#pink bikes for adults

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Easyriders, Paisano Pub., June 1974

[st0ryf1lms]

is it really you? ➳ ken sato

pairing: ken sato x reader

word count: 866

genre/warnings: fluff, sort of a crack fic, 3+1 things, wrote this with a sarcastic tone LMAO, a bit of profanity, grammatical errors most likely (wrote this at 1AM), reader uses fem pronouns

synopsis: the 3 times kenji sato swore he saw you, and the 1 time he actually saw you.

a/n: yes, i'm finally giving in to the kenji sato brainrot HUHUHUH if i had known he was the reason my writer's block would disappear, would've watched the movie sooner i'm ngl edit: AAAAAA WHAT 600+ NOTES??? U GUYS ARE INSANEEE I LOVE YOU ALL this is now up on my ao3!!

At the New Tokyo Dome at his first game as a Giants player

Maybe he was just dreaming, maybe it was the fatigue actually catching up to him ever since he hopped off that plane, or maybe he did actually see you in that stadium amongst the crowd cheering his name. You, as in his childhood best friend, arguably one of the best parts of his childhood in Japan before leaving for LA. You, as in the childhood best friend he never got to say a proper goodbye to. You, as in the childhood best friend whom he always missed and cried to his mom about whenever he'd get homesick. (You, as in the childhood best friend he'd harbored a secret crush on as a kid. As an adult? Psh, what sane person gets hung up on a person who must've forgotten him all those years ago. Not Ken Sato, for sure, yeah, uh-huh.) He'd never know for certain, of course, because as he was about to stop and look, a Kaiju crashed a KDF plane into the ceiling of the stadium.

KAIJU ALERT, his watch blared in an angry red face. He sighed, making his way to the nearest stadium exit and heading towards the dimly-lit part of the street by the stadium. Not without stopping for a split second because he thought he saw your silhouette. Silhouette, really? My God, Kenji, pull yourself together, he told himself. Of course, that wouldn’t be your silhouette because he definitely doesn’t know what you look like anymore, what food you like, what your job is, how you held up after he left for LA. Of course, he doesn’t know that.

Shaking off any more thoughts of you, Kenji turned into his giant alter-ego to fight off the Kaiju wreaking havoc on the streets of Tokyo. (a distraction, really, as Mina would say.)

2. On a grocery run looking exhausted as hell.

It had been two weeks since he took in the baby kaiju in his basement and Kenji Sato has never been more exhausted. If you ask him, exhausted would be an understatement. Nevertheless, his mind was actually alive (much to Mina's surprise) because he swears this time, that he actually saw you. With his own two eyes. As if locked in a daze, he secretly followed you like a lost puppy with a push cart in the grocery store before realizing you were heading for the exit. He stopped in his tracks as the doors opened for you, realizing the items he got weren't paid for yet.

Begrudgingly, he went back inside the grocery and got the rest of the items he needed before going back to his house.

Next time, I swear, I'll talk to her, Kenji said to himself as he drove back to his place.

3. During Emi's acid reflux rampage.

Shit, shit, shit, he cursed to himself like a mantra as he zoomed across the streets of Tokyo on his bike, trying to chase after the pink baby kaiju that somehow escaped his basement that he explicitly placed under the care of Mina (in case you couldn’t tell, he's definitely glaring at his AI assistant). Looking at the construction site beside him as he sat in traffic, an idea popped in his head. He could use that to give him a boost to quickly get to the baby. He rode up the makeshift ramp and turned into his giant alter-ego, catching his bike in time.

"Holy shit." He froze. Goddammit, had he really been that careless? Changing in front of a civilian? Nervously chuckling, he turned around to face the owner of the voice, mentally preparing his response [read: excuse] only to be wide-eyed and speechless. The owner of the voice was you. You, as in his childhood best friend, whom he's been trying to catch up with ever since he landed in Japan.

"What the fuck! Ultraman is Ke-" You exclaimed before you got rudely interrupted by the giant superhero. "Hey, shhh! Can we, like, stay quiet on this matter? I know I don't have an NDA right now but my bike will suffice, I guess. I'll get it back from you, I swear, I just really have to take care of this right now. Treat you to our usual spot? Thanks!" He said frantically before running away to take care of his huge baby problem.

Not really the best way to reconnect with your childhood best friend.

+1. After the battle at sea with the KDF.

"Hey, sorry for being late, had to take care of something." He apologized as he jogged up to you on your usual hang-out spot when you were children. You reassured him, saying that you had just arrived, too. "I didn't know what kinda stuff you eat now as an athlete superstar so I just went for the safest convenience store options." You said sheepishly, holding up the plastic bags with a weary smile. "I don't mind, I actually like convenience store snacks." He beamed on how you still remember what he used to like as a kid.

"So, Ken Sato, gonna explain?"

"Oh, you're gonna want to sit down for this."

[crypticminx]

Telling Felix Catton you’re pregnant <333

Felix Catton (Saltburn) x fem! Reader headcanons xo

AN: hiiii these are some headcanons I made :p im too lazy to proofread Dx if you enjoy lmk if you want part 2! Blink twice and you’ll miss the smut xx

- first of all, your relationship started out as a one night stand situation because for the love of God Felix cannot keep a woman or anyone around for more than a few months—weeks even.

- You, however, were a different situation. He saw other people, you saw other people, but the two of you always kept each other locked in the back of both of your heads. Wether you needed him as a very exciting stress reliever or he needed you to release any ounce of frustration he had, the two of you were just a simple phone call away. And not just drunk booty calls.

- The feeling of his broad shoulders pressed against your frame as he would effortlessly lift you up and pin you to the wall, whispering sweet melodies into your ears as he thrusted with all of his might to make you feel good—no, more than good. He’d never admit it, but for a girl like you, he’d give you everything, even if meant he’d have nothing. “Such a good girl,” he’d purr, feeling you melt under the sound—and for a better word, control of his asserting voice

- The two of you lovebirds were loud, extremely noisy and often torturous for the other students near your dorm, who were either trying to cram for exams or focus on non-sexual activities. You would moan without a care in the world and especially when you felt him release his seed in you for the first time, which you could only assume wasn’t planned nor talked about between the two of you. It felt too sweet, and so pure with how he breathlessly smiled at your sweaty, blushing face after the deed was done. Said smile being enough to make you fall into his little trap and roll back over into another intense round of sex

- With Felix, it was like walking on a dream that never seemed to end. You could be careless, indiscreet and whatever the hell you wanted to be. he provided you with a sense of being free from the real world and wholeheartedly invited you deep into the unrealistic life of Felix Catton.

- That dream, the very one that appeared to be endless, came crashing down. What ruined it? Two little pink lines.

- With an eyebrow piercing that adults despised, a stunning model-like body, and a reputation for tossing girls around like they were paper planes; Felix was fuck buddy material, not father material.

- Sure, he has enough money to knock you up ten times and make sure every child would be provided for, but you were you. Yes, you came from wealth but not the type of catton wealth that would probably leave a child with a ridiculously expensive live-in nanny as if it was nothing. Knowing how your parents felt, there was no way in hell they would be supportive and even just the simple thought of them meeting Felix made you cringe to the point of triggering your morning sickness again.

- You would avoid Felix like the plague you read about in your boring history textbooks and on the rare occurrence you ran into him heading out on his bike or going for a well deserved drink, you would bolt as if you had to run for your life. Facing him was just the beginning of your problems

- So when you finally mustered the courage to tell him and unfortunately for you, it had to be at the university’s sleazy lounge pub, Felix was there in all his glory and sat in his usual spot. Farleigh seemed more interested in drinking than caring about what was being said, a group of girls were scattered around the boys and obnoxiously fake laughed at whatever Felix said, and there was that new guy whose name you couldn’t remember to save your life. Oliver? You thought it was, but that clearly didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was you and Felix.

- Felix nearly chokes on his drink seeing you walk towards him, your head down and your tail between your legs. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

- You ask him to talk immediately, ignoring how content he looks. How his solemn eyes instantly sparked with life again and his bored expression turned into a relish of happiness. He was thrilled.

- “I’m pregnant.”

- He stares blankly at you, seeing you tear up as if you just admitted something horrible

- A baby? And a baby with you? Nothing about that was horrible. In fact, he often pictured a future with you, even if it seemed insane.

- i he’s not angry. In fact his thick brows soften and somehow in the midst of all the chaos of noise surrounding the two of you, his words are very clear.

- “I’m glad it’s with you.”

[wondersinwaynemanor]

imagine some Gothamites pretending to be in trouble or hurt and calling for a specific bat just because they have a crush on them, but the batkids purposely mess it up by sending another bat.

they also do this because they're little shits.

[i told myself i won't make this too long, but oh well]

scenario 1:

a woman, who's not even in trouble, she mostly wants to see Nightwing's new suit because.. oh.. the new suit causes his behind to form well.

Woman: Nightwing, Nightwing! Where are you? I need help.

Robin! Tim, hops down from the tall building and mind you, his skateboard tucked under his arm: Hi, Ma'am! Sorry, Nightwing is unavailable tonight. I, Robin, will help you.

Woman, judges the skateboard before looking at Tim: Uh. Thank you, Robin, but I was specifically asking for Nightwing. Is he- he around?

Robin! Tim, cheeks red from the cold, shakes his head: No, Ma'am. Sorry.

Woman: That's... That's okay. I'll figure out my problem on my own. Thank you again, kid.

Robin! Tim nods at her way before climbing back up the building.

Nightwing appears from the darkness, laughing his ass off. Tim joins his older brother until their stomach ache from the laughing session.

--

scenerio 2:

young teenage girl with pink highlights on her hair bikes through the neighborhood and out of nowhere, just falls down on the side of the road, on the grass. but gently. purposely.

Teenager, holds her ankle: Ow, ow. Is The-The Signal around? I kind of.. Uh... Fell.

Robin, comes out from the trees and he looks even brighter than ever with the sun still out: That was kind of careless of you.

Teenager, a bit annoyed: Robin? Don't you only patrol at night? Where's The Signal?

Robin, adjusts his katana and shrugs: You'd be surprised that I happen to do this at morning too. Well. Occasionally.

Teenager, skeptical: Uhuh.

Robin just stares at her, not even answering about The Signal. it makes the teenager a bit uncomfortable.

Teenager, manages to stand: Anyways... I think I feel better now. I'll head home.

Robin, lips twitching to a smirk: Stay safe.

behind the trees, Duke and Tim giggle like little children.

Robin: I must admit.. That was quite hilarious.

--

scenario 3:

two loud men exit the bar. they've been talking about Spoiler and Black Bat inside, fangirling like teenagers about their crushes.

little did they know, Red Hood was inside that bar as well.

Man 1: Fuck, I'm too drunk. Is Spoiler there? I need help to go home.

they are not even drunk.

Man 2, hides a smile behind his hand: How about Black Bat? We poor men need some saving.

before they can even lift their mouths to laugh, Red Hood apprears from the alley, gun on his hand.

Red Hood, voice so deep from the helmet: Need a lift, boys? There's enough room for both of you on my bike.

Man 1 gulps and Man 2 nearly passes out.

Red Hood, smirks: Not the person you wanted to see, huh?

Man 1: Uh.... You are a sight to see, Red Hood. Uh, Sir.

Man 2: But no, tha-thank you.

Man 1: We can manage. Right, dude?

Man 2: Right. Of course.

Red Hood, wants to laugh so bad but he has to keep this persona first: Well, let me know if you need anything.

both men run to the other direction. one of them even trips.

Red Hood hears Steph and Cass' lively laughs through the comms.

--

scenario 4:

a young adult man steps outside his building, doesn't mind the drizzle from the Gotham sky.

Man: Shit. I forgot my keys.

Man, looks up at the building: Is Red Robin out there? I need help in finding the keys to my apartment.

there's no sign of the vigilante so the man decides to just re enter his building.

out of nowhere, a sound of someone landing behind him makes him turn around and he is faced with Black Bat, holding his keys around her gloved hand.

Man, shocked: Um.. Hey. You found- you found my keys.

Black Bat doesn't respond, just lifts the keys higher.

Man: Tha-thank you.

Black Bat nods before grappling to the darkness.

the young man feels stupid for doing what he did, which is throw his keys behind the dumpster. and he didn't even get to see Red Robin.

somewhere, Black Bat joins Spoiler and Red Robin on top of a building to share some laughs and enjoy some Batburgers.

--

scenario 5:

a couple of bestfriends, woman and man, stop by at the side of the road. they were gossiping about Red Hood's arms, modulated voice and height, saying how sexy he looks.

out of stupidity, the man stabs his switchblade on one of the wheels of his car.

Woman, nods at him before calling for help: Someone help us! We don't have a spare tire.

Man, heart beating so fast: Red Hood, can you please help us? Red Hood!

after a few minutes of longing, Nightwing, Spoiler and The Signal appear from behind their car, startling the two of them.

Nightwing, grins cheekily: Good evening.

Signal, smiles: You called for help?

Spoiler, huge smile on her face with a spare tire on her hand: Glad we saw this lying around.

it's actually a spare tire at the back of the man's car.

the woman and man exchange glances, slightly nervous.

Man, touches his chest: Oh, thank goodness.

Woman, pretends to be in relief as well: Thank God for you, guys. We appreciate it.

Signal and Spoiler help each other in putting the tire.

Nightwing, grin hasn't faded: Sorry, the Red Hood is a bit busy tonight.

Signal: Maybe try calling out for him some other time?

Spoiler: We would give his number to you, but he's kind of a private person.

both the woman and man blush, embarassment creeping on them.

by the alley, Red Hood watches the rest of the batkids, a low chuckle on his lips.

--

a bonus:

a bunch of teenagers play around under the rain, splashing mud on their clothes. one of the blonde girls call out, "Robin, come play with us!" then the rest of her playmates giggle at that. they idolize the young hero.

and who comes out of the darkness? the rest of the batkids except for Robin. they make sure that the children are able to go home and are safe.

meanwhile, Damian is at the Manor with a stuffy nose as he is sick due to playing with his pets under the rain last weekend.

[princessbrunette]

Rafe fucking jayj’s step sister to piss him off because he has a feeling your relationship with him goes beyond being step siblings

- 💅🏽

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

rafe has been watching you. he was intrigued truly, how a sweet girl like you wound up being a pogue. he knew you couldn’t be jj’s actual sister, no— you didn’t quite look the same, and the way you and him interacted, even in public was odd. too touchy, yet cautious, overly self aware. shit, he couldn’t blame jj. if a fine piece of ass like you found your way into his family he’d probably do the exact same.

the need to get back at jj came when he went down for technically vandalising toppers boat. technically, it was pope. but pope didn’t have anything that rafe wanted… jj however…

you were stood so shyly at the entrance to the cameron residence, having received a message from ‘ward’ (actually rafe) that he was interested in hiring you, some kind of personal assistant job. but ward was out of town, and rafe was welcoming you inside.

“y’know i—i don’t know what he was thinking inviting you round right now, he’s out of town.” he scratches his temple, squinting apologetically.

“oh…” you fiddle with your fingers, glancing around at the inside of pristine tannyhill.

“yeah… yeah, i’m sorry about that. you want somethin’ to drink? whilst you know, whilst you’re here?” he extends his arm, backing up towards the kitchen.

“oh i couldn’t possibly—”

“please, anything you want.” rafe waves you off as you follow him through to the next room.

“well, if you insist. just a water please, i’m a little parched from riding my bike over here.” he tries not to snicker, thinking about that little pogue-mobile of yours. it was so you, rickety little thing with a pink basket on top. cute, rafe thought.

even the look of a brita water filter seems to slightly excite you and he smiles, filling up a glass and handing it to you. as you drink, he speaks— seemingly making conversation.

“so you’re uh… maybanks sister, right?” he leans on the counter. he sees you stiffen slightly, knowing the two of them have had their quarrels, but jj never really letting you in on the ins and outs. “s’okay, i can separate the two of you. we’re all adults here, right?” he reassures.

you put the glass down on the counter, wiping your wet hand on your dress. “well, he’s my step-brother.” you clarify.

“ah, yeah… yeah i thought so. no one acts like that with their step sibling.” his gaze doesn’t leave yours even when yours flickers away, guilty. right then, that moment there — rafe knew his suspicions were true. he steps back, nodding for you to follow him. “lets go sit down, yeah?”

you feel you have no choice but to follow him, sitting on the large couch now beside him with your hands on your lap. he leans his elbow on his knee, watching you.

“i—i wanna be straight up with you, that okay?” he drawls after the small talk time is up, eyes boring into yours.

“…yeah.”

“i know it’s not my business but i… i feel like your step-brother is doin’ things to you that he shouldn’t be doin’. and… it just wouldn’t be right for me to sit here n’not intervene i mean i’m older than you, right? and — and it’s my duty to watch out n’protect girls like you. i’m… right aren’t I? he’s touching on you?”

“rafe… no.” you shake your head, looking away shyly, clearly scandalised.

“you know it’s not very polite to come to someone’s house n’ lie to them, sweetheart.” he squints one eye, the idea of upsetting him making you nervous.

“no i’m sorry it’s just… it’s not like that, okay? he teaches me stuff. that’s all. i… dont have a lot of experience so he’s helping me. that’s it, i swear.” you break easily, and rafes fighting everything in him not to smirk.

“your brother?” he almost sounds mocking, like he wants to laugh and your brows furrow.

“step brother.”

“yeah i…i dunno, kid. you know you could have anyone on this island. m’serious, with a — a pretty face like that? shit.” he leans back, shaking his head. “even i’d help you out.”

and that’s how he gets you, right there on that couch — because fifteen minutes later he’s got you on his knees, sucking on his tip as you look up for guidance.

“yeah, yeah like that. go ahead n’start twisting your hand for me. that’s right… see, kid? don’t need your brother. you got me now.”

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[m-ilkiee]

Guys my age don't do it like you Do- Sano Shinichiro

pairing: Shinichiro Sano x fem reader

warning: nsfw, angsty fluff, fem!reader, slight age gap,  implied cunnlingus, office sex, vanilla to rough sex, slight dumbification, creampie, one mention of pregnancy, Shinichiro and Reader being softies.

R-18+ minors dni

author's notes: this is set two days before Shinichiro dies. do with that information what you will.

word count: 2.1k

masterlist || taglist

  THE memory of you is committed deep in Shinichiro's brain.

Ten years from today, he had saved you from a group of boys that had stolen your pink princess bicycle and tried to beat you up because you wanted it back. To a ten year old you, the fourteen year old Shin sporting a black eye while dragging your bicycle back to you, even offering to walk you home was nothing short of a handsome hero - with a ridiculous haircut. Nonetheless, it was more than enough to have you follow him around with hearts in your eyes and undying admiration from your lips whenever you saw him.

Shin didn't think much of it at first -you were a kind girl and you gave him quite thoughtful gifts- he may not have liked you romantically at that time, but it was nice to have some sort of positive attention from a girl, even if you were just young and naive. Even when his friends began to tease him about it - About you being the only girl that would ever want to date him- he would never chase you away; you were too sweet for him to just shut you out like that.

He indulged you even despite his friends' warning him to leave you alone, taking you on a bike ride for your sixteenth birthday, dinner on your seventeenth and granting you your sole wish for him to steal your first kiss on the eighteenth birthday. The more you grew, the more he indulged you and the greedier you both became. No longer were you the cute but nerdy girl that clung to his legs when you saw him. No. Now, you were gorgeous, your body filled out in the right places, your face contorted and lips open as your fingers dug into his scalp while he lapped the juices emanating from your folds, his thumb playing with the sensitive nub resting between your labia.

This wasn't supposed to feel wrong. Shin's just four years older than you, he's seen worse age gaps than this on those documentaries he watched with you while you were sulking about your first break up with a bastard that couldn't even make you cum. The both of you are in your twenties and you're just two adults giving into your desires.

But why does everyone make him feel so guilty for wanting you?

Shinichiro pulls away from your puffy lips much to your displeasure, his jaw stained with slick and the cum from your two prior orgasms, darkened eyes staring into yours with a pussy drunk expression written all over his features. Your mouth opens to say something when he glides up your body, fingers dancing on the skin of your legs with him hovering above you. His lips brushes your own in a ghost kiss and trails to your jaw, grazing it lightly and suckling on the spot eagerly.

"Oh Shin-"

The sound of your breathy moans resonnating in his ears goes straight to his already stiff hard cock. Shinichiro is quick to bunch up your long skirt high enough to reveal your bare cunt completely and grind his clothed length on it, a groan emanating from his throat to your ears. Sounds of heavy breathing bounce of the walls as he lowers his lips to the curve of your neck, sucking the sweet spot with good precision.

A craddle robber- that's what Takeomi had called Shin when you hurriedly left his shop one day with shaky legs and speckles of cum dotting your long maxi skirt. He said it with a light hearted tone but the way the eyes of his friends in the room judged him that day made Shin realise that maybe he is one -taking advantage of your undying interest in him to turn that crush into affection and devotion for only him. After that day, he was hesitant to touch you, until today when you came here and asked softly if he didn't want you anymore.

He didn't realise when he had you face up on his desk with his tongue in your pussy, muffling against your skin about how badly he wants you repeatedly.

"-want you inside Shin."

Your airy voice begging for his cock snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality. He raised his head up from the crook of your neck to stare at your pretty face again, memorizing the fucked out expression etched onto it for future reference when he's alone and thinking about you. His hands tilts your chin upwards and his lips meet yours in a brief kiss before pulling away.

"You're sure about this, sweetheart?" Shin asks in a gentle voice, pressing his forehead against yours. "You know it's been a while since we did it." His tone is shaky with need - a primal urge to ride you until you're a quaking mess underneath him. Shinichiro just wants to be sure you were ready for another round of him losing his mind the moment your velvelty walls rubs against his hardened cock. He would never do anything with you without asking if you're okay with it, even if it's to hold your hand.

"Shin please," your voice is desperate, begging almost, and instinctively, he lowers his lips to kiss the stray tear rolling down your cheek away. "I need your cock inside me. 'need it s'bad."

How could he say no to your teary gaze?

Shinichiro works down his button and zipper just enough to let his lengthy cock spring free, slapping your inner thigh lightly. You don't get to admire him for long, his fingers grasping your chin to make eye contact with him. "Eyes on me, sweetheart," His voice is practically dripping with lust at this point, completely immersed in the intimate moment with you as he coats his cock with the slick from his pre and your cum. Your lips part slightly as his bulbous cockhead nudges your opening before pushing in inch by inch. Your nails dig into his biceps, trying to anchor yourself back to earth from the painful, yet delicious stretch of his gentle prodding.

"You're doing so well baby," he coos softly, still pushing into you until he bottoms out. You can feel him completely, all the curves of his cock, the way your walls accomodate all the ridges of it, the way his tip nudges at your sweet spot. Your teary eyes once again meet his gaze mixed with lust and adoration for you, waiting for your command to let him move.

This moment feels perfect; Shinichiro is so close to you that you can smell a mixture of engine oil, cedar wood and nicotine emanating from him. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, letting the pain give into pleasure, only focusing on the man with you right now.

It's always been him. Only him.

"Sh-shin, m-move-"

The first thrust sends your already sensitive body on fire. Shinichiro knows your body enough to start the thrusts of his hips at a pace that has your eyes seeing stars. The loud sinful noises of skin slapping skin and the scraping of Shin's office desk while he fucks into you is a telltale sign of what's happening right now between the two of you.

Calloused hands tilt your head back to expose your neck to his hungry lips, kissing and sucking on the slope of your neck, making your pussy is fluttering against his cock. "More, more, more." You whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him closer to feel his cockhead brush against your pleasure spot at a better angle. "Shin fuck me harder, please-"

Air leaves your lungs as he gave a powerful thrust, and followed it up with another and another, his pace maddening, fast and wild, making your legs shake and tremble. Broken, choked moans is all that comes out of your lips as he continues to fuck you faster, while peppering kisses all over your neck and your chest. His hands move down your body and grips your shaking hips down, forcing you to stay in place and he goes deeper until you see the hilt of his dick practically buried inside you.

Shin's far gone, far too pussy drunk to remember he's not wearing a condom and he's supposed to pull out. All he can hear is himself groaning and you babbling his name "Shin, Shin, Shin" like a prayer with a fucked out, pleasure filled expression driving him to the edge. His hips are stuttering and his balls feel tight, but he'll be damned to let go if you haven't come first.

"Be good f'me," it's a command, Shinichiro's deep voice reverbating in your ears has your legs shaking even the more. "Be good f'me and cum"

Your friends always told you that if Shinichiro asked you to jump in a lake, you would it without hesitation. You denied it of course, sure you liked him, but it wasn't to the point you would become some kind of brainless puppet for him to use. Your friend never did like Shinichiro in the first place, she felt he was messing around with your feelings.

But now, as you're spamsing against his cock, your pussy fluttering and your breathing loud and heavy while he helps you ride out your orgasm, you realise you're in too deep with Shinichiro.

Shin's high starts as yours begins to end. You wince from sensitivity at his rather erractic thrusts and soon, you feel hot semen shooting into your warm cunt in spurts, a gutteral moan emanating from his lips as he pumps into you until he's spent as well.

You're the first to catch your breath. Your eyes flutter open to see Shin's dark ones fixated on your form sprawled across his desk, his hands barely keeping him from collapsing onto your body. You release his biceps from your grip and trail your hands to his face, tilting his head forward for a deep kiss. One hand comes behind your head and pushes your lips closer until you can feel your tongues and teeth clashing with each other, the taste of your cum still present on his tongue.

He is the first to pull away from your lips, his chest still heaving from the excitment and thrill of taking you right here in his office. He stares at you once again as you sit up to be more comfortable, lips swollen, marks all over your neck and your neatly parked hair roughed up, you look so gorgeous in his eyes. "Cute" He mutters underneath his breath, pulling out his flaccid cock from you. "You're really cute."

You feel flustered at his words and even more flustered when you feel some cum trickle down your thighs as well. Shin's eyes trailed to the cum leaking down your thighs and the wheels turned in his head, trying to figure out what he was forgetting until it clicked.

"Oh my god, did I just get you pregnant-"

It was your turn to laugh at his expression. Here was the guy of your dreams who had just fucked the senses out of you, panicking that he hadn't pulled out, with his cock still hanging out of his fly. His eye twitched at your unbothered expression. "How's this funny? You're supposed to be mad-"

His whiny voice only made you giggle louder, before bursting out into full-on laughter. His expression becomes sour and you stop laughing at him before he starts crying, again. "I'm on the pill, Shin." You coo, helping him tuck his cock back into his boxers and zipping his fly up. "I told you this when you were pushing me on the table."

"Oh." He replies with a blank expression, before slapping his hand to his face and shaking his head, embarrassment seeping onto his facial features. Deciding to hide his embarrassment from you, he started walking away. "I'll get you a clean towel, hold on."

You don't stop looking at him until he disappears to the washroom and comes back with a clean towel like he said he will. Your heart thuds against your chest as you watch him clean between your thighs gently, his eyes focused on his work like you were his favourite bike on display.

You've overheard his friends telling him that it was wrong to want you, to touch you and to love you. But the man cleaning between your thighs, and pressing soft kisses on your knees while doing so, the man that is trailing his soft eyes to look at your face with a small smile on his lips, is not wrong for loving you.

"You're staring." You smile back at him, resting your hand on his head gently. He doesn't stop looking at you, instead, he stands to his full height and leans close to you again, discarding the rag aside. You feel his hot breath fan your face as he leans in closer to whisper "I love you" for the first time ever.

As you capture his lips with yours in response to his confession, he can't help but think that you being in his arms feels just right.

taglist (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @getonite @anxious-chick @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra @yuyu12mm @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @violamuji @yvr-miko @xhimira @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee

[knavesflames]

since we are both sick in the head, i request biker arle headcanons (both sfw and nsfw)

oouuhhh thinking about biker arle who looks all intimidating and has tattoos showing up to your doorstep with flowers and melts when shes around you

im gonna throw up

thankyouiloveyoubyee

We truly are sick in the head. Literally what is it about this woman that has us in such a chokehold actually it’s so stupid but UGH. I have not once simped over a fictional woman as hard as this. Anyway, screaming, crying, throwing up at the thought of her

Anyone notice the references to a couple people in server?

Word count: 1159

Contents: fluff, soft arle, she’s scary but she’s not

Fluff utc!

Arlecchino. Everyone knows her. Who wouldn’t know the biker filled with tattoos, going around cursing like a sailor and never being seen without that stupid motorbike? She’s scary, intimidating. Even the grown adults shy away when they hear the familiar engine from afar, or refuse to look at her when she grumbles out that she wants to buy coffee. Even the store owner who supplies her parts for her bike and accessories for her stumbles over his words when she says she wants a new helmet. This one just doesn’t make her hair look nice when she takes it off, she says. The store owner is too intimidated to correct her, and tell her that it is not, in fact, the helmet’s fault.

The people in town also seem to be a little wary around you, too. They seem to know that if they say the wrong thing, or cause your face to fall or crumple, or cause tears to fall from your pretty eyes, that they’ll soon be facing the wrath of Arlecchino. Nobody seems to understand how you managed to break through her walls, how someone like you, so opposite Arlecchino, has her melting. Everyone sees it. Do they comment on it? Do they want to face her piercing glare, and whatever else she would do? Not a chance. It’s a little comical, though, seeing someone so tough looking, waiting outside of a store holding your cat, holding her in her arms while she feeds it treats every so often, going so far as to buy and place a bandana around her neck to surprise you. She does this all with a straight face, of course. It’s second nature to her, she’ll do anything for that smile of yours, the same smile that makes her feel like her insides have been set ablaze, makes her feel like a blushing teenager all over again.

You yourself think it’s adorable. Walking out of the store to see her holding your beloved cat (you joke that the cat is more important than her to see her pout) (you reassure her straight after that they’re on the same level, just to watch her pale cheeks flush a light pink). In reality, she makes you melt just as much. You have to hide the grin forming on your face when she speaks to you in that stoic voice she always has.

“Look. She looks dashing, I think. Matches my bike. I should get her a helmet.. I will ask someone to custom make one, I can take her on rides.” You cut her off immediately with an “absolutely not. My cat is not riding on a motorcycle.”

“Oh. Okay. I am still getting her a helmet. I want us to match.” She responds, her face completely blank, which makes everything funnier. You stand on your toes to kiss her cheek, pretending you don’t see the way her eyes widen. “My two favourite beings staying safe, wonderful.”

Even the notion that she’s one of your favourite things has her turning on her heel to conceal the ever growing blush on her face. She finds herself blushing often when she’s around you, she realises. She realises also that her words falter when you tell her to not speed, to make sure she’s wearing the correct material, that no, she doesn’t need to try and look sexy, that you find her the sexiest when she’s wearing the correct things.

She’s out riding for longer than usual, this time. The evening is dragging on, and she ALWAYS texts you when she’s home. She knows how you worry.

She is, actually, finished with her evening ride. Riding her bike as the sun sets is freeing for her. She likes to picture all of the negative shit being left in the wind as she drives. This evening, however, she drove past a field. A field decorated with different wild flowers she just knows you’d love. So, she slows to a stop, parking her bike in a way she knows won’t get it damaged. Her bike is her prized possession, second to you. She wades through the flowers, finding the best ones, slicing the stalk with her nails, the ones she kept long and not filed blunt (for your sake, of course). She grumbles to herself when the ovule gets under her nails. Once she deems the small bouquet good enough, she drives to you. Stopping just a little ways from you, she ties her boot lace around the stalks of the flowers, tying a clumsy bow. Arlecchino being Arlecchino, fixes herself as best as she can before she finds her feet moving towards your door.

When you rush to open the door after hearing her familiar knocking pattern, your own words falter for once. There she is. Stood in that shirt she KNOWS shows off her arms and the tattoos she knows you love, stood in those jeans she and you know all too well shows off her ass. She’s caught you staring, it’s the reason she wears them. And in her hand sits a messy, slightly wilted bouquet of flowers, clearly handpicked, hand cut (or rather, nail cut, you can see the residue under her nails), tied clumsily with a boot lace of all things.

“Here,” she mutters, “I thought you’d like these. Sorry they’re all.. weird.” You’re silent for a few seconds before she speaks again, a little defeat in her tone as she glances away, a sad frown twisting at her features despite her attempting to hide it. “Never mind. It was stupid. They’re ugly now, anyway. Have a good night.”

She goes to turn, but your hand shoots out and wraps around her bicep before she can leave. “Stop it. I love them. I don’t know what to say because you’re so.. adorable.”

“I’m what.” Her voice almost sounds shocked, if it wasn’t for the rough attempt at stoicism. She never thought she’d be called adorable in her life. She’s not meant to be adorable. She doesn’t want to be adorable. Her insides say otherwise, when she sees your soft eyes, filled with small tears, and your eyebrows furrowed in a look of pure adoration. You snatch the flowers before she can take them away, immediately walking into your home and placing them in a vase in the middle of your living room. She watches, straight faced, no indication of her feelings until she huffs, her face bright red.

“Turn on the air condition. It’s fucking hot in here. Where’s that kitty of yours, I want to see if she liked the fox toy I bought her.”

You look at her once more, a giggle rising in your throat as you tilt your head towards the cat tower, your eyes following as she moves towards it. You realise just how much you love this woman. At the same time, she realises she probably wants to spend her life with you, if you’d let her.

[mc-lukanette]

"I can't believe you," Marinette huffed, pouting and gently cleaning the dirt from Luka's arm.

He frowned sympathetically. "Marinette..."

She didn't respond, shaking with emotion on all the bruises and marks left on him. She knew it wasn't serious and it wasn't like it was his fault. She wasn't angry with him either, just confused.

Did all this really happen over pizza of all things?

She only really knew what he'd told her. Apparently, he'd been working at his part-time job and an adult thought they could just "take the pizza off his hands." Maybe they were in a bad mood, or they simply thought they could take advantage of a teenager, but Luka had gotten knocked off his bike and a scuffle ensued when he refused.

How adults were somehow less mature than half of the teenagers she knew, she had no idea.

Nevertheless, Luka was decently fit (he could lift an entire Marinette when ice skating and rode his bike around everywhere, after all) so he managed well enough, eventually ending up in Marinette's room. She'd forced him to sit on the chaise lounge despite his concerns about getting it dirty, his hoodie and jacket discarded so she could properly tend to him. His Jagged Stone t-shirt was sleeveless and allowed her easy access to his shoulders.

She glared, inspecting his arm once more to be certain it was clean, then got up and sat on his other side to inspect the opposite arm. Being clumsy, she'd gotten many injuries over the course of her life and thus was basically an expert at first aid. The fact that it was Luka she was tending to made her even more determined to do it right; she might've gotten a little lazy with it if she'd been doing it for herself.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I hate worrying you."

She shot him a look, but it crumbled at the sadness in his eyes. Sighing, she held his arm a little closer than necessary and retorted, "No, it's okay. I probably worry you all the time too." With a dramatic flair, she added, "So we're even."

He gave her that lopsided smile that always seemed reserved just for her, then let her continue in pleasant silence. Marinette, staring at his upper arm, noted that she'd never actually seen it before due to how often he wore hoodies and jackets. Just as she'd imagined, there was a bit of muscle there, and she wondered if she might've seen it if she'd gone below deck when she visited Juleka at the Liberty one night. Perhaps he would've been in his pajamas, and—

Marinette cleared her throat, forcing the thought out of her head. Catching his curious gaze, she hurried to say, "I-it's nothing. You're toned, that's all."

Her face flushed at the Freudian slip, but Luka took it in stride. With a tilt of his head, he asked playfully, "Because I like music?"

He'd known exactly what she meant, yet gave her an out. She squeezed her eyes shut, blushing deeper as her mind screamed, You're too good for me!

"Anyway," she carried on as casually as she could. She searched lower on his body and experimentally prodded at his ribcage, which she'd been planning on doing before but now served the purpose of an excuse not to make eye contact with him. "Does it hurt here?"

Bless him, he went along with it. "No."

She poked lower at his stomach. "Here?"

"No."

She peeked through the rips of his shirt just to be sure, but thankfully didn't see anything concerning. "What about over here?"

She gently pressed her fingers into his side and felt him tense, a startled hiss coming out of him. Carefully, she lifted his shirt and winced at the sight of the bruise forming there.

"Does it hurt normally?" she asked, trying to delicately feel around the bruise to confirm that nothing was actually damaged. Everything felt okay, but he took a sharp intake of breath like it wasn't. She looked up, surprised. "S-sorry! Was my hand cold?"

"Don't worry," he assured oddly quickly. His cheeks were a light shade of pink. "It's nice."

"Oh."

She turned to her phone briefly to text her parents about getting an ice pack from the freezer whenever they had a moment to spare, then set it aside to focus on Luka again. Figuring it was better than nothing, she kept his shirt raised and slid the back of her fingers along the bruising, appointing herself as a substitute for the time being. He shivered at the contact, but didn't complain.

They both weren't looking at each other now. She thought she'd gotten rid of her blush, but the mood in the room brought it back.

"Ah, so... were you that worried about your boss?" she asked, because the topic of the day appeared to be changing topics.

"Hm?"

She let the shirt fall, only supported by her fingers against his side, so she could grab his forearm and turn it over. Eyeing the place that'd clearly been scuffed when he caught himself against the pavement, she pointed out, "You could've handed the pizza over; it wouldn't have been that big of a deal." She paused, thinking it over. "Unless—maybe you were delivering to a really poor family? And that pizza was the only food they were going to get that day?"

It sounded like something Luka would do, so she was already worrying over the fictional financially-challenged family she'd just made up in her head.

He chuckled. "No, it wasn't like that. My boss was upset about me getting beat up, but they would've had to take it out of my paycheck if I didn't deliver anything."

"But was it worth it?" She tried not to sound like she was scolding him. "Are you saving up for something?"

He didn't respond right away and she dared a peek at his face. Though his head was turned away from her, she could almost see the debate going on in his head over whether or not he should say anything.

"Luka?" she called, wondering if this involved a surprise of some sort. "Is it about someone's birthday or something? I won't tell—"

"Next week," he finally answered. The idea of her getting the wrong impression must've stirred him into action.

She blinked. "What about next..."

She trailed off as it clicked. While she didn't have extensive knowledge of Luka's schedule, she did know that Luka hadn't had plans next week aside from one thing, as they'd chosen that week together because neither of them had plans otherwise. They'd set up a big day together to just have for themselves: a trip to the aquarium, going to the cinema for a movie, picking a random place they'd never been to eat, and so much more that she couldn't even remember in her state of shock.

"We promised to split the cost," Luka confirmed, aware that she'd already come to the correct conclusion. "I wanted to make sure I had as much as possible, just in case."

Her mouth dropped open, heart wrenching while simultaneously picking up in pace. He knew - must've known - that she wouldn't have cared if he came up a little short. She would've been more relieved that he'd avoided a physical confrontation.

But it'd been important to him to have money he could spend on her, on the two of them together. Perhaps it was just how he felt, or some standard he was holding himself to even if he wasn't aware of it.

Her hands shot up, one to grasp at the strap of his shirt closest to her and the other at his face to turn his head towards her.

"Ah." He grimaced. "You didn't do anything wrong, Marinette. I was the one who—"

She pulled him in and kissed him with a vengeance. She kissed him for all the kindness he'd given her, all the time they'd spent together, how utterly stupid he could be around her while thinking that it was normal, and also because she desperately, deeply wanted to. He stayed frozen the whole time, entirely unlike the calm, melodic movements everyone knew him for.

There was a loud "popping" noise when she broke away from him, out of breath and face feeling hot enough that she thought she might start sweating. Her grip on Luka's shirt had been so tight that her nails left tiny impressions in her palms as she let go, the wrinkled strap falling loosely off his shoulder.

Luka was wide-eyed, staring unblinkingly at her.

"D...don't do that ever again. You're too precious to me," she murmured, the situation slowly catching up with her. She had to metaphorically drag the embarrassment out from the back of her mind or risk being totally lost to the euphoria of kissing the boy she loved. The words may have left a vague implication that he belonged to her and she didn't want anyone so much as laying a hand on him, but she didn't take it back or clarify any further.

Barely remembering to breathe, she tore her attention from him to his lap. She could only hope that he wouldn't be upset in any way. "I-I should, um... check here too. Pull your pant legs up."

She reached a tender hand out to touch his thigh, but Luka's hand was suddenly on her wrist, keeping it in place. She jumped, initially anxious, but noticed that his grip wasn't so tight as to hurt her.

"You don't have to do that," he said. Given the situation, it sounded like an odd thing to say.

"W-what?"

She met his gaze, confused, and saw in his eyes that he wasn't the least bit upset. In fact, his eyes were gleaming, his body turning towards her and his face closing the distance she made. She watched with captivated eyes and he raised her hand up, kissing her palm where the impression of her nails had been.

Somehow, she heard his voice over the pounding in her ears, soft and loving as he whispered, "You already kissed me better."

In a perfect mirroring of what she'd done a few seconds ago, his other hand cupped her cheek and pulled her back in. It brought their lips together once again and she melted, needing no further explanation to understand. She leaned back intentionally to fall back on the chaise lounge and let him on top of her mid-kiss, not wanting to risk the tempting urge to climb onto his lap when his legs might be hurt.

She couldn't bring herself to care if her parents showed up right then with an ice pack. The tiny part of her mind that could focus on anything but the kiss was too busy planning out a few extra "events" for next week.

[jogetsobsessed]

Electricity - Paul Lahote x reader

This is a longer one, I plan on writing a small blurb based on the ending! -jo:)

The waves were crashing against the jagged rocks that stood above the waterline of the second beach. There were different groups walking along the coast, and a particular family, one that had stopped at the market before heading out to the beach, caught your eye. 

It was a younger couple with their two young children. A baby was strapped in a carrier to the woman's chest, happily kicking its legs as the mother cooed down at it. The father was a few steps ahead keeping up with the toddler. A little girl with bright blonde pigtails bounced as she ran ahead. Collecting seashells and stuffing them in the pockets of her pink polka dot raincoat as she went along, every once in a while turning back to show her dad the newest treasure that she had claimed. 

It was a picture-perfect image, one that made your heart swell. You had never had that as a child, your parents split just months after your birth. And in an unusual situation, they each took a child. You remained in the care of your father while your older sister was in the custody of your mother. 

But you never did mind, and you feared that you would never get to experience that with your future family. 

------------

You grew up in the woods. Running barefoot clad in jeans and second-hand t-shirts coming home when the street lights turned on, dirty like a feral child. The children that you were surrounded with when you were younger had the same spirit as you. All of you ran together, creating your own realities that didn't have anything to do with the real world. 

Growing up spending more time on the rez than in town was frowned upon for most non-members of the tribe. But you were one of the rare exceptions. After your father became a single father to an infant while also being the chief of police he turned to one of his longest friends asking for his help. 

This ended up being a best-case scenario because you were then placed into the care of an elder in the Quileute community. She ran an informal home daycare, helping out members of the community when they needed it. 

There you grew up alongside a group of kids who accepted you from day one, even though you weren't from the reservation. It didn't matter to them, children are not born with the biases that plague the minds of adults. 

The lot of you ran wild and were known all around the reservation for being thick as thieves. You all did everything together, one person's experience was everyone's experience. The ups and downs of living in a small community, family problems that no children should have to experience, and more. 

Many nights were spent jumping out of your bedroom window and riding your bike to the reservation crashing it in the front yard of whoever house you were spending the night at. Crawling into the dog-pile sleeping arrangements where you always had your best nights of sleep. 

The friendships that you made as a child filled the void of absent family members. You made time for your father but no matter how hard he tried you could never be his top priority, since the town you called home and the surrounding communities relied on him. The pain in his eyes was always present when duty called and he had to leave you, but you knew that he felt better when you spent time with your friends, he hated leaving you alone. 

-----------

The door crashing open tore you away from the window and brought your attention to the front of the store. The bodies quickly ran into the couple rows of shelves and you knew who it was immediately. 

Not wanting to rain on their parade you acted oblivious, shouting out your usual greeting for customers and rolling your eyes. 

There was some rattling and you heard hushed arguing before four bodies jumped out shouting. Not even caring at your lack of a reaction, all four doubled over in laughter. You could have sworn your eyes were going to roll into the back of your head but you were used to their stupidity by now. 

Slowly they all came out of the laughing fits and came up to the counter, Jacob hopped up on the counter and you gave him a quick shove off, Embry and Quil laughing at your actions. Paul leaned against the counter, opposite of where you stood, with Embry and Jacob mirroring his actions and Quil hopping on the counter this time. And when you didn't march over to push him off Jacob started to bitch, causing you to roll your eyes at him again while Embry was the one to shove him this time. 

“Come on Y/N what are we doing tonight, we were talking about driving into Forks and going to the drive-in?”, Quil said as he absentmindedly organized the postcards in the little display stand. 

“Yeah they are showing Dazed and Confused, way better than that romcom crap that they show all the damn time”, Embry laughed. 

“Why the hell do you even know what a romcom is?”Jacob teased. 

They began to argue and bitch at each other, Quil chiming in when he found it possible. You watched the argument waiting for them to be done when a rough hand tapped yours. 

Paul was still standing on the other side of the counter in front of you, one of his fingers was ever so slightly grazing your own. 

This was normal for both of you. The feelings that you had for him were mutual, though you would never admit it. Terrified at changing the dynamic of the group when you inevitably break up because the fairytale of high-school sweethearts doesn't work out more than it does. And staying friends with him was more important than the love that grew each time you saw him. 

You gazed at him, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. This always happened to him too. Sure you felt safe around any of the boys and trusted them all, but in the past year or so something changed about the way you felt towards Paul. And it wasn't because of your crush, since that had been around well since you entered your teenage years. 

Maybe it was because Paul had been the one tasked with explaining the existence of the shifters since you had accidentally found out when you witnessed Jared and Paul getting into it over something stupid one of them had said to the other one summer evening while you were sitting on the porch at Paul's dad's house. 

This was during the time when your friend group was split. 

-----------

Jared and Paul had been cast out, spending more and more time with Sam Uley after they underwent inhumane transformations at record speed. You had hardly recognized Paul when you saw him after a few weeks of not seeing him. His long hair was gone, and his physique was impressive, and a tattoo now decorated his arm. And when you saw Jared a few days later, he was the same. 

They both had given you the cold shoulder at first, but you weren't going to put up with their crap. They could have their little catfight with Quil, Embry, and Jacob but that was none of your business. Something must have happened that you had not been let in on, which pissed you off but you weren't going to lose friends over it. 

So you split your time between the two groups now, seeing them only on separate occasions, never telling the others that you were hanging out with the opposite group. 

So there you sat on Paul’s father's porch, it had been a normal day and then something was said and the day was ruined. 

You had watched in horror as both of their bodies contorted and spun and their human forms were gone and giant wolves appeared in their place. As they snapped and lunged at each other you stood up from the porch and sprinted to your bike. Pedaling as fast as you could all the way out of the reservation and to your house. 

Ignoring calls from both of them for a couple of days until Sam Uley showed up at your house. He held a bag of Harry Clearwater's famous fish fry that he was delivering to your father. No doubt running the errand for the old man to get the opportunity to talk to you. 

You didn't know him the best, only hearing more about him in the recent weeks when Embry was referring to him, Paul, and Jared as hall monitors on steroids. 

So as you tried to stick to your death glare towards him you relinquished after he asked several times for you to come by Emily’s, guilt-tripping you saying that Emily missed seeing you since you had stopped helping her out with working at the market.  

That night Paul had sat you down on the back porch and explained that the legends you had grown up hearing as you crashed the bonfires as children were in fact true. It was a hard pill to swallow but you felt a sense of importance being one of the few interested in the secret. 

Over the next few months, you watched as the rest of your friends went through the transformation as well, being able to comfort them when they wanted nothing to do with the other boys. 

-----------

“Y/N please tell Jacob that he's an idiot”, Embry pleaded. 

“Jake, you’re an idiot” 

“What the hell Y/N?”

“And Embry you're an idiot two, the both of you are idiots”, Paul and Quil both let out hoarse chuckles as they tried to stifle their laughter, at the two idiots with their jaws dropped. “And besides I can't do anything tonight, as soon as my shift’s over I’m out of here. My sister got here today. Charlie’s making me be there when he gets home from picking her up”. 

“Ah, that's right Isabella is making her grand return, how long has it been, four, five years?”. Quil wondered. 

“Try seven or eight”, Paul answered before you had the opportunity. You hummed in response and you began your end-of-shift duties, counting the money in the till since you were the closer. Greedy hands tried swiping some money as you counted and placed it all in the envelope. Handing the sealed envelope to the most responsible of the bunch which was Paul after he was given the strict instructions to hand it directly to Emily you bid your farewells as you hopped in your car and sped off towards town. 

-------------

The old wooden clock slowly tickled by as you sat on the worn-down couch waiting to hear the familiar sound of the worn-out brakes of your father's squad car pulling into the driveway. Your phone was lighting up every few seconds indicating new text messages coming in, no doubt from the boys and Leah begging you to meet them at the drive-in. 

There was no use in telling them no, none of them took the answer “no” very well. And even if you wanted to meet them, your dad had asked you to be there when your sister got here, and he hardly asked you to do anything so you felt like you couldn't bail this time. 

Picking at a loose string on the couch you were dozing off when finally the squeaky brakes could be heard signaling a sign of relief. 

Spend a few hours catching up with your sister and then meet the pack at the drive-in and catch whatever movie was playing after Dazed and Confused. 

The door pushed open and you pushed yourself off of the couch, preparing mentally for the awkwardness that was about to ensue. 

The last time that you had talked to your sister was over two years ago. A phone call that had ended sour, led to the two years of radio silence. Neither of you wanted it to go on that long but you both inherited the trait of being stubborn from your mother. 

“Bell’s I’m sure you remember your sister, It's been a while though”, your father laughed with a dry chuckle as he passed by you heading into the kitchen leaving you to stare at your older sister in complete silence, except for the distinct sound of a beer being cracked open. 

“Hey”, you cringed at your own voice, sounding so weak. 

“Hi”, she matched your tone, looking very uncomfortable, more than she usually looked. 

Luckily you were saved by your father who waltzed back into the living room and headed towards the stairs, calling out for Bella to follow him. He motioned for her to head up the stairs while he looked back at you, eyes pleading for you to follow them. It was awkward for all parties involved. Groaning you grabbed the handrail to head up, his hand patting your shoulder in thanks. 

---------------

A few weeks had passed since your sister had arrived in town, and luckily she had found a few friends in Forks to occupy her time, but most days you were still forced to spend some time with her and show her around at your father's request. 

She wasn't the biggest fan of the reservation, since she felt uncomfortable. However, it wasn't often that she joined you when you went since a particular pale boy took up most of her time. 

To say that you weren't Edward Cullen's biggest fan was an understatement. 

He was awkward and gave you the creeps. The way that he stared at you was like he knew something about you that you didn't even know yourself. Plus you found it slightly concerning that Bella was spending so much time with someone that she hadn't even known for a couple months. 

Plus whenever you brought up the reservation he instantly became rude and annoyed, even though he too had not been living in Forks long enough to truly have an opinion. 

Bella had dropped you off at Emily’s house since your car had puttered out on route 110 when you were driving to Port Angeles to pick up some groceries you couldn't get in Forks or on the rez. 

Being at Emily’s house was your own personal heaven. Everything there seemed perfect even when it wasn't. The smell of baked goods met your nose every time you pushed the door open and within seconds Emily would pull you into a bone-crushing hug. Many days were spent sitting at the old creaky dining room table. The grooves and scratches that decorated it and showed the years of wear were familiar under your fingertips. You could trace one line and know where the pattern was going to lead. 

Today was no exception, you were sitting at the table grazing on some of the goodies that Emily had been working on, talking about nonsense and listening to the soft melody that was floating out of the old radio that rested on one of the many cluttered shelves. 

None of the pack was in, Sam had sent them on various missions and errands to keep them busy and out of trouble, so it was one of the rare moments where it was almost silent. 

That was until a familiar orange truck came to a screeching halt outside. As soon as you caught a glimpse of it your anxiety spiked, your sister had no reason to be here. Emily shared a similar look of concern as she set down the bowl of muffins that she was mixing and came around to meet you at the table. 

Glancing out the window you saw your sister stumble out of the truck after Embry and Jared, looking like she had just seen a ghost, or maybe a werewolf. 

The boys ran into the house as if nothing was wrong, crashing into the table and snatching some goodies for themselves. Bella slowly made her way up the stairs. 

She had dropped you off and picked you up a few times, but she never left the driver's seat of her Chevy. 

“Who’s this?”, Emily asked in an attempt to break the ice since the two had never formally met. 

“Bella Swan, who else?”Jared mused smirking at you knowing that this whole situation had your skin crawling. 

Bella knew about vampires, you were sure of it. 

The amount of time that she was spending with Edward was inevitable. But you were trying your hardest to make sure she didn't find out about the wolves. She didn't need to be involved in both supernatural worlds. 

Vampires were not something that you knew much about, the basics were necessary since the legends of the tribe reference them. The questions that you had were extensive but you always played it smart and refrained from asking them since any mention of the leeches got the pack all worked up. 

But now you knew your weeks of trying to keep her in the shadows were for nothing. As you learned that your sister had stormed into the Black’s house demanding to see Jacob. 

He was trying to distance himself as well since Bella was getting more comfortable in Washington and was beginning to ask questions that Jacob couldn't answer due to Sam’s gag order and the looming threat that you placed…answers equal his murder. 

Bella had gotten pissed since one of her only friends was ignoring her and decided to find out why for herself after Jacob completely stopped returning her calls. 

This led to her finding Jake outside talking to the pack, and Bella inserted herself into the conversation and argued with Paul before punching him in the face. That led to Paul phasing and then Jacob phasing to protect her.

Bella had been traumatized, rightfully so but now you were in a predicament because she knew, and you were going to have to admit that you had been hiding something this big from her. 

Your sister moved closer towards you, standing next to your chair, taking the muffin that you were extending towards her. No words were exchanged between the two of you as Jared and Embry continued to spill the secrets of the Quileute tribe. 

You were so caught up in the bickering boys that you hadn't noticed Sam waltz in until he was all over Emily. The sight of true love made your heart swell. 

The sweet moment was quickly ruined by two pairs of feet stomping up the steps of Emily’s front porch, the two tanned boys shoving each other and pushing through the open front door. Paul strutted towards his usual seat at the worn table, right next to you. 

He looked past you and towards your sister, uttering a quick sorry. The tone of smugness made you want to gag at how idiotic he was and you could have sworn you heard Sam whisper a quick “oh my god”. 

Jacob was grinning as well, that was until he spotted Bella. You could have sworn your heart was going to pound out of your chest. The awkward tension in the air felt like it was going to strangle you. You didn't dare to look at your sister, even though you could feel her eyes staring at the back of your head. 

Luckily you were saved by the man of the hour after he motioned for Bella to follow him. As she pushed herself off the counter her hand found its way to your shoulder, and the look of anger and disappointment on her face affected you more than it should have.

She disappeared back the way she came and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Your head was now resting against your folded hand, trying to calm yourself down. A hand was immediately on your back, rubbing small circles. 

The electricity that you felt let you know immediately who it was. Paul was now standing behind you, even though you didn't even remember him standing from his seat next to you. You couldn't see it because of your closed eyes but no one else dared to speak in the room because of the anger that was displayed across Paul's face. 

-------------------

“What the hell are you saying?”. 

“Bella, will you just shut your mouth, you are throwing a fit for absolutely no reason. Last time I checked the world did not revolve around you”. 

“It's called common sense Y/N, you knew this secret about people that we grew up with”.

That was it. 

That comment was what had caused you to start charging across the front yard towards her. And if you hadn't been at Emily’s and the pack wasn't standing by you would have given her the punch to the face that was so deserved. 

But you hadn't been so lucky since the minute you took off charging Paul's arms slung around your waist and pulled you in tight. 

Jacob had moved Bella to the side, but it was for nothing since you quickly relented and held up your palms signaling that you were calm. Although you had calmed down, you weren't done laying into your sister. 

“Bella as much as I’d love to come over there and beat the shit out of you for thinking the world revolves around you I won't. You had no right to know, it not only puts you in danger but it puts the pack in danger as well. And also you didn't grow up here so you can shut your mouth with that nonsense”. 

It was silent for a second except for the soft sounds of the forest that blanketed Emily’s house. That was until Jared's voice broke through the air. 

“Woah”. 

Bella was at a loss for words, for once. Instead of bickering back with you she huffed and puffed for a second before saying something to Jacob. She hadn't whispered it but she was far enough away that you could only make out a few words, most of which were not in favor of you. 

But you didn't care, Bella meant nothing to you. You had found your own family and she had found hers. 

----------------

 Since Bella found out about the pack the two of you had been at each other's throats. 

At home, when the two of you were together it was only a matter of time before you began bickering. Charlie had picked up on it and asked you both what everything was about. But it wasn't like you could explain to your father that you were arguing because she had a supernatural boyfriend and you had a supernatural best friend of a different species and they happened to be mortal enemies. 

You know the usual teenage sister drama. 

More and more of your time was spent on the reservation. It got to the point where you were spending days on end at Emily’s or one of the boys not even going home to get more clothes. 

Quil’s grandma had offered for you to move in with them years ago and these days you were truly wondering if the offer stood. 

Because even though Emily offered you the guest room every night you were starting to feel bad, like you were a barnacle stuck to the side of a boat. 

“Do you want any help Em?”. Soft music was playing on the radio in the corner of the kitchen, the house decorated with beautiful flower arrangements that Emily had put together the night before. All of them had bloomed in her garden which she had been buzzing about since she planted them a couple months ago. 

“If you could make the salad that would be amazing my darling Y/N ''. There was a hint of teasing in her voice. Something that the two of you had picked up on, seeing how it amused the pack to see the two of you interact as a fake couple. 

Sam had been annoyed at first but Emily had straightened him out, lecturing him on how she knew he was strong enough in his masculinity for Emily to have fun and joke around with her friends. 

She made Sam apologize to you which was a sight that the entire pack was cruising around to see their leader do what his girlfriend said to do. 

“Of course dear, I will be right on it”, you replied giggling. 

Emily and you spent the next couple hours enjoying the silence before the pack burst through the door ready to eat the dinner that Emily had so graciously prepared. 

After the meal everyone migrated out back, most of the boys opting to play an impromptu game of soccer. 

Sam and Emily were snuggled together underneath a blanket on the old outdoor couch that sat on Emily’s porch. You sat on the porch swing, using your left left to slowly rock yourself back and forth as you watched the game. 

Unintentionally you found a thread sticking out of the cushion on the swing and started to absentmindedly pick at it. You were so caught up in it that you didn't notice the dip on the other side of the porch swing until an unnaturally hot arm was placed around your shoulder, 

“Destroying Em’s property over there are you?”Paul's tone was teasing and if that wasn't clear enough the smirk on his face spelled it out clearly. 

“Keep your voice down, you're gonna work Sam up”, your tone matched his. Both of you peering over at the happy couple lost in their own romance, they looked like a pair of high school kids, sneaking kisses and sharing giggles. 

Slowly you laid on Paul's bare chest and snuggled against him, gladly accepting his radiating body heat. 

This wasn't abnormal for the two of you, sharing such a vulnerable position. 

Sure, you snuggled against the other boys when you were cold, but never like this, never so intimate. 

With Paul, it was different, the connection that you felt with him allowed you to be so vulnerable and comfortable with him. It was an unspoken connection, neither of you acknowledging the sparks that you felt. No doubt the other boys had teased him about how soft he was when it came to you. 

-------------------

Months had gone by. 

Bella was practically living at the Cullens. 

And you were couch-surfing on the reservation. 

Charlie was dealing with his own mess at the department and you didn't want to risk running into your sister at the house for the sake of your own sanity. 

It was summer time so neither of you ever being home was a red flag to him, but you knew that you were going to have to come up with some excuse once the leaves started to change. 

It was a particularly hot day when you had drug out the kiddy pool from the back of your car. It had been stashed there all summer, something you impulsively bought on a trip to Port Angeles. Never really intended to use it, that was until temperatures soared into the hundreds. 

Emily’s house was kind of the home base for the pack and had become your home base too. That's why you didn't feel weird about dragging the inflatable pool to the backyard and setting up camp for the day, even if Emily was out of town visiting family for the weekend. 

The pack was all supposed to be doing jobs around the reservation, helping make sure everyone stayed cool, so you figured no one would bother you and you would be able to have an afternoon of peace. 

Which worked out for a couple hours where you were able to just float and relax in the tiny pool. 

That was until you got drenched by someone splashing you. 

Aggravated you tore your sunglasses off ready to tear someone a new one, stopping when you realized who it was. 

“You're lucky it's you Lahote”. 

“Yeah…yeah make some room”. Paul didn't wait for you to even react and start to scoot over, instead taking matters into his own hands, pushing you gently to the side so he could recline to the best of his ability in the tight space. 

“Your damn body heat is gonna turn this into a hot tub”. 

“There is literally no need to be so dramatic”. 

You were facing each other, his feat extended past the side of your body while yours was pulled towards your chest. It was a defense mechanism, you were fine being in close proximity with Paul. But for some reason being in the kiddy pool suddenly had you the most self-conscious you had ever been around him. 

And if it wasn't like he had not seen you in a swimsuit before, I mean at this point with your relationship with the pack all the guys including Paul had “accidently” walked in on you changing. 

This felt different. 

The tension was building between the two of you. 

Maybe it was because it was so hot outside or because of the difficult year you had experienced but you felt as if your judgment was a bit clouded. 

Because as Paul scooted closer you matched his actions. 

Suddenly the two of you were face to face. 

You were frozen, not sure of the next move. 

You wanted to kiss him, you really did. But you weren't sure of his feelings towards you. 

That was until he finally made the next move and his lips found yours. 

The rush of euphoria was instant, there was something so satisfying about the kiss. It was like the electric sparks that you had been feeling for the past year were now met with a constant electric current. 

You were the one to break the kiss, instantly hiding your face to conceal the blush that had spread across it. 

Paul stayed still. 

You gave him a few seconds waiting for him to say something…but he didn't. 

And when you moved your face to get a good look at him your heart sank. 

He looked angry. 

And he didn't just look at it, he was all worked up, trying to control his breathing, his shoulders moving up and down at a rapid pace. 

He was gonna transform. 

“Y/N get out of the pool”. 

You were frozen with fear, his tone was so icy. He never spoke to you like this.

“Y/N get out of the pool now”, he practically growled the words. 

It was as if some invisible force flung you backward, you couldn't even process what you were doing. 

One minute you were sitting staring at the man you were in love with and the next you were stepping backwards in horror as you watched his clothes shred and his tanned skin be replaced by silver fur and then he was gone. 

Leaving you all alone, destroyed. 

----------------

It had been five weeks since you had seen or talked to Paul. 

It was as if he completely disappeared, just vanished off the face of the earth. 

Although you knew this wasn't the case because none of the pack members seemed too concerned, dodging all your questions when you brought him up. 

It was unbearable, to spend any amount of time with any of them. 

You knew it was because they all had some big secret that they wanted to tell you, but couldn't. 

And frankly, it was just making you mad at this point. It's why you never wanted to get romantically involved with any of them, because of this. 

One day you had reached your breaking point though. 

It was early one weekend morning, one where you had actually slept at Charlie's for the night since you had been feeling awkward on the rez. And you had sent a text to Quil asking if he wanted to get breakfast at your shared favorite spot on the reservation. 

His text back simply contained one word; “Can’t”. 

And when you texted Jared and Embry you were met with the same response. 

So you did the unthinkable. 

Pulling your clothes on and making yourself look more presentable than normal you put your car in gear and drove to an unfamiliar house. 

The only reason you knew where to go was because you had been with your father once when he needed to stop by it really quickly. 

-------------

You had intended for the drive over to be a time to think about what you were going to say without having to say that all your friends were being assholes and you just don't want to be alone for the day. 

But instead, you cried when a song came on the radio that reminded you of your said asshole-ish friends. 

So now here you were fixing your makeup that had run down your face giving yourself a monitor pep talk to prepare yourself to be the bigger person. 

Finally getting out of the car and walking to the front door you reluctantly knocked.

Within a flash a ghostly person was standing in front of the glass door, looking at you at first with curiosity and then pity. 

Luckily you didn't have to say your friends sucked, he just knew. 

-----------

The Cullens had welcomed you into their home with open arms. 

Something you never would have suspected considering if they only had one hater in the world it was you and if there were no haters in the world then you must be dead. 

But that was before, you had put most of it behind you. 

Choosing to see their positive qualities and attributes and not focusing on the negative. 

Being in their home was such a stark contrast from being at Emily’s 

The atmosphere and the way everyone interacted, which was one of the downsides to the Cullens house, felt so formal compared to Emily’s and you felt so out of place. 

But regardless you made yourself as comfortable as possible, attempting to repair your relationship with your sister. 

On this day in particular most of you were upstairs, lounging in the living room, light conversations taking place, nothing too heavy to disrupt the calm environment. 

Until Edward shot up from his place next to Bella on the loveseat. His brothers followed immediately, his sisters following just moments later. Bella and you remained seated, unsure of what to do. 

She opened her mouth and started to speak but a loud snarl caught both of you off guard. Bella looked perplexed but you knew right away who it could belong to. Jumping off the couch you 

The Cullen-Hale siblings were crowded around their front porch, blocking your direct vision but it didn't matter you knew who it was. 

sprinted downstairs. 

“She doesn't want to see you”

“You need to leave” 

“Get off our territory mutt”

Pushing past the stone-cold bodies shielding your view felt like a mistake. Because there he was. You could see some of the anger leave his face the moment he saw you but it returned as soon as Emmett's hand found its way to your shoulder. 

“Get your hands off her”

“Not happening, you need to leave”

“I’m giving you three seconds” 

“He’s not gonna listen to you mutt” 

“Take your hands off my imprint right now or I am not going to have a care about whatever the treaty says” 

Time stopped still. 

Have you heard him correctly? 

Did he just call you his imprint, I mean there was no way. He had to have been lying. You had been around Paul practically every day since his genes kicked in, minus all the times you had been arguing. 

And not once did he tell you anything about you being his imprint, in fact, he got off the topic every time you brought it up. 

No one dared to move, besides Paul who was heaving his shoulders up and down, trying to fight off the impending shift. 

Carlisle moved to say something to Emmet, something you couldn't hear but whatever it was it made his hand swiftly retract from your shoulder. 

This time Carlise came up next to you whispering, “You better go with him Y/N”. 

----------------

How you wished to be a fly on the wall. You wished you could see what was going on right now in Emily’s backyard. 

Paul and you had decided it was neutral ground, and that way if Paul got worked up the pack could hopefully talk him off the ledge. They were all inside, on Sam’s order but you had no doubt that they were listening to every single word that was being said, or better yet the words that weren't being said. 

You had sat down on the porch swing almost five minutes ago, Paul leaning against the railing opposite of you. He had opened his mouth as if to speak within the first ten seconds of being outside but no sound came out. 

“Paul, are you going to say anything?” 

He fiddled with a loose piece of wood sticking out the front of the porch railing, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation. 

It was something new. 

All of your years of knowing Paul you had never seen him like this. Embarrassment actually looked good on him, it was such a stark contrast from his confident cocky self, this whole thing was truly a humbling experience for him. One that you no doubt would be teasing him for once you moved past this awkwardness. 

“I wanna start with I’m sorry” 

“Why did you do it?”, your tone was accusing. 

“Do what?” 

“Paul don't act stupid” 

“Y/N please this is what I didn't want. I didn't want you to find out and then everything we had…our friendship would be ruined”. 

“Is it because you don't like me like that, like the way that imprinters like their imprints?”. 

Your eyes fought to see him, but he refused to look at you. And with the slight nod of his head, you felt your heart shatter. 

Slowly you started to push off the swing, ready to collect your bag from inside, but you didn't make it off the chair. His hand was clamped around your wrist, stopping you. 

His other hand found its way to your cheek, guiding you to look at him, wiping the loose tears away. 

“No, no baby, I mean Y/N I didn't mean it like that”. The hand felt surprisingly soft on your cheek, giving you instant relief. Looking up at him all you saw was fireworks. 

Your childhood crush, the man that you have loved since you were a child, was meant to be yours. Even the universe agreed. 

“Y/N I have been in love with you since we were fourteen years old, but I never said anything because I didn't want to hurt you. I don't know how to be in a relationship. My mom left when I was a kid, you know that whole story. And I don't have a good track record with relationships so far. I messed all of them up, and I would never forgive myself if I messed this one up too. I don't know if I could physically take it”. 

He was crying now. 

They were soft tears, slowly sliding down his tanned skin. He was pouring his heart out to you, and you had never felt so special. Everything in your life had been leading up to this moment. The moment when the universe aligns for you. 

“We can go at your pace, you don't need to commit to anything you don't want. I will do anything and everything for you, I will move heaven and earth for you, I will walk to the East Coast and back to pick you up if you ask”. 

Now he was rambling. 

“Paul I love you too”.

[toychest321]

While I was looking into Fulla dolls, I found out another Muslim fashion doll was released around the same time!

Meet Razanne! (And be prepared for a loooooong deep dive under the Keep Reading lol)

From what I've been able to piece together from various sources, she was created by Palestinian-American Ammar Saadeh and his wife Noor in 1996, being initially launched through the internet before more publicly advertised to Middle-Eastern and American audiences in 2004. Their goal was to show Muslim girls that "what matters is what's inside you, not how you look" (quoted from an interview with Greensoboro News and Record). They wanted to give them a role model with an emphasis on education and religion, while also having a career! To reflect the diversity of the global Muslim ummah, each of her dolls came in three variants: Pakistani-Indian (olive skin w/ dark hair), Black (dark skin w/ dark hair), and Caucasian (fair skin w/ fair hair).

While unfortunately she's no longer in production, the WayBack machine has a record of all her dolls released through the Noorart website! Each doll listing also includes additional information to educate on Islamic culture!

First there's Schoolgirl Razanne, whose listing reads:

"Razanne loves school and is all ready with her bright red book bag to join her friends in class. For your information…Traditional uniforms are worn by schoolgirls in Islamic schools. In addition to the usual subjects, students also study the Arabic language and the Qur'an - the Muslim Holy Book."

Next we have Teacher Razanne, whose listing reads:

"What is a more honorable and specialized career than education? Our teacher Razanne comes full equipped with lap top computer, briefcase and all the necessary items for school. For your information... Many Muslim girls study to become educators. Two-piece suits with jacket and skirt are popular styles for Muslim women who work outside the home as teachers or other professionals."

There's Playday Razanne, who unlike the prior two came with no accessories, her listing reads:

"Dressing modestly doesn't keep Razanne from having fun! On the playground, Razanne plays in her scarf and a loose fitting jumper that gives her lots of room to run and jump. For your information... Dressing modestly doesn't prevent Muslim girls from having fun outdoors! Whether biking, skating, on the playground or at the park children manage to have fun no matter where they are!"

We also have a Muslim Scout Razanne, who came with a free audiotape of Muslim Scout Cheers and a preview of We Love Muhammad! Her listing reads:

"'I'm honest, kind and trustworthy.' Muslim Scouts' organizations all over the world help build character and skills for success in this life and the next. Razanne wears her merit badges and awards earned for community service, Islamic behavior and Qur'an memorization. Respect for Allah, parents and all members of the community are a top priority with Razanne. For your information…like all Scout troops, Muslim Scouts are encouraged to excel in personal attributes such as honesty, cooperation and leadership as well as taking an active part in community service and environmental protection."

Next up there's Eid Mubarak Razanne, which came two different color variants for her outfit, her listing reading:

"Razanne is all ready to celebrate the Muslim holiday. Dressed in her new floral fashions of pink or blue, Razanne has Eid cards addressed to all her friends and is ready to deocorate the party with balloons. The perfect Eid gift for any girl! For your information… Muslims celebrate two major festivals each year. One is the Eid Al Fitr following the month-long fast of Ramadan. A second holiday occurs during the annual Pilgrimage to Makkah. Children and adults look forward to these two special days with great anticipation. Before the Eid the entire family goes out shopping for new clothes to wear for Eid Day. Early Eid morning the family meets with other members of the community for an Eid Prayer then disperse to family gatherings and other celebrations. Children are often given gifts of toys or money and families exchange delectable sweets that differ according to the region in which they live. Muslims exchange greetings of Eid Mubarak,"Eid Congratulations", Eid Saeed, "Happy Eid" and wish each other a coming year full of God's blessings. Kul 'am wa anta bi khair!"

I wasn't able to find any other images for Prayer Razanne like the others unfortunately, and apparently she came with accessories too! Her listing reads:

"Allahu Akbar! God is the Greatest! It's time to pray and Razanne is ready! When it's time for prayer, many Muslim girls cover their everyday clothes with these traditional two-piece garments and stand to pray on colorful prayer rugs. We receive so many letters from customers that tell us that Razanne usually joins the family for salah! For your information… when it's time for prayer, many Muslim girls cover their everyday clothes with these traditional two-piece garments and stand to pray on colorful prayer rugs. Muslim women may pray in congregation at the Mosque but it is often more convenient to pray the five daily prayers at home."

And finally we have In And Out Razanne, whose listing reads:

"In and Out Razanne comes with a two-piece fashion set for wear inside and outside the home. At home Razanne loves to dress in all the latest fashions. In a minute she can be ready to go out with this traditional jilbaab coat. Razanne helps Muslim girls understand that in the home they can be the ultimate fashion statement yet still have attractive attire while dressing modestly outside the home. For your information…Razanne helps Muslim girls understand that in the home they can be the ultimate fashion statement yet still have attractive attire while dressing modestly outside the home."

I'm honestly so glad I found this, because doing research into this doll has been a blast! I love the vintage vibes of her outfits with the patterns and color choices, and it makes me really happy seeing this doll being used as an educational tool for Islamic culture and practices!

Thank you to limbedolls.blogspot.com, emel.com, Greensboro News and Record, and "Framing Muslims" by Peter Morey and Amina Yaqin for the information that went into this long-ass post!

Ramadan Kareem!

[rafecameronsmistress]

NO ESCAPE

description] Fem Reader x Rafe Cameron x Barry

[summary] After a rough breakup Rafe sends Barry out to find you at a party and what they have for you in store is a nightmare full of pleasure

[cw + tw] 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, abusive relationship, physical abuse, strong language, stalking, non con, alcohol use, drug use, gun use, life threatening, degrading talk, angst, fear, embarrassment, SMUT

[authors note] this one is VERY long and has VERY sensitive triggers, please read at your own risk

‼️ADULT CONTENT AHEAD‼️

Enjoy 🖤

________________________________

Text messages:

- Kie: hey are you coming to Sarah’s party tonight? it’s at the water, i can pick you up

- y/n: i dont know.. after everything that happened with Rafe im afraid he’ll show up and i don’t want to see him right now

- Kie: Sarah told me he wasn’t going because she invited pogues lmao

- y/n: i’ll think about it, i’ll call you in an hour or so

- Kie: kk <3

Rafe and i dated for a year before things got bad, we had our ups and downs but never did i expect him to put his hands on me in a violent way

Rafe hit me for the first time a month ago, he said he was sorry and that he just couldn’t handle the way things were going with his family and business

i gave him the benefit of the doubt because he has been under so much stress and sometimes i add to the problem

two days later he hit me again and split my lip open then screamed in my face because i got blood on his shirt

slowly his i love you’s turned into i hate you’s

it’s hard because i love him so much, he was the picture boyfriend, until he wasn’t

i hid the abuse, i didn’t want people to know, just incase he changed

my friends know we ended badly but they just assumed it’s because Rafe is an asshole, everybody knows he is

the first time he threatened to kill me was the day that i left, that was only a week ago

he held me down on the floor of his bedroom with one hand around my throat and the other holding his pistol to my temple “the next time you speak to me like that again i’m going to put a bullet in your fucking skull, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” his words spit on me like venom

a part of me misses him and that’s why i don’t want to see him tonight, i’ll cave and end up going home with him, i know i will, because i love him

i lay down in bed and close my eyes, i’ll make a decision in a little while

i fall asleep for a few hours and when i wake up i have another text from Kie

Kie: so Sarah and i decided you ARE coming because we need you!! she told me Rafe will not be there, the boys are coming too nothing bad is going to happen!! get dressed bitch i’ll pick you up at 7

i text JJ, John B, and Pope in a group chat

- me: hey all 3 of you are going to Sarah’s party tonight right?

- John B: yeah i’m here now helping her set up

- Pope: yes i’m picking Cleo up soon

- JJ: yep Kie called me and told me that you’re afraid Captain Douchebag will show up so obviously i will be there… and i would like to drink some alcohol…

- me: thanks boys, see you later <3

i let out a sigh of relief, at least those 3 will be able to handle Rafe if he shows up

i undress myself to take a shower and run my fingers over my yellow healing rib cage where Rafe had kicked me a couple weeks ago

tonight will be fun. tonight will be fun. tonight will be fun. i try to convince myself, i deserve to go out

after i shower i do my hair and makeup then get dressed

i throw on a short pink dress and my birkenstock sandals

7:03pm

text message

- Kie: i’m here

Kie is in my driveway playing music on full blast and dancing like a nut which makes me laugh, i’m always thankful for her trying to lift my spirits

We jam out in the car and get ourselves pumped for the party

When we get there i scan the entire lot for Rafes pickup or dirt bike, neither of which i see

“Relax y/n, he’s not coming” Kie says, she grabs my hand and holds it, we share a smile, hers excited, mine nervous

A giant bonfire glows in the middle of a heard of people

Loud music, beer, liquor, and over 100 people- kooks and pogues combined…

if Rafe isn’t coming, he at least has someone watching

i immediately grab a drink to loosen up so i can enjoy tonight, the first one goes down like water so i pour myself a second

“whoaaa slow down there killa, you’re drinking like me right now!” JJ laughs while nudging my arm “i’ll be right here all night, enjoy yourself, i got you” he says with the sweetest smile

i’m on my 3rd drink and 2nd shot, my cheeks feel rosy and i have the urge to move my hips “Sarah! come dance with me!” i demand while holding out my hand

“sorry babe, my girl needs me” she says to John B getting up from his lap, she grabs hold of my hand and we dance, solo cups in the air

the boys stay close by and enjoy watching us make a fool of our selves while they smoke a joint

my phone vibrates

text message:

- Rafe: don’t drink so much, you’ll get sick

tunnel vision. nausea. panic. swallow it, don’t let anybody know.

“i’ll be right back” i tell Sarah “i need to fill my cup”

“okay” she furrows her eyebrows “you okay?”

i give her a nod and the best smile i could

once i’m out of sight i run to Kie’s car, hopping in and locking the doors, i need to sit down, my heart is pounding out of my chest, i can hear the blood rushing in my ears

*knock knock* i jump out of my skin, i’m met face to face with Barry

“open the door sweetheart” he smiles flashing his gold teeth

this can’t be happening.

i go to grab my phone to call JJ. where is my it?

Barry waves my phone in front of my face taunting me. how the fuck did i drop it?

“open the door y/n, don’t make this difficult” he tugs on the handle “open it, i’m not playing witchu right now” i shake my head “country club wants you to come wit me, y’aint safe here without him” his eyes grow darker, i don’t budge

he gets on the phone, he’s calling Rafe “you either come out on your own or i call him and he pulls you out, your choice” i’m scared. i don’t want to make Rafe mad. but i don’t want to see him. i’m getting a headache.

i make the dumbest decision of my life. i open the door, my hands shaking 100mph.

“that’s it, let’s get you home” he says grabbing my hand hard

my face is burning up. my legs grow weak under me. i’m stone cold sober at this point.

we approach the truck, “Barry please“ i plead “i’m sorry mama, y’know him” he helps me into the passenger seat and buckles me in, “can i have my phone please, i need to tell my friends i went home” i cry “can’t letchu do that, what’s ya password, i’ll text ‘em for you” he says, i shake my head rejecting the offer

he starts the truck and we take off

his phone rings “yeah i got her, she was a good girl, she didn’t fight me” he smirks “we’ll be there soon”

i stay silent, Barry puts his hand on my thigh and i flinch at his touch “what’s wrong sweet thing, scared of a little love?” he laughs

we pull up to Tannyhill, Rafe is standing out front with a whiskey glass in his hand, he raises it and smiles at me

my stomach is in knots

i want to scream for help and run

the other half of me wants to jump into his arms and submit

Barry gets out of the truck and walks around opening my door “c’mon, get out” i jump down and fix my dress and fix a smile in attempt to hide my mixed feelings

“you look nice, who’d you get dressed up for?” Rafe asks “nobody” i reply, he laughs “sexy little thing isn’t she?” he asks Barry, “yessir” he grins

i want to crawl inside my own skin

Rafe grabs me by the arm “let’s get inside” he looks at Barry “you comin? you’re not gonna want to miss this”

he brings me to the couch and sits me down, “what to do with you?” he ponders finishing his drink

“Rafe i want to go home” i whimper

“and you know what i want? a girlfriend that doesn’t dress like a slut and go to parties without me” he seethes “since you wanna act like a slut, take your clothes off, i’ll treat you like a slut” his eyes filled with fury

“i’m not your girlfriend anymore” i whisper

“what was that?” he cocks his head to the side

“nothing” i say

i stand up and slowly pull my dress over my head, my knees becoming weak, leaving me exposed in just my panties in front of him and Barry

“lay down on the couch” he demands, i obey “now touch yourself”

“Rafe please i-“ there’s no use in begging, i bring one hand down to my pussy and run it up and down my panties, the thought of them watching begins to turn me on no matter how hard i try to reject the feeling

“she’s sweet” Barry says licking his lips

“wait til you taste her” Rafe says deviously

their words go straight to my heat, i rub my clit in circles arching my back, trying not to let out a sound

“come here” i say holding my hand out to Rafe, my pussy aching for him

“you’re gonna finish yourself off first” he smirks

Barry adjusts himself clearly growing hard, Rafe watches me like a hawk not missing a beat

i pick up the pace now craving dick inside of me, i throw my head back and whimper coming closer to an orgasm, the band in my belly snaps and my legs start convulsing, i ride out my orgasm and when i’m finished i beg to be fucked “come here- please”

Rafe looks at Barry “try her out” he says patting him on the back

the look of fear on my face. Rafe would never let someone else look at me nevermind fuck me.

“since you wanna act like a slut..” he says shrugging his shoulders, then topping off his whiskey

i become embarrassed, im attracted to Barry but being on display is not something im used to

Barry gets comfortable in the chair and pats his lap, he undoes his belt and slides his pants down to his knees, his hard on is enormous even through his boxers

i try to contain my arousal and walk toward him, looking at Rafe for approval, he nods

i lower myself to my knees and pull Barry’s erection from his boxers, it fills my entire hand

“i ain’t even gotta ask to get my dick sucked, you got this one trained man” he laughs

Rafe walks behind me and manspreads on the couch enjoying every second of this

i seal my mouth on Barry, bobbing my head up and down while working my tongue inside “shhhit” he groans, saliva begins dripping out the sides of my mouth

i go to work on his swollen cock, his moans encouraging me to get the job done “that’s it baby” he takes a sharp breath in

“get up and sit on him, facing me” Rafe commands from behind

i rise from the floor, turn around, push my panties to the floor and kick them off

i slowly seat myself on Barry’s length, i gasp taking all of him inside my cunt

his hands reaching in front of me to grab my breasts, he holds onto them and starts pumping into me from below

i try to hold myself up on the arms of the chair while i’m staring directly into Rafe’s lust filled eyes

“ohhmygod- yes- fuck me-” i moan in between breaths

“how does she feel?” Rafe growls not taking his eyes off of me “like a million bucks country club” Barry replies while slamming his hips into my ass repeatedly

“flip her onto the chair and fuck her brains out” Rafe instructs

Barry pulls me off his lap and flips me around, my chest pushed into the chair and my ass in the air he slams into me showing no mercy

i can’t control the sounds coming from my mouth, moaning, whimpering, and screaming at the way i’m being used

Barry pulls out of me and releases on my ass leaving my pussy dripping “you like that shit huh?” he says rubbing my slit from behind “taste her” Rafe says, Barry sticks his fingers in his mouth savoring the taste of me “just like candy” he tells Rafe

my torso still on the chair and my knees on the floor i lay there weak, trying to control my breathing

Barry gets dressed and pours himself a glass of liquor, sitting in the other chair

“c’mon we’re not done, get up” Rafe says, i try to stand but my legs are weak “i think you broke her” he laughs looking at Barry “sorry man, she’s got great pussy” he says

Rafe walks over to me and wraps his hand around my throat, lifting me to my feet, he sloppily kisses me and without warning plummets two fingers inside of me causing me to scream

“who’s pussy is this?” he asks pushing deeper inside of me, “it’s yours” i choke out, his hand still tight around my wind pipe,

“say it again” he growls

“it’s yours Rafe, i’m all yours” i plead

his hand slips into my hair and he guides me to the couch by my head using me like a rag doll

he throws me down on my stomach then pulls my hips into the air

“look at you, you’re a fuckin mess” he smacks my pussy causing me to cry out “you like that?” he smacks it again, i wince in a mixture of pain and pleasure

Rafe pulls me up by the back of my head “open your mouth” i open and he sticks his fingers inside, i suck his fingers just like i would suck his cock, Rafe loves having his fingers in my mouth “dirty fuckin slut” he says

he removes his fingers and forces them into my tender vagina, he works his hand slowly like he’s dissecting my insides, i move my hips back and forth trying to fuck his hand my pussy screaming to be pounded

“she just can’t get enough huh?” Barry says “i told you she was a good one” Rafe smiles

his slides his warm fingers out of me and spits on my cunt, i feel it drip down to my clit “please-“ i look back at him

Rafe pulls his shorts and boxers down exposing his delicious throbbing cock, he’s leaking precum

i brace myself

he taps the back of my pussy with his dick a few times before sliding it in, i feel myself become full of him “i gonna fuck you like i hate you” he whispers

guttural screams escape my lips as he sinks deeper into my swollen used hole, he feels so good

he pushes my face into the couch “shut the fuck up and take it”

i turn my head to the side to catch my breath and see Barry sipping on his liquor enjoying every moment, i hold eye contact with him while i cry out

Rafe picks up the pace, the sound of our skin smacking engulfs the entire room

it all becomes too much, the overstimulation is extreme, i reach back trying to push him away

“i ain’t done” he growls grabbing both my arms and pinning them behind my back “i’m gonna fuck MY pussy as long as i want”

i’m screaming at this point, i can feel him in my stomach, a new sensation arises in my pussy, stronger then an orgasm “Rafe i- i can’t-“ and then i feel a release and a gush of liquid between my legs

“squirting on me like a dirty whore” he smacks my ass hard, “i fucking love it”

“please- please-“ i sob begging him to stop, my body convulsing, eyes rolling in the back of my head

Rafe slams into once more before cumming inside me, he pulls out and places a gentle kiss on my ass

my body goes limp and i lay flat on the couch, he pulls my hips back up and holds them there, “stay up til you soak all of me in”

i lay there defeated, used, and bruised

Rafe wipes the sweat from his brows and puts his pants back on, he walks over to the table and pours himself another glass of whiskey, clinking cups with Barry

they sit across from my numb body and watch me recover

“you’re such a good girl” Rafe praises “you’re never getting rid of me”

[angelicbitch222]

I just found out my bike got stolen and I’m so sad about it, I used to go biking after every meal last summer. It took me away from my house’s problems so many times, I was emotionally attached to it. It was a really rare expensive bike I got for cheap on Facebook marketplace. Pink and blue with butterflies on it, but sized for an adult. FML. I really hate the people in this world sometimes and it is so disheartening. On the bright side I was going to eat a protein bar but then decided I’m too sad to eat after finding out the news. I don’t have enough money to get another nice bike right now.

[sukunasxsub]

Part ii

Biker!Sukuna X Reader

Here is this version right now for all you ladies who enjoy clubbing

Part 1 above

MDI adult content18+

The club vibing with pop cultured music, the walls vibrating from the bass hitting hard against the floor. Bodies and asses grinding against one another, groping touches by everyone only things in the bedroom would be appropriate for.

Laughing and screaming by a group of girls echoes through the club’s dance floor. Your group of girls vibing and having a time of your lives for your birthday. Though this wasn’t what you wanted to do until a few drinks had hit you and you finally said ‘why the fuck not?’. Eighty percent of the men in the club wanted to get at you or one of you six girls. All eyes on the six of you for being the loudest and hottest women out in this club. Let’s just say your foreigners to this area. Eyes of jealous women and lust from the men bounced back as you girls were here for a god time not a care in the world.

That was until men started getting zero respect for you ladies, especially you, birthday girl. Three of your girls went to the bathroom, and two girls went to get more drinks for the group, leaving you on the dance floor by yourself, but you are just vibing the feel of the music and yourself. Touching on yourself was almost like a sin. You have so many men’s eyes on you, but one set of eyes will be so unknown to you all night.

A hand is suddenly roaming across your body and your tits are being grabbed from behind and another hand going under your shirt to the waist line of your pants. It feels good until you remember your girls are not here with you right now and this is a men’s club. You shove hands off you, screaming to get off you. It’s no use though, the man behind you doesnt care and thinks no one is paying attention and continues to force his way to touch you.

Your screams were relentless and still couldn’t be heard by others or they just thought you were having a good time.

You were suddenly ripped away from being touched so aggressively, into another pair of warm arms, though this time it felt like a safe warm feeling. The guy that had been touching you was suddenly on the ground groaning in pain, holding his cheek. The male who saved you, knelt down and whispered something to the guy and the guy got up and ran out the door. Before the man stood up, your girls came back.

“Oh my god! Y/n are you okay? What happened?” One said and the other late arrival stated “what? What i miss?”

“Did y/n meet a hottie?” One asked. You went to turn your attention back on the man and found him gone.

“EH!!! Where the hell did he go?” You asked and drunk you looked around for a specific guy. A shimmer of a grey coat walked out of the club. You pushed your way through the sea of people and ran out the door too.

“Y/n!!!! Wait!!!” Your friends called out to you but you were already out the door.

Yelling and pleading could be heard around the corner and you stumbled around. You went to make that turn around the corner to the ally but a sports bike came flying out of the alleyway. Shrieks of the tires and brakes echoed through the night as it came to a halting stop. Causing you to stumble and fall on your ass in your heels and short dress, revealing your light colored pink and red rose panties. Curses escaped your lips as you looked up at the guy in a grey sweatshirt hoodie. His black and red lining racing-biker helmet reflecting yourself against his visor. Your legs spread open, you’re too drunk to care or notice, all you care about is getting off the ground and find the guy who helped you, so you can thank him.

The biker revs his throttle three times at you to get your attention and tilts his head to towards the back seat of the bike indicating you to get on. You felt ushered and a need to go with him. He held his outreached hand toward you to take to help you on his bike and you took it and he pulled you up from the ground. As if you weighed nothing, you were cut off guard and flew into his arm and chest,while he stabilized the bike to keep from tipping over. “Woah there cutie” his voice muffled and you couldn’t really hear him. You heard shouting and and foot steps running your way. He didnt have time to wait for you, he took his helmet off and shoved it onto your head and then He grabbed you by the waist and flung your body on the back of the bike and the pegs down and you wrapped your arms around his lower waist tightly and your chest pressed against his back. He shifted the bike into first gear and fast into second gear and left the club.

For a while you enjoyed the ride as you felt the wind slap across your skin and around your body. The man controlling the bike was taking inconsideration of you on the back. 20 minutes later he parked at an apartment complex and got off the bike first. You didn’t have time to see his face when he threw you on the bike. Now his face in the dim moonlight lighting you got a good look at his jaw line and facial tattoos. You gasped. Is this the same man from the park two weeks ago?

You stared at him as he shut his bike off. He reached out to you and he was hesitant and didnt want to make you feel uncomfortable but you made no effort to take the helmet off and made no effort to stop him either. He touched the helmet and slowly slid it over your head and face. Revealing your soft plump cheeks and red nose and really red drunken lips.

“I brought you to my home, but you were in the wrong place and wrong time and I could not afford for someone like you to show up dead at my club. So I’ll take you home tomorrow, but for now welcome.” He states as he eyes you. You blink at him in admiration and innocent doe eyes. Your eyes are like a wonder of curiosity as you look at him with a small pout.

That intense stare softens and his eyebrows rose in shock or concern. Dumbfounded by your look of innocence. He is wondering are you always like this or just to drunk to care about your where about?

“Alrighty, up you go, let’s headed inside so a pretty girl like you doesnt catch a cold.” He grabs your waist and lifts you off the bike with one arm as the other carries your purse and his helmet. He sets you on the ground and for some reason afraid to let you go and grabs your hand. Mean while your heart is beating and you being a hopeless romantic that you are running through your mind and memories of every romance adult book you have read and the scenarios of what happens next. A motorcycle guy and a drunk girl, means bad news, heated sex, heated make out session, but to him that isnt any of his intentions on a beautiful girl like you who is drunk. He literally wanted you yes, from the moment at the park. You didnt fear him, and gave him a look of certainty and acknowledgment as if he you knew him like the back of your hand.

Though when he saw you at the club with your girls he was shocked and felt suddenly possessive and needed to be your guy to keep those filthy guys who kept making turns at your group for your ladies attention. He would make it known that you were his and to leave you ladies alone, though would never tell you that. He also wanted to know who you are as a person and wanted to know what kind of girl you really were, little miss innocent wasn’t really his impression of you. You stared at him on his bike like he was the prey and you wanted a taste of the thrill of being his backpack and the thrill of what he was and maybe even who he was. A dangerous man on a dangerous bike and you wanted a taste of being the bad boys princess for the first time in your hopeless romantic life. A thrill you longed for in your boring life, where you felt the thrill in the books you read instead. He saw that in the lip bite expression you made when he revved his engine at you. He saw the light brighten in your eyes as you heard the bike growl in the exhaust. You had a thing for sports bikes. Maybe you were his kind of girl. He’s never found a women such full of excitement AND full of innocence as much as you are. He has never allowed anyone into his home, or know anything about him and here he is, allowing a girl ride on the back of his bike, and wanting to get to know you. His interest in women were very few and only enjoyed the flings for a night with a few different women. He always sent them home before he even fell asleep, so they couldn’t stay after the sex and expect him to cuddle or even consider him getting feelings for them.

When you entered his apartment, you stare back at yourself in the mirror of his bathroom, a hot mess you are. You take a wash cloth from his bathroom closet that you looked in specifically for the towel. Make up smeared across your eyes, your hair disheveled by the helmet and good time. Your dress so tight you wanted it off.

A knock came from the door, “hey, i have a pair of sweats and t shirt you are welcome to wear since you may be more comfortable.” You open the door and smile at him.

“Thank you, I hope you dont mind, I barrowed a towel from the closet and yes, please.” You say gentley taking the clothes from his hands.

“It’s not a problem. You can shower too.” His gruff voice says as he closes the door for privacy.

To

Be

Continued….

An update for part three will be up very soon most likely Tuesday or Wednesday night. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please share and like there will be more juicy parts and more biker sukuna most likely the next chapter. 

[okaioh]

it's so funny trying to image q!roier(doied), full fledged adult, on his pink skateboard racing against a literal baby on a bike with it's training wheels still attached

[onlyrains]

Hi dear! I am wondering if you could make any writings about monji from housen? He looks really adorable duh 💖💖

a/n: hi, sweetie! yes, i can and i think he's adorable too😍. thank you for requesting, by the way. hope you like it!💗

[4:34pm]

— t/w: harsh word

“i miss this so much.”

monji turns his head to you as you lick your strawberry ice cream in your hand.

“what? ice cream? yeah, me too.”

“no. i mean this.” you open your both arms. “walking at the park, after rain, with ice cream, with you.” you continue.

“oh…”

“we used to do this a lot, right? but we can't now, means we're already becoming an adults. we're busy.”

monji chuckles at your babbling. “are we suddenly going to talk about life?” he asks.

you pinch his stomach a little. “i'm serious!” you nag.

he continuously laugh. “okay, okay, i'm sorry. i'm not used to it.”

you sigh as you keep eating your ice cream. monji peek at you quietly and let out the voice in his head, “it matches your cardigan, by the way. it looks pretty.”

you look at him with a ‘what-do-you-mean’ frown.

“the ice cream.” he replies as he give you a quick smile. you look down at your pink cardigan and eventually understood what he means.

“oh, right! you have to know i bought this cute cardigan with my first salary.” you tell him cheerfully.

“oh, wow, you even got your salary?”

you nod repeatedly. “the cafe was busy last month, so they gave me extra money, and i make a lot of new friends as well.”

he listens to your chatter while looking at you carefully. it is no surprise if a lot of people wants to be friends with you, he thinks. he surely happy knowing you, his childhood best friend, happy. but he also feels you two are too far from each other. he doesn’t know what will keep you both close.

“what about you?” you ask him after a moment. he just gave you a smile to response to your story and he didn't say a word afterwards, making you worried.

“me?” he pointing at himself.

you nod. “yeah, tell me about your school.”

“nothing special.” he shrug.

“nothing? but i often heard that it is quite interesting. the students are bald but why aren't you?”

“do you want me to be bald?” he asks while munching his ice cream's cone.

“you can choose to be not bald?”

“the leaders are not bald.” he informs reluctantly. he’s not even looking at you.

“oh… so you are the leader?” you ask again enthusiastically.

“no. not yet.”

“but what's the leaders? why do they need leaders? for what?”

he groans silently at himself. you don't know anything about housen and he actually wants you to stay so. it isn't like he try to hide it from you, it is just he doesnt want to be the one who explain it to you. you'll be worried or worse, you'll pity him. he remembers the look on your face when you find him have a fight with other guy in middle school. he still hates to see it.

“you ask too much.” he says. you stay silent for a moment.

“can i come to housen?” you ask.

he turns to you and immediately shook his head. “no. that is no way.”

“why?”

“it's only boys school. you are not allowed to come.”

“okay, then i will wait for you in front of the school.”

“no.”

“why?”

“just no.”

“but i want—” you can't finished your sentence due to the shock you felt after a bike passing next to you hit a water puddles and it splashed to your clothes.

“oh my god…” you mumble.

“OI!” monji shout at the cycler. “DON'T RUN, YOU BASTARD.”

he almost leave you to run after the culprit but you quickly hold his wrist. “no, it's okay.”

“he needs to apologize to you.” he says with a cold voice.

“i'm fine, monji.” you make your voice an octave higher to assure him.

he looks at you and then your clothes, your new cardigan.

“don't worry, my mom knows how to fix it.” you smile even though you can not say you are happy with the situation.

“oi, monji!” you can hear someone calling from not too far. then you can see someone with a white jacket approching you and you see monji's face is so shock that his eyes could leave its place.

then you see him bowing when the guy finally arrive in front of you two.

“should i bow too?” you whisper innocently.

“no.” the white jacket guy answer you quickly. his voice was not really friendly, so you step back a little.

“why are you here, shidaken-san?” monji ask him.

“me? why are you here, stupid? jinkawa is looking for you. let's go.” shidaken taps monji's shoulder once as a sign to follow him to housen. but monji is still aware that you're there.

you frown, confused with what just happened. “is he your boss?”

shidaken heard your question and turn around.

“can i take her home first? i can't leave her alone here.” monji ask before his senior let out a word.

shidaken looks at you, still with unfriendly look. “okay, quick.” he sigh.

monji smile unintendedly. “i'll meet you at housen, shidaken-san.”

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

jack ‘canary’ skalbek — full backstory

this is incredibly self indulgent, but i wanted to get it out of my chest, i guess. it's raw and silly at times but i love it all the same and i hope you do too. ive never posted my writing on tumblr so i really hope it does ok out here heh.

18+ for swearing, canon COD violence, no explicit sex but alluding to further acts, just generally not for minors ! adult topics and characters individual trauma discussed within .

There’s something to be said about the haze of being a teenager in California in the early aughts. The warm, all-over feeling of the sun beating down on tanned, freckled skin. Bruised knees, busted knuckles. Spending every day in a lake or a river, god forbid the chlorine riddled soup of a swimming pool, making the most out of what time is had.

Jack Skalbek was, by all accounts, an average teenager, who did average teenage things. Smoking pot behind the bleachers when he should be in class, watching his marginally more athletic friends throw themselves at gym class like it actually mattered. Football, soccer — whatever it was, he could usually find Keegan and Alex there.

Keegan, a year his senior, and Alex a year older, the closest things he could call his friends. They’d spent much of their childhood daydreams running around town together, iPod plugged into a speaker on the back of one of their bikes, blasting some obnoxiously emo music that all of them indulged in. 2004 lends itself to that aspect, dyed hair and painted nails, one too many chains hanging off of Jack’s wallet.

Alex would never speak of it, but he could see it in little glimpses. Catch the fleeting hand-holds and hushed laughter, that look.

There was no way they weren't feeling something.

They just didn't know what to call it.

Sitting on the roof of Jack’s parent’s house, having climbed up through an access point that certainly wasn't meant to be used by 16 year olds, Keegan and Jack lingered. Long past Alex’s curfew, his need to return home leaves them in each other's presence.

“You decide anything about college yet?” Keegan asked, watching Jack fumble with his lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette between his lips. They tasted awful, and he didn't even like the nicotine buzz, but the ‘deep breathing' exercise was relaxing.

“No — I mean, I still have a year.” Jack huffed, sighing with satisfaction as he got it to light. The burn in his throat was comforting, but his attention was more focused on Keegan. “Did you?”

“Yeah.” Keegan murmured, his voice low and quiet. “I, uh, I was talkin’ to a recruiter downtown the other day.”

“Oh? Is that why you blew off our mall date?”

“It wasn't a date, but yes.” Keegan chuckled, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands. Worn from use, he slipped his thumbs through holes in the cuffs, the heather gray fabric fraying at the edges. He felt like he was doing the same thing, some days.

“So, like, what sport? Did you get picked up for football?”

“No, I mean, like — a Marine recruiter.”

“Oh! Yeah, I got that letter too — you actually went and talked to those guys?” Jack snickered, but Keegan was infinitely more serious about it. He had really gone and discussed a future in the military? What future was there in something like that? Brutish violence and bloodshed, all for some rich man’s greed — proxy wars.

“I mean, yeah. Alex came with me. They said I’d be a prime candidate. I’m taking the test soon to see where I place, but they said my grades were high enough that —”

“Slow down.” Jack turned to face the other boy entirely, the warm glow of the setting sun painting him somewhere between coral pink and tangerine. His eyes, though, were still an icy blue. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You joined?”

“Enlisted.” The dark haired boy shrugged, fixing his gaze on Jack’s. “It’s no big deal, Jackie.”

“It’s a really big deal.”

“It’s not — it's the same as if you told me you were gonna go to art school in New York City.”

“Art school doesn't get me killed.” Jack said softly, almost embarrassed that his qualm with the entire thing was the idea of his person Keegan dying. His cheeks were flushed red, all heated up and uncomfortable. He averted his gaze, but Keegan's hand on his cheek returned him to reality.

“Is that what bothers you about it?”

“It's dangerous, Keegan. Y-You could get shot, or lose a leg, or —”

“I can live without a leg.”

“You're not funny.” Jack groaned, pushing Keegan's hand away only to feel it in his hair this time, fingers laced in-between his long grey-blonde hair. It grounded him, making his thoughts clear up and focus down to just one, very clear idea. “I don't want you to go. I-I thought you had to be 18 to enlist.”

“If I pass all the tests, they’ll make an exception. It’s still a couple months out, I’ll be 18 by the time I get out on deployment.” Keegan said whilst gently brushing through Jack’s hair, a bit tangled from being wet earlier that day, knotted with pool water. “This is somewhere I can make a difference.”

“But why does it have to be you?” Jack replied, having long forgotten his cigarette by now. It was mostly ash, all balanced perfectly at the end. One little twitch of his hand and it all fell off, leaving half an inch of smokable length behind. It didn't matter anymore, though.

“Because if I don't, and I just assume someone else will, nothing’ll ever change.”

“How poetic.” Jack mumbled, closing his eyes as Keegan’s hand drew forward, back to his jaw. Soft, gentle, well intentioned. Better than anyone that Jack could ever pray to fill the gap Keegan would surely leave behind with. It made his heart ache knowing that these nights were fleeting, slipping through his fingers already and Keegan hadn't even passed his exams yet. “Promise that you’ll come back from wherever they send you?”

Keegan bit back the words that came to mind first, acknowledging that he couldn't promise to come back. Men and women die all of the time overseas, and he could likely become one of the many that don’t come home outside of a casket. He looked down at Jack, those soft brown eyes enamored with him, and knew he had to make that impossible promise.

“I’ll come back to you.”

It happened quickly. His exams came up fast and he passed them with flying colors, eviscerating the physical testing all the same. Even with the sword of Damocles above their heads, they continued to share hurried kisses and late nights, begging for a few minutes more from the universe. Fighting the timer with every movement. Pressured by the impending doom, Jack started applying to colleges — it was a year too soon, but if Keegan could weasel his way into the Marine Corps at 17 then he could finesse his way into some pretentious art school.

Flashes in his memory now, images of his acceptance letter and Keegan’s coming just days apart, his call to action a far greater anomaly. He and Alex would be leaving for the opposite side of the country in a matter of weeks, ensuring Jack felt helpless. His best friends, whisked away to die in the middle of the desert.

The night before Keegan needed to be at the airport, to be sworn in and shipped off, he didn't spend a second longer at home than he needed to. He was at Jack’s house the second he finished packing, duffel bags discarded at the front door. Mrs. Skalbek would surely move them and re-fold the messy clothes, probably even press his uniform nicely for the next day — she knew it, too, the way that her boy was enraptured by the Russ kid.

She didn't mind, even if Keegan’s parents did. He was leaving, now, she could at least provide them with a safe home for one more evening.

Keegan half expected Jack to break down in tears, begging for him to change his mind or something, but he didn't. He opened the window of his room instead, letting the salt air in, a gentle breeze cooling the room down. Christmas lights strung from the ceiling the only real illumination save for the fading sunset, casting a pinkish glow over everything. On his desk, a closed sketchbook with about a million drawings of Keegan and Alex, though there was a distinct pattern of a particular set of blue eyes repeating every few pages. Then there was Jack laying on his bed, swallowed whole by the comforter, his sad and tired eyes fixed on Keegan in the doorway.

They skipped the “awkward” part fairly quickly.

No hello or how are you, just straight and to the point. Wrapped up in each other’s arms above the sheets, bodies warm and hazy at the edges, blurring the lines between a tangle of limbs. Jack didn't say a word as he closed his eyes and breathed in the achingly familiar scent of the gold standard of a boy he’d grown to love.

“Don’t get hung up on me, alright?” Keegan asked, sleep laced between his words.

“What’d’you mean?”

“Like…go and do whatever you’re gonna do in LA. Don’t worry about me. I can handle my own.”

“Respectfully, shut the fuck up. I’ll be worried about you until you’re home.”

“M’not gonna change your mind, am I?”

“No.” Jack replied, pulling Keegan in closer. It was much too hot for proximity like this, but neither seemed to care.

“At least make some good memories so we have somethin’ to talk about when I come back.”

Jack hummed in reply and drifted off to sleep against his will, waking up without another body in his bed. In a panic he sat up, making his head spin, but he realized Keegan was just getting dressed. He hadn't left yet. The uniform he wore looked foreign on his frame, a little too big on him, but he looked happy enough in it. Keegan looked up when Jack startled awake, a slight frown on his face.

“Wanted to slip out without wakin' you.”

“You didn't say goodbye.”

“That was the point, Jackie.” Keegan chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing his boots up with unpracticed hands. “I didn't wanna make you have to go through a goodbye.”

He was right. Goodbye sounded awful. It took Jack a moment of contemplation before he settled on an alternative, his half asleep brain convincing him it was a great idea.

“I love you.” Jack spoke softly, though confident in those three words. They'd remained an unspoken law thus far, only now being brought into the fabric of reality. They made Keegan stop in his tracks for a split second.

“I love you, too, Jackie.” He replied, his voice a solemn tone. After he finished tying his boots he turned and placed a kiss on Jack’s forehead, rustling his hair up one more time for good measure. “I’ll text you when I get to base. Be safe.”

‘made it 2 base. no phone 4 a few months. alex says hi. xx keegs.’

Jack loved and hated those text updates every single time he received one. They were few and far in-between, but they meant the world. It was all he really had left of Keegan. The following summer, after nearly a year of no real contact, Jack finally got a phone call. He was moving into his dorm at UCLA when his phone started blaring Keegan’s ringtone, setting his mind on high alert. Jack fumbled his phone open, pressing the green answer button as soon as his fingers stopped shaking enough to do so.

“Keegan?”

“Jackie.”

He’s alive.

“Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice. Holy shit.” Jack laughed, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes from the sheer emotional weight. He could hear idle chatter in the background, Alex’s voice included, carrying on about something he didn't quite understand. “How has it been?”

“Listen, I don't have a lot of time. We’re gonna be leaving for Tel Aviv, soon.” Keegan sounded all too serious, some of that warmth and wonder gone from his voice. It’d dropped an octave, too. “S’been good, Jackie. I just wanted to call and talk to you before we hit dirt.”

“Tel Aviv?” Jackie mumbled. “You’re in the middle of the war?”

“Fuckin’ neck deep in it.” Keegan replied quietly. “You made it to LA, right?”

“Didn't know you still got my texts.”

“Of course I do. I just — I don't have time to reply, some days. I don't have a good excuse, either. Just want to make sure you know I meant it, back then. Miss you like hell.”

“S’that your girl?” Someone’s voice called from a distance, earning a huff out of Keegan. “Is she hot?”

“Shut your fuckin’ trap!” He barked back. “Sorry, Jackie. Listen, I — I gotta bounce, I don't know how long we’ll be out here. Be safe for me, okay?”

“I — yeah, of course, K.” Jack stuttered, running a hand back through his hair in a self-soothing manner. Though Keegan hadn't said the words, Jack wanted to make sure that the point got across that he understood. “I love you, too.”

Click.

Radio silence did not begin to describe what followed that phone call. Jack pushed down his anxiety for a long, long while, ignoring all of the news outlets claiming that a civilian hospital in Tel-Aviv had been assaulted and defended by U.S. Marines. That there had been countless casualties, that those men would be honored posthumously with medals and awards. He didn't read a single article out of fear that he would see Keegan Russ or Alex Johnson in the list of names.

College flew by. The war raged on. He didn't hear from Keegan, his family, no one. Even when his mother called, he blew her off, fearing that she was calling to break the news of his untimely death in the Middle East. Birthday after birthday, year after year, and he had not even begun to fill the space in his chest with something real. Uppers and downers, party culture — it was his way of smothering the pain temporarily, far better than anything his psychologist offered him in way of coping.

Deep breathing exercises and journaling didn't bring Keegan back.

Nothing did.

Not drinking, not partying, not kissing strangers in bars — nothing.

The world continued to strife while Jack continued to linger in 2004, the better part of him remaining on the rooftop of his mom’s house. He especially noticed his inability to change with the rest of the world as ‘The Federation of the Americas’ rose to power. News of their rampage spread like wildfire until they, themselves had spread closer and closer to the U.S. Even when their leader was assinated, it didn't stop them.

Tensions were high, tides ebbing and flowing with every passing day, until 2017.

Jack Skalbek had settled into his life in Los Angeles. He had a house that he rented with a few roommates, a cat, a rather nice car — nothing was too awful those days. He could go outside on his porch and rip a bong like his life depended on it, seeing stars in broad daylight, and —

Wait.

Those aren't stars. It’s broad daylight.

Jack blinked a couple of times as he raised his hand over his eyes, shielding out the harsh glow of the sun. There were small pieces of something hurtling towards the earth, like shooting stars, and as they drew closer he knew they weren't small. They were large, flaming chunks of a spacecraft or something — that was the only logical explanation.

People were running. Something was rumbling.

Impact.

The earth split in two, directly through Los Angeles, and all Jack could do was run. He ran like he never had before, stumbling through the literally broken streets with little regard for anything else. His cat, Molly, leapt out into the street (he never quite stopped thanking God for that) and he scooped her up, hauling ass as fast as he could.

He never really stopped running.

Molly learned to stay at his side, mewling as they traversed what remained of Los Angeles for a while, eventually forced up North by the Federation’s invasion. Before he knew it, Jack had found company with a military squad, having been on base whenever ODIN hit. They stuck together in the aftermath, and when they found Jack essentially camping in the wilderness, they picked him up. At least then, he was “camping” with a group of heavily armed, skilled soldiers.

It didn't last long, the ideation that he could just tag along. Before he knew it, Lieutenant Ames had shoved a rifle into his hands.

“You're too tall to be a sniper and too lanky to be close quarters, so you’re gonna scout. Think you can manage that, Skalbek?” Ames asked, watching Jack inspect the rifle. He’d never used a gun before, or held one, but he supposed that now was as good a time as any to learn how. It would likely be the only difference between him living and dying, so it felt important.

A distant memory these days, although a sweet one, Keegan would have been proud of him. He had passable marksmanship, steady artist hands coming in handy for such a task. His lungs were a weakness, but it wasn't exactly commonplace to come upon large quantities of smokable substances in their travels. Stretching a pack of cigarettes became a habit, until he was barely smoking them at all. Once he could hold his breath long enough to get a few shots off, he was good enough.

That was all that mattered. He could protect himself in the wild.

Jack spent years with the same crew of men, calling them brothers. He never grew too close, never squinted to see Keegan’s face in theirs — he didn't think of those blue eyes often those days. It was hard to dream of good things in such a bad place, like a war-torn America, in desperate need of saving.

Jack just prayed that Keegan was alright, wherever he may be, whatever he may be doing. He had to have survived the initial attack in Tel Aviv.

The soldiers would gossip about a team of men that came from Santa Monica, made up of the survivors from Tel Aviv — fifteen men out of sixty that came out on top when up against five hundred Federation attackers. Ghosts, they were called, a supernatural force that somehow overcame the odds.

He believed that men had survived, but he didn't believe that they were so mythical. Though, after so many years of dissidence, some will cling to those little miracles out of desperation.

Hope was a very dangerous thing for anyone to have, let alone some random man from Northern California that barely survived Los Angeles' implosion, but he had it. Even if he would never admit such a thing aloud for fear of it being taken away. Jack spent most of his time from 2017 until 2022 doing the best he could to hold himself together, and eventually in the winter of that year, it came crashing down.

He woke up to gunshots. Loud, quick, violent. Close. Jack startled awake and reached for his rifle, but before he could even aim he felt a firm thunk on the side of his head. Everything hurts, his head ringing until he falls unconscious, and everything goes painfully black.

Jack had never been knocked unconscious before, but he learned quickly that the wake-up was infinitely worse than the go-down. Nothing was worse than realizing he was chained up, though. His hands were cuffed above his head, the distinct taste of copper rich on his tongue as his eyes fluttered.

“Fuck…” Jack breathed, the sound of his lungs almost wet. He’d surely aspirated his own blood, but he couldn't be certain he wasn't waterboarded by the way his lungs felt liquidy. “Hello?”

Mistake.

A Federation soldier joined him in that cell within seconds, and he learned to keep his mouth shut from then on. It went on for a week straight, the torture, getting beat senseless day in and out by Feds just for fun. They’d laugh, dump alcohol on his gaping wounds, break bones like it was a game. One of them took a bat to his knee on the last day of that first week, and he was sure that he would die in that cell.

Cold. Alone. Bloody.

Months went by. Long, arduous. Sometimes he wouldn't see another human being for several days, and then he would be forced to take a beating alongside another of the soldiers from his company. He wasn't sure when he started referring to himself as one of them, as a soldier, but the Feds saw him that way too.

Corporal Skalbek. The punching bag.

Six. Long. Months.

He was happy that he was still alive on occasion, but most days were spent half-conscious and starving for breath. He couldn't even scream anymore. His throat was so terribly dry he was certain that it was only wet from his blood, coating every gulp with the distinct taste of it. If he coughed, it’d sputter out and paint his pale flesh with an array of sanguine specks, blending with the other stains from the physical abuse. Bruises littered his body, alongside gashes and lacerations, marks from where ligatures had dug into his skin.

The handcuffs were always the worst, a little too rusty and worn, sure to give him tetanus if he survived this ordeal. But, in some sort of optimistic turn, he wasn't sure he would survive it.

If Jack closed his eyes, he could almost hear Marines charging the camp, barking orders over gunfire. That, however, was a fantasy, just like the idea of going home was. Well, at least back to the U.S.. LA wasn't home anymore, and he didn't rightly have a place to live since the soldiers he ran with were always moving, but he would be happy to live in an abandoned motel for the rest of his days at this rate.

Fantasies of a better life left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside despite the exhaustion gripping his every emotion. He was sure, now, that he was starting to see things that weren't really there. Disturbed cognitive functioning is a symptom of mental deterioration, and with the way his mind was creating custom imagery of Marines coming to save him he had to be close to death at this rate. The deafening sound of gunfire traveled closer down the hallway, echoing off the walls alongside the repetitive drum-beat of bootfalls.

“Clear every room — I want every last one of these boys to survive.” A voice shouted, followed by a few affirmative replies of some kind. Jack perked up, straining the cuffs holding his hands up, aggravating the painful friction wounds. A fresh stream of blood ran down his forearms, warm and wet.

It took a few minutes for him to actually believe that someone was here to rescue him from this hell, but once he did he started fighting his restraints. Trying desperately to make the chains jingle but failing at that as well. The pain in his wrists was too much to simply push through it, and he truthfully couldn't feel the lower half of his body anymore. He tried to push himself up on his knees but they were in pure agony.

It wasn't fair.

They’d never hear him.

When they came to the door of his cell, a pair of eyes appeared in the barred enclosure, glancing the room over. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg for mercy, but once more nothing came out. Jack fought his restraints once again and the eyes lit up. Next thing he knew, the door was wide open and he was sure that this was all some vivid hallucination before his death.

The man looked to be a grim reaper, or a twisted angel of mercy. His eyes were nearly white, they were so blue and he knew right then and there that it was him.

He couldn’t mistake those eyes.

“Hey — look’a’me. You’re gonna be jus’ fine.” The man’s voice was low and gravelly, husky in every sense of the word. He went to whimper his excitement but, well…it came out as a coughing fit, blood coating his dry lips once again. Did he not recognize Jack? Has so much changed? Did he not look like himself anymore? “Don't push yourself.”

Jack huffed and sat patiently as the man, who’s last name was too blurry to read and he knew it anyway, broke the cuffs off his wrists with bolt cutters. It hurt, but it reminded him that this was actually happening and that he was alive still. Air still filled his lungs at a quickened pace, he could still feel the warmth of another person’s flesh on his. The man had gloves on, but there was life in his touch — gripping Jack’s fragile and broken body.

“Can you walk?” He asks. Jack shakes his head rapidly and the man doesn't reply, picking the semi-emaciated other up without hesitation. When they enter the hallway, Jack can see the blurry outlines of other men populating the space, both his soldier friends and Marines. “Merrick! Got the last one — he’s not doing too hot.”

“Exfil’s outside — he’s still breathing?’ ‘Merrick’ called back, a fuzzy figure in the distance.

“Barely. Pulse is thready.” The man holding him barked back to Merrick, leaving Jack wondering if he would die anyways, regardless of being saved. It was getting hard to stay awake now that he knew he wasn't going to be stuck in captivity any longer, his eyelids fighting sleep. He knew he was safe. “Hey — stay awake. Eyes on me.”

Jack suddenly felt his eyes open wide again, fixing on the man holding him. He felt like a teenager all over again, looking up through tired eyes on that last day before he lost his best friends to a war he was now fighting, too.

“There we go…eyes on me. Just a few more minutes.” Focusing on that voice wasn't hard. It had gotten deeper, but it was as familiar as breathing.

It was just a few more, in truth. Jack found himself seated in the back of a Humvee, bleeding all over the fabric interior. His body begged for sleep but his blue-eyed angel kept nudging him awake, occasionally pinching his arm to make sure he felt something enough to keep him awake.

“Stop it. You fall asleep, you die.” He huffed in frustration as Jack dozed off again.

“Don't be such a prick, Keegan. He’s a prisoner of war.” Merrick called from the front passenger seat, gazing back at Jack and his mangled body. A mess of limbs and blood, but with the widest smile he could possibly muster. It was him. In the flesh, breathing right in front of him, holding his hand. “You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

Oh, he would be just fine.

Upon arriving in Fort Santa Monica, he was allowed to rest. Anesthetic sleep was never truly restful, as it was artificial, but it was enough for him to walk in a more lucid state. His vision wasn't blurry, his head was no longer pounding, and he didn't taste blood.

A much better day in Jack’s book by a hundred miles.

He rolled onto his side and overlooked the small med-bay, the typical hustle and bustle of a hospital environment carrying on beyond the curtain. It smelled sterile there, but it was welcome in comparison to the scent of rust and rot. The flat white surface of the curtain was disrupted by a hand, followed by the presence of Keegan fucking Russ.

“Didn't think you'd be awake so soon.” He sort of darts his gaze away from Jack, embarrassed that he’d come to sit with a man that he’d presumed to be unconscious. The trouble, though, really came when Jack went to reply. No noise came out. His throat was sore, but it likely only felt that way because morphine was smothering any real pain he would normally be feeling. He touched at his throat anxiously, fingertips dancing across bandages wrapped around the entirety of his neck. “I can do most of the talking, s’alright. I’d like to know who I’m talking to, though. You know sign language or something?”

Jack rolled his eyes. It definitely made sense for him, a person with functional vocal chords and ears six months ago, to have learned sign language. Keegan chuckled at the display of attitude, not a clue in his mind still that he was who he was.

“Stop me when I say the right letter. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J—”

Jack tapped Keegan’s hand. A flash of recognition crossed his face before he continued.

“Okay, J. A—”

Another tap.

“J-A…A, B, C—”

Tap.

“Jack?” Keegan spoke softly. “You — sorry, you kinda look like someone I know. His name was Jack, too. When LA went, he went, too.”

Huh? How had he even heard something like that? How was he so certain that Jack was dead?

“Nevermind. I’m, uh, Sergeant, First Class. Keegan Russ. You in pain or anything, Jack? I’m sure I could get them to sneak you a little extra morphine or something. Maybe a cigarette? Not that you should smoke with your throat torn open, I guess…”

Jack stared up at him. If there was any uncertainty, it was resolved immediately.

“What’s that fuckin’ look for?”

Jack went to speak and he literally squeaked in place of words. God damnit.

“Exactly. Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be around with a better way for you to talk, later.” Keegan said as he left, pulling the curtain shut once again. Instead of throwing a fit because Keegan didn't recognize him, Jack opted for sleep, coiling up on his side as the morphine lulled him into a sense of security, the warmth putting him out like a light.

A man of his word as he always had been, Keegan returned after Jack got some much-needed sleep, food, and water. He looked somewhat disappointed though, taking a seat across from Jack’s bed.

“Does a pen and paper work? I really thought I’d have a more innovative solution to the, uh, no-talking thing but…” Keegan said sheepishly as he snatched the medical clipboard from the side table of Jack’s bed, flipping to a blank sheet of paper before handing it to Jack alongside a pen.

‘It’s fine.’ Jack wrote, turning it to face Keegan. ‘My wrists hurt, though.’

“I figured — Doc said you got some pretty deep lacs. I’ll keep it brief. Your last name?”

‘Skalbek.’

“No it isn't.” Keegan’s expression dropped. “Don't fuck around. Who the fuck told you that?”

Jack furrowed his brow and turned the clipboard around, scribbling out a response as fast as he could before Keegan reasonably flipped out. ‘Do I not look the same?’

“You're not Jackie.”

‘How can I prove it?’

“You can't. Fucking…that's a sick prank, you know that? Whoever the hell told you his name is gettin' gutted.” Keegan stood up and turned to leave, only serving to frustrate Jack more. How did he not recognize him? It would seem that while he was excited to see Keegan again, Keegan was…upset? He licked his lips, dry and cracked as they were, and did the only thing he figured would work.

He whistled.

He whistled the tune to Drowning Lessons by My Chemical Romance. It was cheesy and fucking stupid, but he knew for a fact that Keegan knew it because they’d bought the CD together. They didn’t rip it off of Limewire or Napster, no, they bought the actual disc.

They would listen to that song on repeat, Jack never quite shutting up about the bridge and the melodies of Gerard Way’s gang vocals, and Keegan always said it was easily the best song on the record. He knew that they were never really together, and they never had a song, but if they did it would be that. He whistled until Keegan’s expression softened up, and he pulled his mask up over his head.

Same oceanic blue eyes, same slightly crooked nose, a few more scars. Still Keegan.

“I searched the wreckage at that address he — you sent me.”

Now, it was Jack’s turn for rightful emotional revelations. Keegan still got his texts in 2017? He only texted out of habit, out of a desire to vent every once in a while to nobody, even knowing that Keegan was dead. Being convinced that he was, at least.

“I found a body, I…”

‘Housemate. I had three.’ Jack wrote, urgent this time.

“He was so-so burnt that I…I thought the worst, I guess, I —” Keegan stuttered, his eyes never quite leaving Jack. The gap between them was much too far all of a sudden. “I need a minute.”

‘Take your time.’ Jack wrote back, but Keegan was gone before he could even turn the paper around. He sighed and leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes once again. He would never know, but Keegan practically bolted outside because he didn't want to crack in front of anyone, let alone Jack. The dark haired man locked himself in a broom closet and covered his mouth with his gloved hand, chest heaving with pure emotion as he panicked. His entire world view was shattered by that one living, breathing man out there.

Keegan Russ was not a man that broke down often. He fought back the urge to feel anything about this for two decades, to let his emotions get the best of him, but there was little he could do to stop it now. Jack was alive, a miracle in it of itself, but he was right there in front of Keegan. Busted and bruised, shattered bones and a scruffy face, but it was Jack.

He always regretted not getting a hold of him once they survived Tel Aviv, but there was little he could do about his mistakes now. They had already been done. Truthfully at the time it didn't seem like such a terrible thing, Keegan always had the hope that he would make it to UCLA to see Jack when the war ended, but it never did. Then, he looked forward to seeing him again when he moved to the outskirts of the city, but when ODIN struck LA…

In his mind, Jack had died. He had already mourned him and their brief respite of time together. The grief was simply something he grew around, letting it become a piece of his past that he could lovingly look back upon. Smile, knowing he gave Jack the best version of himself, untainted by war and violence.

Now what was he?

A killer, hardened by years of killing Federation soldiers indiscriminately, unable to look himself in the mirror on the bad days. The last thing that they never see coming. A ghost.

Jack didn't deserve that.

After all of that time, of burying his first and only semblance of love in the backyard outside next to who he used to be, he was sitting right there. If he opened up the door right in front of himself, he was right out there.

He moved his hand from his mouth once he was sure his breathing had regulated down to normal, taking a couple of shaky and unsure breaths before feeling satisfied. The last thing he needed was for their medic to appear out of nowhere and start prodding Jack again, only to see Keegan visibly shaken by seemingly nothing.

It wasn't Jack's fault that everything panned out the way it did, and if it was anyone’s fault it would be Keegan’s. He left, not the other way around. In fact, his squad was responsible for Tel Aviv, which sparked the following energy crisis, inevitably landing them where they are today. Here. In Santa Monica, perhaps the last safe place close to No Man’s Land.

There were two options.

He could, reasonably, walk away and let the medical staff deal with Jack. This could end right here and now, send him on his way with the survivors of the squad he was found with. Keegan would never have to see him again, never have to let him see this mangled version of himself that he had become.

Alternatively, he could walk back out there and sit back down, and start from the top. A do-over. Pretend that the last twenty or so years weren't so long, own up to his fuckups, and make a new starting point here and now. It would be infinitely more difficult, but Keegan also knew that it was indubitably the right thing to do.

With a few more seconds of silence to think about what he was about to choose, he stood up from the pile of boxes he’d been sitting on in the closet, and then went right back to Jack’s side.

“Sorry.” Keegan said quietly as he re-opened and shut the curtain again, sort of standing at the end of the bed rather than sitting in the chair he had previously been in. He was too full of anxious energy to sit down, having to actively think about not tapping his boot on the tile floor. “I just — you have to understand why this is weird for me.”

‘I thought the same when you unchained me.’ Jack wrote, earning a little sad-puppy look from Keegan. It was much harder to see Jack all beaten up and bruised knowing that it was, in fact, Jack.

“You don't look the same, for the record. I don't know who this badass, battle-worn version of Jackie is.”

‘Me neither.’ Jack shrugged.

“He seems like an alright guy.” Keegan said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll have to tell me about him whenever you can talk again, huh?”

‘How about you tell me about this Sergeant Russ guy?’

“Very funny. You need some sleep, y’look like shit, Jack.”

‘Come on. You’d have, like, pretty good bedtime stories.’

Keegan couldn't help it, he laughed at that one, a wide smile on his face. Still the same little spark of attitude that he always had, just with a few more years of bite to them.

“Fine — what’d’you wanna know?”

‘Tel Aviv.’

“Not right now. How about…basic training?”

‘Fine.’

It became a ritual, almost. Every single night without fail, Keegan would return to his side with something he stole from the mess hall and a new story, carrying the conversation enough for the two of them. Beforehand, he had been the quiet one, but Jack had involuntarily taken that role. He told him tales of Task Force: STALKER and the Ghosts. Their adventures through the entirety of the war, how many lives they saved — shit, he even got to hang out with Alex, too, on occasion. Well, Ajax, now.

It also became ritualistic that every single night, without fail, he'd wake up in a cold sweat.

He could only manage to gasp for breath, clutching at his throat as he set the attached heart monitors off time and time again. The ringing noise it made was most insensitive to someone having a panic attack, but it at least actually alerted the medic to his state. Grim, his name was, as in reaper.

It was no comfort to have a medic named after death itself at first, but he learned rather early on that Grim was a saint. He’d show up, mute the monitors and administer anti-anxiety medication, which was in short supply, but useful all the same.

Jack wasn’t terribly embarrassed about it either, he’d survived something traumatic and deserved to feel any way about it that he wanted to, until Keegan witnessed one of those late-night panic attacks. He'd fallen asleep in the chair beside Jack’s bed after a late night of one-sided conversation, barely awakened by the quickened breathing of the man in the bed beside him. Jack had never had panic attacks as a teenager, but the heavy breathing and scared eyes were a dead giveaway. Grim had learned to leave the monitor’s sound off, so it wasn't blaring, but Jack was still gasping for breath. His hands were clasped over his chest, eyes screwed shut as he tried to get his heart to slow down.

He looked over when he saw Keegan jolt awake, his eyes flicking anxiously up and down the other man as his cheeks flushed red. Fully embarrassed of the way the trauma affected him so deeply. It meant he was damaged goods. Discardable for something more favorable, less troubled.

“Y’alright? Should I get Grim?” Keegan asks, genuine concern laced into his words. He was so soft spoken it was almost scary, gruff texture never leaving even at a low volume.

“No.” Jack squeaked out, wincing at the pain. It sounded painful, too, a fragile pitch that wavered for the brief second it was spoken. His hand rubbed at the front of his throat, hoping to smother the pain out.

“Easy, Jackie.” Keegan replied, his brow knit in worry.

“M’fine.” Jack hacked, that wet feeling in his lungs returning in a phantasmal way.

“You're not. Take a deep breath. You’re safe. I’m here.” It was so very grounding, hearing those words spoken aloud. He was safe. He was alive. He was no longer cuffed to a wall in some dank basement.

He was with Keegan again.

Jack heaved a few more anxious breaths out, hand grasping at his chest for purchase until Keegan grabbed it, stopping him from scratching at the bandages constricting his breathing, a bit of a frown hidden beneath his mask. At first, Jack struggled, but he gave in after a few short moments of Keegan’s firm, gloved grasp on his twitching fingers.

“Thanks—” His voice comes out timid in both tone and volume.

“Stop trying to talk. You’re just gonna make it hurt worse.”

“Fuck —” Cough. “— off.”

“Just tryin’ t’help.” Keegan murmured, giving Jack’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You've been having night terrors like that a lot?”

Jack went to reply but bit his tongue, squeezing his hand instead.

“Yes?” squeeze. “Okay — hey, I can work with that. Do you want me to stay?”

Jack didn't reply. He just held Keegan's hand tighter, not letting go for a long, long time.

It was unconventional, this method of communication, but it got the point across. One for yes, two for no became the gold standard, especially when he was able to leave the med-bay and explore a bit. Fort Santa Monica was in no state of beauty, sure, but from what he could see it was a haven. There were refugee camps surrounding the military installments, packed tight with families and off-duty soldiers alike, lining the sandbag ridden streets. It was engineered to be impossible to take, the perfect place to shack up just outside of No Man’s Land.

Jack stood outside once he was cleared to walk again, leaning on a railing that overlooked the dismantled city. He was in a great deal of pain most days, but he’d rather grit his teeth and bare it over scarfing down painkillers. A brace and a dream, he could get just about anything accomplished these days.

“Elias said he wants to talk to you.” Keegan’s voice came as a shock, giving Jack the slightest bit of a scare. He turned on his heels to look up at the other man, brow knit in confusion. “Don't know why, don't ask. C’mon.”

What the hell could STALKER’s Lieutenant even want with him? The Ghosts weren’t exactly arms wide open to anyone in particular. They were brothers forged in blood and dirt, and he certainly was not present during Operation Sand Viper. So, short of kicking him out of the encampment, he had no idea what thee Elias Walker could possibly want.

Nothing bad, surprisingly.

“You must be Jackie Skalbek — pleasure. Elias Walker.” A firm handshake from the older man, setting Jack back a few notches. He felt awkward and terribly small next to such a force of power. Keegan had told him so many stories by now that he was certain Elias was inhuman purely based on skill and drive to do more, do better. Jack nodded a reply and Keegan stood quietly by, waiting for his presence to be necessitated.

“So…you’re the infamous Jack.” Elias smiled. “Keegan didn't shut up about you in…what was it, ‘06?”

“Embarrassing.” Keegan huffed, averting his gaze.

“I gotta say, son, your squad sung some high praises of you. Keegan, too. You’ve got a lotta reputation preceding you.” His squad? The soldiers he’d been shacked up with. They were saying he’d done well? His marksmanship was nothing to scoff at, sure, he had steady hands — but make him a soldier it did not. “I know you’re still taking it easy for now, but…we need warm bodies. Desperately. I’m sure Sergeant Russ filled you in on our work, the things that STALKER is responsible for?”

“Only the good parts, I promise.” Keegan said jokingly, earning a bit of a glare from Elias.

“Point is, if you’re up to the challenge, I could use the hands around here. You’re no Marine, but I betcha I can make one out of you yet.” Elias had a sort of warm smile, a confidence that exuded from every word he spoke, that almost made Jack feel like he could do it. How could he fit into the very rigid spot here, though? The lifestyle was hard and rigorous, made for men with years of experience in the field, not…him. “What's that look for?”

“I —” Jack squeaked. Squeaked! In front of Elias Fucking Walker. Frustrated with his own inability to produce a sound that wasn't equivalent to a hamster, he turned to Keegan. Now, they hadn't tried lip reading, but there wasn't exactly a better way to deal with this.

“He’s — slow the fuck down, Jackie, Jesus — he doesn't think he’s cut out for it.” Keegan roughly translated the quick talking, focused on the irregular way Jack formed certain words, the way he most definitely still had a slight lisp based on the way his tongue caught his front teeth sometimes. His fully grown voice was probably lovely if he could choke out more than two words at a time.

“I have it on pretty good authority that before the Federation got their paws on you, you were the best sniper among that squad of army veterans.”

“That was before the Federation.” Keegan translated once again, a slight sadness to the way he spoke the words. It didn't feel good knowing that he’d taken such a confidence blow from being held hostage — it made sense, though. Nobody comes out of that sort of ordeal without a few loose marbles. “He doesn't want to get someone killed because of his inexperience.”

“I understand that, but you've got a certain…quality. It’s that resilience, Jack. That’s what being a Ghost is.”

It resonated deep in his chest, the way that he spoke of what comprised a Ghost. Surviving against all odds. Coming back from ungodly nightmares and asking the world if that was all it had. Having the guts and courage to do what just be done. When Alex and Keegan enlisted, he knew they had more willpower than he ever would, and he wondered how Elias could possibly see that quality in him.

Scrawny, terrified, shaking, Jack Skalbek.

That was no Ghost. He was no soldier.

“I’m not who you think I am.” Keegan spoke his words once more, shaking his head just a little. “I did what I had to do to survive out there, but that's it.”.

“You can live, not just survive. I just need you to have a little faith in yourself, huh? Those boys you ran with sure have it. There’s a lotta folks out there that can't fight for themselves, that’s why we’re here — you can make that difference for folks. It’s up to you, though, I won't force it. I just know a Ghost when I see one, and I have a real good feeling that you’d be at home with us.”

Home. Home wasn't a place anymore, was it? Not since his home got blasted off the face of the earth by ODIN, not since his family and housemates got —

Then, there was us. The Ghosts. His closest friends from growing up.

Men that he’d spent weeks hearing stories of, the legend of brothers in arms coated in blood and sand, walking corpses. He was not made to do that, let alone the minimal work he’d put in during his travels. Jack realized he was just looking at Elias with shock and awe still, shaking his head to get his thoughts right.

Jack knew that if he took this opportunity, he’d be roped into this war for good. Moreso than if he only stuck around for Keegan’s company. There wouldn't be a way out of it, not that there was now, but he would cement his future if he trained to take up work with STALKER. He swallowed his fear, the anxiety welling in his stomach, and extended a hand to Elias.

“Good.” Elias shook his hand, taking it as the ‘yes’ answer that it was. “Once you're cleared for duty, we'll see how well you do.”

“Y-Yessir.” Jack managed to speak, a slight terror in his eyes that paired well with the confidence that came from actually forcing words out.

This, of course, meant that he was now privileged enough to meet the rest of the Ghosts. He’d met them in passing, trailing around behind Keegan most days like a lost dog, but now they were becoming acquainted. They were few in number compared to normal squads and battalions, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

Ajax was more than thrilled to see Jack again, having a much more overwhelmingly positive reaction to his presence than Keegan had. Saying that ‘I knew you weren’t dead because you’re too stubborn to die.’ It almost felt like the before again, memories flickering back to life in the back of his mind. Synapses that hadn't fired in decades.

Kick was the friendliest by far. He sat down with Jack before any proper training and got him kitted out, thrusting a marksman rifle into his hands before he even had the chance to protest. Boasting American made quality, a magazine that would make Vogue blush, and a scope with dual magnification. The matter of his tactical gear would come later, but Kick was more than satisfied to ramble about the specs of his firearms whilst Jack listened intently. He promised him custom gear and maybe even a mask, one day, but he needed more time.

Torch, Grim — they were well acquainted enough from his time in the medical bay under Grim’s watch, Torch often spending his days down there as well for an extra set of hands. He worked in demolitions, but that didn't mean he didn't have surgically delicate hands to assist when Grim couldn't get to something himself. He was actually the one to remove Jack’s stitches — a painfully long process that was almost, but not quite, as bad as his bones getting shattered in the first place. Grim would occasionally cheer ‘you’re doing great!’ and Jack couldn't be sure if he meant him or Torch.

Merrick, though, he was the tough one to crack. Cold, harsh — but effective. He was a decorated officer, completing the SEAL training at 17 years old with flying colors. Sure, Keegan and Ajax had become Marines at the same age, but that wasn't the same as being a Navy SEAL. It was overachievement to the highest degree, except he wasn't showing off — he was just that good. Jack felt small and insignificant in the presence of a man like him, who could outsmart entire battalions of Feds without much forethought.

He was out of his league, and Merrick knew it from the moment they met.

Sitting in the arsenal, having been gifted his uniform by Kick, but too terrified to put it on, Jack just held it. It was dark gray in color, camouflage and flat black as well, though the vest and accompanying guards were all matte black. They’d given him the standard patches that matched everyone else’s, a STALKER insignia set, but his name was the most jarring one to observe.

Skalbek. Corporal Skalbek.

He wasn't even enlisted — how could he be classified as a Corporal? The soldiers called him one, sure, but it was mostly in a teasing way. Jack thumbed over the embroidery and took a deep breath, deciding it would be better to just get dressed and have an existential crisis later. He had to tape and brace his knee in order to walk for long periods, but he’d grown used to the limp in his gait by now that it didn't bother him much anymore. The return of his voice, though, did bother him.

Even as he strapped his gear into place and laced his boots, every little huff or grunt of exertion felt foreign in his mouth. He didn't know what he was supposed to say for himself, truthfully, so he wasn't comfortable with using his voice. It was impossible to even fathom an explanation for how he ended up here, for what he went through in that cell — so he just didn't.

Instinct always takes over, though.

“You all set, blondie?” Keegan asked, leaning in the doorway of the arsenal. He could see Jack all geared up, but it felt right to ask.

“Yeah. All set.” Jack spoke, unaware that he'd even done so at first. Keegan knew better than to overreact, though, it would likely scare him off. Take that pretty voice away. If he wanted to talk, he could, and Keegan wouldn't apply pressure in any way.

“Good, good…lemme see.” Keegan said as Jack turned to face him, sort of standing awkwardly with his arms down at his sides. He looked lost. Uncomfortable in all of th buckles and straps, like the gear was suffocating the life out of him. “You look suicidal.”

“I’m —” Jack stopped himself, a bit shocked in his expression.

“You were doing great.” Keegan huffed in response, mildly disappointed. “The uniform looks good, though, Jackie.”

Jack rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, watching Keegan draw in closer across the room. He picked up the other man’s marksman rifle, inspecting it for a moment before handing it back to Jack.

“Needs some dirt on it — lucky for you, we’re just doing recon. Nothing crazy, just gettin’ your boots wet out in the field.” Keegan watched Jack take the rifle back, clicking the carry strap around his neck into place, carefully snapping the scope cover on for travel. He looked nervous, like a kid on his first day of school, only with much more weighing on his chest. It made sense. He hadn’t been sure of himself the entire time Elias was giving him a golden opportunity, so it made sense that confidence wasn't leaking out of his every movement. “Stand up straight, act like you know what you're doing until you do. Merrick prefers his name or his title, not sir, if you decide to talk to him.”

Jack nodded, letting a shaky breath out. He held up a thumbs up, hand trembling ever so slightly, pathetically. Keegan reached out and steadied it.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you.”

Jack turned his hand and held his pinky out, raising a brow. Without much hesitation, just the normal amount from a tough guy, Keegan did the same and interlocked them. He leaned in instinctively and pressed where his mouth would be under the mask to Jack’s knuckles. It was a thing from years ago, something they did to “seal” a promise. Jack was surprised that he remembered, but not upset by any means.

It wasn't a terribly long drive to the recon point. It felt that way because of the deathly silence in the SUV, save for Merrick giving the mission brief. Kick sat in the passenger seat beside their Captain, humming to himself as they flew down the dirt roads, jostling over every bump. Jack kept his eyes on the floor until they arrived at the infil, at which point he and Keegan exited the vehicle. It was fairly heavily wooded, the area well covered and higher than the place they were doing recon on, making it ideal for a sniper’s nest. Jack had a natural sense for that sort of thing, carefully and quietly slinking around the woods before coming to a tall, heavily branched tree. He looked it up and down, sizing it up, then looked at Keegan. He was all searching for a nest, a ways away into the brush.

“You take up high, I’ll go down low?” Keegan asked into the comms for confirmation as he found a comfortable place to get vantage from, half expecting a vocal response from Jack and half expecting a snap or something in reply.

Whistle.

“That works.” Keegan chuckled to himself as he pulled his rifle off his back and nestled into the dirt, mounting the tripod on a hard surface so that he could get a stable view. Meanwhile, Jack climbed up into the large redwood. He struggled at first because of his knee, but eventually he powered through and hoisted himself into straddling a large limb. “Are you in position?”

Whistle.

“Heard that. Merrick, we’re locked. Watchin’ exits.”

“Roger — the place should be empty, but you know how that goes. We’ll clean and clear, then raid for supplies.” Merrick replied, voice a low crackle over the comms, before silence fell over the area. Jack relaxed back against the trunk of the tree as he racked a round in his rifle, sliding the bolt into place as he looked down the scope. It was peaceful, almost, quiet. The idle rustle of birds in the trees and the quiet thrum of the earth breezing past, only occasionally interrupted by the crackle of activity over the radio.

Jack hummed quietly, the soft rumble of his voice in his throat only truly comfortable in a muffled manner, barely making any sound at all. He felt his finger gently sliding over the trigger, not quite squeezing just yet — there was next to no movement ahead, save for Merrick and Kick as they navigated the empty warehouse.

They spent a long while going through the place room by room, combing it through, picking up any usable supplies. Sterile equipment, alcohol, first aid kit materials — all sorts of things. It had been vacant for quite a while, clearly, despite old Federation flags flying above. They’d yet to reoccupy it after their removal, meaning everything inside was up to date and ripe for the taking.

Jack’s gaze traveled around outside, flickering from the warehouse to the dirt road leading up to it, watching a car start to close in. Federation flags. His eyes went wide and he stuttered to speak, nothing quite coming out. Damn anxiety reaching up from the depths of his stomach to choke him out internally, clawing his vocal chords into submission.

Three, rapid fire whistles. High pitched and quiet all at once, ringing out through the comms.

“Movement?” Keegan asked quickly.

One.

“Got it. Watch your backs, boys. How many?” Keegan called.

Five.

“Five tangoes, on their way to your position.”

“He didn't say anything, Keegan. Are you sure you're not hearin’ things?” Kick asked, almost a laugh to his voice when he spoke.

“I’m sure.” Keegan asserted, glancing over through the blur of leaves and trees blocking his view of Jack. He had to be right. A couple of seconds pass and he can see the vehicle for himself, five Federation soldiers climbing out slowly. Stalking their prey. Merrick and Kick. Jack wasn’t scared, though, knowing very well that he only had one shot before they were aware of him.

He let out all of the breath he had been holding in from his lungs, took a deep breath and released it slowly, feeling the unsteadiness slip out of reach.

Bang.

Two down. One shot.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Jack gave a long, drawn out whistle of satisfaction as he took a new breath in.

“All clear.” Keegan exhaled. “Nice fuckin’ shots, Jackie.”

Pride washed over him all at once. The warm, fuzzy feeling of success seeped into his bones and made him blush all over, a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“We're on our way out now to confirm kills. Meet us down here?” Merrick asked.

“Rog.” Keegan replied, leaving Jack to watch the doors in anticipation. Before he knew it, Keegan had made his way over, looking up at Jack perched in the tree. He rocked back on his heels slightly, taken aback by the way Jack had curled himself up onto a tree limb, nearly wrapped around it as he aimed down sight. His cheek was pressed up against his rifle, keeping him nice and steady.. “Look like a bird up there, y'know that, Jackie?”

Jack sat up straight, a bit surprised. He hadn't been listening at all to his surroundings, sort of zoned out as he watched down his scope. A bird? He prayed that didn’t stick.

“The whistling works. Got my attention real fuckin’ quick.” Keegan extended a hand to Jack, helping him climb down from the tree unceremoniously. He replied with a playful whistle, a smile crossing his expression briefly. After collecting his first 5 confirmed kills as a Ghost, they returned to base in the same car they came in. Quiet, at first, but Merrick broke the silence midway back to HQ.

“Quiet type, huh, Skalbek?” Merrick asked, glancing back in the rear view mirror.

“Leave him be.” Keegan asserted. His voice always seemed to be quiet and soft spoken, but he had a bite to it that showed he meant business. If anything good happened to Keegan while he was gone, it was that voice.

“Didn't mean anything by it. You did great out there, Jack.” Merrick defended himself.

Silently, Jack thumbed over the pristine Federation tags before stuffing them into the pocket on his vest. He didn't like the idea of keeping trophies, but those tags were proof that he could actually do some good here.

It took a long time for him to truly feel that way.

Like, the first time he got to see his own dormitory. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a room with four walls and a bed right down the hallway from the showers, but it was his room with four walls and a bed. Dark, cozy sheets on the mattress, a warm light overhead — his name on the door. Jack actually sort of felt important for once in his life, and he began to understand the draw and appeal of military life. There was one tiny problem with the lone dorm, though.

Even at UCLA, he dormed with someone else. His first apartment had a roommate, and the same man moved with him into their home in Los Angeles with a handful of friends. He had no siblings as a child, but Keegan and Alex were at his house so frequently he may as well have at that point. Being alone did not come easily to Jack.

“Hey — came to drop off your tags.” Keegan knocked at the door, a little whistle coming from inside telling him to enter. When he threw the door open he saw Jack sitting on his bed, legs crossed, just sort of looking lost once again. A recurring theme for the blonde. “Need some decor in here, seriously. It’s abysmal.”

Jack just sort of shrugged, catching his tags mid-air when Keegan threw them, the jingling making him flinch slightly. They had, of course, his name on them. Blood type, affiliation, spot for a call sign if one ever stuck to him. He thumbed over the engraving before undoing the clasp and snapping it back into place around his neck, stuffing it beneath his shirt. It was ice cold, but the metal would warm and warp to him eventually. Become like a second skin, something he couldn't go anywhere without.

“I had something else, too, but — s’up to you if you want it or not. Could always make your own.” Keegan added as he came a bit further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Jack. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a piece of black fabric, neatly folded into a little square. When unfolded, Jack could see it was a mask, his very own. It looked similar in pattern to Keegan’s, but noticably neater and cleaner in texture and facial features — across the mouth were two black strips in an X. Maybe a little bit on the nose, but he couldn't complain.

“It’s not great compared to what you could probably do — don't know if you’re still into the whole art thing these days.”

Jack shook his head, turning the mask over a couple of times in his hands before he went to put it on. The fabric was thick, making him uncomfortable at first, but once it was in place he could breathe easily. He looked over at Keegan as if to ask how he looked, the scrunched up wrinkles around the other’s eyes telling him everything he needed to know.

“Little Ghost.” Keegan hummed, ruffling up Jack’s hair in a playful manner. “You’re one of us now, as far as I’m concerned.”

Wide eyes like saucers, just looking up at Keegan with awe, wondering how they'd managed this. Circling back to sitting in Jack’s room, though this time it was less than cozy. Even without the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over everything, though, Keegan was more sure than he ever had been that everything was worth it to end up here.

That summer, July was hot in Santa Monica. The sun bathed the city with regularity, not even letting up in the evening. Though, there seemed to be a brief respite in between months of hardship.

After a particularly good bout of missions, Jack even getting some more confidence in himself (and a call sign, while he was at it) they decided to have a small leisure break. Time for themselves, to breathe in without the threat of being dispatched on a mission looming overhead. Something that many of them hadn't had a chance to do in a long, long while. There often wasn't much remaining time for recreational drinking, but Keegan couldn't lie, there was something about Jack in the doorway of his dorm with two cans of beer that made his heart skip a couple of beats.

Sure, they’d stolen liquor as teenagers and gotten wasted on Jack’s roof. His mom always made sure that they were safe and well looked after when they made those foolish errors, giving them plenty of room to make mistakes and not feel stupid about it.

They had kind of missed out on sharing 21st birthdays, though. Keegan's was a year sooner than Jack’s, so they would've had to wait anyways, but they’d inadvertently waited over a decade. The crack of the pop-taps couldn't come soon enough, and neither could the ensuing burn of alcohol. It was liquid comfort, burning the whole way down and settling in the stomach, leaving every sensation tinged a hazy shade of amber.

Kick, in his endless curiosity, had obtained a camcorder at some rate. They had access to new technology, high quality drones and cameras, and yet he was obsessing over the film grain and scan lines of the older camera. It was probably as old as him, the brand name long scratched off from time and use, but he still boasted it’s American made durability. Pointing it at Jack after a couple of drinks, giggling to himself as he zoomed it in and out.

“Alright, alright — this one’s Jack. We’re still — heh — getting used to him, but this kid?” Kick turned the camera to himself for dramatic effect. “Sharpshooter. I think he could shoot the pimento out of a fucking olive from a hundred meters out.”

“He said that’s pushing it.” Keegan answered for Jack, having taken up that role nicely. They weren't quite at the point of telepathy, but beating ASL into his head was starting to work. Jack picked up usage of it back in college, so a refresher was needed before he could actually use it, but the main problem was teaching it to Keegan. He was impatient and short tempered, but he could learn it for the other's sake.

“Maybe! Maybe it's not! Only way to find out is to try, Jack.” Kick snickered as he turned the camera around again, watching through the viewfinder as Ajax joined Keegan and Jack on the balcony. The sunset over Santa Monica Pier was beautiful, even now, with a fort plopped overtop of it. Ajax took his spot between the two others, throwing his arms around them with a smile.

“Good to have the gang back together.” Ajax hummed, pulling Jack in a bit closer, spilling a little bit of his drink in the process. “Fucking missed you, kid, seriously. You have no idea what it was like dealing with Grumpy over here for 15 years without you.”

“I’m not grumpy.” Keegan huffed. “I’m apathetic.”

“Whatever you say.” Ajax laughed, snatching Keegan’s drink from his hand before disappearing back inside with Kick hot on his heels. It was a mostly empty can anyways, so he wasn't terribly disappointed. Still, he wanted to obtain just one more for the end of the night, grabbing one for Jack as well. Turns out, both of them grew up with quite the tolerance for the stuff despite having exactly zero when they were younger. Keegan’s resilience could be attributed to body mass, but Jack’s was built entirely on whiskey lullabies.

The years of travel were hard on him, a once soft and fearful creature of a boy, now…a man.

Keegan took a moment in the doorway to look at him, really look at him. Wearing sweat-shorts and that blasted knee brace, scars drawing up and down the length of his left leg. His sweatshirt, an increasingly well used and loved camouflage tarp of cloth, swallowing up his lanky frame with ease. Those pretty brown eyes, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon, casting tangerine and coral hues all over him.

It was straight out of a movie, or a memory, he couldn't tell.

What’re you staring at? Jack signed, catching Keegan a bit off guard. He bit at his bottom lip beneath his mask and unhooked one side of it to take a drink from the fresh can.

“You. Just…taking it all in.”

Take your time. I’m here now.

“Got no idea how good it feels to know that you're still kickin’ dirt up, Jackie, I…” Keegan stuttered a bit, an uncommon occurrence for him. He didn't feel that sort of nervousness often, hadn't since he left for basic. Scratch that. He hadn't felt genuinely nervous since Tel Aviv, calling Jack from the back of that plane, hands trembling in fear. This wasn't anything like that, though, this was the butterflies sort of nervousness. Somehow, infinitely more terrifying than getting shot at. “I want to make it up to you, somehow.”

What?

“The last…what, 15 years?”

We're older now. You know that. Can't go back and change what already happened. Jack shrugged, not quite grasping that Keegan meant it. He wanted to repair what damage had been done to whatever extent he could, even if things were vastly different, even if they were entirely different people now.

Whether Jack knew it or not, he still had the combination to Keegan's pad-lock chest, the chasm labeled hollow to keep anything good out. It didn't matter how they got here, what mattered was now Keegan has a shot at actually apologizing. Making right what he had once done wrong. He would regret not reaching out sooner until the day he was dead, but he could do better this time around. This is not the kind of opportunity he could squander.

No way in hell.

“I know. But…I can be the person now that I couldn't be then.” Keegan came closer until he was leaning up against the railing, too, overlooking the pier. If he looked up at the stars long enough, he could almost imagine the floating space trash left behind from ODIN, what didn't enter the atmosphere swirling and churning above their heads. “I’m not saying we pick up where we left off in ‘07, I’m just asking that you hear me out.”

Okay. I’ll bite.

“Plain and simple. We know what happened in-between then and now, but we can just…ignore it.” Keegan inched closer as he spoke, until he was shoulder to shoulder with the shorter man. The cold drink in his hand was all he had to steady himself, shocking his system into continuing to speak. “You know I loved you then and I still do.”

Jack swallowed. Loud. The can in his hand crinkled slightly under the pressure he was holding it with, his mouth dry. He still loved him? He? Stone cold, violence wrought, Keegan fucking Russ still loved him?

He, who hid at Jack’s house from his parents, always thanking Mrs. Skalbek for the place to stay, always denying how often he was there. Hiding the fleeting kisses, never lingering long enough to leave a mark on soft flesh. Lying to himself and his father, always forcing himself into the image of what he thought a man to be, never showing much softness at all.

Only to Jack, only back then, only behind closed doors.

This was a massive, groundbreaking departure from whomever that was back then. It took their semi-permanent separation for Keegan to admit that he loved Jack the first time, it only took a few months this go around. The promise of staying, rather than leaving or coming back, was much more emotionally grounding.

“Was that too much?” Keegan asked after a moment. He seemed on edge about Jack’s reaction, gaze flickering anywhere but on those soft brown eyes, eating him alive.

No. It's just been a long time.

“You probably moved on, like, a few months after I last called, huh?”

Never. Jack sighed softly in reply. There was emotion in the movement of his hands, his eyes portraying all of that sadness well. It was never really over.

Just five words, but those five words carried an unspeakable weight. Keegan stared for only a few seconds, going to speak when Jack continued.

Everything came back to you one way or another. My thesis for my degree was a portfolio full of you. I still texted you every time I needed to talk even if you didn't answer, I needed you. My mom called me every few months and I was so scared that she would tell me you were dead that I just didn't pick up. Everything I did up until the fucking world ended was about you, no matter how fast I ran.

It all spilled out so fast that Jack couldn't even be impressed with himself. His hands stuttered every once in a while on more complex words. The words themselves shocked Keegan, too, but that was secondary. He felt wholly guilty for ever letting himself get so close to Jack back then, because his own feverish dreams of doing something with his life just meant he did that to Jack. Got him hooked and ran, watching it spiral out of hand until he was sure he lost Jack forever. The red string tying them together threatened to be severed by the universe with every knot and fray in its threads.

But it never broke. It never fell lifeless.

He would've thought that Jack married, maybe even squeaked out a kid or two, joined the PTA. Cut his hair short and finally start making art for a living, take his kids to soccer practice — not wake up in the middle of the night missing his highschool boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Were they ever even that much?

Are you gonna say something or what, K? Jack added, breaking Keegan out of the cyclical nightmare of thoughts in his mind.

“I just didn't…know you felt that way about it.”

You had everything to lose by loving me, and you did it anyway. How could I ever move on from that? He wasn't speaking, but he was feeling every emotion from every word. Jack’s eyes were all welled with tears, a soft gasp escaping with every mouthed syllable. Threatening to spill out, but not quite making a sound.

Keegan knew what Jack meant. He would’ve been kicked out if his father ever caught wind of what Keegan was doing with ‘the no-good Skalbek boy’ down the street. If not for Jack’s mom, they would’ve never gotten as far as they did back then. Even then, it wasn't far. He would’ve been spitting teeth from that fight, if he ever found out, probably dead.

He’d unknowingly shown Jack that someone could love him enough to die for him, and as a consequence he never really learned how to be loved any less.

“You still feel that way?” Keegan asked after a moment of silence, a bit of his inhibition slipping away. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was just an old spark flickering back into life.

Always.

“Can I start trying to make up for that lost time, then?”

“Please.” Jack replied out loud, gaze averted out of embarrassment. That didn't last long, though, not with that spark beginning to rage into flames. Nothing could've kept Keegan’s hands off of him, his drink thrust into Jack’s hand so that he could pick him up a little bit easier. Hoisting him up onto the railing of the balcony for balance, strong arms laced around Jack holding him steady. The railing creaked, the drop was far, but neither of them seemed to give a damn.

Hot. Heavy. Hurried, whiplash kisses, hands in hair and lips on teeth. It was not gentle, it was not pretty, it was feverish and raw. Keegan could've made him bleed with sharp canines on his bared neck and he would’ve been quite alright with it.

Even when Kick threw the door open, trailed by Ajax with the camcorder, he couldn't have guessed what was going on outside until he saw it. Under the haze of one flickering light that never quite stays on long enough to catch a clear glimpse, but the camera picking up their meshed bodies nonetheless.

“Get a room, you two! Sheesh!” Ajax laughed, but impressively enough, neither seemed to care.

“Mmmhmm…Can’t hear you.” Keegan murmured against Jack’s lips, earning a snicker from the blonde in his arms, still faithfully holding both of their drinks.

“Talk about making up for lost time.” Ajax joked. Kick all too certain he would get chewed out by Keegan if he drunkenly giggled too, he stayed quiet. As quickly as they came they dipped back inside with Ajax pumping his fist, proclaiming that he always knew.

“This alright, Jack?” Keegan asked, breathless as he took a moment to cool off. Still holding the other man, just leaving some space between them for now. Foolishly, Jack dropped the cans so he could sign, a blush dusting his cheeks as the half-drank liquid spattered on the ground beneath them.

Haven’t been this alright since I don't know when.

“Can't lie to you, I never — you were — ugh, fuckin’ sounds pathetic…” Keegan sucked a breath in shakily and buried his face in the crook of Jack's neck, faint scent of cologne and body wash still attached to him. “Never let anyone get close after you. No-one.”

Touch-starved did not begin to cover it.

He didn't hug, he didn't do physical contact, skin-to-skin was a foreign thing. Jack was probably the last person who touched him with bare hands and he didn't convulse. Ajax was an exception to that rule, but it wasn't like they were snuggling. Pats on the back, pull-ups onto a ledge — those weren't intimate like this. He didn't get intimate.

Jack felt sort of dirty knowing he'd gone and tried to bury the feeling of needing someone he couldn't have in the arms of others, never succeeding, whereas Keegan had done the opposite. Instead of voicing that he only ran his hands through Keegan’s short, scruffy hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“You think it’s pathetic, don't you?” Keegan sighed, nuzzling into the other man with wandering butterfly kisses, lips ghosting over his main artery.

Two whistles for no.

“Hah! Sure thing, Jackie, sure…” He laughed. “Remind me to never ask you that sorta thing again, ‘cause even your whistles sound sarcastic.”

They weren't, but Jack would let him live in his little bubble. Moments like this were never long enough, and thankfully they got to spend the rest of the night catching up on the important things, previously undiscussed stories of Jack’s life in SoCal. It was good to know that they at least had a chance before things began to kick up once again.

For some reason, things didn't.

It was a pure, mostly calm stalemate.

Sure, they still got sent on patrols. They often made ventures to the No Man’s Land border, overlooking the minefields and traps, wondering what could possibly shift the tides. Piece by piece, some bizarre force of nature allowed them to rebuild what used to be between them.

Some nights that meant they’d climb atop the roof with Keegan's iPod, still functional despite a cracked screen and barely functional UI, and let the world melt away. If only for one night at a time they could pretend to be real people, living some sort of domestic existence in a place far from the halted war. Perhaps, in that distant timeline, they wouldn't even have survived a relationship in their teen years without the hardship they’d suffered.

As far as either was concerned, it made them stronger.

Forced them to learn what it meant to live without the other one. Of course, this meant that they knew how dull and awful life could be when it was empty, and they'd fight a hell of a lot harder to stay now that they'd been threatened with separation once.

Jack was a silent killer, Keegan a mouth full of vicious mockeries. Ghosts. Wisps in the wind. Dead already, living a better afterlife on the other side of the apocalypse. Nothing the Federation could throw their way would hold any weight, of this they were certain.

Until they did, of course.

No good thing lasts forever.