teaching him all the different ways she could say his name.

Yeah. Names mattered to Wolffe.

She’d always had permission to use his - it was the only thing he could really give her.

But now he had permission to use hers as well.

He didn’t know if that would ever be enough.

He let her name dance across his lips and let his name echo through his mind in her voice as he gripped his cock with one hand and ran the other up and down his chest.

He knew her hands would be different, could practically feel how her smaller, but no less tough, fingers would grab at his chest hair. And those fingers around the hard length of him . . . Would she use one hand or two? Would she lay next to him or straddle his thighs?

Wolffe twisted his wrist and swiped a thumb over the bead of precum that was now steadily leaking from the tip. He looked down and could see, somewhere in the back of his mind, her eyes staring back at him. Her tongue where his thumb was.

He threw his head back and let out a groan, slowing down his movements despite every nerve ending in his body screaming at him to just let go. He didn’t want to rush this. Not tonight. Not when they’d be in Tibrin tomorrow for Maker knew how long.

Wolffe had one night of privacy left and he was damn well going to make sure he lasted longer than a shiny on his first night at 79s.

It wasn’t too long ago that he’d been that shiny himself.

But he wasn’t anymore. He knew how to hold himself together, how to make the pleasure last - for him and for his partners.

He wondered how he’d fare with Amara.

Fantasizing was one thing. Picturing her lips around the head of his cock, sucking their way down until he was as far in as she could take him. That was one thing.

But taking what he knew about her and what he knew about himself and combining them into a plausible imagination of what they might make each other feel . . . That was something else entirely.

And it was almost too much for him.

Because Wolffe knew - he knew - that she would be his undoing in ways that no one else had ever been.

The hand around his cock quickened its pace while the other reached down to cup his balls. He sighed and let his eyes close once more.

The flash in her eyes that always signified a change in emotion, whether anger or pride or humor. He could picture her brown eyes flashing at him as she ran her hands down his body.

His breath caught and his hand jerked mid-stroke at the realization that she would be on top just as often as he’d have her on her knees - because of course she would.

Despite her being a Jedi and him being a clone, they were equals. At least to one another. So of course they’d share control.

His hand loosely around her neck, her’s around his. Squeezing just enough to make the pressure of her walls clamping down around him all the more pleasurable.

She’d smirk down at him, run her hand from his neck, down his stomach, across their thighs, and behind her to massage his balls before slipping a finger under.

Wolffe groaned again, biting his lip to keep from shouting. He might have a private room but these walls weren’t completely soundproof.

Still. He was close. And for all he wanted to prolong the pleasure he wasn’t sure how much longer his will would win out.

Especially when he imagined what Amara would feel like draped across his chest. Her breasts pressed against him, her lips sucking at his neck. What would her breath feel like across his cheek? Floating up to his ear, his name the only sound he cared to hear.

Wolffe.

He’d heard her say it every day since he met her.

He’d heard her say it in his dreams.

But this was the first time he thought he might know what it’d sound like whispered in pleasure and combined with his own voice whispering hers back.

That was all he could handle.

Turning his head to bite into his pillow, Wolffe came with nothing but flashes of Amara in his mind.

He stroked himself through his orgasm, trying to milk the lingering pleasure for all it was worth. When he finally came down from his high and glanced at the mess splattered across his chest, he huffed out a laugh.

And then immediately remembered what General Plo had said about his mental shields.

Wolffe was great at multitasking, but keeping his shields up during the middle of the best solo session of his life hadn’t exactly been at the front of his mind.

Sitting up quickly, cum running a path down his stomach, he closed his eyes and focused on the wall he’d been trained from an early age to form around his mind. He’d not done a great job of keeping it stable around Amara or General Plo - to be honest, there hadn’t been much of a point - but he couldn’t risk it now. Not with all the complicated feelings he had for his co-commander.

Wolffe grimaced as he realized that yes, some of his shields had come down at some point since he entered his quarters.

Great.

Maybe Amara hadn’t been paying attention. Maybe she was already asleep and wouldn’t notice.

Or maybe he could just do a better job at not fantasizing about his co-commander to the point that he painted his chest white with his pleasure-ridden release.

Wolffe stood up and stomped the short distance to the ‘fresher to grab a towel. He gave his softening cock one last withering glare before wiping away the evidence and tossing the towel aside.

This was going to be a long fucking mission.

*****

Wolffe would have given anything to be back in his quarters on the Triumphant and stroking one out now.

But the galaxy, as always, had other plans for him. So instead of laying in his bunk or leaning against the ‘fresher wall with the sweet ache and relief he’d come to associate with even just the thought of Amara coursing through his veins, he was crouching behind a tall reef crest and trying to make sure what was left of the 104th and 41st didn’t end up at the bottom of the ocean.

They’d only been on Tibrin for a couple of rotations, but already most of their plan had gone to shit. They were behind schedule, low on soldiers, and in desperate need of a win. But the Ishi Tibs knew their planet better than anyone. They knew what reefs to avoid, could time the currents perfectly. This was their home, and against them the clones were, quite literally, fish out of water.

The three Jedi with them were the only reasons the battalions hadn’t been completely decimated. General Unduli and Commander Offee had saved them all when they’d first crash landed on the planet, keeping the attacking Ishi Tibs at bay while they found cover.

But Commander Kora - Amara. She’d been something else.

Wolffe wasn’t sure if it was her determination to prove herself wrong, raw skill, or a combination of both that had her powering through every battle like some mythical creature. He’d never seen anything like it and only the seriousness of their situation and the fact that his men’s lives depended on him kept him focused on the battle rather than on her.

But even Amara’s skill hadn’t been enough to gain them the traction they needed. Though it was enough to at least give them some time.

Or it had been. Before yet another attack from the Ishi Tibs had sent them all scattering for cover.

Now, they were surrounded.

Wolffe had run through every possibility in his mind and knew nothing short of a miracle was going to get them out of this one. There was no one left to send - not anyone who could get here fast enough, anyway. They’d lost contact with the 501st and the 212th almost as soon as they’d landed.

No one was coming. They were alone.

Wolffe just hoped the Ishi Tibs would give them a quick death.

Without thinking, he looked over at where he knew Amara was hiding. He’d seen her grab some of the men and drag them with her under a lip in the reef crest and he wanted desperately to get just one last glimpse at her.

He didn’t need it, really. He saw her face every time he closed his eyes. But he wanted to see if there was a chance she could survive, even if he couldn’t.

His eyes scanned the area he’d seen her disappear into. There were the two clones - Boost and Comet, of course - laying low and trying to get a look around the corner. And next to them . . . Nothing.

What?

Wolffe tapped into the shared comms between the 104th and the 41st clones that was thankfully still working.

“Boost. Where’s Commander Kora?”

Silence.

“Boost,” he spit out, “where is the commander?”

“Oh. Hey commander. Glad you’re still alive.”

“Of course I’m still alive you di’kut. I’m looking right at you. Now where is she?”

“Who?”

“I swear to the Maker, Boost, if you don’t give me an answer right now-”

“You see,” Comet interrupted and Wolffe very nearly let out a growl, “this is the problem with having two commanders. One tells us to do something the other isn’t going to like and we have no idea who we’re supposed to listen to.”

“Exactly, Comet,” Boost said. “It’s not our fault they haven’t worked out how to communicate better and I, personally, think it makes for an unsafe working-”

A sudden boom reverberated through the air, cutting off Boost’s words.

“What the fuck was that?” Wolffe yelled to anyone who would actually listen to him.

“Ah,” Boost’s voice rang through his helmet at the same time the reef across from them, full of Ishi Tibs, came crashing down. “That’s where the commander is . . . Commander.”

Wolffe jumped out from behind the coral wall and blinked between the crashing reef and Boost and Comet, who had just stood up from their cover as well.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had Boost by the chest plate.

“What do you mean that’s where she is?” he yelled.

“She’s not on it, sir.” Panic laced Boost’s words as he grabbed at Wolffe’s hands. “At least, not anymore. I don’t think. Comet?”

Wolffe let go of Boost and turned to his other brother, trying to rein in his anger.

Comet’s helmet shook back and forth. “She was supposed to be back here by the time it blew, sir, but I lost visual of her.”

“You lost visual of her?” Wolffe paced between his brothers. “How, exactly, did you lose visual of her?”

“Well, she went under water, sir.”

Wolffe stopped pacing and stared at Comet, refusing to believe that he could possibly come from the same genetic code as the person in front of him.

“Of course she went under water, you di’kut. Our helmets not have tracking capabilities, you didn’t turn that on?”

Comet raised his hand to his neck and Wolffe bit back a curse.

“Everything happened so fast. And the commander said she knew what she was doing.”

Wolffe opened his mouth to yell more, but stopped just short. He wasn’t mad at his brothers, not really. They’d done what their commanding officer had told them to do and he couldn’t resent them for that.

The truth was, Wolffe wasn’t really mad at all. He was worried.

No.

He was fucking terrified.

When he’d thought they were all going to die, the idea of losing Amara wasn’t so unbearable because he wouldn’t be around to have to live with it. The minute he’d looked across the reef and realized she wasn’t there, that she might die while he lived . . . Wolffe wasn’t so naive to deny that the thought made him lose his mind.

This was like Nivek all over again, except about ten times worse because at least on Nivek he’d known she wasn’t alone. Now, though? She could be anywhere. Caught in the wave of the explosion, dragged too far under water to a point where he’d never be able to find her.

He clinched his fists, still glaring at his brothers. He was in too deep here. Much too deep. But that wasn’t their fault.

Even if they were still di’kuts.

Pushing the panic to the back of his mind as best he could for the time being, Wolffe cleared his throat and turned to Boost. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do. You take a team to the front of the reef, Comet takes one to the back. I’ll go brief General Unduli and make sure we’re ready to retrieve her. We find the commander before we leave this Maker forsaken place or so help me-”

“Calm down, commander, I’m not dead. Didn’t even pass out this time.”

Wolffe spun around.

Amara stood in front of him, water soaking her clothes and dripping from her braids but looking no worse for wear. As Wolffe scanned her for any sign of injury and tried to calm his pounding heart, she gestured out to the now ruined reef.

“They’ll be recovering from that for a while. Should give us the night, at least, to figure out a way around.”

Wolffe couldn’t move his eyes from her face. She was right. He knew she was right. The reef she’d just blown up had been making them easy targets for the Ishi Tibs. Wolffe himself had come up with a plan to destroy it before they’d been surrounded. Still . . .

“What were you thinking?” He could hear the barely contained rage even through the vocoder.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, commander. This was your idea.”

“My idea?” He yanked off his helmet, ready to level the full weight of what he was sure was one of his more menacing glares on her. “No. My idea was to wait for an opening and then send a group to demolish the reef, not for the leader of our battalion to sneak through decidedly unopened enemy lines by herself and then barely make it back alive.”

“I had it handled, Wolffe.”

He ignored her use of his name. For now. “You had it handled, did you?”

“That’s right,” Amara stepped up to him. “I do know what I’m doing, you know.”

Wolffe could hear the anger in her voice and in any other situation he knew he would have been turned on. Now, though? No. He was pissed.

“You nearly got yourself killed, commander,” he gestured at the men around them, a few of whom were openly staring. “One wrong step and you could have got us all killed.”

He wouldn’t have thought it was possible for Amara’s glare to deepen if he hadn’t watched it happen himself. It didn’t bother him, though. It absolutely didn’t bother him. He was right. She was wrong. He was angry. Not turned on. At all. Because that would be fucking shameful, right?

Right.

She stepped closer.

Yup. Still just angry.

“I did what I did specifically so that we all might have a chance of making it out of here alive. Besides,” she looked around before lowering her voice and leaning closer, “I thought you trusted me to do what’s right on this mission. Or are those just words you save for when you have me alone?”

Fuck, there went his cock.

Wolffe opened his mouth to respond - he didn’t have a fucking clue what he was going to say - when another clone behind him shouted for her. She gave him one last, cock-throbbing glare before brushing past him and Wolffe made sure his helmet was back on and vocoder turned to silent before he let out an embarrassing groan that he’d never hear the end about if any of his brothers overheard.

Amara had every right to be frustrated with him and he knew it. He was being an ass. And just because they’d made nice a few days ago on the Triumphant didn’t mean they were in the best place for Wolffe to take out his frustrations on her.

He knew that.

But knowing that didn’t exactly help his situation.

Besides he didn’t necessarily think he was wrong to be frustrated. She should have cleared her plan with him before running off and almost getting herself killed. Where would that have left the 104th? Where would that have left him?

She hadn’t been thinking. And clearly he was thinking a bit too much.

Wolffe sighed. Frustrated or not, he still had a battalion to look after. The Ishi Tibs had done a number on them and he’d need a new head count and a new supply run-through at the least. And he and Amara were going to talk about the unnecessary risks she took today, even if he had to tie her to a chair to get her to listen.

Fuck, no, he couldn’t think about that.

“Commander!”

Thankful for the interruption to his useless thoughts, Wolffe turned his vocoder back on and looked up, nodding at Sinker ahead of him.

“Sergeant. How’re things looking?”

As they walked through the hastily set up base, Sinker filled him in on the battalion’s current status. While he listened to his brother, Wolffe assessed their surroundings. Clones and supplies were spread around haphazardly, tents were already starting to be re-constructed, and the wounded were being carted to the medical tent.

Where a surprisingly large number of decidedly un-injured clones were crowded around the opening flap.

“What’s happening in medical?” Wolffe interrupted Sinker’s tirade about the state of the ration bars and quickened his pace.

“Oh, that,” Sinker hesitated and Wolffe turned on him.

“Out with it, Sergeant. Now.”

The other man took off his helmet and ran a hand through his silver hair, eyes glancing around, anywhere to avoid Wolffe’s helmeted glare. “They’re probably there to see Commander Kora.”

Wolffe’s steps faltered and he came to a stop, fear suddenly coursing through his veins. She’d been fine when he’d seen her. Right? His eyes had covered every inch of her body once he’d turned around, relieved to see her alive. She’d seemed fine. And even though she was stubborn, she wasn’t stupid. Or careless. She would have said something, if she was hurt, right? No. She probably wouldn’t have because if there was one thing Wolffe knew about Amara for certain, it was that she prioritized the health and safety of her men before her own. But if she was hurt, and he’d wasted time yelling at her while she needed to be seen by Caster . . .

“She’s fine, sir,” Sinker hurried on, correctly interpreting Wolfe’s utter stillness for concern. Fuck, he needed to work on his lying if even his body, covered in armor, gave him away. “She just . . . usually visits the injured boys after a battle like this, when there’s time.”

Wolffe swallowed thickly, the echoing in his ears finally relenting at Sinker’s assurances. The panic he’d felt, however, was quickly replaced by curiosity.

“What exactly does she do in there?” he gestured at the group of uninjured clones, “What are they trying to see?”

As he spoke, the clones shifted around, helmets in hands or clipped to belts. No one was speaking. Wolffe wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or worried.

“She helps with the healing.”

Once again, Sinker’s words brought Wolffe to a standstill.

Clipping his helmet to his belt, he continued. “Uses the Force, or whatever, I have no idea, to speed things up. Takes a lot out of her sometimes, but she still does it. When the wounds are too bad even for her, she sits with them, tells them stories, eases their passing, I think. At least, they don’t scream as much as they do when she’s not there.”

Wolffe’s eyes widened and he was once again thankful for his helmet.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since after Nivek, sir.”

Wolffe wasn’t surprised. Not in the least. This was exactly the type of self-sacrificing shit Amara would do. But why hadn’t he known before now? Why hadn’t he noticed?

Wolffe flinched as the truth hit him.

He hadn’t noticed because, until a week ago he’d taken every opportunity to avoid her. Out of sight out of mind. Except she’d never been out of his mind, not really. And yet, the whole time she’d been doing this service for his brothers. Something she wasn’t required or asked to do. Something that, according to Sinker, cost her.

She’d already shown him time and again that this war - and the lives of him and his brothers - wasn’t something she took lightly. And now, she was sacrificing herself, even if only for a moment, to give them comfort amidst so much pain.

Something in Wolffe’s chest tightened at the thought and he had to clear his throat before he could speak again.

“You’ve known about this the whole time?”

“Yes, sir,” Sinker nodded.

“And why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Sinker squinted in the light of the sun, and ran a hand across the back of his neck.

“Maker’s sake, Sinker,” Wolffe rolled his eyes even though the other clone couldn’t see it. “I’m not going to punish anyone.”

Sinker’s hand stayed at his neck as he answered. “The commander . . . well, she asked us not to tell you.”

Of course she did.

Despite his annoyance at himself and the residing ache in his chest that he didn’t want to think about, Wolffe had half a mind to push through the crowd of clones, drag Amara out and make her tell him why she didn’t think this was something he aught to know about.

He made it all the way to the side of the tent when he heard a voice, just barely weaving its way through the fabric. So quiet, he doubted he’d be able to hear it if he didn’t have his helmet on - or if it wasn’t the same voice that echoed through his mind on a near constant loop.

“You are one with the Force, and the Force is with you."

Wolffe glanced at the clones before him, saw them shuffle around, pat one another on the shoulders, press their foreheads together. Signs of mourning that they all became familiar with much too quickly in this war.

Clones weren’t given funerals. Most of the time, they weren’t even buried. If they fell on the battlefield, all that was left to mark their existence in that time and place was a helmet that, all too often, hadn’t even been painted yet.

There was rarely time to offer comfort or some semblance of peace to those left behind.

Unless, apparently, Amara had anything to say about it.

Wolffe closed his eyes and lightly tilted his head against the tent, soft fabric running across the hard plastoid of his own helmet.

Amara was giving their men the only peace she could.

He wouldn’t mess with that.

Maybe, when his time came - and he had no doubt that it would come sooner rather than later - he’d be lucky enough to have her voice be the last thing he heard, too.

*****

Wolffe wouldn’t have thought it was possible to find water beautiful after growing up on Kamino. But Tibrin was really starting to test that theory.

He stared out at the phosphorescent ocean, the bright rays of sunlight dancing off the colorful waves and feeling completely out of place among the dark, viscous blood that had been shed over the past few days.

The words Amara had whispered to one of his brothers - he wasn’t sure who - rang through his mind.

You are one with the Force, and the Force is with you.

Wolffe didn’t know much about the Force. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. But something about the way Amara’s voice had sounded around the phrase made him want to know what she thought about it.

Did it bring her peace in the same way it brought her power?

What did it feel like?

Could he feel it, too?

Did he deserve to know the answers to any of these questions?

Every day that brought the Republic further into the war brought Wolffe further and further away from his certainty about . . . Everything. He knew what he was meant to do - what he was expected to do. And he took his job as commander of the 104th seriously.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have questions. Amara’s own statements about the clones and their lack of agency only made those questions multiply.

Wolffe was created for war.

But sometimes, when he looked out at the terrain of whatever beautiful planet they were sent to and saw it marred with smoke and blood and ruin, he wondered if he ever should have been created at all.

It was a small thought - there then gone just as quickly as it arrived. But it never really went away. Not completely.

So when Amara said she didn’t agree with the choices that had been made for clones, and when she tended to his brothers with a care they’d never known, it made Wolffe pause. And look around. And think that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason for his existence beyond bloodshed and death.

Maybe that reason was easier to see when he was by her side.

He sighed. If that was the case then he wasn’t doing a great job of showing it. He wasn’t happy with the way he and Amara had left their earlier conversation - especially not after what he’d witnessed at the medical tent. He knew he needed to talk to her, clear things up and make sure they were on the same page moving forward. Not just for his sake, but for everyone’s.

Things had been chaotic in the hour after the explosion. 104th and 41st clones running around and setting up a temporary camp. Wolffe himself had been distracted by debriefs with Gree, the clone commander of the 41st, while Amara and the other Jedi had secluded themselves on some corner of the reef to re-strategize. They could rest for a few hours, but soon they would have to move forward and face the Ishi Tebs again.

Now, though, the chaos had calmed.

His brothers were clumped in groups, talking, sleeping, eating. Doing whatever they could to distract from the loss of other brothers and the anxiety of the rest of the mission.

On his way to this secluded spot of his own, he’d passed Boost, Comet, Sinker, and Gree talking about the casualties they’d endured so far on Tibrin. Wolffe knew the numbers - he always knew the numbers. But hearing Gree talk about the near devastation the 41st had already endured set him on edge more than usual.

“I’ve lost half my men.” He’d said, shaking his head. “We’ve never been on a mission this bad before. How-” He’d cut himself off with a cough.

Boost, never one to let things go, had stepped in, placing a hand on Gree’s shoulder. “You deal with it however you can, brother. Why d’you think my hair looks like this?”

Wolffe continued past the group, not eager to hear again Boost’s frankly depressing story about the origins of his unique hairstyle. The two stripes and red dye were in memory of his batch mates, all of whom had died in the Battle of Geonosis. Boost never went into detail about why he’d chosen the stripes, but the red dye was to match the 104th’s maroon colors. That way he could honor not only his batch mates, but any brothers he lost from the battalion, too.

Lots of clones chose to honor the fallen in different ways, but Wolffe wasn’t much for visible sentimentality. He already carried the weight of every loss in his mind, why would he want a reminder of it on his body as well?

Now, sitting at the edge of the reef away from everyone and enjoying the view of an ocean for the first time, he knew he should be looking for Amara. She’d be done with her meeting by now and, even putting all their personal issues aside, they needed to talk.

Still, he wasn’t quite ready to turn away from the waves that looked so different from the dark ones on Kamino. This planet had brought so much devastation to the clones. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t still beautiful.

“Room for one more over here, commander?”

Wolffe’s head jerked to the side, tearing his gaze from the rippling blue of the water to the steady brown of Amara’s eyes.

That was twice today her voice had nearly stopped his heart.

“Sure,” he said, gesturing to the surface next to him, “not the most comfortable place to sit, though.”

Amara smiled down at him as she lowered herself by his side. “Pretty sure we’ve both sat on worse.”

Wolffe grunted, trying not to let the tension in his body at her closeness give him away.

“Heard anything from Generals Kenobi and Skywalker yet?” He asked.

Amara sighed and crossed her legs. “No. Long range comms are still down. Master Unduli thinks we should just carry on. Keep making our way to the meeting point and trust they’ll find their way there, too.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think,” she squinted up at the sky, “that our usual tactics clearly aren’t working. And it’s foolish to expect them to work any time soon. I’m worried this most recent attack won’t even be the worst.”

“Hm,” Wolffe turned away, trying to keep his thoughts to himself. As usual around Amara, though, he failed. “That what you were thinking when you risked your life just to try and save ours?”

Though he wasn’t looking at her, he could feel the weight of her stare. One day, his mouth and his brain would actually work together and he wouldn’t have to deal with the repercussions.

“You know,” she said after a moment of silence between them, “I wasn’t trying to worry you.”

He kept his eyes trained on the horizon, taking in the last rays of the setting sun as they splashed across the water. “I wasn’t worried.”

“You sure about that?”

He glanced back at her quickly before facing forward again. Sure, he wanted to make things right between them, but not at the cost of his dignity. He’d already admitted too much to her in the days before this mission, lost in the idea that maybe if he didn’t think too much about it, he could have something that was never meant to be his.

He needed to stop.

He wanted to keep pushing.

“I was frustrated. We’re supposed to a team. You should have told me what your plan was before you went and blew up a reef.”

“You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

Wolffe couldn’t help it, he looked over at her again, this time leaving his gaze on her face. Where a soft smile was currently pulling at her lips.

She tilted her head to the side, her two braids swinging with the motion. “But I know you were worried, too.”

He scowled. “And how do you know that?”

Her smile grew and it took every ounce of will power Wolffe had to keep his scowl in place.

“I could feel it.”

Amara’s words hung between them, heavy with their implications and with all the things Wolffe both did and didn’t want to know.

He swallowed, panic running up his spine, but he refused to turn away this time. If she could feel his worry then . . . What else had she been able to feel?

“This is exactly why I don’t want to know about the Force,” he mumbled, rougher than he’d intended.

“I didn’t mean like that.” Her next words rushed out and Wolffe had to strain to follow along. “It’s not the Force, exactly. I mean, it’s part of the Force, part of me. But I’m the only one who can feel it like this. At least, the only Jedi here who can, anyway. I think.”

He stared at her, unsure if he wanted to ask her to clarify. But she bit her lip and glanced away, and if there was one thing Wolffe couldn’t stand more than his own embarrassment, it was hers.

“Can you explain it to me, then?” He cleared his throat. “How you feel it, I mean?”

She turned back to him, eyes wide. “I thought you just said you didn’t want to know anything about the Force.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say anything. Besides,” he shrugged, “you said it’s not just the Force. It’s you.”

And I want to know everything about you.

The smile was back on Amara’s face and Wolffe would have been content to just sit next to her like that for however long they were allowed.

“Every Jedi feels the Force differently.” Her voice was lighter than it had been, still careful, but full of something Wolffe didn’t know how to name. “Some hear it in music, others see it in constellations, some just feel it more strongly than others.”

“And you?”

Her smile softened as she looked out at the horizon. “I see it in colors.”

“Colors?” He asked, even more curious now than he had been before.

Amara nodded. “Every person has a different hue, even the clones. And those hues usually shift to reflect the person’s emotions.”

Wolffe stayed staring at her profile, trying to make sense of something he wasn’t entirely sure was supposed to make sense. At least not to someone like him.

But before he could speak up, Amara continued.

“You’re different, though,” she looked down and brought her hands into her lap, “for me. You’re different for me.”

Wolffe knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had never in his life been as still as he was now. He didn’t want to move for fear of reaching for one of her hands that he shouldn’t touch. He didn’t want to so much as shift for fear of making her leave when all he wanted was for her to tell him why he, of all people, could possibly be different for her.

His body might not have been able to move, but apparently his mouth could.

“How?”

Amara took a breath and Wolffe swore he could feel it in his own chest.

“You’re brighter. All-consuming, almost. I-” she looked up at him finally and her eyes were the darkest he’d ever seen them. “I can feel your color - I can feel you - even when I’m not trying. Usually, anyway.”

Wolffe wasn’t sure when he’d moved closer to her, the distance between their thighs suddenly no more than an inch, but he was painfully aware now of every freckle on her cheeks and across her nose.

He could see, in the fading light of Tibrin’s one sun, that her hair wasn’t really as dark as it looked from far away. It was highlighted with strands of various shades of brown. Some the same color as her eyes. A few as light as the Geonosian sand. Others the same warm depth as the bark of the Worshyr trees on Kashyyyk. Twined together in her braids, they made a mesmerizing pallet, and he didn’t know how he’d missed it before.

He needed to do something, say something, to break this silence before he acted on an urge he wouldn’t be able to take back.

“So you know I was worried.”

She smiled. “I know you were worried. But,” her head tilted, those damn braids following and drawing his eyes to her chest where they lay, “I can’t feel you now.”

Wolffe huffed out a laugh and could feel a smile finally breaking through his scowl. “My shields do still work against you, then. I was starting to wonder.”

It was Amara’s turn to roll her eyes. “Oh, they work fine. When you remember to use them, anyway.”

Wolffe narrowed his eyes at her, memories of his slip a few nights earlier flashing through his mind. “You really can’t feel what I’m feeling right now?”

She shook her head. “The only way I’d be able to know is if you told me.”

Her words sounded like an invitation to his all too eager ears, and he ached to tell her everything she wanted to know.

He could tell her that he heard her voice in his head all the time. That he’d memorized every lilt of the accent he couldn’t quite place.

He could tell her that he knew the way she was staring at him right now would stay with him until he could imagine what that stare might look like with her on top of him.

He could tell her that this conversation was the best conversation he’d ever had in his life and he was terrified that he’d never get another chance to talk to her like this again.

He could tell her that he wanted to know if her body felt under his hands the way her name felt on his tongue.

Wolffe opened his mouth, unsure which of these bad ideas was going to stumble out and change everything. Whatever it was, he was ready. He could handle it. He could do anything with her looking at him like she wanted in every way that he did, too.

Maybe this time they could both get what they wanted.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Wolffe put his hand over one of Amara's, twining his fingers through hers. He kept his gaze on her face so he could see her eyes widen at his touch and her mouth curve into a small smile.

He smiled back.

Wolffe opened his mouth, ready to tell her everything.

And the reef beneath them collapsed.

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x oc #wolffe #wolffe x oc #jedi oc #clone fic #the clone wars #w: a shattered peace #tcw fic

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hobeemin · 4 years

Text

Eros et Psyche - Part 2: Eros

💘 Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Adventure, Drama, s2l, Greek God myth AU

💘 Pairing: Im Jaebeom x (f) OC

💘 Rating: 18+

💘 Warning(s): swearing, alcohol consumption, doubt, feelings of uncertainty, oral (f. receiving), consensual sex, unprotected sex, breast and nipple play, multiple orgasms, jealousy

💘 Word Count: 9.5k

💘 Credits: Beta read by the marvelous @yoongsgguktae 💜 ily sis thank you

💘 Summary: A modern take on the Greek myth of Eros and Psyche.

💘 A/N: Part of The Intimacy Anthology Project hosted by @peonybane found here

< 💘 >

He did take it seriously.

Psyche sat motionless in the back of the town car as it drove her up the hill overlooking their town. After the tears, screams, and threats over the past few weeks, she finally agreed to this absurd agreement. The hill the matchmaker instructed her to be at was near one of the larger forests outside of town. Her father informed her she’d be making the journey alone. Again another round of arguments erupted, but he was stubborn. She would have to go by herself and that was the final decision.

Psyche felt highly emotional while saying her goodbyes to her father and sisters. Not knowing what the future held was frightening. From a person so used to order and schedules, this was a foreign idea. Still, she put on a neutral look and bid them all farewell with hugs and well wishes.

The car began to slow down as it approached the area. Psyche’s heartbeat hammered loud in her chest. She chewed on her bottom lip as the driver parked and opened her door for her. With a quiet thank you, she stepped out and walked over to the edge of the road. The most unusual thing about this was that she was told not to bring anything with her, no clothes, toiletries, anything.

“Everything will be provided for you.”

That didn’t settle her mind. She clutched the coat around her arms as the temperature dropped slightly. Luckily, she opted for a longer dress rather than the short Michael Kors number Jessica kept pushing her to wear.

“This isn’t a celebration. I’m grieving,” she had said.

Psyche looked around as she heard the engine die off as it turned the corner and went back down the winding path. Now she was alone. Glancing up at the sky, the clouds had blocked the view of the moon. Supposedly tonight was to be the “Rose” moon. She scoffed looking around for a place to sit. If she was being pranked, it was better for her to sit down.

A small rock big enough for her to use as a seat caught her eye. She plopped down and waited, not even a phone to use to pass the boredom. It was part of another strange request. No electronics. So she was officially alone. Then again it might have been a good thing. The young model usually avoided all social media about her, and rarely saw pictures of herself. Besides the few covers her father would save, Psyche never liked to see herself in pictures.

She hummed to herself, kicking at the pebbles by her feet. Her breath came out in cold wisps as she sighed out loud.

“This seriously has to be a joke,” she muttered to no one. “All this mystery. I bet no one will show. I’ll look silly and someone gets a free laugh. I think–”

She looked up in surprise as the moon peeked behind the clouds, a halo of pink adored its rim. She stared in wonder as the sounds of clomping came off in the distance. Her eyes widened as a team of horses pulling a pure white carriage rounded the bend towards her. The ebony sheen of their coats contrasted with the white. Her jaw dropped as it came more into view. The horses kicked at the dirt whipping their manes around. She stood up from the rock and stepped forward in shock. No one was pulling the carriage. She bent down to look under to see if it was motorized.

Nothing.

She straightened back up and gave the horse a stare.

“Am I supposed to drive you or–”

The door to the carriage swung open slowly as steps folded down. She raised her brow at the steps then back at the horses.

“You don’t expect me to get in, do you?”

The horses snorted, bobbing their heads up and down. Psyche mumbled as she stepped toward the open door of the carriage. “You’re not much help,” she taunted. The horse reared its legs grunting. “Alright, alright, I’ll get in. No need to get nasty,” she sighed climbing in.

The steps retracted and the door closed once she settled in. The carriage lurched forward as the horses began a steady trot down a path leading into the forest. The shades were drawn and even when she pulled them back, the windows were blackened with tint making it difficult for her to see outside of where she was going. By the way the carriage jerked, she could tell the path had changed drastically. She bounced in her seat as she continued the journey.

After what seemed like hours, the carriage halted making her fall forward. Psyche squeaked as she was shaken in the carriage. The door swung open once more as the steps unfolded. She peeked outside the carriage curiously.

If she had been surprised before, her expression was even more in awe. The large architectural home was a blend of rustic and modern. Large glass windows set in dark mahogany wood. A lake painted the background making the home look almost ethereal as the fog from the lake swirled around. The moonlight added to the view taking her breath away almost.

Who could live here?

She stepped out tentatively glancing around the entrance. Suddenly a group of people exited from the home and walked towards her. She stepped back near the carriage. Once they'd gotten closer, she noticed the group consisted of two women and one man. Each wore a mask that covered their face except their mouths. They bowed as soon as they reached her. The man stepped forward, dark hair upon his crown.

“Welcome Madam to Locus Manor. We are the loyal staff to your new husband. I am Anteros,” he explained, stepping back.

The closest woman to her curtsied low, strawberry blonde hair shimmering past her shoulders. “I am Harmonia, Madam, our Master gave strict instructions for us to take care of you,” she brought out a note wrapped in ribbon and held it out for her, “Please read.”

Psyche, still bewildered, took the note in her trembling hands and untied the ribbon. She glanced over the handwriting.

“To my dear Psyche, unfortunately, I cannot be here to greet you on the day of your arrival. The staff has explicit instructions to make sure your time here is comfortable. Clothes have been laid out and a meal prepared. Enjoy my love.

Always and forever,

J”

She looked up at them with a frown. “So he’s even not here to see me. What do you expect me to do?”

Another woman stepped forward with another curtsy, dark hair styled in a short bob. “Pleased to meet you, Madam. I am Adrestia, we shall get you cleaned up and ready for dinner.” She gestured towards the front doors. “If you’ll follow me.”

She felt frustrated that no one was listening to her. It was all so confusing. This mystery man “j” wasn't even there and she was to trust these people. What did he do? Why all the mystery and smoke and mirrors? For now, she’d play by their rules until she knew what was in store for her.

If the exterior surprised her, then the interior was beyond anything she’d ever imagined. They gave her a tour of the place pointing out the details. The color scheme was white with bursts of red and silver. The fronts doors led into a large open space that was considered the living room. Plush couches encircled a large fireplace. Off to the side behind double doors was the dining room. A large rectangular table sat in the middle surrounded by plush chairs. On the opposite side, a winding staircase led up to the higher floor. A concealed door opened to reveal the large kitchen decked with the latest appliances surrounding a marble island.

Harmonica took her upstairs to the master bedroom. The large king-size bed took up much of the room, it had a canopy overhead draped with silk. The maid gestured to the sliding glass doors.

“That leads to the balcony. In the morning it gives the perfect view of the lake.”

Psyche nodded seeing something catch her eye. A dress was laid out on the bed. She ran her fingers over the material gently. It was certainly more expensive than she was used to wearing.

“Ah,” Harmonica said, beginning to walk over to a large door. “This is your walk-in closet. It has everything you need.”

Psyche’s jaw dropped as she entered the closet. Racks of dresses, shirts, pants, shoes, and accessories covered the walls. “How did he know my size?”

The maid chuckled. “Master has his ways of knowing.” She stepped out of the closet beckoning Psyche to follow her. “Let's get you freshened up for dinner.”

After soaking in the large clawfoot tub, Psyche made her way down to the dining as they set the table for her. They bowed as one pulled a chair out for her to sit. They poured her wine, serving her the salad first. The two maids stood off to the side.

Psyche took small bites, chewing slowly. “Um, during the tour, I noticed a room upstairs we didn’t go into,” she wiped her mouth with a napkin staring at them. “What’s in there?”

The air suddenly grew tense as the maids gave each other a look. “Madam, we aren’t allowed in that room. It belongs to the Master.”

“Even you are forbidden from there. Please stay away,” Adrestia warned.

Psyche gave a small nod and continued her meal in silence. Everything was so strange. From the clothes fitting perfectly to her favorite dish being served. This so-called “j” was an enigma. How did he know so much about her in such a short period of time?

The dishes were cleared as Psyche let out a yawn. Anteros chuckled as he extinguished the candles around the room. “Time for bed Madam. You need your rest.”

Psyche smiled sleepily as she bid him goodnight and trudged up the stairs to her...well their bedroom. That was a silly thought. There was no more “her” only “them”, if she ever were to see him. She settled on a silk blush nightgown that tied in the back. She gave a small twirl in the mirror over her vanity.

“Not too bad.”

It was an upgrade from all the oversized shirts and shorts she wore normally. Pulling back the satin sheets, she propped the pillows up and took one from the other side of the bed to hold. With the fragrance of lavender lingering in the air, it didn’t take long for Psyche to drift off to sleep.

“Psyche. Psyche? Darling, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open as she looked around. She was in her bed still, the moonlight filtering in through the windows. It gave a hazy look as fog off the lake rolled in. She sat up with a start seeing a man standing at the foot of the bed. There seemed to be a glow surrounding him, making him look ethereal. Being in his presence seemed to calm her nerves as he stared at her. Dark hair framing his face, pulled back so she could see his features, sharp jawline, full lips, dark eyes that always seemed to be smiling.

She pulled her hair back off her face suddenly feeling shyness take over. “Who...who are you?”

“Anyone. It’s your dream love,” Jaebeom said with a grin. Decked in only a pair of white linen pants, low enough to bare his Adonis belt, Psyche felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

She licked her lips nervously averting her gaze. “I’m dreaming, huh.”

He chuckled with a nod. “Yes. Yes, you are.” He moved closer, sitting on the edge making sure to keep his distance. “No one can hurt you here. Least of all me.” Jaebeom’s eyes softened momentarily at the thought. “I could never wrong you, Psyche. Trust is all I ask.”

She gave a small nod as she mulled over the thought. She couldn’t feel any unusual vibes from him and something about him seemed so familiar, she just couldn’t place it.

What the heck was she thinking about so hard in a dream?

Psyche froze as she felt his fingers on her chin, tilting her face towards him.

He studied her face with a smirk. “What’s on your mind? You looked so serious all of a sudden.”

“I…” she began, meeting his eyes, entranced for a second before chuckling softly. “It’s silly and not very important,” she answered.

Jaebeom shook his head running his thumb against her cheek. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re more important than you’ll ever know.”

Psyche leaned into his touch, the warmth from his hand radiating on her skin. It soothed her. She felt his breath against her lips as she instinctively leaned forward.

“Psyche–”

“Kiss me,” she whispered. Opening her eyes to look at him, she purred softly. “Please. There’s nothing else I want more.”

He gulped, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. Exhaling the breath he held, Jaebeom cupped her face moving closer. His nose nuzzling against her cheek as he trembled. “You never have to ask my love.”

Jaebeom began placing light butterfly kisses along her neck, shoulders, and collar. Psyche closed her eyes letting out a breathy moan. There was almost a calculation in his movements but still passionate. Jaebeom wanted to make her feel good and needed this for himself. It seemed like an eternity had gone by since he last saw her. He craved to be close. Moving his lips to her throat, his teeth grazed her pulse points causing her to gasp out. Psyche didn’t know what to do with her hands, eventually resting them on his shoulders. Nails digging into his flesh as he worshipped her body.

He was teasing her, never actually meeting her lips. Jaebeom took his time, relishing in the moment of just being with her. Her moans only heightened his desire for her. The growing warmth that surrounded him couldn't be sated. He opened his eyes meeting her gaze. A dull moan passed his lips before his tongue dragged against her bottom lip. The motion made Psyche jump, warming her core.

So erotic in nature, his eyes were full of lust. She pressed her body against his needing to be close. He gladly obliged, finally placing a kiss on her lips. So light it almost didn’t feel like it was there. But he was testing the waters, making sure each move was approved by her. Seeing that she was okay, Jaebeom pressed his lips firmly on hers. Psyche melted into the kiss as it grew heavy. His lips danced with her, one hand venturing to wrap around her waist touching the small on her back and the other cupping her cheek.

His tongue grew impatient pushing against her mouth wanting a taste. With the slightest hesitation, she opened her mouth partially as he delved in, devouring her. Psyche let out the lowest of whimpers, her body weight shifting, needing something to anchor her in place, wanting to release.

Jaebeom reluctantly pulled away as both their bodies demanded oxygen. Chest heaving, he leaned against her, chin propped on her head. He bent down leaving the gentlest of kisses on her forehead as he wrapped both his arms around her frame. Psyche took this time to consider the possibilities of this dream. It felt so real. His lips, his hands, every touch on her body felt like fire.

Jaebeom noticed how quiet she was and moved to pull her chin to stare at him. He checked her eyes carefully. “Still with me?”

Psyche’s lips spread into a smile as she nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled back giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Good.” Once said, the desire in his eyes returned as he raked over her body. The nightgown did little to cover her modesty. Her nipples strained against the fabric, stiff. His Adam’s apple jumped at the sight. His fingers traveled up her arm caressing her skin as he went until he reached her shoulder. Maintaining eye contact, his fingers slid under the straps of her nightgown and tugged. Psyche let out a soft gasp as the air made contact with her nipples. Already erect, it became almost painful. She whimpered looking at him with pleading eyes.

Jaebeom reached out as his hand and cupped her breast, running his thumb across the peak. Psyche hissed as she tilted her head back exposing her neck. He wet his lips as he watched her movements, switching from the light to firm touches, pinching her nipples, tugging and rolling them between her fingers. Psyche gripped his bicep so she wouldn’t fall backward. He took his time, torturing her with the pleasure and pain alternating. He bent down placing light kisses on her neck to calm her.

“Lie down,” he instructed in between kisses. Psyche obeyed as she fell back against the pillows. He tugged at the hem of her nightgown pulling it down her body. She lifted her hips up helping him to remove it easily. Once off, he threw it aside leaving her only in what looked like lace panties. Jaebeom stirred gazing at her longingly.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a hushed tone.

Psyche closed her eyes as her cheeks tinted with pink. Embarrassed by his words, she couldn't look at him. He bent forward caging her between his arms hovering over her breasts, quite enamored by the shape and dips. His breath warm on her skin caused goosebumps to form. Lips parted, his tongue dragged across one of the stiff peaks before suckling on it gently. His tongue swirled around, a hum on his lips making the vibration wrack her body.

Psyche let out a needy moan, squirming underneath him, her nails massaged his scalp, afraid he’d disappear if she couldn’t maintain body contact. Clenching her thighs together, she felt the throb, a sensation she hadn’t felt in so long. He barely touched her and by now she knew her arousal had soaked through her panties. Jaebeom switched between her breasts, groping the other as he gave equal attention, darting his tongue up to lap at it.

His eyes scanned her reactions, quite pleased with it. The sounds she made only made him want her more. All he could think about was pleasing her, worshipping the woman before him. Plucking his lips from her breasts with a soft pop, his eyes now blown out with lust, he glanced downward at her womanhood. Psyche’s legs parted instinctively as he stared. A guttural moan passed his lips as he noticed the damp spot on her panties.

“May I–” his voice now rasped, “have a taste?”

She shivered all over giving him an incline of her head. Jaebeom let out a hitched breath as he jerked her lingerie off carelessly tossing them across the bed. The fragrant smell of her cunt sent him into a stupor. He grabbed a stray pillow, positioning it in under her head to support her neck.

“Comfortable?” he asked once she was settled.

“Very, but–” Psyche bit down on her lip. “You never told me what your name was.”

Jaebeom winked, tracing his fingers on her thighs. “Psyche, I’m whatever you want me to be,” he crooned, crawling down to the end of the bed until he was eye level with her mound. “Right now, I am a man in desperate need to show you what it feels like to be worshipped.” He passed a chaste kiss on her thigh as a helpless whimper passed her lips. “Can I do that for you, Psyche?”

The back of her fingers brushed his cheek. The look in her eyes was enough to get the message across. Jaebeom hooked his arms underneath her thighs trailing kisses towards the treasure that awaited him. He pressed his hand against her mound gently pulling her pussy lips apart. The strings of arousal dripped down coating her thighs. Psyche wiggled in his grasp, anxious as he stared at her cunt. His tongue found her clit easily as he finally tasted her.

And what a feast it was. Head buried between her thighs he devoured her with no hesitation, tongue lapping at her relentlessly. Psyche’s fingers gripped at his dark hair, anchoring him in place. Jaebeom wouldn’t have moved even if he tried. His only focus was her. A finger joined his tongue, coaxing out more of her melodious sounds that rang out in the bedroom. Sweat rolled down her body as her hips bucked forward chasing the high. Her core gripped his fingers as her body readied for an orgasm. Her pants and moans grew louder as she raised up her hips, teeth-gritting as a sudden wave crashed over her. She sought his free hand, gripping it tightly.

“M-My Eros,” she shrieked, eyes shut as she rutted her hips against his face. The orgasm rocked through her body making her convulse.

Jaebeom stopped dead as he drew away from her pussy, lips coated and glazed with the traces of her desire. “What did you say?”

Psyche’s lids flickered open as their eyes connected. Flushed, she looked away. Still shivering from the sheer force of her climax. Her chest heaved as she tried to keep her movements still from oversensitivity.

“It was the first thing that came to my mind,” she whispered out between catching her breath.

Jaebeom groaned, staring at her with eyes full of devotion. “Call me that.” He detached himself unwillingly from her thighs and sat up. Psyche was already in a haze from the pleasure, she could barely move an inch. He laid next to her, brushing the hair off her face. Soft words of praise lingered on his lips as he held her. Psyche rested her head against his chest letting his heartbeat soothe her.

Once she was able to regain some strength, Psyche moved her fingers to interlock with his. Jaebeom pressed his lips to her hands with a soft smile. “Tired yet?”

Psyche shivered against him with a nod. “I-I need you E-Eros. More than anything right now.” Her body began reacting to being so close to his. Jaebeom grunted low, eyes cast down at her nude form. He kissed her again before getting off the bed. Psyche noticed the strain of his erection against his pants. A clear patch already forming from the precum that leaked.

Jaebeom untied the strings from his pants plucking the waistband from around his hips. His cock springing from its confines as he let out a low hiss, relieved from the pressure. Psyche gulped at his size. He was lengthy, the shaft wide but not extremely girthy, veins punctuating down his length, the head swollen with tinges of red–the precum glossing the slit.

He fisted his shaft, pumping his erection without much effort as he watched her lay outstretched across the mattress. He grabbed her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, parting them as he stood between them. He caressed her cheek bending forward and lined himself against her entrance. While he wanted to take things slow, Jaebeom fought the urge to plunge deep inside her. Breathing hard through his nose, he met her gaze.

“Psyche,” he moaned faintly. “Are you ready?”

She writhed against him entangling her legs around his waist from her position. “just do it Eros, please...no more teasing,” she begged.

Jaebeom closed his eyes momentarily before glancing at her. One hand on her hip and the other guiding himself in. She tensed at the pressure and Jaebeom began messaging her sides.

“It’s okay. Relax. I won’t do more until you're ready love.”

“N-No,” she breathed, giving him a purr. “K-Keep going. I’m alright.”

He smiled, kissing her once more as he pushed inch by inch of his length past her folds, surging from the sensation of how her walls clung to his shaft. He took his time, whispering words of care as she grew accustomed to him until he bottomed out. Jaebeom stilled as he leaned forward nuzzling against her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around him whimpering at his size. Psyche was grateful he remained still as she relaxed against him. She let out an airy plea as he planted kisses on her neck. Her nails dug into his back, squirming under him.

“E-Eros, do it,” she cried. “Move, now.”

Jaebeom suckled a spot on her neck groaning with each squirm. He raised his hips as he pulled out until only the tip remained and plunged in deep.

It knocked the wind from her chest. She felt so full. Shuddering as her eyes rolled back. He thrust deep but slow, rotating his hips as they connected. Psyche locked her ankles, gripping him tighter against her body. He was deep and she could feel him brush her cervix. He kissed the tears away off her cheeks as they pooled down.

Raking his hand through her hair his eyes softened. “I love you,” he croaked out, focusing on his pace.

Through teary eyes, she sobbed, “I love you too.”

She grabbed the back of his head crashing her lips against him. “Ravish me.”

Jaebeom didn’t need any convincing. His tongue wrapped around hers tasting the caverns of her mouth as he picked up speed. Bracing himself against the mattress he delved deeper, snapping his hips against hers. Grunts spewing forth as he gripped her hips anchoring himself in place. Psyche grabbed the duvet, holding on as she cried out, his balls slapping hard against her ass.

Only the sounds of their lovemaking ringing out in the quiet of the room.

“I-I’m close love,” he stammered, slowing down until he just grinded his hips. Psyche dragged her nails down his back making him wince. He suddenly rolled over until he was on his back with Psyche straddling him. She paused adjusting to the new position on top of him. He cupped her breast squeezing around the glob of flesh.

“I want to watch you climax,” he groaned.

Psyche could feel her body aching to release. She placed her hands palms down on his chest as she started to bounce on top of his dick. She hissed each time she came down on him, moaning out, frustrated with the need to cum. Jaebeom wrapped his arms around her waist helping her move, wanting to feel her, be joined with her. The knot in her abdomen loosened as she quivered above him. Through gritted teeth, Jaebeom knew he wouldn’t last long.

“F-Fuck Psyche. Cum for me, love.”

He teased her clit, flicking against it for added sensation. That was the last straw. Psyche threw her head back as her mouth opened but no sound came out. The silent shriek racked her body as she convulsed on him. Her cunt gripped him like a vice. Jaebeom sat up holding on to her so she wouldn’t fall over. He switched their positions once more as he chased his own orgasm through hers, not too far along as he thrust. She held onto him, her teeth biting his shoulder as another orgasm shook through her body once he came. Jaebeom hissed out her name as he painted her walls, freezing over her until his thrusts came to a stop.

With care, he shifted until he was on his side holding her close. Both breathing hard, not wanting to make any sudden moves. He gazed down at her, kissing her temple as he brushed the damp hair from her face.

“You look even more beautiful.”

Psyche blushed looking away and she swatted his hand away playfully. “Beautiful? More like sweaty and disheveled.”

He clasped her chin, lifting it up, pecking her lips. “Yes, the most gorgeous creature I've ever laid eyes on. And all mine.” He reached under the pillow and brought out a small box. With some effort, he opened it to reveal two rings. One fashioned in diamonds and garnet stones and the other wrapped in silver with diamonds and garnets in the middle. He beamed sliding the jewelry onto her left ring finger.

“Forever mine,” he purred. He placed the matching ring in her hand as she slipped it onto him. “Forever yours,” she echoed staring at him.

Her cheeks flushed and her stomach fluttered as he kissed her once more. All his. She couldn't help but wonder about the mystery j. This wasn’t really cheating. It was only a dream after all.

Nuzzling against him, she interlocked her fingers with his as she drifted off to sleep content by the gentle strokes of his fingers on her back.

^^^

The sounds of the birds chirping stirred Psyche from her sleep. She murmured as her body became alert as she began to wake. Covering her eyes from the sunshine washing over the room, she could make out to see Harmonica opening the doors to the balcony.

She turned giving a curtsy. “Good morning Madam. How did you sleep?”

Psyche wiggled under the comforter with a sleepy smile. “I slept...well better than I have in ages,” she answered sitting up.

The maid turned away with a giggle. “Oh, Madam, there’s a robe by your bed for you to use.”

Psyche chuckled. “Nonsense, I–” she looked down to see that she was nude. With a squeal, she covered herself up blushing profusely. “Oh! I–”

How did her clothes get removed? Harmonia rushed to put out her outfit and ran to the door. “Breakfast will be ready by the time you freshen up. just call me if you need anything!”

Psyche watched as she practically ran off. Shaking her head in disbelief, she wiggled into the silk robe and went into the bathroom. Further inspection showed she had hickeys littered over her skin. She froze bringing her hand up to her face. The ring.

She jumped back as she removed it and placed it on the sink.

What had happened that night before? She combed her mind for any details, only concluding that it must have been one hell of a dream.

But it felt so real. His hands, lips, everything about it. She mumbled to herself turning the showerhead on. Dreams weren’t real. It was silly to think otherwise. Yet, as she stepped out of the robe and into the shower letting the water cascade down her frame, nothing about this place seemed ‘normal’.

Psyche washed quickly and put on the outfit laid out for her: dark denim jeans and a white tank with a loose black duster. She walked down the stairs just as they finished setting the table for her. The staff greeted her as she took a seat, being served from the numerous dishes on the tables.

All for her. It was quite a change of scenery having been used to seeing her family surrounding the table. She smiled to herself thinking of all the breakfasts her father would cook for them. Her sisters bickering over the fruit. She missed the chaos, regardless if it drove her crazy. They were still her family. A twinge in her heart made her tear up.

Clearing her throat, Psyche settled on a bowl of fruit and toast with a glass of orange juice. Nibbling on a corner of the toast—slathered in butter and strawberry jam—she looked around the place now that it was light out. Still as beautiful as ever. The sunlight seemed to make the place glow. The metal finishing almost looked like molten gold.

Anteros came in with a package, bringing her from her thoughts. "For you Madam, from the Master,” he explained holding a note for her to take.

Psyche thanked him for opening the note to read over the writing.

“Good morning my dear wife. Again, I regret not being able to be in your presence. Here is a gift for you, something for you to capture the beauty of what life has to offer.”

Psyche unwrapped the gift to reveal one of the latest digital camera models. She smiled to herself holding it with care. She glanced at the butler in surprise. “How did he know I liked to photograph?”

“Master has his ways,” he said airily. “Enjoy your day.” Psyche ran her fingers over the camera looking out at the lake.

After breakfast, she walked outside, camera in one hand as she explored the property. They were right, the lake looked absolutely stunning in the early morning fog. She was thankful for the duster as it kept off the chill.

The only sounds were the wildlife flitting about. With amusement she watched a family of rabbits hop around the meadow nibbling at clover. She snapped a quick picture as they paused, noses wiggling under the grass.

Psyche ventured towards a gazebo near the lake. She plopped down on one of the benches sniffing the flowers that decorated the rails. Bursts of reds, yellows, oranges, and purples of the daylilies came alive on her camera screen. Just as she clicked the button, a hummingbird appeared in the viewfinder searching for nectar. It was truly a sight to see.

Everything seemed so calm by the lake. Content by the buzz in the air, her eyelids grew heavy as she fell asleep drooping against the rail.

^^^

Who knew how much time passed as one of the maids came upon her sleeping and roused her awake gently.

“Madam?”

Psyche yawned as she stretched her limbs. With blurry vision, she squinted at Adrestia rubbing her eyes. “W-What time is it?”

“Half-past noon,” she answered, helping her up.

Psyche stood more a moment getting her bearings. “That long?”

“Yes, it's time for lunch. Let’s get you some tea. It’s chilly out here by the water. You’ll catch a cold.” Adrestia fussed at Psyche leading her back inside. She sat back down at the dining room table as they made her some herbal tea to sip on while lunch was being fixed.

The chamomile tea warmed her to the bones as she rested against the arm of the chair. Psyche shivered in her seat. Maybe being out there that long wasn’t the smartest idea. Anteros served a bowl of vegetable soup, placing it in front of her.

“Enjoy Madam.”

Psyche gave him a smile of reassurance as she sipped the broth. She sniffed between swallows as fatigue set in. With a groan, she pushed the soup aside, too exhausted to eat. Harmonia entered to check on her, tsking as she felt Psyche’s forehead.

“You’re running warm Madam. Let’s get you upstairs to rest.”

Anteros assisted with helping her up the stairs and getting her into bed. Psyched sighed into the mattress as it enveloped her. She cuddled further under the blankets as they made sure she was comfortable. “We’ll come check on you later Madam to see if you are better.”

Psyche nodded off to sleep just as the lights dimmed.

The afternoon slowly changed to dusk and her temperature only worsened. Psyche's body shivered all over as she was drenched in sweat. Muttering in a fitful sleep, she whimpered. Nothing seemed to break her fever and the staff worried about what their Master would do if they knew she was like this.

Jaebeom appeared as the sun set, worried about her state. His staff had sent word to him about Psyche and he rushed home to help care for her. He placed a cold compress on her forehead as he held her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. Fear crossed his face. She looked troubled in her sleep. What could he do? Hopefully, Jackson received his correspondence. Only he would know what to do.

Psyche whimpered in her sleep, “Papi, come back, please...sisters…I...I miss you.”

Jaebeom frowned as the realization sunk in. She missed her family. He felt selfish keeping her away from them, but they’d never be able to come here. For their safety and hers. It would be dangerous. He shuddered to think what his mother would do if she found this is where he hid her away. He noticed the absence of her ring and scowled. Adrestia entered with more cold water in a basin and Jaebeom turned to glare at her.

“Where’s her ring?”

She pulled it from her pocket and tossed it to him with a look of annoyance. “She left it by the sink in the bathroom.”

He mumbled, ignoring her, and slipped it back on Psyche’s finger. “Why’d she take it off?” he asked rhetorically.

“Don’t be daft brother. You know the answer,” she huffed, setting the basin down on the dresser. “Jackson just arrived. Shall I bring him up?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, more to himself.

Adrestia sighed, exiting the bedroom. Moments later Jackson glanced over at Jaebeom. He shook his head stepping closer. “I got your note,” he began. “What’s wrong? I was in the middle of something.”

Jaebeom turned, looking stricken with grief. “She’s ill and her fever won’t break.”

Jackson frowned stepping closer. “Get up,” he ordered as Jaebeom stood but kept a hold of her hand. Jackson closed his eyes and swept his hand across her body. Furrowing his brow he looked over at Jaebeom with a crooked grin. “She’ll be fine. It's just a rough bout of the flu.” He flicked his hand as a pouch appeared. “Place the powder in a drink. She’ll sweat it out over the next few days.”

Jaebeom sighed deeply, taking the pouch. “Thanks, Jackson.”

The God of the Sun smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Giving him a once over, the frown settled back on his face. “What else is troubling you?”

Jaebeom nibbled his bottom lip detaching his hand from her as he began to pace. “She’s lonely. She calls for her family in her sleep. But I can’t have them here. Too much exposure would bring attention to my mother.” He stopped combing through his hair. “What should I do?”

Jackson exhaled heavily. “I think you should consider what will make her happy the most. I don’t think one visit would cause harm. just set precautions to be sure.” He smirked with a shrug. “It will put her at ease.”

Jaebeom nodded as he watched Psyche sleep. His fingers lingered on her cheek with a sigh, resolution crossed his as he settled into the decision. After a moment he gave a hum. “Alright, thanks I appreciate the medicine and advice.”

“Sure thing. Good luck,” Jackson waved as he shimmered away.

Adrestia peeked her head in once Jaebeom was alone once more. “Everything alright?”

Jaebeom held up the pouch. “Mix this with some tea,” he ordered, eyes back on Psyche.

She took the pouch, walking out the door once more. “Be back soon.”

It didn’t take long for her to return with a steaming cup of tea. Propping her up, Jaebeom held Psyche, tilting the cup towards her lips. “Psyche, drink.”

Through her deliria, Psyche’s lips parted as the warm liquid slid down, coating her throat. Her body tingled as the medicine worked its way through her system. She coughed suddenly, groaning in her semi-conscious state. It didn’t take long for her to fall back to sleep. As Jaebeom combed his fingers through her hair, she let out a content sigh snuggling against his hand.

He stayed like that with her the remainder of the night and into the coming days. After a few days, her fever broke and he knew he wouldn't be able to be near her once she woke. As dawn approached on the third day, Jaebeom sat up begrudgingly leaving her side. He could make out the early morning ray’s peak from behind the trees. The sunlight filtering into the room made almost a halo glow around her. He couldn’t believe how breathtaking she looked. Knowing time grew short, he kissed the back of her hand just as he disappeared from the room.

Psyche rolled onto her side frowning as the space beside her was now empty. She grew more alert moving her hand to the spot noting the warmth still there. Her eyes finally opened as she realized she was alone once again. Sadness crossed her face recalling the sweet dreams of her Eros.

Harmonica entered after a soft knock and smiled warmly at her. “It’s lovely to see you up, Madam. How do you feel?”

Psyche sighed, rubbing her eyes of sleep, and propped herself against the pillows. “Better than I did a few days ago.”

Harmonia walked over to pull the curtains aside. “Would you like to take your breakfast in bed or downstairs?”

“Up here is fine,” Psyche answered, still occupied in her thoughts.

It wasn't until the three staff members served her breakfast that she decided to go with her plan. They must have known who slept beside her the past few nights. Seen him even. This J still hadn’t made an appearance and she was getting restless in the house being alone.

As Anteros poured her tea, she met his gaze. “Where is my ‘husband’? Have you seen him around? Surely he doesn’t think I should be alone here.

They gave each other knowing looks. “The Master has–”

“Yes! You’ve said it before. He has his reasons,” she snapped back. Taking a few breaths, Psyche gave them an apologetic look. “I-I’m sorry. I just miss my family.” She pushed away the tray getting out of bed and went out to the balcony closing the door behind her.

Adrestia scowled removing the tray as she cut her eyes to her siblings. They left Psyche upstairs as they went back into the kitchen. “He needs to figure something out. It’s getting exhausting lying to her every single day.”

Harmonia shook her head as she cleaned the dishes. “She’s not going to stop asking questions. We have to figure something out.”

Anteros slammed the cabinet close as he rounded on his sisters. “We don’t have to figure anything out. That’s his shit to sort. We’ll only add to the problem.” His shoulder slumped as he leaned against the counter. “Besides, if he loves her so much, he’ll find a way.”

“Excuse me,” Psyche said, entering the kitchen. They all jumped, faces paled at her arrival. Once she’d been able to calm, she thought of a way to contact J. Maybe this would help her get to understand him.

She gripped the paper in her hand and set it on the counter. “I-I wrote him a letter. Maybe he’ll understand how I’m feeling after reading it.”

Psyche bit her lip shuffling her feet on the floor. “Can you please give it to him?” She fiddled with the ring on her hand as she looked down.

Anteros let a grin spread across his face as he bowed. “Yes, Madam. We’ll be sure the Master gets it.”

“Thank you,” she replied, giving them each a nod and left to go back upstairs.

Harmonia sighed in relief looking at them. “You think she heard any of it?”

Adrestia shrugged. “If she did, she’s got a good poker face.”

^^^

Another day passing into night. Psyche spent the day walking the trail around the lake. The fresh air was a godsend after being inside the house the last few days. Hopefully, he received her message. Once dinner finished–solo as usual–she readied for bed soaking in the bathtub and changed into another set of pajamas, a pair of silk shorts, and a tank top.

She would have been lying if she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him in her dreams again. He’d become something of a confidante, a lover even. She felt a pang in her chest as she closed her eyes. Only her dreams weren’t real life.

But he returned whispering promises of love and devotion.

She felt his hands wrap around her middle, pulling her close, her back pressed against his chest. His lips easily finding her shoulder trailing butterfly kisses. Psyche sighed into touch, eyes still shut.

“Another round? I don’t think I have the strength,” she giggled.

Jaebeom smirked against her skin, tickling her stomach gently. “I’m insatiable,” he teased, cuddling closer. “I’ll let you rest for now.”

Psyche opened her eyes as she felt his breathing slow. She shifted causing Jaebeom to rouse from his nap. Frowning, he sat up leaning over to see her expression. “Love, what’s wrong?”

Psyche exhaled avoiding his gaze but he wouldn’t let up until she stared back. “I-I just feel so lonely here.”

Jaebeom’s heart sank. He pulled away to run a hand through his hair. He had gotten her note earlier in the day, Anteros made sure of that. Psyche poured her heart into the note, expressing her unhappiness about being by herself. How she truly missed being around her family. Though he couldn’t tell her he knew about her letter.

“Why do you feel lonely, Psyche?”

She rotated to look at him fully. “I-I cherish our time together, but it's only confined to this–my mind. I sit around wishing for someone, who still hasn’t appeared before me.” Tears welled in her eyes as they trickled down. Jaebeom used his thumb to wipe them away.

“What do you want? Truly?”

Psyche sniffed as she leaned into his touch. “I want to see my family again,” she let out a teary laugh shaking her head, “They drive me absolutely mad, but I still love them despite what they do.”

He kissed her lips and sighed pulling her into his lap. Psyche rested her head on his shoulder as he rocked her to sleep. Her eyes dropped snuggled close to him. When her breathing deepened and Jaebeom was sure she wouldn’t wake, he placed her under the covers. As the sun began to rise, he gave a reluctant nod.

“Very well. If this is what will bring a smile to your face, I’ll grant your wish Psyche.”

He placed the note on her vanity before taking his leave. Something unsettled him. As if this was something he would regret. A darkness loomed over his face, but he only wanted Psyche to be happy. This would make things better.

How wrong he was.

^^^

Psyche busied herself straightening the living room, making sure fresh flowers replaced the older ones in the vases around the room. She felt a weight lifted from her chest. The previous morning she received a letter from J. In it, he granted her request for her to see her family. His stipulation:

“They can only visit for one day.”

One day seemed so short, but at least she would get to see them. She sent word out to her family inviting them out to the lake house. They were coming today, and if she was being honest, Psyche was nervous. She thought about what they would think of this arrangement. She pushed her concerns to the back of her mind as she checked on the lunch Harmonia was preparing all morning.

“Is everything almost ready?”

“Yes, Madam. The meat just needs to be grilled, but everything is ready,” she answered.

Psyche gave a reassuring smile as she willed herself not to pace across the floor. Her ears strained as the door opened.

Anteros entered giving a short bow. “They’ve arrived, Madam.”

Her heart thumped in anticipation just as Victoria and Jessica entered. The sisters shrieked running over to squeeze Psyche into a large group hug. Psyche stumbled back holding them gingerly. As they pulled away to give her air, her brows knotted in confusion. “Where’s father?”

Jessica scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s all you can say? It’s been almost a month and you only worry about father.”

Victoria patted Psyche’s hand warmly. “He wanted to be here, but he’s away on business overseas.”

“Oh,” Psyche hid her disappointment. As much as she cared for her sisters, she wanted to see her father. Call her a daddy’s girl, but she needed him here as well.

Jessica circled the room with genuine interest. “So this is where you've been. We didn’t know what to expect. After dad came home, we for sure thought you got kidnapped or sold.”

Victoria chuckled nervously. “How about a tour Psyche? I’m dying to see the lake.”

Psyche pressed her lips together as she glared at Jessica. Same old attitude. Bitter. She took Victoria’s hand tugging it to the patio deck. “Sure. Let me show you everything,” she looked over her shoulder at Jessica with a hum. “C’mon, I think you’ll like it too.”

And they did.

Envy swept across her sisters' faces as Psyche led them around the manor, pointing out all j had–from the latest appliances and equipment to the sheer vastness of the estate. Psyche finished the tour by the lake as they would be having lunch near the gazebo. Anteros manned the grill as Adrestia and Harmonia finished setting the table for them. Jessica sat as she held a wine glass up to be filled. Harmonia filled their glasses as the food was served. The staff disappeared giving the sisters alone time.

Victoria chatted happily, still impressed by the place Psyche now lived in. “Psyche, your home is beautiful,” she gushed.

Jessica huffed as she sipped her wine eyeing Psyche from the rim of her glass. “I’m curious though. When do we get to meet this mystery man?” She looked around with a frown. “How does he afford all this?”

Psyche choked on her wine giving them a nonchalant shrug. “I-I’m not too sure. We–” she mumbled while taking another sip.

Jessica leaned forward glaring. “What was that?”

Pink tinged Psyche’s cheek as she stared at the salad on her plate. “I haven’t met him yet.”

The oldest sister crossed her arms. “What do you mean you haven’t met him?” She gave her a stare, her voice dangerously low. “Psyche–”

Psyche glanced away biting her lip. “Er...not met per se, but I get notes from him every morning–”

Jessica hissed slamming her glass down as wine spilled on the table soaking the tablecloth. “How daft can you be Psyche? I was sure you were the most intelligent of us three, but you’re just as dumb as Victoria.”

“Hey!” Victoria shot Jessica a look and went over to comfort Psyche. She knelt down in front of her holding her hands. “Honey, do you know anything about him? It seems unusual you’ve yet to see him.”

Psyche felt her lip tremble as her throat tightened. “He’s been nothing but cordial and welcoming to me. Yes, I know it's a little odd we haven’t, but I don’t think he would do me any harm.”

Jessica fumed, still gesturing wildly to the home. “Don’t tell me you've been this disillusioned by the splendor. For all, you know he could be a killer, a psycho, old and creepy, or some sick joke!” Chest heaving, Jessica calmed as she gave Psyche a sticky sweet smile reaching across to hold her hand. Victoria sat up on the bench to hold their younger sister.

“We’re not doing this to be cruel, we only want what's best for you,” Jessica cooed.

Victoria pressed a kiss to the top of Psyche’s head, squeezing her gently. “We’re worried about you Psyche. just be careful, love.”

“What should I do?” she whispered trembling as Victoria smoothed her hair down.

Jessica sighed and got up to join her on the bench. She pulled something from her purse. Psyche looked taken aback as the silver gleamed in the sunlight. The knife had a beautiful ornate handle as small gems decorated the helm. The blade, while small, still looked deadly.

“Find out what he is hiding from you. Take this to protect yourself,” she instructed.

Psyche felt numb. Was she being naïve? Were they right about everything? How was she supposed to be married to someone she never laid eyes on. Without a sound, she took the blade, concealing it in her back pocket.

They finished lunch with Psyche remaining silent throughout. The sisters chatted adamantly to each other about the food and the skills of the staff, but it went on deaf ears. As they left, she hugged them each, wishing them a safe journey home as they loaded into their car. She waved them off as the car disappeared around the bend.

Psyche felt more lonely now than ever, a heavyweight on her chest and dark clouds looming over her head. The knife still in her back pocket, she couldn’t help but feel saddened. She rested against the front door till in her thoughts.

Harmonia poked her head out of the kitchen, giving her a smile. “Enjoy your sisters' visit?”

Psyche bobbed her head practically running for the stairs. “Yes. Thank you for cooking an amazing lunch!”

Harmonia gave her a curious glance before going back into the kitchen.

She remained in her room pacing about, letting the staff know she didn’t want to be disturbed. Psyche ran the plan through her mind for the hundredth time. It seemed fairly simple: she’d sneak into the room in the east wing and look around. He had to be hiding something. She stared at the knife on her bed. It would only be for protection. Psyche had also snatched a candle from one of the drawers downstairs just in case.

She grabbed the knife and the candle, slipping them in her back pocket, and walked out into the hallway. Her ears strained for sounds. All she could hear was Harmonia and Adrestia chattering in the kitchen. Anteros offered to drive her sisters home, so he would be gone for some time. This gave her maybe a half hour before they would try to get her to have dinner.

Psyche walked slowly towards the east wing. Though it matched the interior design, she felt something strange in the air. She couldn’t place her finger on it but only her curiosity made her venture on. The door at the end of the hallway loomed closer. With bated breath, she gripped the knob and turned. Much to her surprise, the door was unlocked.

Her eyebrow raised. For a room she was forbidden to enter, it seemed strange that the door would be open. Shoving her anxiety aside, Psyche pushed the door as it creaked slowly on the hinges. With enough room to squeeze in, she closed the door behind her as the room filled with shadows. Psyche exhaled softly in the darkness. Fumbling with a match, she struck it against the door and lit the candle. The small flame embraced her with warmth and a glow. Not giving off much light, she held it out in front to lead her around. Every few steps she stumbled having no luck finding a switch. So far from what she could see, nothing stood out. She made out a dresser and mirror in the corner.

How curious. Did someone live here?

just then a snore cut into the darkness, almost making her scream. Psyche clutched her chest before grabbing the knife from her pocket.

Who’s in here?!

She stepped with caution towards the sound and saw a couch. Not noticing much around her, she tripped against a small table. With a muffled cry, she dropped the knife trying to catch the case that fell. Psyche winced as something poked her hand as she grabbed the objects placing them back on the table. Her body tingled with warmth. Crouched down, she grabbed the candle, noticing she was close to the source of the sound.

With her face covered in a sheen of sweat, trembling hands held out the candle. What she saw made her almost cry out.

He laid there asleep, curled against a pillow. Dressed only in pajama pants, she could see the definition on his muscles. Dark hair fanned around him. That chin, those lips...wait were those wings?! It was him! The man from her dreams. Eros!

Psyche jerked back as she tripped forward, the candle sliding from her hand as it dropped on his arm.

Jaebeom opened his eyes with a painful shout, his wings spreading out as he jumped back holding his injured arm. Meeting her gaze, gloom washed over his face.

“You–” he said, voice hoarse with sleep.

Psyche, still shaken up, didn't realize she had pricked herself on his darts. The tingling she felt earlier increased.

“Y-You’re him,” she whispered.

Jaebeom held back a wince as the burn grew worse. “That’s beside the point. You broke my trust, Psyche.”

“B-But I-I–”

Her heart sank as he turned away from her, his wings concealing him. “I only asked one thing of you. You were to not enter the east wing under any circumstance.” He choked back a sob. “Now we can’t be together.”

“Wait, please Eros–” She reached to hold his hand.

He jerked away, swatting her hand from him. “Don’t touch me. You lost those privileges to call me that name.”

She stepped back hurt, clutching her hand as her eyes welled with tears. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late,” he stepped away. “I loved you, Psyche, but you betrayed me.”

She sank to the floor as a light cast in the room surrounding him. And then he was gone.

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

WIP Doc Titles tag!

I was tagged by the ever wonderful @clumsycopy and @sacklerscumrag, thank you both so much!! I have, as you might have guessed, lol, a stupid amount of WIPs currently in the works. A couple of them are untitled because I name fics once I’ve finished writing them, but I’ll give descriptions for what they are! :)

Chapter WIPs:

Biting Dust ch4 - (Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader) this one should be finished and posted today if all goes as planned! It’s about 5k, on par with the previous chapters!

Beyond Reasonable Doubt ch1 - (Lawyer!Kylo AU) Chapter one is outlined and about half the dialogue is written! Most likely going to be 7-8k lol, hoping to post on tuesday!

To Catch an Angel ch1 - (Clyde Logan x Reader) Outlined and the first couple scenes are completely written! Will likely be 5k, hoping to post on thursday!

The Shape of You ch4 - (Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader) I have the outline written up for this chapter, and have the first half of the dialogue written. Will likely be 9/10k ish lol

Sinbound ch2 - (Dan Jones x Reader) with the events going on right now in Washington DC, the thought of working on this story at the moment gives me a lot of anxiety. I’ll get around to this one soon, but for right now, I’m unfortunately going to be putting this on the backburner for a while.

The Last Goodnight - Flip Zimmerman CYOA

Series WIPs:

Untitled Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet oneshot - for letters I&J

Untitled Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet oneshot - for letters K&L

Untitled Kinktober oneshot - Supreme Leader Kylo x KoR x Reader for the prompt ‘submission’

Untitled Kinktober oneshot - Mob!Kylo Ren x Reader for the prompt ‘sadism’

Things on my WIP list that are outlined but that I haven’t actually started writing yet lol:

Break The Blue Wall ch1 - Flip Zimmerman x Reader this one is outlined but I haven’t started it yet lol

The Moscow Rules ch1 - Cold War AU/Bond Villain!Kylo fic also outlined but not started lol

Untitled Mob!Kylo AU prequel - a 3 part window into the lives of Kylo and his wife, from childhood up until the fateful night of Han’s murder. I hope that I can get this one finished in time for Valentines Day!

Untitled Hospice AU (Kylo Ren x Reader) - I haven’t decided if I want to make this one a Kylo x OC yet. I’m most likely leaning towards OC because I think it would serve the story best, but I’m not sure how receptive that would be, lol, so I’m holding off on it for a little while longer.

There’s a bunch else that I don’t remember off the top of my head, but as you can see, I’m juggling a bunch of projects all at once! I can’t wait to start getting into it all and sharing it over the course of the upcoming months :)

Tagging whoever would like to participate!

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emotionalcadaver · 1 year

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WIP Whenever

Thank you for the tag @eclecticwildflowers!

Tagging @areyenotfondofmelobster @scaryscarecrows @roofgeese @confidentandgood @emilynightshade89 @shelbydelrey @moral-terpitude and anyone else interested!

Until Time Stops Chapter 2: Keep Time

(Raymond Leon x OC)

“Ray. They’ve got something.”

He jumped lightly as her fingers curled around his shoulder, head snapping up from where he’d been sitting with his hands clasped in front of him, pressed to his lips in contemplation as he stared at his computer screen. In a flash he was locking his computer and standing, following her over to where Kors and Jaeger were.

“This was tonight.”

They crowded around the monitor, watching the video of a car, the features of the driver clear and familiar.

“He’s only an hour ahead of us,” Raymond took off at nearly a jog towards the front doors, with Rose, Jaeger, and Kors trailing behind him.

“Follow us,” she ordered a few other Timekeepers, and they rose swiftly from their desks, all of them headed out to the parking lot to their cars. Taking her usual seat in the passenger side, she fiddled with her braid.

“You okay?” Raymond asked, throwing the car into drive and turning onto the road to New Greenwich.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. I just hate going to those big houses that the rich people own, yanno? Makes me feel…” she searched for the correct word. “...Icky.”

Raymond hummed in agreement. “I’ll do the talking, don’t worry. We’ll be in and out. All we’ve got to do is grab Salas and get him back to base.”

“I hope that he doesn’t resist. Rich people get so pissy when their dumb fancy vases get broken.”

He huffed out a laugh. “We’ve got backup.”

“Ah yes. Jaeger and Kors can shield the vases while the rest of us chase Salas around the house. Perfect plan.”

“Actually I was thinking that we’d just blame any damaged property on Kors.”

She almost choked on her gum with her laugh. “I like your plan better.”

He chuckled, reaching one hand across, carefully entwining her fingers with his.

A Remedy for Sorrow Chapter 1: Guilt

Shivering Soldier x OC

The ladder creaked precariously under Daisy’s feet as she pulled herself up it, one hand gripping firmly to the wood while the other firmly clutched a stack of books to her chest. Getting to the top of the ladder, she ran her fingers along the spines of the books lining the shelf, carefully sliding each book she was holding into its proper place. Clamoring back down slowly, she scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, fighting off the weary heaviness that pulled at them.

She hadn’t slept well the night before. Hadn’t been sleeping well at all, as a matter of fact. No since Dunkirk.

Whenever she closed her eyes, it was to dream of planes diving down towards her from the sky, or the flash of fire as oil in the water caught ablaze. The screams of men burning alive all around her.

Heaving exhaustedly, she shook her head, wandering back to the front desk to collect another stack of books that needed to be returned to their proper place in the stacks.

“Daisy,” mumbled old Beryl Wilkins, standing at the front desk, her purse clutched in her hands and coat already half shrugged on. “Are you sure that you’re alright closing on your own, dear?” the older woman asked, blinking at her from behind a pair of thick, round glasses.

“Yes, Mrs. Wilkins, I’m sure,” Daisy said kindly.

“You have your keys?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’ll remember to shut off all the lights?”

“Of course,” honestly. It wasn’t like she’d never closed before. Though it had admittedly been a little while. But still. She would have thought she’d been working at the library long enough for her to be trusted enough to not burn the place down.

“And you’re sure that you’ll be alright, here all on your own? Oh, goodness…maybe I should just stay…”

“No, no, ma’am, please, it’s fine. I’ll be alright. It’s just for another hour, and you know that almost no one comes in here at this time of day anyway. Go enjoy your evening.”

Beryl eyed her for a minute before nodding. “Yes, yes. Alright. Just be careful dear. Are you sure that you don’t want me to have one of the local boys walk you home?”

“I think that I can manage, Mrs. Wilkins,” Daisy said gently. “Have a good dinner with your husband.”

The little old lady looked down, suddenly bashful. Almost giddy. “Oh, I will. It’s our anniversary, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am, I remember,” she began to steer Beryl towards the door.

“Why aren’t you married yet, dear? Such a pretty young woman as you are?”

Oh, not this again. Daisy forced a smile onto her lips. “Just haven’t found the right guy, I suppose.”

“It’s too bad that you never got to meet my Harold,” Beryl said mournfully, shaking her head back and forth. “You two would have hit it off right away, I think.”

“I’m sure we would have,” Daisy said kindly, patting Beryl’s shoulder. Harold had died a few weeks into the war. She remembered. Beryl had been out for over a month, too distraught with grief to even be able to get out of bed. “You go have fun, now, okay?”

“Good-night, dear.”

“Good-night, ma’am,” she blew out a breath of quiet relief as the old woman finally hobbled out the door. She tried her best not to be too put off by Beryl’s insistent mothering. She knew that it came from a place of concern. But still, it was hard to get fully comfortable under it, having grown up with a woman who had been quite the opposite in her demeanor towards her children. Daisy prided herself on her independence and self sufficiency, and any challenges towards that just put her on edge.

Not to mention that the old woman was insistent on playing matchmaker to her younger, unmarried librarians. It had been lucky for her that Beryl had been so busy trying to find suitable matches for Ruth and Cora that she’d left her relatively alone during the time she’d been working at the library.

Apparently not anymore. Great. She would have to nip that one in the bud before it could get too far. The last thing she was interested in at the moment was Beryl shoving every last available man in town–which wasn’t actually that many anymore–at her.

It didn’t help that she was still a bit raw from Henry having never turned up.

Really, she shouldn’t have been all that surprised. The circumstances that they’d met under hadn’t exactly been the best, and it wasn’t like he owed her anything. But still, it stung.

#wip whenever #my ocs

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

Cry for Help

Colton and the Host, referenced in this piece, are OCs who belong to @shameless-whumper.

CW: Owen is a violent abuser, and in this update the violence comes out in a big way, both verbal and physical. Kauri is an abuse survivor with patterns of justification and affection. Features noncon touching, choking, violent abuse, referenced dubcon/noncon. Please be safe.

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

“‘I hope Owen gets arrested, that sick fuck.’”

Owen reads the words out loud, pronouncing each syllable altogether too clearly, the glass of brown liquor in his hand holding Kauri’s frightened attention where he sits on the floor next to the coffee table, eyes carefully averted from the laptop’s screen.

The Host had put up a new video, featuring some story someone had written about Colton and Kauri and put up on the internet - and Kauri’s day had gone from secretly exciting to terrifying with unsettling speed.

He'd liked the video of the Host and Colton reading, actually - liked the way Colton had gotten into it a little in the middle. It felt almost like talking to him, or maybe just getting to see him talk to someone else. He kind of wanted to hear the bits where they were kissing again, even if the ending was sad.

Kauri could overlook a sad ending, if there were parts in the middle where things were okay, and he got to kiss someone he actually wanted to kiss.

Not that he wanted to, um-

Kauri made himself stop thinking that way, worried Owen might notice his red face and ask oh, you like that fucking pet that much? And Kauri was a good liar, but not when he was caught off guard.

The thing was, Kauri had really liked the video - up until Colton got upset at the end, when Kauri couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting with the urge to somehow soothe someone from miles and miles away - but Owen hadn’t liked it. Not at all.

Normally he watched the videos at least three times the first day, but he'd only watched that video once. He'd muttered, he's my fucking property. I'm not the bad guy, here, you fucking hacks can't write for shit - how the fuck did they know about your weird bullshit with my Roomba? Shit, it has to be someone I know who wrote this.

Then he started drinking.

Owen is still drinking, hours later. He hasn't watched the YouTube video again. Instead, he's doing something far, far worse - reading the comments.

People had linked to other stories about them, too, sharing recommendations and favorites, and it seemed like all the writing made Owen furious.

All he would say about whatever he saw was like fuck you’d ever be that forward. Baking cookies… fucking nonsense. Besides, I’d never let him get anywhere near you.

Too late, Kauri kept thinking, again and again, trying not to betray a single thought with his expression. Inwardly he felt thrilled, defiant, like he was keeping the world’s biggest secret all to himself. Too late, he’s already gotten near me, too late, he is what I think my type was if my type was guys, I've been thinking about him when I'm with you, too late too late too late.

You don't know I can still feel the hug.

You don't know how many protocols I would violate.

Owen wouldn’t stop reading, and he wouldn’t stop drinking, and Kauri started to become afraid... especially when finishing one bottle turned into opening the second.

His defiant private thoughts turn slowly to silent pleading.

Please please please close the laptop. Please put the bottle away. Please stop being so angry.

But Owen just keeps reading, and drinking, and there's nothing to do but wait.

Now he’s wrapped in one of Owen’s soft blankets, wearing the cashmere sweater he’d worn to meet Karen Renford and fuzzy fleece-lined black pants. It's too warm for all those things but the bourbon in Owen’s glass keeps his blood running cold and if he lets the blanket fall, he starts to shiver.

“Kauri, listen to these fucking assholes. This lady used her actual name? How stupid can you be? Anyway, Michaela Tompson. ‘Poor kids. I used to like Owen Grant, but now I guess I will burn all merch.” Owen snorts, eyebrows furrowed in dark anger over his eyes.

Kauri watches the liquid slosh around in the glass, and feels the nearly-healed bruise on the side of his neck ache in what might be phantom pain, or maybe just getting ready for the future. He curls up a little tighter.

“Go ahead, Micaela, stop buying merch.” Owen spits the words at the woman who cannot hear him. “My money’s all in the fucking stock market now, you stupid bitch."

Next to him on the floor, Keira beeps four times, slow and soft, a question. Kauri reaches one hand out from the blanket to lay it on her warm plastic and metal exterior. She whirrs beneath his touch and he thinks it's like the feeling of a cat purring even though he doesn't know what that's like… does he?

He can’t take his eyes off the drink or the half-empty bottle on the table. Can't stop looking up towards Owen's face, reading the simmering, awful rage there and trying to predict when it will be turned in his direction.

I am going to get hurt tonight, but I don’t know how yet.

It's a horrible feeling, a sick drop of inevitability in his stomach that makes him want to flinch every time Owen moves.

He feels trapped, penned in, locked up with someone dangerous that he cannot run away from. He doesn't even want to run, not really. He just wants Owen to stop being so angry about nothing, go back to touching him like normal, to holding him on the couch and making him watch things that make him uncomfortable or nervous.

This is just words. It’s just stuff people wrote, it was just Colton's annoyed and wonderful red face in the video, it was just words, and Kauri only knows what they are when Owen says them out loud.

And then argues with them.

It's just words, that's all, but Kauri remembers knowing once upon a time how important words can be. Before they took words away from him.

Oh, pets don't read. It'd just give you ideas, Kor-Bore.

Colton still gets to read, though, and that means what Owen told him - that all pets aren’t allowed - was a lie.

Kauri tells Owen a lot of lies, but he’s beginning to wonder what Owen has lied to him about.

"Let’s see who else… Bennyshere99 said, ‘Who thought this senator’s brat is so miserable he needed to buy a living s*x toy?’ Man, fuck that asshole. That’s not what you are, is it, Kor-Bore?”

Kauri jumps when Owen says his name, jerking his eyes from the glass to Owen’s. The green is a little glazed over with alcohol, and he swallows against his fear and answers in the softest, sweetest voice he can manage. “N-No, Mr. Owen. I’m a Romantic Companion with Combination skillsets-”

“Or at least if you are, you're the best fucking toy money can buy. Can't find you next to some sticky fucking DVDs," Owen mutters, interrupting him, ignoring - or simply not caring about - the stricken look on Kauri's face.

It’s one thing to know you’re a designated Romantic Companion Box Boy. It’s another thing to hear yourself called a toy.

“‘He looks just like Daddy Shield-'” Owen’s voice cuts off, and his teeth grind together. “See, that's the one thing I don’t like about the Host, they have a thing for Vince just like every-fucking-body does now. They don’t know who he is at all, they don’t know he’s just a fucking tease. You know? I mean, I could tell them about him, but… no one gets it. He puts on that stupid Good Boy Next Door act and every-fucking-body buys it. He came on to me, Kauri. Then he has the fucking gall… I overreacted, sure, but he's the one who started it...” Kauri watches him take another drink, the way his throat shifts, Adam’s apple moving as he swallows another mouthful.

He is going to hurt me again.

Owen is safe.

Owen is safe and he hurts me… and for me those are the same thing.

“Let’s see… ‘How likely is it there would be some person in the Box Boy system that looks just like him? And Owen Grant is the one to buy him? Weren’t he and Vincent Shield dating or whatever way back when’-... we weren’t dating, you fucking assholes. Although we should have been, if it weren't for Vince. Did you know, Kor-Bore, he hasn't even dated anyone except that fucking fake girlfriend since he walked out on me? He knows, he knows we were meant to be together and he ruined it!" Owen's hand slams down in a fist on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the laptop and half-empty bottle.

The sound makes Kauri jump, his heart skipping a beat, eyes wide. When he shrinks into his blanket, Owen glances at him and smirks.

"What's your problem?"

"J-just surprised, Mr. Owen, that's, um, that's all," Kauri squeaks.

"Jesus, you're like a mouse." Owen leans over and his attempt to grab at Kauri's chin goes wide at first, before thumb and forefinger grasp hard enough to hurt, forcing Kauri's eyes up to his. "Good thing you're pretty, you don't have much else in there, do you?"

Kauri doesn’t nod, or shake his head. He only stares, wide-eyed, and that seems to be enough.

Owen looks at him, licking his lips, thinking. "You are pretty, though, all this bullshit these assholes wrote… they didn't get that wrong."

Kauri knows this look, this voice - normally it makes him a little sick at the same time his training kicks in to get him to tilt his head and smile and use your nonverbal cues, it's not like it's hard.

Please, please don't, I don't want to learn- Hands twisting in his hair, forcing him down until his chest is on the floor and his hips in the air, spinning with dizziness from last eating two days ago, staring down at the boots of his trainer, the pain of the shock collar when his legs don't spread fast enough, far enough. Please!

He knew Owen's look the first day he came here, knew to smile and look like he wanted it, because no one touched him anymore, he wanted someone to touch him.

Sometimes Owen's look made him sick. Tonight, he feels desperate for it.

Please, yes, that's better, that doesn't hurt and you'll stop drinking.

The moment of deliberation ends with Owen shoving Kauri's chin to the side roughly as he lets go, making him fall back a little so he has to catch himself with one hand to stay up. Then Owen ruffles his hair with a hand that slaps down too heavily on his head, painfully tangles on his curls, all but yanks his head to the side. He winces, biting his lower lip, but Owen doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"Well," he says, turning back to the screen, "Whatever happened with Vince… At least I have you now and you're not going anywhere... Let's see the next one... ‘I’m sure this position is just so he is easier to wash’. Ha, nice.” Owen smirks, glancing down at Kauri. “Easier after ess eee ex, am I right?”

Kauri’s face flames red when Owen winks, Kauri's hand under the blanket digging tightly into the fabric of the soft pajama pants over his thigh. The lurch of sickness in his stomach fights with the dizzy rush of shame for what he is and what he does and remembers, sometimes, that he doesn't want to do. “I, I don’t-”

“Oh shit, that’s literally the next comment! Great fucking minds.” Owen grins back at him, and then he barks a laugh that makes Kauri drop his eyes back to the floor. “Look at your face! Kor-Bore if you don’t think everyone knows what I keep you for now…”

Hold position, 645898.

Pl-please, you can’t just m-m-make people do this, you can’t!

I said hold position.

No! I won't!

Administer shock.

Kauri hears distant screaming inside his mind, his own voice, feels his hands twitch with the memory of pain that spread from the collar around his throat.

“M-Mr. Owen, if I could just-... if I c-could maybe go to bed, please, we could go together-”

“No.” Owen refills his glass, takes another swig. His words aren’t slurred like last time, when he called Kauri ‘Vince’ and cried against his shoulder while it hurt and hurt and hurt. This bitter humor is scarier than his sadness was. “You stay right the fuck there, sweetness.”

He’s never called Kauri ‘sweetness’ before, but someone else has.

Oh, it’s the pretty little prostitot back to visit the real handler, huh? What’d he do this time, Everly?

645898 fucking bit me, Connor. He fucking bit me. I asked the supe to hand him over to you for a week to get his fucking shit in line. Marisa signed off on it, so congratulations. The only rule is you don’t touch the merchandise below the belt and you don't leave marks.

Ha. Not where anyone will notice, anyway.

No, remember, this one’s custom and the Director’s got an interest in it. Don’t leave any fucking marks, Connor.

Aw, but marks are how they learn.

Not this one. But he’ll do anything for a good touch these days.

Apparently he’s not into your good touch, if he bit you.

Yeah, well, maybe I… had a little too much fun with Position 21 this morning.

Oh shit, you mean he bit you bit you. I would, too, if you tried that shit on me. All right, 645898, let’s see… oh, sweetness, we are going to have fun teaching you not to bite anymore, aren’t we? I’d ask if you can keep a secret, but we both know you and the rocks you have in your head won’t remember a goddamn thing.

Kauri’s eyes shift towards the screen of the laptop, trying to distract himself from the memory of the dark-haired handler’s gloved hands pressing on either side of his jaw until his mouth was forced open. Trainers weren't supposed to get so involved but it wasn't like the trainees could complain to anyone and if no one saw it happen, then no one really cared.

Kauri had thrown up, was punished, and then he'd thrown up again. He was supposed to forget it - the memory of how they train you is supposed to be gone behind the wall of pain and fog and whatever they put in the water, with only the training itself left behind, there was a whole part of the brochure he had to memorize about it - but Kauri’s wall isn’t always functioning anymore.

Maybe it never was.

Owen is still reading comments, the screen a flat white covered in text, and Kauri braces against even the instinctive attempt to read them. The sharp pain in his head is nearly instantaneous, a sudden pounding, the threat of the white fog just behind it.

But Colton gets to read.

Kauri’s not exactly jealous - he wouldn’t want to live with the Host, either, with those too-wide smiles and the sharpness behind their eyes. Owen at least was soft, sometimes, and said sweet things that didn’t always have a bite or an insult behind them. But… but he is jealous that Colton gets to read.

Reading used to be my life. I used to write poetry. I can’t even look at words anymore.

Kauri remembers too much right now, and he doesn’t want the white fog to take it away again. Instead, he drops his eyes back to the ground and slowly nods. His heart is beating too hard, too fast, but Keira doesn’t say anything.

Keira doesn’t ask why, this time, and he knows she’s tracking his condition because she always is, and the soft sound of her inside machinery has changed.

He wants to believe she doesn’t want Owen to know he’s upset.

“Some weirdo named @burtlederp said, ‘Oh, is the Host doing product placement for the new Fifty Shades of Gray movie’?” Owen barked a laugh, reaching over to run a hand down his cheek and the side of his neck. Even with the nervous worry that pounded behind his eyes every time he looked at Owen’s glassy green gaze, the touch feels nice the same way all soft touch feels nice, and Kauri leans into it. "Like I'd ever let anyone else see how much you like that."

On his knees with his hands behind his back, the black leather cutting across pale skin, the pain he wasn't trained for. Owen’s tie on the floor, making Kauri’s mouth go dry.

Kauri's stomach flips again and he bites down on his lower lip so hard he feels the pain radiate out into the rest of his face. It settles under his skin alongside the shame he feels, that he’s not supposed to be able to feel any longer. The training was supposed to make him shameless.

But Kauri feels twisted, and dark, and wrong with the way Owen smiles at him now, before turning back to the screen.

I didn't want this, not with you, I didn’t want-

"'... to be fucked by a closeted gay with Mommy issues and an ego overblown by fame'..." Owen is still mumbling the comments out loud, sipping and sipping from his glass, and Kauri's eyes skip back, trying to measure how much he's had to drink by now. "'His mom's conservative, so he must have a hard time'. Yeah, that's the fucking truth, LesbiansUnite. You get it. Shove it, ChewwieCan. Oh, this guy just says they love the Host, what a good job they did, like always. Good, nice to see a nice damn comment on this page…"

He stops, the good humor draining from his face, and Kauri’s heart stills, too.

“‘I want to see Colton and Kauri interact more.’ You barely fucking interacted that time. 'Colton looked so sad at losing Kauri… the Host should read one where they get to be together' - never, Kauri, never. Listen to me, listen. I will make sure you never, ever get to have anyone but me. ‘SaveKauri20XX’ oh what the fuck, save you from what?” Owen rounds on him, like he was the one asking to be saved, and Kauri wilts back into his blanket, pulls it more tightly around himself.

Just a pair of frightened blue eyes and curly black hair.

The condo is huge but in this moment Kauri feels like it is slowly getting smaller, closing in around him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Owen knocks the edge of the glass into Kauri’s forehead hard enough to hurt, in a way he seems to think is playful, but it feels like the opening to something much, much worse to Kauri. “What do you need saved from, huh? Save you from never having to work a day in your life? From having all the time you fucking need to practice your positions, and do yoga, and, and-... like cardio and shit? Save you from flexibility?”

Kauri says nothing - only swallows the hints of bitterness that want to find their way out. He stays quiet. He tries not to look into Owen’s empty, glittering eyes.

“Listen to these fucking assholes, Kauri. They want you out there starving in the streets instead of right here, where you’re taken care of. They act like they care about you, Kauri, but they don’t. If they did, they’d know that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Doing exactly what you’re made to do. Listen to this-” Owen turns back, takes another long drink. “‘This was so precious,’” and he sneers the words, finally starting to slur the syllables. “Colton is so sweet, being sad about losing him. Exclamation. Point.’ Yeah, sweet as pie, that little shit glared at me. He fucking glared at me. How dare he. ‘Kauri is too good for Owen anyway’.”

Owen glances over at him again, and Kauri sits up a little straighter. His heart is pounding in his chest, he’s half-dizzy with fear, breathing in silent shallow gasps that barely move his chest.

Please stop reading them, please stop, please-

“What do you think, Kauri?” Owen asks, in a low voice. “Are you too good for me? Do you like Colton better?”

Yes.

“No,” Kauri says with all the earnest sincerity he can force into his lie. “Of c-course not, Mr. Owen. I’m yours, I was made for you. Colt-” His voice hitches, just a little, but he covers it with more fear and Owen softens, just a little - he always forgives Kauri when he seems really, really frightened. “Colton’s just another pet. I don’t care about him. We don’t care about each other, that’s not how it works.”

Owen stares at him, and Kauri thinks for a second he didn’t buy the lie, and he wonders what part of his skin will be torn up this time, and if Owen will bring out the cane maybe or just use his teeth. Then he relaxes, his green eyes going soft with affection or maybe just the whiskey. “That’s right, you don’t care about each other. That’s right.”

He turns back to the laptop, and just as he opens his mouth to read another comment, his phone lights up with a photo at the front and a 70’s rock song starts playing, She’s just a devil woman, with evil in her eyes.

Kauri’s heart leaps with gratitude that she would call now and distract him, pull him away. Owen picks up his phone, screws his face up into an expression of annoyance that Kauri knows too well, and then says tiredly, “Mom, I don’t want to talk about the Youtube thing any longer.”

Tinny, a voice he can barely hear, Carlotta Grant snaps through the phone well what you want to talk about went out the window when you had your little custom slut spread his legs for my constituency to see!

“Look, I didn’t know they were going to have him do that part, I-” Owen pushes himself to standing, glancing down at Kauri, holding out his hand with the fingers straight and palm out, and Kauri nods quickly to show he understands the command to stay right where he is. “Mom. Mom, listen to me, that wasn’t pre-planned or anything. The Host just likes to surprise people. It’s fine, it’s not like everyone doesn’t already know what Box Boys end up doing half the time.”

We are getting inundated with calls about you!

“I don’t doubt it. Look, you don’t need to freak out about this.”

I am not ‘freaking out’, Owen John, this could severely affect our chances in the next election!

“No, it won’t. Listen, everyone loves a good ‘maternal love conquers all’ story. Just tell them that you didn’t know, but you still love me anyway. Act all shocked about it. Give a press conference, or something. Stop trying to hide from who I am and just, just let me fucking own it.” He nudges Kauri with his foot and grins down at him “Like I own Kauri.”

Kauri smiles back, nervous and trembling, blanket pulled as tightly around himself as he can get. As Owen shifts away from him, Kauri can’t hear Carlotta any longer, but Owen rolls his eyes and that tells Kauri most of what he might want to know.

“What? Yeah, ‘course he’s here, Mom, where else would he be? … No, it’s not like it matters what he overhears. That’s like giving a shit if the fish in your aquarium hear us. Kauri barely has the brains of a goat, I made sure of it.”

645898, says here you were a 4.0 at your university. English Education with a minor in… shit, Connor, listen to this bullshit. Minor in Creative Writing.

What, really? Oh shit, man. There had been glee in the Connor Trainer’s voice. Kauri’s - 645898’s - trainer and the Connor trainer had been really good friends, and even though Connor only worked with the really disobedient Box Boys, 645898’s trainer talked to him all the time. Oh, fuck. So this hot piece of ass wanted to be a teacher? A writing teacher?

I know right? We’re going to take a fucking honors student and put him in some rich asshole's bed. I must have made the Director real happy somewhere back there, you don’t get a job like this every week.

Jesus, Everly, I’d kill to get to fuck up a nerd like this.

Stop ‘bending’ the rules with the merchandise and you might get to.

Like you're one to talk.

Owen walks away and Kauri listens to his footsteps heading down the hall, fingers tightening into the fabric of his pants. Step, step, step, step - Owen’s heavy footfalls, part of the soundtrack to his life.

The bedroom door closes, and Kauri knows Owen’s conversations with his mother last for an hour most of the time. An hour for Owen to start sobering up, to lose interest in the words on the screen. An hour of safety. He lets out a quick breath, relaxing his shoulders, the way they end yoga in the videos he watched on Owen’s TV. First relax your neck, then your shoulders, arms, wrists, hands… his fingers loosen, splaying over his thighs.

The laptop screen is still up.

Owen always talks to his mom for at least an hour.

Do I have a mom, somewhere? I know I have a Keira, the other one, the real one. I know I had her. Maybe… maybe her owner lets her read, too.

Maybe the owner watches the Host, like mine does, and lets her read.

It's a long shot, but…

Kauri swallows hard, glancing back over his shoulder at the bedroom door, and then he scoots a little closer to the computer.

And then a little closer, still.

The headache starts up, a sudden burst in heart rate alongside it, and Kauri bites his lower lip, craning his neck to try and look at the words. He’s not dumb, he just has nothing to do and nothing to think about. He used to be able to read, reading and writing used to be his life. They made him dumb, just like they took everything else away from him, just like they took Keira.

But Kauri isn't the only pet who doesn't want to be one.

And Colton gets to read.

Which means that they didn’t take the skill away, they just made Kauri afraid of it. He's not stupid, they just locked the things he had learned up behind the pain.

But who he is hasn't changed.

He scoots closer, and closer, and closer, until he can read the comments, the black text on the white screen, despite the ache behind his eyes.

It was open to Kauri is too good for Owen anyway, lol… and for this sinful earth.

Kauri reads each and every word like a gift, breathing hard. A smile starts to find its way onto his face, just a little one.

Someone thought he deserved better than Owen Grant's bed.

Kauri heartrate accelerate, Kauri beeps next to him. Marked change in physical condition.

“Ssssshhh, it’s okay, Keira, it’s okay. Um, uh, don’t tell him I was reading, okay? Please? Don’t tell him anything.”

Owen Grant, owner. Overrides. Keira’s robotic little voice is quiet. Keira answer Owen Grant, if queried.

“I know, I know, but… can’t you just not tell him? Um, uh…" What has he heard Owen saying to flip the override switch… "Um... override code sixteen four ball reindeer seven two. Don't tell Mr. Owen anything, okay?"

There’s a pause. Owen Grant, owner. Keira beeps again, a little more insistently this time.

Kauri looks down at her, eyebrows furrowing together. If she tells Owen he was reading, he’ll go into the box again, into the sensory deprivation hood. He’ll be alone, with no sounds and no smells and no sights and nothing.

He hesitates, considering closing the screen and going back to sitting and staring, living with a head full of rocks just like the trainer said. Then, he slowly turns back and starts reading again.

“I’m going to trust you, Keira,” Kauri whispers. “I’m going to trust you to help me and not tell him anything.” Keira doesn’t speak or beep again, only starts her cleaning routine all at once, abruptly, like she’s mad at him and trying not to show it. Even though Owen says Roombas don’t have emotions, can’t have feelings like that.

Kauri knows she can - he knows it. He knows that Keira likes him, as much as a robot can like a person, that she seeks him out to sit in his lap on the balcony and knows when he’s sad, the days he spends when Owen is at meetings doing his yoga and positions until his muscles are trembling, just to get rid of the emptiness inside his head.

I hope Colton and Kauri run away together, the next comment reads, and Kauri blushes, biting his bottom lip nervously. The words slip and slide around the page but he chases them down, ignores the growing pain inside his head. He’s had worse headaches than this, before, when he tried to do things he’s not supposed to do.

“That would be nice,” Kauri whispers. “I don’t know where we’d go, though…”

Owen yells something through the phone at his mother and Kauri jumps, looking down the hall with a panic, but then his voice drops back to normal. He doesn’t come out, and Kauri turns back to the laptop, scooting closer and closer and closer.

Some part of Kauri whispers not to read the comments, never read the comments, stop violating his protocols, but when he keeps looking, squinting against his pounding headache, he realizes that while the comments were making Owen angry, they’re not mean comments at all.

I totally get why Colton looks so mad! I’d be mad too if I didn’t get to keep Kauri at the end! Kauri is such a cutie. I wish I had money… I would’ve treated him better, anyway. I bet Colton wishes he was rich enough to just buy a Kauri for himself!

That’s ridiculous, pets can’t own other pets. If he had that much money he’d just buy his freedom or something, right?

Yeah, but then buy Kauri after. Or at least someone who looks like him.

The Host enjoyed this all way too much, don’t you think? I mean, it seemed like they were really enjoying being so mean to poor Colton! And I don’t think they even understood what he was mad about at the end.

Yeah, I love the Host, but this one seemed kind of… cruel. Although I guess they say the pets don’t even know to care about what they are, it’s part of the training or something.

Jesus, what their parents must think about them signing up for this!

Yeah, I wondered about that with the last video, with the two Box Boys in it. What do you think Kauri’s parents think happened with their son? Do you think he told them before he signed up? I mean, say your son signs up to be some brainless sugar baby. What do you tell their siblings, you know?

Did you just literally ask us to please think of the children

What about that Colton? What must his family think, signing up for the program just to be a famous Youtuber's pet?

I mean, I'd be thrilled. Colton gets a nice bed, all his meals taken care of, and all he has to do is play along reading fucking fanfiction? That sounds like my ideal life.

I used to think people were overreacting, you know all the fucking snowflakes these days freaking out about every single thing. But… this seems really weird, right? I can’t believe this is reality now.

I KNOW WHO COLTON IS

Do you think anyone’s shown Vincent Shield all this shit about the Cory kid?

Kauri wonders, too, after having to answer to the name - after seeing the Host’s genuine surprise at his face, after hearing Owen lie and say it was random when he’d told Kauri over and over that he was a custom order that had to look a specific way. Is the person he’s meant to replace for Owen out there looking at his face, knowing who he is?

Click on my profile to win a FREE box boy AND 1000 subscribers!!!

Honestly kind of disappointed there wasn’t anything about the YOU KNOW WHAT positions in this fanfiction so we could see Colton make that funny face again! Anyone got a link to a good smutty one?

Oh, I know I saw one where Colton gets really dark and mean and the Cory boy super likes it, l’ll go find the link and message it to you.

Oh fuck yes, give me all the good smut

Oh, I saw one where they’re in love, it was really super cute, let me get that one too

Real disappointed Youtube won’t let the Host read the really good stuff. I’ve watched that competition video like six times on repeat, if you get my drift. Kauri’s like, super sexy.

Kauri’s eyes widen at that one, the red back in his face, an uncomfortable heat.

I’ll see myself out, I swear, but… those soft eyes? That lip all stuck out when he gets scared?

Kauri catches himself still biting on his lip and stops, pressing them together into a thin line, swallowing hard.

You just want to kiss his tears away and fuck him slow and glorious. Make him the happiest man in the world.

Hell yes, I’d fuck him. Pet or not, you think the Host and Colton didn't want some of that action, too? I'd bet the Host's Lamborghini that they did.

Do Lamborghinis even have spacious enough seats for that?

I'll bet the Host knows the answer to that question.

Ha, by now Colton probably does, too. Think he closes his eyes and thinks about Cory?

Kauri makes a face, but he reads the comment again, lingering a little over the idea that people other than Owen (one person) might think of him that way, that maybe someone else thinks of him while he is busy thinking of them.

He reads the comments again… and then one more time.

The whole time he can hear Owen’s voice muffled back in his bedroom, and he keeps one ear out for it while reading what people say about him.

Anyone else concerned about Kauri??? Someone needs to help that poor boy. Colton seems like he can handle himself but Kauri was so fragile! He looked like he’d shatter if he got one more shock from those barbaric shock collars.

It’s just a discipline tool, it’s not a big deal. It doesn’t even leave a mark.

You can torture someone without leaving any marks, you jackass!

What do you guys think would happen if their families saw these videos? Like, what if Colton’s got a sister or something who sees him being used as a prop in the Host’s videos? Or what if Kauri has parents out there, and they see him do that, that thing he did in the last video?

What, spread his legs? He probably does that every night. He doesn't care. Romantic pets know what they're for.

Kauri swallows, hard, as much because it's true as that he doesn't really want to be for that. His hands start to shake, and he takes in a deep breath, and then another. Then he slowly raises them, lays them over the keys on the keyboard. His heart beats hard in his throat, making him breathe in gasps, terrified little nothing-sounds coming helplessly from his lips.

He hits the REPLY button, gives himself a temporary username - it all comes back easily to him, he used to use computers all the time, and his body remembers how to do it even if his brain isn’t supposed to any longer.

He finds a comment he wants to answer.

Kauri would look so pretty with long hair...

His head hurts worse and worse and worse, and he can barely keep his fingers moving, eyes squinted down to slits until he can’t read the blurry black text he’s typing at all.

Tehfogcmesin0414: kauri has a sistrr with long hair her naem is keira help her cheep cheep littl brds keera I miss you I'm sorry I didn lisen to you you were right

There’s a crack of white light inside his head followed a half-second later by an explosion of pain but Kauri grinds his teeth together as hard as he can, holds onto consciousness with every ounce of strength he has left, and keeps looking.

All he can hear now is the pounding of his own blood behind his face, in his neck, down to his wrists. The rushing in his ears overtakes every other sound.

If they can find Keira, she can tell them who he is. She might be hurt but maybe not, maybe she's out there somewhere and he remembers her, she is his twin, she won't stop looking, he knows it.

Someone will read it and see it and show Keira. Someone will.

Keira will see it and she will know he’s here and he doesn’t want to be, she’ll know, she’ll tell them his name is-

Not. Erased.

Kauri gasps at the knowledge comes back to him, all at once, the words like big black block letters against the white trying to take over his mind. He knows his real name. He knows who he is. He knows where he came from, and what happened when they put him and Keira in the van.

He remembers the prick of the needle and he remembers Karen Renford’s face the first time he ever saw her.

You have agreed to participate in a very special program, 645898.

Stop calling me a fucking number! I have a, a name! Where's my sister?!

That is not important. What matters is that you are going to serve a very special purpose soon. Haven't you always wanted a purpose?

Take me back to my sister! Please, you've got the wrong people, we're just-... we're just college kids, we're not even from here!

Oh, 645898. Do you genuinely not understand that your market value rises with that fact? We need an asset in place to utilize the leverage when Mr. Grant's browsing becomes buying.

I'm not anyone's fucking pet, you bitch!

You will be. It is time for you to forget.

But he remembers.

He remembers, he remembers, he remembers.

The pounding pain inside his skull tells him he’s not going to remember for very long. Memories slide and slip through and around his thoughts, disappearing and reappearing and sinking down again.

He doesn’t get to know his own name, no Box Boy gets to know their own name, but… but maybe they can remember someone else’s. The Facility won’t know to tell someone else not to know his name…

There's just one person he can think of.

He scrolls back up to the top, where the Host has a link to send a message. Colton reads a lot of the messages, now. They said so in a video, that Colton reads and answers and sometimes the Host doesn't even look for days. Which means Colton will read this message.

He has to.

He’s the only person in the world Kauri might be able to trust.

Owen is

SAFE

not safe

I CAN TRUST

can’t trust

Owen

Colton is a

PET

a person

who IS SERVING A PURPOSE

needs help too

I can FOLLOW PROTOCOLS

remember

FORGET

remember who I am

SERVE

remember

Kauri swallows hard, half-blind, the white encroaching from every corner of his mind to overtake it. His heart won’t stop pounding, and he can hear Keira beeping high-pitched and loud, but only barely. It’s a soft noise, it can’t be louder than the noise inside his head.

Kauri reassurance require

"No."

Kauri ceases action causing physical distress?

"Not until I tell him."

Keira request Kauri ceases action-

"No! We can help each other! I know we can, I just, he just has to remember this, they won't know to make him forget a name that doesn't mean anything to him!"

Except it's everything to Kauri.

Kauri clicks [GOT A QUESTION? I GOT ANSWERS!] and types out a message, as fast as he can, a rush of keyboard clicking.

plees have colton red this. hard for Me to tYpe rite Now And My fingErs hurt If you See this Lissen, it's Important some Arent signups soMe get taken didn sign up its a lie their lying to us

He sends it, opens up a second message, fingers numb, heart racing, eyes a blur of pounding, throbbing ache.

Colton remmbr for me my naem is

ERASED

The pain is gone and the world is white and white and dark and then the world is nothing at all.

Kauri wakes up on his side on the floor next to the coffee table, blinking hard, his headache gone like it had never been there, tangled in the blanket. “Oh, what did I-”

His eyes light on bare feet, the bottom of Owen's pants, and then they travel up and up and up.

Owen is leaning over him, and the green eyes are like hard chips of stone, focused right on him. He reaches down and grabs Kauri, digging fingers into the back of his neck as jerking him halfway upright with a surprised cry, before slamming him back down, cracking his forehead on the corner of the coffee table.

Flash of light and pain, tearing thin skin, and the sudden sting of red blood dripping onto cream colored carpet. "Ah, hnnnh, Mr., Mr. Owen, I don't, I don't uh-understand-"

“You little piece of shit,” Owen hisses, a half-whisper of rage, slamming Kauri down again, a burst of terrible light, the pain that comes just after. The world spins, and when Owen lets go Kauri stays on his hands and knees, breathing in pants along with the rhythm of the pain pulsing with his blood.

There’s an arc of blood on the carpet.

Kauri thinks with wild irrationality, The cleaning lady will hate that I made that happen, too.

“What the fuck did you do?”

He points, and Kauri follows his gesture with dazed eyes, looking over to the laptop to see the words MESSAGE SENT on the screen.

It sent.

He doesn't know his name anymore, but he knows he knew it, and he sent it to Colton, and someone out there will know who he was, will know that he didn’t sign, that it wasn’t his idea.

Someone who can read.

Someone who can write it down.

He feels thrilled, and terrified, and guilty.

But mostly terrified.

Owen’s hand snaps out to grab him by one arm and pull him to his feet, rough and bruising, and Kauri cries out when Owen throws him by his arm across the room, still dizzy from hitting his head.

“What. The fuck. Did you. Do?!”

Kauri stumbles, trips and falls, slams hard into the bookshelf, DVD and Blu-Ray cases raining down on him, one of Owen’s statues from a trip to Africa smacking hard into the middle of his back and he whimpers at the sudden flare of pain.

I’m not trained for pain

Owen stalks over to him, grabs him, throws him again, and this time Kauri bangs his shoulder into the corner of the entertainment center, tries to twist away from the next grip but he can't move fast enough.

Shoved hard into a wall with his head cracking back into it, the world is a sudden flash and then Owen's hands are on his shoulders gripping tight, too tight. His fingers hurt they press so hard into skin. Kauri stares, blood trickling from a wide, shallow cut across his forehead.

He can feel the warmth of it turning cold as he stares up at Owen’s furious face.

“I d-didn’t do anything! I didn’t! I just, I just, I remembered that I didn’t… I didn’t sign up. It wasn’t my choice, I didn’t choose this! You said, you said they showed you my contract but I didn’t sign it! I didn’t sign it. You have to, you know the ethics people… I think I’m from Illinois, I think, I think my sister and I were stolen!"

Owen starts to laugh. It’s a drunken, unkind, slurred bleary pissed-off sound.

“You stupid little whore." Owen tightens the hands on his shoulders until Kauri whines in his throat at the ache. When he tries to raise a hand - just to wipe away blood - Owen jerks him forward and then slams him back again, head slamming back into the wall with another burst of awful white and black sparks, and Kauri whimpers, trying desperately to curl in on himself. "Jesus, they really went the full nine yards making you dumb. Did you really think I didn’t know exactly where you came from? Of course I know about that. And your stupid sister. You’re not supposed to remember any of it. What did you send the Host?”

Kauri licks his lips, eyes wide. “You already knew? But, but you said-”

“I lied. I know exactly where you fucking came from. You think I give a fuck about how they got you back to me, Vince?” Owen snorts, disgusted with him, and Kauri has loved him so much and knows with real certainty that what Owen feels for him is not anything close to love at all. “What did you send them? Was it that pet you were trying to talk to? You like him so fucking much, huh? Think he'll see your little message and come rescue you? He's gonna be your fucking prince charming, Kauri? You stupid fucking whore, no one wants you but me. No one ever will. I wanted you dumb as shit, but this is something else. What did you send?”

“Nothing,” Kauri whispers. “I couldn’t see well enough to type, it was nonsense, I-”

“Fuck that. I’ll just wait until they respond, I know they respond to all their messages. I’ll figure out which one is you, but no one’s going to believe you… and you won’t get to see what anyone has to say.”

“I won't?” Kauri whispers, and when Owen leans in to kiss him - bruising, a crush of lips and teeth and tongue that isn't affection but ownership - there’s nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to hide. He tries to tilt his chin up, to answer it, but it isn’t the kind of kiss you can answer, only the kind you have to endure until it’s done.

The smell of his cologne surrounds Kauri, cedar-y and woodsy, and usually Kauri smells it as something soothing and sexy, but in this moment it only makes his heart beat harder in fear, the terror of how badly he has messed this up, how much he will hurt in the morning.

“You know you’re not allowed to read and write, Kauri,” Owen says with deceptive gentleness, letting go of his shoulder to run fingers through his hair, twisting in the black curls until it hurts, until Kauri winces against the pain outside and in. “I’m going to have to have them fix that for me. I’m going to have to fix it.”

Owen's mouth drops to his neck, a press of warm tongue and lips, and Kauri shivers at how good it feels even as he quavers in fear of what might come next, even as the rest of him aches.

“Oh, Kauri,” Owen breathes into his neck, real regret in his voice. “You know better. I’ll make sure you never read anything ever again. Being able to send messages is the first step to leaving me, Kauri. I couldn’t take it if you did that, just like him. I would die if you left me. You wouldn’t ever leave me, would you? Would you, Kauri?”

Owen raises his head to look him in the eyes. He looks calm. Serene.

Kauri is trapped, he thinks, with a monster.

“N-No, Owen,” Kauri says softly, shaking his head. “I love you, I wouldn’t… You, you said-”

“You call me Mr. Owen.” “Mr. Owen,” Kauri whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I said I’d never, ever let you leave, Vince. Not again.”

Kauri swallows, hard, as the hand that was so gentle in his hair slowly slides down to close around his throat. “I’m, I’m not Vince.”

"Ssshhhhh, shut up. You left once. I knocked out your teeth, I kept you locked up for days and I fucked you up I loved you so much but you still left me." Owen's thumb drifts back and forth across his Adam's apple, considering, and there is a bright madness in his eyes that Kauri has only seen once before. “You left me once. I won’t let you leave again.”

This is how he will hurt me.

Owen’s grip begins to tighten, and Kauri breathes in deeply as fast as he can, hoping he can hold his breath. Breaths turn to gasps, spots dancing in his vision, trying to breathe through a straw.

HELP KAURI. Keira's voice is high-pitched, loud, insistent.

"No," Owen whispers, then the volume of his voice raises louder and louder. "Vince, you stupid little slut, you don't get to leave me. Never again. Never again. How dare you, you piece of shit, you were meant for me, we were meant for each other!”

He’s screaming by the end of it, spit in Kauri’s face, making him flinch back in terror, his eyes wide, certain that this is it, this is how he dies. Owners aren’t allowed to kill pets but no one’s going to stop him and it wouldn’t matter if someone found out, Kauri would still be dead.

He's going to kill me and it's not even me he's killing.

Kauri scrabbles at Owen's hands with his own in a sudden panicked desperate attempt to survive, fingernails digging desperately into skin and Keira is screaming HELP KAURI HELP KAURI HELP KAURI at their feet until Owen kicks her viciously away.

Keira slams into the corner of the coffee table's leg, and Kauri hears a horrible crack before her machinery goes silent. He tries to scream but all that comes out is a whistle of what little air he has left.

"Keira! N-no, pl-please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Kauri chokes out the words, a hissing airy whimper, but Owen tightens his grip and cuts even more air off until his voice is gone, lost in the desperate fight to breathe and the incredible suffocating pain.

"I'll make sure you never fucking leave," Owen murmurs, his voice gentle and loving. "You'll never, ever walk away from me. I'll figure out what you told the Host and I'll make sure it's fucking wiped from your memory. If it isn't… doesn't matter. You're not leaving me. I'll kill you first."

His hands around Kauri’s throat feel like metal, worse than the choke-chain in training. Kauri’s hands come up to close over the wrists, feeling Owen’s tendons standing out in his forearms, staring with wide, pleading eyes, begging without words for Owen to please, please let him breathe.

I'm sorry, Keira, I'm so fucking sorry I didn't listen to you…

I hope someone remembers my name.

The world around Kauri sparks once more and then fades to black. The last thing Kauri hears is Owen's heavy breathing and his own final gasp.

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