#someone's plotting in the alien corner

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch. 4: Black Out Days

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Fat!Reader

MDNI | cw: sickness, hallucinations, injury, some light dubcon

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life. Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate.

A/N: the tone of this story has sort of shifted as I’ve worked on the next few chapters/plot points. I hope it’s not too jarring, but I’m excited for the direction it’s going in.

Your mother rises out of her drunken stupor - spine too straight and head flopped back limply. As if her hips are the only thing capable of moving and her neck has snapped at every ligament. The worn sheets pool around her hips, torn neckline of her nightclothes exposing her gaunt, bruised collar bones.

She says your name in that sickening, gruff voice of hers. A voice too exposed to the poisons outside. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth, coats her teeth as she speaks. Black and viscous. “Oh, darling, what have you gotten yourself into?”

You’re small. A child kneeling by her bed like you always did, waiting for her to ask you to bring her water or pain pills. “What?”

“It’s easier if you give in.”

People aren’t buried anymore. There isn’t room. Your mother’s urn is painfully cold in your hands. You stumble as the train lurches. A new voice hisses above you. Wild eyes and big hands that leave clawing, bloodied stripes in their wake down your body. A flash of blonde, some sort of scar. An accent so old you don’t recognize it.

“It’s easier if you give in, little girl.”

You fall back, out of the train doors and onto something soft and silky. For a few beats you stay there, in the quiet. In the dark. Comfortable in a way so deeply foreign to you it might as well be alien. Until some thick cover pulls away from your face. John grins down at you, shirtless with his head resting on his hand and elbow on the pillow below him.

“Knew you were awake.”

You rub your eyes. “Wh- when did- when did I get here?”

He frowns, a deep crease forming in his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” You run a hand through your sleep tangled hair. “I don’t know…”

“It could be so easy, Fancy.” He murmurs, voice low and far away. “It doesn’t have to be… this.”

“I can’t…” Something complicated swirls in your chest. A twisting of guilt and love and unadultered disgust.

The world shifts. You’re standing, now. Simon leans on the railing of the penthouse balcony, staring out at the city. He takes up so much space. Envelopes you without even touching you. “How many memories do you think a person can lose before they’re someone else entirely?”

“What?” You frown. There’s an ache in your head - a drumming pain growing more intense by the second. Your bones rattle along to the rhythm.

“It’d be so easy…”

You peel your eyes open only slightly. It hurts, as if they’ve been glued shut. An offensive light blazes in your face. It takes a moment before you realize the tingle on your skin comes from the UV lamp beside you. Did you fall asleep under it again? No matter how hard you blink your vision won’t clear. When you finally manage to swallow it feels like your throat has been lined with shards of glass.

You grope around the bed uselessly, hands unsure. The edge of the bed takes longer to get to than it should. With a low groan you crawl to the edge, barely managing to swing your legs over. Well, swing is a generous description. In reality you end up on your back on the floor, head thunking against some sort of plush rug or carpet. Your vision swims.

With another groan you slowly pull yourself up into a shaky stance. Wherever you are, it’s big. The bed you fell out of is easily a king with richly woven sheets and a thick comforter. The rug on the floor has such intricate patterns it makes your pounding head dizzy. There’s even a fireplace in the far corner, unlit at the moment.

Something different catches your eye - an item too familiar for this foreign room. Your box of valuables sits on an elegantly carved wooden dresser. Real, actual wood. You run your fingers over the strangely organic material, so rare that it almost feels more unnatural than the plastic plywood you’ve grown accustomed to in the slums.

You limp weakly toward the heavy door on the far wall. A whine escapes you as you pull it open, the heavy wood causes the hinges to creak quietly. You poke your head out, walking down the empty hall like a person with decade long atrophy. Sweat drips down your back, the sickness in your gut turning to anxiety as you realize where you are.

The penthouse.

Voices waft through the mostly open central area - deep and growling. A sound you might mistake for an angry beast if it weren’t for the intelligable words the noise makes up.

“Bloody ‘ell, Price, what the fuck?” That baritone could only belong to Simon. You poke your head around the corner of the wall, peaking into the living room where the four vampires stand.

“I know, I fucking know. I couldn’t-” An exasperated sigh. “I couldn’t lose her again.”

“So you fuckin’ marked ‘er?”

Your hand lifts shakily to the still sore cuts on your neck. They’ve scabbed over but barely. The action makes you look down at your hands - neatly bandaged. Recently, too, you think. At least if your blurred vision is to be believed.

“We’ll lose ‘er anyway if you fuckin’ scare ‘er away!” Simon’s volume continues to grow. He steps forward. John doesn’t back away.

“Guys…” Kyle tentatively steps in, hands outstretched between them as if stepping into a dog fight. He might as well be, frankly.

“You promised her you wouldn’t!” Simon’s voice wavers. It makes your heart skip, the unsteady sound so bizarre coming from him. “We all did!”

“Simon’s right.” Johnny crosses his arms. “We said we’d take our time. See where she’s at.”

“Weren’t exactly taking your time when you fucked her raw were you?” John snaps back. It’s shockingly childish and out of character for the man. Not that you would know. He sighs, rolling his wide shoulders. So much for not being angry about it.

Before you can make heads or tails of the scene playing out in front of you, your vision blackens, one leg stiffening and the other giving out. You barely catch yourself on some random side table, knocking it against the wall in the process. Despite your efforts to hold yourself up you collapse onto the cold, hardwood floor.

“Oh, baby girl.” It’s Kyle at your side first, cool hands tenderly enveloping you as he checks for damage.

“Don’t…” You push at his chest weakly. “Don’t touch me…”

“Dove-” A crack sounds throughout the penthouse, deafening and ringing as Simon’s palm comes into contact with John’s chest, forcing the man back a few steps.

“You’ve done enough.”

There’s a moment, long and silent as you watch them stare each other down. A power struggle. John is the head of the coven, objectively. The only way to change that is an exchange of power. A death. You’ve seen it out on the streets within lesser covens. Simon is bigger, but you can see the cold, dogmatic shift in John’s eyes. The look he gave you in the car. The one that says he is well and truly Right and there is nothing to stand between him and what is Right.

The moment ends when you double over, lungs heaving as you choke and cough. A slimy, viscous glob of red-black comes up from your throat. Barely liquid with the thickness of it. You fall limply against Kyle, as much as you’d rather be left in a dark alley than with these psychopaths your body just can’t hold itself up.

Someone scoops you up, pressing you tightly to their chest. Johnny or Kyle, you think. A touch so soft and sweet you might mistake it for love. Not that you would know. You’re back under the wave of nothing before you even touch the sheets.

You sit still as you can, arm growing tired of the stiff angle you have it positioned in. Laid out across some old loveseat that creaks every time you move even slightly. You don’t trust it to not have at least a little dry rot considering it’s from a good few centuries ago. One of those random pieces John hoards for some secret reason. The light positioned carefully above you feels too warm, discomfort making you twitchy.

“Johnnyyy!” You whine. “Hurry up!”

“Ye can do it, bonnie. Just sit like me.” He goes still. Inhumanly still. Transitioning from living (well, undead) being to a marble statue in barely a second. It sends a frightened shiver down your spine - the prey instinct in your hindbrain moving into overdrive.

You take a shaky breath. “I hate when you do that.”

When he does what? Has he done that before? Have you been here before?

“Jus’ be a good lass f’me.” Johnny murmurs. A different sort of shiver runs down your spine.

You recognize his room but it’s… different. Lighter, somehow, than the last time you were here. The only time you were here. The wall has far more drawings tacked to it, nearly doubling the amount and bleeding across onto another side of the room. You squint. It’s you. Well, mostly. All in different poses, some more salacious than others, each carved out with a deep attention to detail. Were… were those there before? They couldn’t have been.

Your body lights up, the room grows darker. Nearly pitch black. Your hips roll lazily. You feel… good. Ecstatic. The warmth from the light replaced by an immeasurable heat. The man below you comes into focus as the dream settles - a mountain. Blonde and pale and scarred. Part of his right ear is clipped off from a fight. At least you think it was a fight. His hair just barely long enough for you to tangle your fingers in. You’d know those dark eyes anywhere - the ones that look right to the very core of you. That know you wholly from Eve.

“Fuck, Si…”

“Tha’s my girl.” He grins. The action pulls at a scar covering his lips. “Always so good f’me.”

The hands on your waist lift you like nothing. Like you weigh as much as paper and are just as delicate. A burning fills you, a tension that pulls a grating whine from your chest.

A distant part of you remembers to question what this is. Why you’re here, with him. Why you’ve never seen his face before but seem to know every detail of it by heart. The rest of you falls into the moment without a care, allowing yourself to be consumed entirely by him and his desire. It’s all you want - all you need.

Simon’s voice rumbles in a sort of call and response to your devoted babbling. “I love you.”

You jolt, snapping forward and sloshing water around you. For a moment, you panic that you’re drowning. That you’ve been dropped into some great sea and left to flounder.

There’s a quiet rumble behind you, vibrating through your back. Simon. You couldn’t make out whatever he said.

You relax instinctively. Some unconcious part of you falls back into him. Until he runs a soap rag over your chest and you tense, clumsily attempting to cover yourself and curl into a ball. The water sloshes over the edge of the tub again. You don’t get very far, despite the massive size of the bath you’re utterly surrounded. Bracketed by Simon’s strong thighs and large hands.

“None of that.” He barks, pulling your arms back to continue washing you. “You’ve been sweatin’ in bed for four days. Gonna make y’self worse.”

Four days? Worse?

You stay quiet, limp and pliant as he pours a hefty glob of shampoo into your hair. Vanilla. Far too exhausted to put up any sort of fight. Not that you would win. It feels good, if you’re honest, the way he systematically scrubs every part of your scalp, slowly detangling with conditioner. You nod off for a moment, coming back when he pours water over your head to rinse you.

“Simon?” You murmur weakly.

He grunts.

“Why am I here?”

The hands in your hair pause. Only for a moment before going back to their gentle movements. “Because you’re ‘ome.”

You shiver, another coughing fit wracking your body. At least nothing comes up this time. There aren’t bandages on your hands, just the scabbing wounds that have obviously been carefully tended to. Even as the coughing subsides your breaths wheeze, shallow and hollow in your chest.

When you were young, your mother would set you in a cart to walk to the supermarket. The cracked streets would bump and rock you uncomfortably but it was better than walking all those miles. You always hated the market. Too loud and confusing. A maze of sterile white tile and shelving so high it felt giant to you.

One time you lost her, distracted by a massive plushie that she said you can’t afford. You’d stood there staring at it, angrily contemplating why you couldn’t afford it. What sort of societal disservice had been done that you can’t have that bright pink creature. Angry and lost you ended up wandering the aisles for what felt like an eternity. Walking through that white void in search of… you’re not really sure what, actually.

That confusion continues to eat at your mind as the aisles transition into a small, lush greenhouse. The UV lights above you would burn, if it weren’t for the large hat covering your head and shoulders. Gardening gloves protect your hands as you carefully harvest a few tomatoes. They came in so well this year, bright and firm.

You’re lost in it. The green. So accustomed to grays and neon lights that it feels unnatural. You turn your gloved hands over, palm up, down, up, down. They’re yours but distant. As if you’ve possessed some alternate version of yourself. You suppose you have, in a way, if these fever dreams are in pattern. Not that you remember the others well.

The lights turn off suddenly and you freeze, muscles tensing and hackles raising. You turn slowly as the door begins to creak open, trowel in hand. Not that it would do much against whoever has you cornered. John said to be wary.

He’s been acting strange lately.

Isn’t he always?

A hand clamps over your mouth and you shriek behind it. You claw at the stony hand covering you, instinct taking over. Adrenaline pulses through you.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” Kyle coos, letting you go quickly. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t do that!” You snap, harsher than you meant. Or less so?

He deflates a bit, shoulders sagging. “Sorry, I just wanted to come in here with you for a bit.”

“Why?” You snort. Kyle is the only one brave enough to venture in. Even with an external light switch, the others are far too wary of the UV lights hanging across the roof to enter. It’s a joke between Simon and Johnny - that they’ll throw Johnny into the greenhouse if he doesn’t behave.

Kyle nods, scooting forward. You can barely make him out, the only light being that of the faux stars drifting gently through the fogged greenhouse glass. “Missed you.”

“I saw you, like, five minutes ago.” Did you?

He shakes his head. You wish they would tell you more. They always hold back so much, as if your puny human brain can’t grasp what they think. You could. You’d learn to. Even if it was some horrid, eldritch secret you would bear it for them. He pushes you back until you’re laying on the floor, slowly resting his weight on you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Just let me stay like this for a bit.”

You frown, but only move to reach up and pet his hair. It’s smells like vanilla. He stole your shampoo again. A fraction of you screams, rails against the idea of being this close to an apex predator. To a man you don’t know. Strange. You know Kyle. You love him. Both the fear and the fondness swirl together into a confusing mixture in the back of your mind.

“We can stay. For as long as you want.”

Something heavy and cold coils around you. You weren’t out as long this time, you think. If you’re even awake now. The room is dark. A pitch black void that you float in outside of the grounding weight holding you in place. That vanilla scent felt so real, still wafting through your nose. A nagging sense of despair settles in your chest as it dissipates.

“Need t’go home.” You croak, unsure of why you say it. Your tongue feels heavy and numb. God only knows why.

“Ye are home.” Johnny murmurs in your ear, voice low.

“Not m’bed… sheets’r t’nice.”

“It’s yers.” Johnny’s arms tighten around you. His voice shakes. “It’s always been yers.”

“N-no…”

“Knew it was tae soon tae bring you back.” He buries his face between your shoulder blades. “Told Kyle it’d be tae much.”

“Wh-”

“Ye make us such a mess, bonnie.” He sighs. “Cannae believe Price-“

Johnny cuts himself off. You can’t find it in yourself to argue or press. A sob wracks you out of nowhere. Something about Johnny, about being wrapped up in his strong arms sends you over the edge of it all. The weight of him mimics the one in your chest.

“Dinnae cry.” Johnny sits up a bit, running a thumb under your eye.

“I’m s-so confused-“ You sob. “I can’t- I-“

Somewhere in the midst of your crying fit the bed dips in front of you. Kyle cages you in between himself and Johnny, pressing you tightly in the center. It makes you want to thrash, to fight and scream.

It also feels so, so good.

You’re back in the slums, in your apartment, with some random man groaning above you. He works down the street, you think. Smiles at you whenever you go get a coffee or cigarettes. You stare at the ceiling blankly. You brought him here… why did you bring him? What- You hiss at the living heat of his hands, burning through your skin - gut churning at the blue of his eyes. It’s wrong. Neither bright nor tranquil enough. You can’t voice it. Can’t place it. They’re just wrong.

You catch a flash of dark irises as you take drinks to some slimy little vampire paying on credit. Immortal but still poor. Pathetic. Suddenly, though, you don’t care when he and his friends grab at you, your gaze trained on the man lounged in a booth on the other side of the club. You can’t stop staring at him, something tugging at you deep down to go to him. His eyes connect with yours, and you nearly leap with joy when he waves you over.

Except, when you get close, you freeze in place. Straddling his lap, a crushing weight lands on you all at once. They’re not what you’re looking for…

What are you looking for?

You sob in your bed late into the night, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re so lost. So hollow. You don’t know why - don’t understand what changed. Some portion of you carved out into nothing. A soulless tulpa born of someone’s imagination. You can’t be human, there’s no way you can be human and this empty. A walking carcass. Not even undead, just barely animated. A puppet, almost.

It’d be so easy…

You wake in a fog this time, limbs heavy. As much as you try to will your arms to move, they won’t quite do it right. Your hands glide over the soft fabric around you, barely moving a few inches. The muscles twitch and shake. It feels like wading through molasses and with a thousand pounds of steel strapped to your back as you attempt to sit up even slightly.

“There she is.” A familiar voice murmurs. It’s soft, comforting, but also incredibly far away. “Hey, lovie.”

“Kyle?” You croak. You might as well be speaking around a massive ball of cotton. There’s something hot and wet streaming down your face. Are you crying?

“You’re alright.” He murmurs, soothing down your hair. Petting you like a dog in pain. An injured, feral animal.

You collapse back on the bed - not that you made it that far in the first place - unable to see more than a few feet in front of you. Kyle, really. Kyle is all you can make out. His face so vivid you’re sure you could draw it from memory. “Where am I?”

He pauses. “…Your room.”

“M’chest hurts…”

“I know, lovie. We’ll make it better.”

“What’d y’do t’me…?” Your vision flashes in and out. You’re going back under, as hard as you try to fight it. The edge just comes closer. You teeter on your heels.

“You just breathed in some bad air. You’ve been out for… a while.” Somehow, you get the sense that what he says is an understatement. That there are layers he has to hold back. Simon said four, you remember, though you can’t quite define if that was real or a dream.

“I hate you.” You whisper, barely audible. “I hate all of you.”

“I know.” Kyle sighs, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. “I know.”

Teeth sink into you. A choked gasp escapes your lips, body stiffening and hands knotting into some thick cloth. The pain is searing but fleeting. A part of you, the present part of you, feels disgusted. Wants to shake and batter whatever parasite has you caught in its maw. Another part, a far more distant piece of you that you aren’t even sure is you, blossoms with warmth. You melt into the strong arms that hold you against a cool chest.

“John?” You murmur. Or, rather, this other you murmurs.

A low groan reverberates from his chest to yours. Your head gets lighter, vision fuzzy around the edges. A hand clamps over the bloodied parts of your neck. Your vision fractures, partially the scene in front of you and partially the ceiling of your room that isn’t your room. Your lashes flutter and you’re back loosely straddling John’s lap.

“Yes, love?” He pants, mouth and teeth stained red. It sends a wave of panic through your veins.

You swallow roughly. “I don’t-”

Something shatters - the staccato sound reverberating through the apartment.

You startle, sitting up and throwing your blankets back. The bed is empty, room dark except for the few embers trapped in the fireplace off to the side. You don’t notice the box missing from your dresser.

“Hello?” You frown, standing and moving toward your door as if possessed by some external force. As if you at all know where you are going. Your bare feet pad quietly against the hard wood, door silently sliding open a fraction.

There’s another smashing sound. Your heart rate spikes, fear coursing through your veins. No one’s home - they left days ago. On business.

How do you know that?

Suddenly you’re in the living room of the apartment, crouched behind the couch and groping underneath for one of the silver daggers stashed around in various hiding spots. An insurance policy. Your breath comes in short, rapid gasps. You have to get out. Get downstairs. There’s security down there. They’ll help you, they know you.

How do they know you? How did you know the knife was there?

With the small dagger gripped tightly in your fist, you flinch at another smash. It came from John’s room across the apartment, another following right after. It sounds like this person (or people) tore his metal bed-frame apart. Splintered into pieces.

You take the opportunity to carefully move toward the front exit, allowing the noise to cover the sound of your movements. Damn the open concept design. You told John you didn’t like it. Breaths come in faster and shallow. You’re not built for running - too soft from all that pampering. A chubby, well loved pet. Not that you’re complaining. It’s just not the best for this particular moment.

A figure moves at lightening speed from John’s room to Kyle’s. You duck down behind the kitchen counter, covering your mouth to stifling the sound of your breath.

“I can smell ya.” A low voice taunts, echoing through the apartment. Fortunately, your scent is everywhere. It will take longer to distinguish where you are in particular than he may think.

Why is your scent everywhere again?

There’s more tearing and smashing. A door groans loudly as the intruder tears it off the hinges. More shattering. Your heart breaks a little - that must have been Kyle’s pottery. Oh he worked so hard on those. Some of them are from a century ago.

Anger begins to boil up your spine. Who is this fuck who thinks he can just wreck your home? Someone you know, for sure. He would have had to be invited in at some point. With a sneer you continue making your way through the penthouse, toward the front door. John’s going to rip this fucker in two when he gets back.

Except, just as you’re reaching for the front door, the vampire exits Kyle’s room. You meet his eyes - glinting in the dark of the hall. There’s barely a beat before you begin to rush, opening the door as fast as you can.

Not fast enough, of course. You’re only human, after all.

A scream rips it’s way through your throat as you connect with the far wall, knife clattering who knows where. Something broke, you’re not sure what. Every nerve ending seems to light on fire as you try to sit up. Your arm doesn’t move more than a twitch when you try to stand.

“Hey there, little girl.” The man pins you suddenly. You get the nagging sense that you know him, his name on the tip of your tongue. Buried somewhere under lock and key in your mind.

You thrash, punching at his chest and tearing at his hair. To no avail, of course. He just lets you, a cruel grin spreading wider and wider the harder you try to get away.

“What do you want!” You finally sob, going limp when your body finally gives out under pain and exertion.

“To destroy John’s coven. Obviously.” He huffs. “Yer step one.”

The vampire grabs your jaw in an iron grip, your teeth crack under the pressure as his pupils dilate. They’re bright - so blue and infinite and you can’t look anywhere else no matter how hard you try.

A clarity washes over you almost violently as you come to - like breaking through the surface of water after staying under too long. Everything from yo ur time under washing away, sinking back into the deep. A forgotten wreckage - old and twisted and grown over. Another lost Atlantis somewhere in the depths of your mind.

“John?” The name falls from your lips before you even realize you’re speaking, before his face comes into focus. Soft and familiar - comforting and enraging.

“Right here, dove.” He murmurs, dabbing your face with something damp and cool.

“Wh…” You swallow roughly, not entirely sure what you even want to say. So any words threaten to spill from your lips and yet your mind feels blank. All fuzz and static.

You want to beg him to let you go. To keep you forever. To tell you why he brought you here despite the ever nagging sense that you know why. Something deep in your marrow that connects you to this place - to these men - at the very soul. You are theirs and they are yours and you want nothing more than to run from them as far as you can go.

Those blue eyes focus on yours, so oddly gentle for all of their inhuman qualities. “We’ll talk when you’re better, okay?”

Talk about what? There isn’t anything to talk about. You don’t know them and they don’t know you, no matter what that tugging in your chest tells you. You’ve lied to yourself before - you’ve lied to others before - surely you’re just doing it again. This man hurt you. Marked you, whatever that means, so why do you still melt into his touch?

Your name falls from his lips, reverent and frightening. You blanch, eyes wide and mouth falling open. You didn’t tell him that. You didn’t-

“Just sleep for now, yeah?”

~~~

John watches intently as you fall back asleep. There was panic in your eyes for a moment, but your sick body can’t do much more than drift in an out of consciousness. You look more peaceful this time, at least, your breathing even and your body still. You’d been thrashing before, for what reason he isn’t sure. The lower city’s poison air does a number on the body, it’s effects only growing worse as time goes on and the pollution becomes more dense.

He did that, didn’t he? He left you and now you’re sick and hurt. John runs his fingers over the Mark, nearly entirely healed now. Just two small, faded marks that will follow you to the grave.

“I’m so sorry. I just keep failing you, don’t I?” He sighs. You always said he was a good man even when he didn’t believe it. Even with all the things he’s done. Would you still agree?

John‘s eyes sting. He’d be crying if he was human, surely.

He glances at the door. The others are out - taking care of business while he watches over you. The world doesn’t stop even when you need it to desperately. It took Johnny and Kyle nearly dragging Simon away to leave you alone with him.

He takes your hands in his, guilt wrecking him. They’re so much smaller, so much warmer. He can feel your pulse in every fingertip. Surely he’s ruined any chance to fix this before they could even try. He wouldn’t blame Simon if the man decided there needed to be a change - that John needs to be removed. He wouldn’t fight it.

John crawls into bed beside you like he’s done so many times before. Nestles under your pink silken sheets - the ones you picked out for Christmas. That was years go, now. Over two. Two tortorous, draining years that felt longer than the past six hundred.

He ran for days. Weeks maybe. Tearing through the city block by block, dodging and weaving between people and buildings alike. Speaking to anyone, using up every connection and resource he ever gained under this damned dome. It took a week to get through the sewer system.

No one knew where you went.

No one heard a thing. At least, nothing they would admit to. Even under compulsion.

You were gone, just like that.

Two years go by in the blink of an eye for a vampire. Might as well be a day, a night, a handful of hours. Time in such small increments is nothing to an immortal. Decades are barely enough to measure with. Not for them, though. Every second drug on. The days were long and tense.

A fracture formed between them. Kyle retreated into himself - quiet and frayed around the edges. Sometimes John caught him with a far away look in his eye, staring at nothing. He thinks Kyle would have been crying in those moments if he could. Johnny became far too unpredictable. Ripping and tearing any lower level vampire he can find. He spent a few months hunting Frenzies in the lower city without contact.

And Simon…

Simon turned into a fucking nightmare.

After the first year, they at least hoped to find your body. After the second anniversary of your disappearance came around, they gave up. The guilt of giving up brought a whole new wave of grief on them. Johnny laid in your bed for weeks, nearly beginning to petrify as he denied any blood. John couldn’t blame him, opting to re-read your favorite books with shaking hands. Simon fished your last knitting project, eyes heavy and tired. Kyle meandered listlessly through the house, sometimes laying with Johnny but most often sequestering himself in the now empty greenhouse.

They try to fill the hole with pretty girls that look sort of like you. Never enough and they never act like you. Too busy placating to snap at them like you were so willing to do. These others are only place fillers - something to take up the space you left between them. They could never truly fill it, though. It was far too great. A chasm that continues to swallow the four of them whole.

He’s so tired. The others were, too. Kate handled business well enough but their involvement was still required. Each issue and event weighing on them more and more. Kingpins of the city and they’ve been nearly ruined by the loss of a single girl. A single, human girl. None of it mattered in the face of what they lost.

John looks up, the pin-drop silence in the room bringing his attention back to the present.

And there you are.

Like Lazarus returned. An angel bathed in low, red light. Your hair spills around your shoulders framing that face he knows so well, one he’s held more times than he can count. A face that made him pray to a god he does not believe in every day to get back. Just once. Those unmistakable pearls grace your neck, the ruby latch glinting as you twist your neck and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be your Companion tonight.” You say so softly. Almost the way you used to, laid up in his bed, whispering about nothing and everything with your fingers running through his hair. Asking about the things he’s seen with such awe.

“What happened t’ Cherry?” Kyle asks faux casually. John can feel the tension in the man next to him. He’s feeling it out - always so good at that. Better at human subtleties than the rest of them. His dark eyes sparkle, though, with a light John hasn’t seen in so long. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You slide the tray onto the table. You look the same. You sound the same. There’s a few new scars, some scratches here and there. A wariness in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Damage done to your skin that could only come from the lower city air.

Where have you been?

You shift nervously. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” John says far too quickly, smiling despite himself. It might not even be you. Maybe a doppelganger. A distant relative. A clone is more plausible. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” And oh, John is sure his dead heart comes back to life. It is you. It has to be.

“Fittin’.” Johnny says, eyes raking over you. He might as well be vibrating, struggling to keep himself held back from yanking you into his hold.

They’re all measuring you up the same way he is. Feeling for anything unfamiliar. Outside of your distant, distrustful gaze with a lack of recognition that makes his chest ache, it’s you. It’s all you.

“Do you know who we are?” Simon murmurs. You’re having trouble looking at him, only meeting his gaze in small glances. Not so different from when they first met you. You and Simon have always had a certain… connection. Not that you weren’t all close - that they all didn’t love you deeply - but you and Simon had an understanding. He wonders if you can still feel it somewhere, deep down in the back of your mind.

You’re panicking a little, eyes flitting between their faces. John’s heart sinks. He feels it in the others. A deep disappointment - a turbulent melancholy- seeping into their bodies. You don’t know them. You don’t recognize a single one of them.

It’s all gone.

“It’s not a trick question.” Kyle says gently, ever one to soothe.

“No, sir.”

John’s heart breaks all over again.

A/N: My initial summary for this one was just “Fancy tripping balls on pollution while John and co. have a meltdown”

[the-kr8tor]

Hello, I've been trying to reach you about your cars extended warranty:)

(Requesting Reverse Isekai AU thingy please^^)

I don't even have a car 😭 (thank you for requesting muah 😘)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, lovestruck reader, reverse isekai AU, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

One minute you're mindlessly scrolling through your phone with your headphones blaring loud music, a minute later you're screaming bloody murder when a geometric glowing portal pops up in your room. It made everything in the room glow orange and yellow as confusion and surprise took over your form.

Are you getting abducted by aliens? Are you in an episode of Rick and Morty? If so, then multiverses are real, it's either that or the mold from your numerous stock water bottles has finally gotten to your brain.

A half second into your contemplation, out comes a man that you're oh so familiar with and oh so smitten with. His boots thump loudly on your floors, spikes glimmering under the red LED lights. The whites of his mask widen when he spots you cowering in the corner, darkness overtakes you when his oh so familiar voice echoes above the whir of the portal.

“This ain't 1346.” You fall off the bed like a damsel in distress.

—

You wake up to water gently splashing your face, flicking more like. And your head aching, eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

“Fuckin' finally, I thought you were dead.” A garbled voice utters as your ears try to waken up from your deep nap. “You alright there?” His voice clears and you still think you're dreaming when Hobie Brown's mask pops up in your vision, droopy eyeliner, spikes and all that jazz that you've practically memorized in your mind.

You thought your poster has once again fallen off the walls and onto your bed. But no, when you touched his bicep abruptly, eyes as wide as saucers, lips stuttering out his name. Your favourite character is real and right in your bedroom, flicking water from one of your numerous discarded water bottles on your bedside.

Even your wildest imagination couldn't make this up.

“You're Hobie Brown.” You say in disbelief, voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah, I figured you know me based on all of these…” he roams his eyes on your walls and table. “...posters and stickers. What am I over here? A rockstar or somethin’? Since you know my name.”

“You're Hobie motherfucking Brown!” You screech, suddenly jumping off the bed, looking like someone just told you Santa isn't real.

“That I am.” Said man has the audacity to smirk at you. And you swear you would have fainted again. “You a big fan?”

“I love you.” Your voice merely a murmur but he for sure heard it as the eyes of his mask widened for a brief second.

“I think it's time for us to chat, yeah, love?”

“L-love? Fucking…” voice wavering, you drop once again, but this time he catches you perfectly without the motion sickness from traveling to one dimension after another.

Hobie chuckles, eyes staring at your sleeping face, mouth still agape from the surprise and skin hot under his gloves. “Never thought someone could faint twice in one day.”

—

There's a glass of cold water in your hands, legs nervously bouncing under the blanket. He sits at the foot of your bed, giving you enough space so as to not make you uncomfortable in your own home, and to also not make you pass out (again) from the close proximity. His iconic boots are discarded, vest folded next to him, and mask in his pocket. You almost fainted again when he took it off.

“So, this Miles from earth–1610 is gonna get chased by Miguel and the entire society because he doesn't want his canon event to happen?” You nod as he recalls your story. Not a story anymore as this Hobie hasn't experienced it yet. Of course you didn't tell him the entire plot, just in case it rips a hole in the space time continuum. “And a few people are gonna need a watch?”

You sniffle, skin so warm that you think you're boiling the water in your hands.

“Hmm, that checks out. Good thing I started making these watches then eh, love?” His mischievous smile makes your stomach do flips, you're sure he's doing it intentionally.

Pinching yourself under the covers, chugging down the cool water, you muster up enough courage to actually speak coherent words.

“H-how’d you get here?”

“Fucked up my coordinates, I think. I'm pretty sure I'm not in Kansas anymore.” Hobie chuckles at his own joke before switching his attention to your wide eyed self. “Wizard of oz, you do have that here, right?”

“Y-yes,” you say meekly, drowning in his blue? Grey? Or brown eyes? You have no idea as his borders and colors change every minute or so. Nevertheless, you're absolutely done for. You guess this is what it feels like to meet your favourite celebrity, or in this case, favourite character. “Reverse isekai.” You whisper, nerding out at the possibilities.

“A what?” He says in his accent and you tamp down the feeling of wanting to say it back jokingly.

You clear your throat, “nothing.”

Nodding, he inhales, eyes darting around your fangirl room full of fandom merch and of course spiderverse merch. He zeroes in on the body pillow peeking under the blanket. You immediately lift the covers up to hide it, accidentally spilling water all over yourself and the bed. *Great, very smooth, you thought.

His eyes are soft and full of endearment whilst he watches you frantically and desperately dry yourself off.

You hope that he doesn't tease, but you know him, know his character, so you anticipate what happens next.

“What was that then?” He pats your foot, head tilting to look at you. You feel your head swirl again, and you swear the water spilled all over you evaporates from the sheer heat from your skin.

“N-nothing, Hobie.” You sink into the mattress.

“Right,” He unfolds his vest, putting it back on. “It's been great, but I gotta go.”

“Oh,” you blink, “do you want me to take out the posters? I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Nah, not uncomfortable, I've been in worse dimensions. This ain't that bad really.”

“They're bootlegs if that makes it more okay.”

Hobie laughs and you practically melt from the sound.

“Bootleg, huh? That's a great name, project bootleg it is.” His smile blinds you for a second. You feel like you've ascended to heaven. “I have a tight schedule, being Spider-Man and all, but maybe I can visit again to get some insider knowledge of the future. Eh, Oracle?”

“S-sure,” you choke on the singular word. “It's a date— wait– no, I meant—”

Hobie chuckles, hands on his hips, bouncing on the balls of his boot clad feet, and border turning bright pink. For some reason, in all your clumsy and goofy self, you just made *the Spider-Man sheepish. Not just any Spider-Man, Hobie Brown, your absolute favourite out of all the thousands of Spider-people in the entire multiverse.

“It's a date then, no fainting next time yeah? I'll still catch you anyway, but it wouldn't be that fun if you're sleeping through it.”

“Okay.” You manage to say, heart loudly beating in your chest when his art style changes into love poems etched into his design.

He jumps inside the portal to hide the poems, winking at you before his body disappears into the void.

As the portal closes, you pass out once again, with a lopsided smile this time.

[ms-scarletwings]

Irken Zim’s 8 biggest fans

For funsies! As we are well aware, this guy has a lot of gut-haters and censurers across the galaxy. Over his long years of life, he’s gained a proud infamy from every corner of the Irken empire, all the way to the fringes beyond, and the number of critics snapping at his heels only grows with every adventure. Whole civilizations sit at their seat’s edge waiting for this invader’s downfall, but what of those who defy all odds, expectations, maybe even logic? Even devils somehow find worshippers, even criminals get fan mail, and even Invader Zim has someone rooting for him within the 4th wall. Weirdly quite a handful of them, actually, let’s recount.

8. Table Headed Service Drone Bob

It’s humorous, how odd circumstance can make for strange advocacy. The show’s universe operates on the rule of funny, and Bob just so happened to be in the right place and time to comedically become the only Irken alive with something to gain from Zim’s success, and so much to lose for his failure. The sheer unfairness of what the Tallest put him through along with Zim serving some hope for a miracle ticket out of his low standing seemed to snap something in him, even if just for an episode. It would make sense for anyone in his position to have a much more dampened love for their society and leaders, to the point where cheering on its greatest enemy would be preferable than another moment of being a doormat. An underdog rooting for an underdog, even if for purely selfish and coincidental reasons.

7. The Judgementia Control brains

Even more deliciously ironic, isn’t it- That Zim’s praise was be sung once from the very bottom rung of Irken society and then again from the highest spike? What better to follow up poor Bobby than another victim of astronomical circumstance, or rather, three victims together? The nutshell recap of “The Trial’s” plot climax spells out the tragedy of, what is basically Irk’s highest court officials, to become he first ever victims of Zim’s malignant code becoming a contagion. They’ve joined the Fanclub, even if against their will, and all the better for Zim this time to have support from such a high place, seeing that it literally saved his hide in this instance.

6. Dib Membrane

Yeah, that’s freaking right. He’s on the list. You think being a hype man and a mortal rival are mutually exclusive? You either haven’t been watching enough DBZ or you haven’t been watching enough Hellsing and should fix that. Anyway, and I’m speaking within the actual canon dynamic of these two… it is very important to Zim that Dib is perceived as a formidable opponent to bluster his own ego, and vise versa. Dib is not in any self-serving position to accept what an actual mess Zim’s operation is, even though he has more evidence of the alien’s horrible tactics, nonsense plans, failures, etc. than anyone else on the planet. Gaz can see Zim for exactly what he is and why fighting him doesn’t have to be this 24/7 urgent priority. Dib refuses to get that because stopping Zim’s pop-up schemes only keeps the score tied for them. They’ve both been at this long enough to get incredibly frustrated with the lack of progression regarding the big picture goals, taking over the world, and exposing a live alien to the world, respectively. I don’t think he has to keep describing this space goblin as some ultra-cunning master of villainy, or GIR as this nefarious minion because that’s what he actually thinks of them, but because if he admits otherwise, that’s not a great reflection of his own merit for the obvious reasons. Just the presentation of another dimension’s version of himself succeeding against Zim before him causes a spiral of self doubt, just as it can bring Zim to a minor panic watching other invaders leaving him in the dust. Dib wants this guy to be a challenge worth the victory lap when he finally gets what he’s been fighting so hard for.

When Zim is getting on some truly idiotic antics, Dib doesn’t actually revel in his disorganized stupidity, but meets it with a baffled or annoyed disappointment. Like me watching a character I thought was super badass suddenly do something that reveals them to just be utterly lame. Too often he almost comes off like he is critiquing Zim’s performance as a villain rather than,, you know, the fact that Zim is a villain in the first place. It more than once has led to accidentally giving the guy new ideas or pointers on how to do his own job better once in a while. If I were in Dib’s place I would under NO circumstances be giving Zim advice or corrections on what he’s doing “badly” when it comes to the invader thing, but, whatever makes you feel cool & smart, you little dork. There’s also the whole “Dib’s hatred for Zim belies his geeky fixation with aliens broadly” angle I’ve mentioned here or there before, and don’t mind to again. Studying/stalking Zim is only partially about defeating him. His curiosity over Irken tech, biology, etc. is still coming from a place of genuine scientific passion, as literally all of us know. And of course, on occasion the two make for unlikely allies against much bigger shared enemies.

5. Minimoose

Oh come on, how much could I even have to say about this moose-weapon? He has two fathers and is fully aware that Zim is one of them. Assuming we all here know about the cute Florpus quote; no need to recap the whole existence of the lil guy.

4. Invader Skoodge

Now this guy… this guy ain’t right. Exactly here, at this (I say with love) loser of an invader, we reach two tipping points when it comes to Zim-affinity. One, the tipping point where Zim ceases to ask for and ceases to appreciate the toadying. Two, the point where I actually kind of struggle to find any rational explanation for the toady’s behavior. Like I’ve tried and I genuinely don’t know how to put together how Skoodge keeps jumping into this position other than ‘it’s that funny’ or some weird familiarity from smeethood factor. All of the invaders know what Zim has done and what he’s capable of. He’s a consistent terrorist of his own kin and defamed as the greatest disgrace to the Empire. The two options for how to feel about Zim as any random Irken soldier are fear, and/or loathing. If Skoodge were just neutral or indifferent of Zim, that’d be pretty freaking odd. But Skoodge interacts with Zim on the level of at least a lukewarm acquaintance, readily even deferring to his command, despite the fact that he nearly dies every single time he does so. He survives miles of being chased by a monster on Hobo-13, he makes it to the finish line, and his first reaction is to let Zim know he’s made it in one piece. He decides to lay low and slack off after getting fired (into the blighted surface of Blorch) and out of the entire universe to choose from, he decides to go hole up at Zim’s place and stay conveniently out of the way for some time. Dude finally shows himself in the unfinished scripts, and it’s to motherfucking help Zim troll around with Dib. I’m up at night wondering what is going on in Skoodge’s head because he’s n o t an idiot. He’s a real invader in all other respects, just as competent and nationalistic as the rest of them. Easily suggestible, yes, but not stupid. There’s basically no way for him to be ignorant of the big lie the Tallest sold Zim, yet he chooses not to utter a peep on the matter. Pity? A bizarre sense of solidarity?? A delusional one sided friendship??? Don’t look at me like I know other than the fact that he’s on our protag’s team, in spirit. The wannabe Irwin to Zim’s Billy, essentially.

3. Keef

So yeah of all things to blow Skoodge’s unhealthy attachment clean out of the water, we stumbled into this freak of a human child. Keef is a loyal compadre to a fault. A huge, creepy fault. Kid was originally supposed to make a return as well, wherein he was no less of a stubborn stalker than already proven once. And extra points for the irrational selflessness. Even while demonstrating an understanding of what Zim did in Dark Harvest, possibly even with the memory of that whole squirrel incident, he still wishes nothing but for the ability to put a smile on his green friend’s face.

2. The Amoeboid Cult

And when none thought that the scary conviction Zim garnered on Earth could be his biggest fans, you find this little ditty in the comics, and it starts turning into an irresponsible god analogy fairly quick. The short recap is that following a crash on a strange planet, the Voot Runner starts leaking fluids that inadvertently spark abiogenesis, which results in the creation of a rapidly evolving race of blob-things. Seizing an opportunity, Zim at first demands their followership, and then shortly after gets fed up with it as he did the previous fanatic on the list. Nonetheless, the cell people continue to reproduce and age thousands of years their time in the span of a couple minutes, never losing that zeal for their unintentional creator, even going so far as to repair the cruiser despite Zim’s rejection of them. Out of what little they gathered about him during his short visit, they correctly learned he’s a destructive god who planned to abandon them as soon as he could. Their last wish as a civilization? For this god to also obliterate them, as final treat. Such was their devotion that it even left Zim himself completely baffled for a moment when its full depth was revealed.

1. GIR

You watch this show, right? Yeah? Henchman and sidekick number one? Chaotic thing this whole fandom can’t decide to perceive as an adoptive child or a talking pet? He may not be as competent in pleasing Zim’s wishes as minimoose, or as focused, but his heart and loyalty are ultimately with their intended master, unconditionally and for as long as this setting has continued.

[nightcolorz]

The most heartbreaking thing about Armand regarding Marius is that Marius is still alive and very respected by other vampires, including the few people Armand himself respects and loves

Like sure, others have suffered abuse, Lestat suffered a lot of abuse, but all of Lestat's abusers are dead, Lestat is free to process his trauma without anyone telling him he is being overdramatic

Meanwhile Armand's abuser is right there, he is forced to interact and be polite and pretend he isn't fucking terrified of Marius

And to make it worse Marius is a respected member of the community, people value his advice and see him and a wise teacher, Armand must feel so lonely when it comes to thinking about what Marius did to him

It's no wonder people want AMC version of Daniel (and to an extent Louis) to hate the guy, Armand needs someone on his corner and it sure won't be Lestat who also sees Marius as a wise teacher

While I think Anne was a good writer I sometimes resent how uninterested she was in exploring the nuances of her characters interpersonal relationships, she never let the characters feel resentment for eachother for long, the plot was more important for her

UGHHH THIS IS INCREDIBLY TRUE!!! So mf heartbreaking oh my god. Hard agree with ur last point about Anne never exploring stuff like this, idk how she managed to create such realistic abuse dynamics seemingly by accident and then focus all of her attention on the alien invasion plot line that consists exclusively of sitting around at a table and talking 😭😭

but ugh, yeah, as I said this is just such a realistic scenario for a victim of abuse (especiallyyy sexual abuse) to go through. Pedophiles and sexual abusers r so often powerful, well liked and respected people, which suppresses their victims abilities to ever be open about what they went through. For Armand he can’t even truly process it, and is stuck believing that any fear he has of Marius is irrational and Marius was purely good to him. Armand’s dynamic with Marius during the ambiguous post canon era reminds me of how child sa in a family often operates when the family chooses to protect the abuser over the child. I won’t go into detail about this cuz it’s a triggering topic but yeahh, what I love about the vampire chronicles is how often the collective vampire community operates like an abusive and unhealthy family.

God just, yeah, thank u for this ask anon ugh it’s hitting me in the gut in a good, sad way

[yanderes-galore]

If you still do prompts can you Xenomorph queen prompt 43.)

I know only Xenomorph Queen Mothers are psychic but... I'll alter things for this fic. My prompts were used. Sorry if the plot felt everywhere :( Here's some more Xenomorph content <3

Yandere! Xenomorph Queen Prompt 43

"Won't you be a good pet for me?"

Pairing: Romantic/Animal/Pet-Like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Xenomorph/Human, Telepathy, Dream manipulation, Manipulation, Violence, Murder, Forced "relationship", Mind control.

"Queens are physically and even telepathically capable... They can also penetrate the minds of humans, using emotional attachments and promises of love and affection to lure them to their dooms."

---

You shoot out of your makeshift bed, breathing deep and heavy. Sweat drips down your back like you've just had a nightmare. You look around, only to see fellow marines staring at you.

"Another nightmare?" One asks. You give them a wary look before nodding.

"It's the strangest thing... I hear this voice- I never hear who it's coming from but it's always calling out to me...." You try to recall the dream, hearing another marine laugh.

"What? Is this some sort of prophecy dream? Get ahold of yourself." They mutter.

"You may just be jumpy from having to fight all these Xenomorphs. Speaking of which, we have an expedition into a nest today." Another marine agrees, passing your stuff to you. "Enough rest, we have people to save."

"I hope you're right..." You sigh. You weren't sure what all these dreams were meaning yet you were growing more and more scared. At first... things were small.

You'd go to sleep, then you'd hear a voice. It's always a voice of someone familiar yet foreign, mimicking those you know. It's female... yet fluctuates in pitch. You never quite see who... or what... is talking to you.

It all sounds so surreal when it happens.

First it was just voices. Then it was monsters, all depictions of aliens and the foreign creatures you fight. Then you'd see depictions of... unsavory dreams of pleasure. Deep down... you feel something is messing with your head.

Whatever it is wants to make you feel fear... yet pleasure. It likes to play with your dreams, your thoughts, your mind. Despite not knowing exactly what it is... it strikes fear within you.

Dreams are just dreams... aren't they?

If that's the case, there's no need to worry. Carefully, you get up, suit up, and gather your supplies.

As you prepare yourself for yet another bug hunt, you can't help but think back to your strange dreams...

Maybe it was something more sinister... maybe soon you'd find out what you truly should be scared of.

---

The human mind is fragile. It's easy to mold and influence with just a little psychic ability. This Xenomorph Queen is rather skilled in the field. Manipulating prey aided her nest.

All she had to do was promise them love. Humans follow affection and positive stimuli. Deep down they truly were primal like her.

Her drones had told her that a group of humans were breaching the nest. This had driven the Queen to manipulate the mind of one of them. At first it was just to draw you in closer, to make you a new host for one of her many children.

Then... the Queen got "word" of you from another drone. You're fierce, yet submissive when cornered like most humans. Her abilities had influenced you carefully.

If she lured you in... she'd get the other humans easily.

She influenced your thoughts in many ways. Fear... pleasure... a deep yearning for the voice in your head. She found it amusing to play with a human's mind.

While she mostly plagued your thoughts for manipulation... she could see your own thoughts and memories. That's how the Queen learned of your appearance and personality. Your were an interesting human... yet her thoughts still thought of you as prey.

Cute prey, but prey nonetheless.

The Queen kept a close eye on you to determine where your group is in her nest. One by one... she planned to pick you all off. She'd send drone after drone towards you... taking you humans in deep to her nest.

Although... she wants to keep you for last.

You're the best human out of the group... a pet following her carefully place instructions deep in your mind...

You should be honored to meet her once the rest fade away.

---

Your head did nothing but hurt. It wasn't just when you were sleeping anymore, now you always felt like you heard whispers in your head. Not only that but the xenomorphs were relentless.

Any inch of progress you made with your group into the nest was beat down multiple times. You kept losing person after person to the never-ending alien menace. Soon you wondered if there would be anyone left?

There was only two other people on the team except you now.

"Aren't you scared?" The voice in your head whispers. You're either insane... or this is some new phenomenon. "Those who've died aren't worth it. They're weak. Unlike you...."

You want the voice to stop, It isn't real, is it? As if to answer, the voice replies.

"I chose you for a reason. I want to give you a chance at a new life. Just follow my instructions and I'll make it worth your while."

'No.' You say mentally.

"Really? I promise if you give in you'll be treated to nothing but love. You'll love it here."

'What are you?' You think, were you asking yourself or it?

"A superior being." The voice responds. You hear its voice exude confidence, it's teasing. "You'll join me... I can promise you that, human."

For once, the voice the grows silent. You try to think on what the voice means. A distant thought clicks in your head... could it be?

Xenomorphs didn't have this power, did they?

You shake the thought from your head and continue deep into the hive with your remaining crew. This was not a loss yet.... The Queen heard your thoughts loud and clear, but said nothing.

She only grinned with a hiss.

You humans catch on quick, don't you?

---

It was going to happen at some point. You were bound to run out of ammo. Your partners, maybe even you, were bound to die. All you wanted to do was look for an exit.

But you're so far in.

Everyone's dead but don't you want to go in deeper?

Did you have a choice? You either died here, or you died there. The voice lures you closer... encouraging you to be brave. You couldn't trust it...

But there wasn't much else you could do.

You thought the lack of hostility from the aliens around you was strange. Just earlier you were blasting through them and you'd think if they knew you were out of ammo they'd pounce? Yet nothing happens... there's only chittering and the occasional skittering of the creatures.

Your legs didn't feel like your own when you walked. You kept walking further, getting deeper and deeper. You even cast aside your gun... it's empty anyway.

Confused chitters greet your ears. The voice coos to you and reassures you they aren't hostile. How would it know?

How else would it know unless it was a Xenomorph itself?

Your were doomed from the start. The moment you got on this expedition, the moment you heard the voice, your fate was here. You were meant to be deep in this nest. You were meant to give yourself to the voice.

You were meant to meet the hulking monster deep in the hive, towering over you with a hissing mouth.

You feel fear. You see this creature, a Queen, and want to run. You know you shouldn't be here... yet at the same time you feel you should be. At the same time you tell yourself to run, the voice tells you to stay.

Its voice... the creature's voice... deep down in your mind.

The hulking creature beckons you closer. The voice feels grating against your mind and you follow. When you stand in front of the Queen...

You swear it smiles at you. In response to your fear, the voice only says one thing.

"Won't you be a good pet for me?"

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Sinister plot

<<<Prev (A lingering past) (Circus ghosts) Next>>>

Pairing: Buggy x female mermaid reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 2400

Content: Everyone wants the throne but you.

---

The sheets were too soft. You laid still, your conscience waking up as you took in your surroundings with your eyes closed. The room smelled like a flower field instead of leather and wood. The breeze felt watered down by the time it travelled through the town, it lacked the salty punch. You opened your eyes only to find two people posted by your bedframe, the colours too pale and modest. Their dresses detailed with frills and laces while almost all the fabric in this room and on their clothes were in a pale blue.

The window was open and the curtains fluttered, you could only think about the ways to escape from this foreign place. A place you were born in and yet the most alien you had ever felt in.

“Where am I?”, you asked to which the woman who stood to your right turned to answer.

“Your home, your Highness.”, she refrained to look you in the eyes as if she was bound by rules. You didn’t have a dignified retort for that answer and neither did she seem like she deserved it.

You pulled away your blanket, the bed was huge just for one person as you edged to the side. Your feet hit the carpet and with your regained strength, you stood up, feeling the blood rush to the tip of your toes. The room was so large that the whispers spoken near the door couldn’t be heard in the other corner. Another individual rolled in a tray of food that looked too marvellous to eat.

“Your Breakfast, ma’am.”, said the young man before he departed.

You didn’t have an appetite, your attention now turning towards the soft sounds of a chorus of bells beginning to ring. Making your way to the open window, you looked at the view of the city below. It was jarring, all this elegance only existed to what looked like the compound of the castle, beyond it lied tattered buildings that looked as though it had been spit out by the sea.

Seaweed covering the streets, moss and dirt accumulating over the houses. But the bells continued to ring and then you saw it, with every passing second, the sea water had begun to get closer to the castle gates, slowly engulfing the city whole.

“It’s the high tide coming in during mid day.”, you heard someone.

When you turned towards the source, a man you didn’t recognize stood by the door. He looked a bit older, his silver hair gelled back making him look like he had just walked out of the water. His eyes were silver too, his limbs long and slender as he approached you warily.

“I figured.”, you said as you looked back at the city, now submerged as though it had never existed.

He was beside you, his hands resting on the railing you leaned on, his fingers were webbed and his skin shimmered. He was one of your kind.

“You must have questions.”, he turned to face you but you didn’t.

“Plenty.”, you responded with sarcasm as your eyes searched the horizon line for a particular ship.

He seemed to have noticed as he hummed to your response.

“You haven’t had your breakfast yet?”, he changed his question and it got your attention, his attempt at trying to converse with you was miserable.

“No.”, you said folding your arms, the only good thing so far was the dress you wore. It was light and airy, atleast it wasn’t being tied up in corsets and strings.

The edge of his lip tipped up, as if you were a new toy to engage with.

“Do you always speak with such contempt to your rescuers?”, he tilted his head and you were unimpressed.

You looked away, because his question was stupid. Rescuer? You didn’t need to be rescued. But it bothered you, it got under your skin, you knew well who your rescuer was.

“Didn’t know you took pleasure from being a savior.”, you remarked to which he was quick to give you a laugh.

“You are not what I expected.”, he drew out his words as though you were a hindrance.

“Likewise.”, you gave him a retort before moving away to peruse the food tray.

“Do you not care to know my name? Or who I am?”, he followed after you flabbergasted and it frustrated you. Did you have to hold up a sign saying you weren’t interested in his presence?

“Fine, who are you?”, you asked as you picked a few berries you recognized and popped them into your mouth.

He looked at you like you were a barbarian for using your hands but soon cleared his throat to introduce himself.

“I’m Helge Silvester. The soon to be King of Makara.”, he smiled with pride to which you shrugged your shoulders. The information was irrelevant if it was not going to answer why you were brought here.

“Congratulations.”, you grinned. “How does that concern me?”, you asked next as your grin faded away causing Helge to fluster.

“Well you are to be my bride.”, he extended his hands towards you and you froze.

“What?”, your voice cut through the awkward silence.

“Has no one told you yet?”, he clasped his fingers together, his silver eyes catching yours, his cheekbones so high and sharp he looked like a shark.

“I haven’t been fortunate enough, since I’ve only just woken up into this chaos.”, you mumbled flailing your hands around you in anger.

But the man was dense because he brushed past your annoyance as he got closer to you.

“Well now that you know, there are a lot of tasks to attend to. You are to be introduced to the mercourt tonight at the New moon festival. With the sacred day of the Falling stars only a year away, it is vital we use every opportunity to get to know each other before we ascend the throne as a pair.”, he elaborated without pause and it caused your head to stir.

You began to laugh at all the stupidity and he was taken a back.

“No.”, you said finally.

“No?”, he furrowed his brows seemingly unable to take your answer.

“I will not be your bride, Henry. Nor will I be paraded around a court I know nothing about. Now if anyone can find a proper person who might be able to give me the right answers, bring them in.”, you stood up, your blood coursing through your veins at the preposterous information he had shared.

“I paid your ransom, you will do as I say.”, he commanded and it propelled your anger further.

“It might have had been cheaper and more wiser to have gotten a slave than me.”, you said as you held his glare, his lips quivering as though he was about to call the guards. But from what you knew, you were the lost princess, he couldn't do much.

“How dare you speak –

“Helge, you’ve been called upon to meet with the advisors.”, an old woman entered the room, her posture however giving her away to be another aristocrat.

Helge held his gaze with yours before he turned to leave like a child who had been tricked to give up his treats in the playground.

Once he was out of sight, the lady turned to you with a pleasant smile but you couldn’t deal with another royal with boisterous plans.

“Forgive my son, he’s been anxious.”, she held out her hand to take yours, to guide you towards the lounge chairs by the balcony.

“We have been searching for you ever since the day you had been lost, close to twenty five years now.”, she turned to you and it struck you. Weird, grateful even, that you had the luck of spending most of that time on a pirate ship instead of here.

You sat quietly for a second, pondering about all that time that had passed, never once feeling trapped in.

“You poor thing, your life had been so tragic and on top of that, to be snuggled amongst pirates?”, she clicked her tongued as she feigned her sadness, you scoffed. "Unimaginable.", her eyes widened.

You were sure that you had to unravel the secrets on your own because now you were fed with information that was controlled by these predators who had their eyes set on the throne. She continued to ramble but your mind had drowned it out, your eyes flitting back to the open window. It had begun to feel suffocating here, this was a life you weren’t born into although everyone was trying to convince you otherwise.

“Now that you’re here. I guess it would be better to tell you that I will not be marrying your son.”, you cut through her talk to which she grew silent immediately.

“Oh.”, she drew her breath before plastering on another smile.

“No matter, that is only because you have not known him yet. A year is a long time for these issues to subside.”, she explained, you gritted your teeth. Why was no one heeding or acknowledging your responses.

She continued to explain the various other possibilities that could arise from this union, how it would be good for the kingdom while you knew that one week was good enough. To run from this place, to get back to where you belonged.

“Oh it would be lovely to have you at tonight’s festival. The people have been eager to see their princess.”, the woman leaned over to touch your arm but your flinched from her grasp. Since they belonged to the sea, it seemed to be that they knew nothing about boundaries or personal space.

But unlike her son, her mask fell away easily.

“You may be the lost princess but you are as good as the many myths this island holds. If you wish to survive, I suggest to get up to speed with how matters are handled here.”, she hissed quietly as leaned closer.

“And if you so much as think of running away. We can make you disappear just as easily as we found you.”, she got up as though she was parting from a great conversation but only you knew the truth.

She held out her hand as part of her show. “Teodora Sylvester.”, she gave you a polite smile.

You shook her hand to maintain the impression that nothing had occurred but with the way her nails dug into your skin, you were sure of one thing. This was a pit of vipers and you were the target.

She didn’t bother to hear your name and neither did you want to give it. It was only reserved for those you knew you.

At the same instant your mind brought to life a memory, Buggy mumbling your name in his sleep, it felt like a dagger to your heart.

Did he know what had happened?

Or did he believe you had chosen the precise moment to run off?

You stood by the balcony watching the blue expanse surround the castle completely, it called your name and now you were locked away in this tower. There was more to your story, to that memory you couldn’t quite remember fully.

Your mind had always yearned for more, to know more about where you had come from but your heart wanted to find the first way out of this place. It was a battle, one you had to choose rightly, because with the current stakes, fighting the wrong one could cause you your life.

So you walked back towards the bed and fell into it. It’s massive size the only thing resonating with how isolated you felt, so lonely that your skin craved the sea and his touch both of which that was out of your grasp.

You slept the day away, with no interest in the festivities that was to occur. You didn’t want to meet the court, you needed time to yourself. Change was something you were never good at.

As night fell, you dismissed the staff in your room. You would start afresh tomorrow, to find a way out and with what was going on but now in the dark you were free to miss him. The room felt like a gilded cage that you kicked off your shoes and walked into the balcony. The dome above had notches in the roof that you knew was where you wanted to be.

Having done this a hundred times before on different buildings and rooflines, you climbed up to the top and perched yourself there. The wind finally unadulterated that if you closed your eyes, it was as though you be back on the ship you longed for now. The waters stretched endlessly and the low tide had now let the city breathe again. As the lights glimmered below, the full moon sitting right in the middle of the sky, the festival was full of life but you weren’t.

You looked out to the horizon line. That as though if you chanted his name in your heart, he might appear.

He had done it once before, at the cove, when you sang your song that called for an angel of the sea to save you. Buggy had found you then. His red nose a comfort to see, he had nothing to hide unlike the people you had met today.

So was it foolish to hope he would come again?

You held your knees together as you continued to observe the scene when the smallest light caught your eye.

There by the horizon in the dark, that red light. So far off it looked like a solitary star, your heart raced. He was here but you couldn’t yell out his name or wave a torch. He was there, out on the water and you were here, miles high from the sea that the distance now felt real.

But as days went by, his ship never docked the ports of this island of you continued to hope andwait. The light vanished in the morning but would appear by night and at the end of the month, he stopped coming altogether.

You couldn’t wait on the roof anymore, the red light disappearing with all your hopes as life began to grow more constricting here. Helge and his mother insistent while you pieced together the story about your parents, the true rulers of this land who were killed, no, assassinated when the coup happened.

You were the only one to survive from the royal lineage and without you, no one could ascend the throne. So as the story unfolded with more complications, with every day that passed, your love for the pirate began to die because he had so easily forgotten about you.

It was time you did too.

[sualne]

Listen as someone who has been obsessed with vampires like my entire life (but not in a ooh there sexy way its like the symbolism man of what vampires can mean) i am a huge fan of your op vanpire au.

I know you just made a post with lore (amazing art btw) but is there anything else about the au you want to talk about. Id love to hear everything

there's a lot of things i want to talk about the au!! im going to use the frantic energy from the year to get myself some bravery and say some of it is inspired by my own experiences with hallucinations and delusion (dont ask about it pls), with the au i want to explore what it would be like having the person who changed you being very literally stuck with you.

i love stories where characters end up sharing a mind and/or body, i also really dont like when its just good person vs bad person, nuance is a lot more fun lol. the relationship luffy and mingo will be forced into stuck as they are is something important to me. mingo is an awful monster but since he can feel everything luffy does he ends up trying to teach him how to live as a vampire, how to take care of himself. im also very found of the concept of parasite (they're literally the worst thing ever and so fucking scary, so naturally they keep coming up in my stories).

it's also about luffy's body and mind failing him, because of the mindlink he has a hard time knowing where he is, sometimes who he is, what is relationships were supposed to be with others, it gets complicated for him! how hard it is to go through one's daily life when your sense are all messed up! (mingo also struggles with that a bit, but this isn't about him, even thought it's new for him too he get used to it much more easily for plot convenience).

other's ppl reaction to the situation also, i feel, completely unconsciously was also incidentally inspired by my own fear of being seen as a monster or dangerous, something to be put down or locked away!

there's also a few jokes in that lore post that reflects this here:

bugs are a pretty common brand of hallucination, be they crawling in the corner of your sight or inside you, making you feel like a walking hives, this was a funny reference to that!

"surprisingly he doesn't start biting people or become violent." this is my not very subtle "mentally ill and neurodivergent folks aren't inherently dangerous pls stop killing us". the occasional euphoria from bloodthist is vaguely inspired by some manic episode, the happy kind.

there's more, about the way this is about trauma and feeling alienated, i guess this is also a "character realize they've got a disorder/develop one and now has to live with it" kind of story.

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

I'm not the person who asked but 👁👁 may I inquire as to the spoilery season 5 problems

Understand that everything I'm about the say Under the Cut, comes from a place of bias. Bias that truly does love the Juno Steel storyline, bias that absolutely hates the plot direction Kabert took with the last two seasons

Slip Jackson. He is the plothole they wrote, the corner Kabert backed themselves into and had to write themselves out of. The one NO ONE ASKED FOR but they wrote in anyways to explain "this is what happened After Nureyev saved NK and killed Mag". I cannot stress enough how pissed off and annoyed Slappery Junkyard makes me from a plot standpoint.

Too many plot devices disguised as characters. Every other episode the listener and Juno is introduced to someone new. And every other episode they are forgotten about and we move on to the next. This is the equivalent I feel to early TMA and early WTNV monster of the week and even early TPP where Juno is solving one case after the next-

Only this time Juno's chasing after Nureyev across the fucking galaxy. I love Juno with all my heart, but it still is super annoying that all of season 5 is spent of him chasing after Nureyev, getting tripped up, chasing after Nureyev, getting tripped up, wash rinse repeat. Especially more annoying and upsetting when you factor in that Nureyev blatantly does not want to be followed (but me and every other listener is a fucking sucker for a hopeful fool and dramatic love story. If this happened to someone you actually knew, you wouldn't encourage or condone Juno's behavior, but because the Lady isn't real and it's all a work of fiction and Juno is the Hero, ofc we're all cheering him on)

Grandpappy's recipe. We're given a hint of worldbuilding to the rest of the galaxy, and Juno shows some appreciation towards Rita, but it is not her storyline. It is not Rita-centric. And the depiction of Nureyev in these couple of episodes (i don't know how anyone else felt) came so far out of left field for me, that I almost didn't believe what Juno and Rita were saying about him. Something along the lines of Nureyev is a con, and he sweet talks and seduces all of his targets into falling for him, before ultimately turning on them and stealing from their pockets. The Homme Fatale thing gets really pushed, and it's like everything discussed in Man in Glass never happened.

The amazing moment in Heart of it All when he reminds Buddy "a legend is a dead thing" (and by extension the discussion he had with her in Man in Glass) might as well never fucking happened. Peter goes the entirety of season 5 with his head so far up his own ass, he can't see past his own bullshit, until it's literally 10 minutes too late.

Nureyev is deliberately rude towards Juno (who did cross a boundary MULTIPLE TIMES) but is also extremely fucking dismissive of the Ruby7 being anything but a car (it's not, it's an alien from outside of this galaxy and Nureyev cannot accept that for some reason, but he can totally get behind reviving his long lost first love???)

OH AND RITA!!! POOR POOR FUCKING RITA OMG- Juno is a massive fuckin dick to her in Season 1, he promises to do better for her at end of Season 2, and she is the first Aurinko he rescues in Season 4 because he knows without her he won't be of much use. Rita is supposed to be Juno's backbone, but she's more like the brace he wears when he needs it. The Rita episode in Season 3 is framed as a good thing for her character and meant to be a confidence boost, but it's really not. And Season 4 I don't remember, but literally in Season 5 Rita is sidelined and put over on the bench because she "makes too many mistakes" on missions. Juno dresses it up as "You're our ace in the hole" but cmon. Come the fuck on.

[petalsofyouth]

my girl. pt1. | ran haitani x reader

tw: nothing that really is worth mentioning? alcohol consumption, a bit of violence (nothing graphic) and magical realism (if you squint and understand it) and that's all i think

wc: 9536

a small note before you begin! it was supposed to be a one shot, but then i was writing it and writing and writing and the story never ended so i decided to split it into two parts. i know majority of people prefer when the text is rather on the short side so here you all go. another thing i wanna mention is that this story is impromptu and it might show. i haven't had even a vague idea of the plot or vision or anything when i began to write it and the only thing in my head was ran taking long walks everywhere around Tokyo and then i heard the chime and that's it. this is probably why this story is going to be from ran's pov and a little bit of rindou's (i love him too much to not include him). okay, that's all! thank you for reading & i hope you like it.

~

The blue dim light from street lamps enveloped small grey buildings giving them an alien impression. Neon signs mingling with one another only add to the whole impression and once again Ran felt as if he was on some other planet in another universe. Or that it was very far in the future. As if he somehow found himself in 2808. 

But it was early spring of 2007 when cherry trees hadn't yet bloomed and a chilly wind roamed through Tokyo reminding its habitants of a long cold winter that was now already gone, a small odds and ends of it remaining in the corners of dark alleys. 

Still, this vague rapture between reality and Ran’s mind was pleasant. He had no problem dissociating from his life even for a couple of fleeting moments. Released from a prison not even a month ago - after Izana’s death he hadn’t had time to mourn -  these breaks felt deserving. He needed to rest, to stop what he was doing and for once breath without thinking what awaits him next. 

The situation wasn’t stable in the least. Roppongi was still theirs. It always would be. But there were other new gangs and Ran knew that someday their name won’t be enough. They need to do something - to be someone - to keep the Haitani brand they built well respected. The easiest option, of course, would be joining a gang, but Tenjiku was still alive in his chest and beating. And while there were in fact no S-62 generation anymore, dead and gone into eternity with Izana, it felt like a piercing sword of betrayal between his ribcage, to even think of a possibility to be a part of another formation. 

Yet, there would be another gang. Another defeat and maybe [for sure] a lot of other deaths. Ran knows all this and he knows that the time will come soon. Once South is released. He still has time though. Time to leave his new car in one of the one-way streets and wander around pretending his life is not his. 

A moment of weakness no one would ever know of. 

Today, he is in Nakano. He doesn’t remember the last time he was here which means it was insignificant or that he never stepped here before. The latter is quite impossible though. Ran has been everywhere around Tokyo. Never outside. This huge city  his own perfect golden cage. If he didn’t love luxury and comfort so much he would’ve thought he was trapped. But he doesn’t think this way and so he goes down the street observing people and shops. His mind is resting. 

Everything is okay. 

For a while. 

It’s evening. Somewhere between six and eight. It’s always hard to tell the exact time at these hours. Everything seems blurred and solid and one. The neon lights, street lamps, shops, buildings and people. Him, too. Ran indulges in this euphoric feeling. Hands in pockets of his sweats he looks around trying to pretend as if he is searching for something that waits for him. There should be something that desires to meet with him. He strongly believes in it and when he spots an old wooden sign that seems painfully familiar, he nods to himself that’s it and goes inside through an open door. An invitation or maybe just a coincidence. He closes the door once he is inside and insubstantial tingling of the bell echoes throughout the place. Ran raises his head, tilting it to the left and sees a glass hand painted chime just above him. There’s flowers all around it and he doesn’t need to squint his eyes to see that it’s purple orchids. His chest is warm then and he stares at the chime for a little longer than he should, a strange feeling occupying his chest. Whatever it is that brought him here was kind enough to welcome him. Ran doesn’t think it is a coincidence anymore. 

Inside, the store is bigger than it appears from outside. Long corridor leads to a spacious room and it’s only there that Ran understands that he is in a bookstore. He tries hard to remember when was the last time he picked up a book and the memory that resurfaces is not pleasant. It was back in juvie when he was around fourteen going fifteen. The book was a present from one of their teachers there and Ran to this day couldn’t understand why an old woman chose him out of everyone else. He wasn’t by any means academically bright nor was he showing a special interest in studies. [He dropped out of school the day he was released; he simply never showed up]. Yet, the teacher chose him. She gave him the book and spoke with him a little. What about Ran can’t remember. He barely listened to her back then. The book was a strange useless weight in his hands, but there was something sincere in the way she gifted it to him and that’s why later sitting beside Rindou on the rotten grass in the yard of their facility Ran read it from cover to cover. He liked the book. 

It was Yukio Mishima’s “The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea” and the story grasped him so much it was all he could think of for the next few months. But then they got released and his head was busy with new names in Roppongi and Tenjiku and other gangs and when all of these disappeared in ashes and he went back to juvie for the second time, he remembered the book that was safely stored in his and Rindou’s apartment in the box under his bed. But thinking about it only brought silent blue rage as he suddenly understood the meaning of the book. His eyes wide and empty, Ran wished an old teacher appeared and maybe tried to protect him from his fate again - because he deserved a second chance, didn’t he? everyone does - but no one came to save him and this time Ran left empty-handed with a promise from South as a bitter reminder that there was never an alternative to his fate. 

Met with floor to ceiling bookshelves full of books Ran observes book spines, colourful and not. He reads a few that stand out to him most. All authors and titles unknown to him. He knows he ought to leave. There’s nothing for him to do here and books are certainly the last of his interests. He should go home. Get a take out for him and Rindou, maybe invite Kakucho over and watch some TV or maybe they all should go out to a nice club, get drunk and fuck some pretty girls. 

Yeah, that would be nice. 

That is what he should do and that is exactly what he doesn’t do. 

He goes forward through the paper jungle until he spots a man standing behind the round counter. He is writing something, totally engrossed, his head down as he stands, slouching a little so the paper is right before his face. Ran doesn’t think he made any noise, but the man composes himself and looks up, smiling at him. The smile is warm and welcoming. 

Ran feels seen. 

“Hello. Are you looking for something specific or just browsing?” The man’s voice is calm and confident. He also sounds very kind and Ran is a tiny bit ashamed when he shakes his head an affirmative no which can be clearly translated into i don’t really know what I am doing here. The man laughs. “You can grab whatever catches your eye and read it right here to see if you like it. We have a reading zone right over there. In the next room.” 

When Ran stays where he was too lost to say anything, the man smiles again and this time he comes out from the counter and goes up to Ran. “What was the last thing you’ve read?” 

There’s no need to think much. His last book was his only book. “It was Yukio Mishima.” 

The man is surprised and he doesn’t hide it. He whistles. “The Sound of Waves, I suppose?” 

“No. The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea.” 

“A gruesome one, but reflective. Did you like it?” 

They chat about the book for a good half an hour and by the end of it Ran is pretty much relaxed. His usual passive confidence running through him again. It’s been nice to discuss the book with someone and for a pretty obvious reason, Ran imagines it was his teacher from juvie and not this man, an owner of the bookshop as he finds out during the talk. It’s wrong to pass one kindness shown to him onto another kind person, but it does help him to redeem himself and so he doesn’t argue with his mind much. 

With another book, this time “The Honjin Murders” under his arm, Ran sinks into the couch in the so-called reading room which is not really a room. Rather an extension of the main large one with beige noren in the middle. But  it has two couches, a table and a kettle with five cups and that’s all that it needs. It also has a huge window looking at traditional Japanese garden. The sound of running water in a small pond and green colour of permanent velvety moss is so calming that Ran loses himself in the scenery for the longest time. Book forgotten in his lap. 

He stays in the bookstore until the sky grows dark and silver stars are the only thing that make the vastness of this world bearable. 

“So. What do you think about it?” The sudden intrusion of the man into Ran’s little world doesn’t bother him. It’s calm and peaceful and safe here. And Ran stays Ran. The need to be in another's skin is gone. “Liked it or should I retire as a bookshop owner?” 

There’s a certain prominent playfulness in the man’s words, but Ran misses them, letting them slip into the past. He checks the number of the page he stopped on and making a mental note to remember it, turns to the man. “It’s good. Haven’t read much, but it’s interesting. I want to buy it.” Ran stretches his legs before him and looks around the room, his gaze stopping at the window and as some hours ago he finds himself admiring the raw beauty it carries. Whoever composed it saw the world differently and take it apart all you want, one thing after another, you would never quite understand the meaning behind it. It will always slip away from you. It’s almost like losing a thing you’ve never ever had. But sadder. More melancholic. 

“It’s my wife's last creation.” The man says and for the first time his voice isn’t cheerful. It’s barely there. “For our family, that’s it.” 

There’s nothing to be said and so Ran doesn’t utter a word and in his silence hides an understanding that is more meaningful than any form of consolation. 

They sit in the room - that in the pure meaning of the word is not really a room, yes, it just has a plain beige noren behind the couch - admiring the view for a little more. Each hanging to the illusion of their own; both no more than small sparkles of short lived joy. 

The silent magic is taken away as sudden as it settled down and then the unceasing garden turns into simply well composed rocks and azaleas. The change is devastating, but it’s not forever, and so it’s okay. Besides, the change is you. It has your eyes, your nose and your voice. 

“Dad, I am good to go. Don’t forget to eat please. I made nikujaga. Okay? I would’ve loved to have dinner together, but I have an assignment to finish and… oh. I am sorry. You aren’t alone. Sorry.” 

It has your lips too. And your smell. Persimmons, nail polish and glossy magazines.

But for now Ran doesn’t know it’s yours. 

For now the only thing he is sure of is that he wants to come here tomorrow and maybe gaze at the garden and read a book and disturb the orchid chime at the door to hear its sweet melody. And maybe see you too, because his want to pretend being someone else somewhere else, is gone. He wants to be Ran Haitani and be accepted as such more than anything. And he burns with curiosity. He burns with longing. 

You don’t exchange a word and Ran leaves the bookstore with a gift from your father and a promise to come by again. It’s really rare to see young people in here and having you here reminds me of me so many years ago, it makes me twenty again, you are twenty, aren’t you. 

That night he also finds out that the family business restaurant down their street makes quite good nikujaga. 

They eat it together with Rindou while reminiscing about those who will never come back.  

*** 

The next day Ran is at the bookstore again.

And the day after that too and after a week or so he is considered a regular. 

He doesn’t see you often and in all honesty he isn’t coming there for you. It’s the whole atmosphere of the place. The garden and the chime and the small talk with your father that draws him back. 

You, a fleeting presence of the bookstore, he only has seen a couple of times. Not more. Once with a pile of cartridge paper of various sizes under your arm you were cursing under your breath trying your best to go down the stairs. And then the next time when you brought two bento boxes to the reading area where he and your dad were talking about your dad’s many voyages of his youth. Ran remembers the conversation particularly because he likes listening to your dad’s stories of the world. Never once in his life was he outside of Tokyo, your father's memories of other lands become his. 

The meal you brought - and made yourself - is quite simple. It contains rice with seaweed, grilled fish and two hard boiled eggs. Along with some fresh sesame spinach salad on the side. It smells delicious and as you set two bento boxes on the table you go back upstairs and this time return with two bright yellow Yebisu cans. 

Sudden kindness is sour to Ran. He freezes in his place, eyes on the bento box, as he listens to the small conversation you make with your dad. Confusion must be evident on his face, because the next second he hears your voice. You are speaking to him. “Do you not like beer, Ran?” 

“No. It’s fine. I do.” His reply is simple and not efficient. It doesn’t make you any less doubtful that everything’s alright. 

So you ask again. “Is it the eel then? Dad has tonkatsu leftovers upstairs. Would you…”

"No. No. It’s fine. Thank you very much. I appreciate it.” 

You nod, shrugging your shoulders. He probably doesn’t sound very convincing to you, but that’s the best he can offer you. Not having anything more to say to him, you say to your dad that you are going home now. You have a project to finish. You wish them both goodnight. 

If your dad noticed Ran stiffness he doesn’t mention it and Ran is very grateful for it, because while he always knows what to say, he finds it very hard to find an easy way to explain how and why this innocent act of compassion, a demonstration of belonging, irritated him. 

He is ugly on the inside and scarred. 

He doesn’t want you to know that. 

[He doesn’t want to remember it either.] 

But today is not the day you will discover it and so he can breathe freely, planting a hope that maybe you won’t ever know him for what he is outside of this place where he kills every bright part of him with a single strike of his baton.

*** 

During the next couple of months Ran comes to the conclusion that he should stop visiting a bookshop. 

It’s not a sudden decision. He has a whole list of reasons ready, but as he goes over them in his head, he finds himself already on the porch in Yokohama. The chime sings and he is once again welcomed by your father to come inside, to have an interesting conversation and maybe help out a little bit if he doesn’t mind [he never does], only to eat a delicious meal you made as a pleasant conclusion to the day. 

Ran is young, but he is no fool and he knows that soon enough he is going to get attached to this place and he simply can not afford it. South is going to get released and then they will form something big and serious and he is going to be involved. The nice little illusion he created here has no place in his world. He should stop coming. 

That’s what he decides when he steps through the door one particularly warm golden evening in spring. It’s unusually quiet. No customers inside and your father isn’t at his regular place behind the till. Ran frowns. His blonde eyebrows coming together in the middle of his forehead. He stops looking in between the shelves. He finds nothing and so he goes behind the noren, to the reading zone. 

“Oh. I thought you won’t come today.” You sit on the chair with your right leg to your chest, a bottle of black nail polish standing on the table in front of you. 

Ran bites back a smile. You painting your toes inside of the bookstore is so out of place, it’s almost comical. “Why would you think that?” 

You don’t answer his question and it seems as if you haven’t heard him at all. He is compelled to repeat it, but instead he sits on the sofa opposite you and watches you doing your nails. The whole task is relaxing. You don’t mess up even once which is pretty much impressive. He whistles and you raise your head, looking at him, confused. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. You are just being really good at it.” 

There’s no reply to this either. You continue painting your nails and he continues watching you. He doesn’t think about anything in particular and rather than moving his eyes along with the brush tip, he remains impassive. If you think he is being weird or creepy you don’t say it. In fact, to Ran it seems as if you have forgotten about him altogether. Your presence is strong to him, but his doesn’t touch you in the slightest.

He is both. Disappointed and glad. 

It is his last time here - or so he thinks - and a premonition stored up in his chest is vibrating. It says to him that if you notice him he won’t be able to escape. [He only hears the second half of the sentence. He only hears what he wants to.] 

Relaxed and focused on your toes he loses his usual alertness so when he finally understands that all your nails are glossy back and you have stopped applying the colour, he raises his eyes. Firstly looking at the closed bottle of polish as if to make sure you are really done and only then at you. 

You are staring. You are noticing. Ran shivers. 

“What’s your height?” You ask. 

He frowns. The question is unexpected and he swears he somehow hears the chime’s sweet melody. But no sound comes after and he knows he is mistaken. 

“I am 1.83.” 

You lick your lips, tilting your head to the side and the smile that graces your future are adorable and terrifying at the same time. “Good. Do you mind helping me out in one of my school projects? I am at Bunka and I have this project coming up where I need to give yukata a modern touch. So I’ve been thinking if you don’t mind that I can use you as my reference? You won’t do much. I will just take your measurements and then based on you create a yukata. What do you think?” 

There’s not just one, but so many reasons as to why he should say no, stand up and leave the bookstore behind him forever. The garden, the chime, the kindness - everything - should become a nice memory. The one he would go back to in the moments of discouragement. In the shameful fall of weakness. 

There’s too many of them and Ran can’t name even one. So he nods at you. Yeah. Sure. Why not? 

“Thank you. I really wanted you to agree. I’ve been thinking about suggesting it to you since I first saw you.” Your fingers graze over your fresh pedicure. To check if it’s dried. You are obviously satisfied, because you pull out twirled napkins from in between your toes and stand up. “Do you like oranges? I am gonna go upstairs and bring some for us.” 

When you are behind the couch he sits on, you stop. 

“But you are peeling them. I hate peeling oranges.” 

It’s not a drastic confession, but Ran feels like he just found out your sweetest secret. 

*** 

Pre-summer breeze carries a faint smell of changes and new times. 

It doesn’t specify when and what it will bring. It doesn’t make it easier and the barbed metal ball in the pit of everyone’s stomach twirls, scratching insides. They bleed; skin torn apart and crimson. 

Everyone acknowledges this lazy slow shift. No one does anything in particular about it, because, well, there’s nothing to be done. What is for you will find you anywhere: on a busy Shibuya crossing meddled between thousands of people, in your sunny apartment where you sleep on the floor after a full day of school or in front of the evergreen garden in a small bookshop in Yokohama. 

There’s no point in trying to escape fate and therefore there’s no point in worrying and stressing out. The only thing Ran does - that he can think of as a succumbing to summer breeze  - is wearing a too thick jacket for the already sunny and warm weather. When Rindou points it out he says he is doing it in the name of fashion. His younger brother grimaces, but leaves it at that. It sounds pretty much like Ran’s usual bullshit. No need to worry. 

And so life goes on and the wind continues to blow.

*** 

His help in your project consists of standing still as you take his measurements. 

That’s all. 

The first time you do it he asks you if he needs to do something else and when you say no he is both, disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because he finds it being your model more boring than he expected and relieved because you don’t need him to do anything and that means only one thing - you won’t have any expectations of him and he won’t fail. In your eyes he will remain as Ran, a twenty years old man, who once in your life used to visit your father’s bookstore for a couple of months and helped you with your fashion school project and then disappeared and you’ve never heard about him after that. 

Becoming your fleeting good memory is what he thinks he wants.

*** 

“I need you to raise your hands and hold them like that for a minute. Okay?” You say patting his shoulder as you emerge from behind him. This is the fourth time you’ve taken his measurements. He doesn’t understand why you need to do that so many times, but he doesn’t ask. You bite your lip - a small habit you have when you think really hard about something - and eye his earring. “Does it match your eye colour? You are so corny.” 

He smirks and watches you wrap tape around his underarms and then chest. Ran only speaks when you sit on the floor near the table and scribble down the numbers. “I like it. Do you not?” 

“You being corny or your earring?” You ask him, your attention on your journal, not him. Some days ago he asked you to show him your sketches of the yukata and you declined, totally exaggerating in his opinion the importance of not a single soul intervening in your creative flow. 

“Both.” 

“Let me think about it.” Your voice decreases its volume as you speak and by the end of the sentence it’s a small whisper. As usual you don’t reply right away and Ran loses his hope of getting the answer, but after a while you close your journal and turn to him. “I don’t mind either. I am guessing they both make you you and so I am okay with that.” 

He thinks you barely know him and he barely knows you, but he believes your words nonetheless. There’s a sheer simplicity in them and that makes him trust you all the more. You might not be very familiar with each other and you are absolutely unaware of what he is doing, what he has done and what he will do in the future. You don’t peer. You don’t ask him unnecessary questions. You have no idea what kind of person he is and yet you still accept him. In Ran eyes this is considered courage and kindness and everything good in this world combined. Everything he doesn’t deserve. Everything he still wants. 

And so the next day when Ran comes into the bookshop and sees you and your father at the till, he makes sure you notice the tattoo on his arm and when your father’s forehead is full of wrinkles, he thinks this is it, he lost this place forever, your father asks if it’s a full body or just an arm? He says, i have a tattoo too, but it’s smaller than yours. 

“It covers the left side of my body. My brother and I got it in juvie.” 

“I think we need tea for this conversation.” Your father answers and when Ran understands that there’s no anger, no resentment, no rejection and only acceptance, he realises that after all he was stupid to believe it would be otherwise. 

The chime and the garden already whispered it to him. He was just too self-centred to notice. 

*** 

The revelation about that certain part of Ran’s life brings obstacles in your work. You tear down your initial sketches and beg Ran to strip his clothes so you can see his tattoo. You plead, saying that it’s really really really important and crucial and you need to see it for you to understand him better. To make his yukata perfect. 

For obvious and understandable [not for you] reasons he rejects. You pout, but all charms you send his way, simply do not work. At last, he lets you turn around his left arm however you want and after the second hour when the left part of his body gets numb and sore he has a suspicion you are doing it on purpose. A little revenge. 

“You know, you are making it difficult for both of us.” You sigh, placing two steaming cup noodles on the table. The bookshop has been closed for an hour or so. It’s quiet, the only noise coming from upstairs where your dad is watching what seems to be MTV Japan. Ran only knows because sounds are familiar. Rindou likes watching MTV too. “I don’t understand why you are being so modest.” 

You hand him metal chopsticks and as he takes them he also grabs your wrist. Somehow, you aren’t confused. You turn to him and the calm expression on your face startles him. He lets you go. 

“Just don’t feel like it.” He says instead, his shoulders going up and down. None of you don’t speak as you eat. If Ran wasn’t as observant as he is, he would've thought you are listening to Masaharu Fukuyama’s song. But he is observant and he knows that you are just pretending to listen to your dad’s TV. He notices you stealing glances of him every now and then and when he catches your eyes with his, you bashfully turn away. It’s too obvious that you want to ask him something and he allows you to do it, but when enough time passes and all opportunities are lost, he places the cup on the table and with elbows on his knees, asks you what the matter is. 

As expected you don’t answer right away. Hiding behind a pink cup you look at the garden illuminated by stone lanterns. “Are you uncomfortable with me?” 

“No.” His response is immediate and you turn to him, surprised. 

“No? Then why?” You scrutinise him, he - a mere subject before you. “Are you by any chance..?” 

The last sentence is unfinished as it blurts out of you so quickly and you stop so abruptly as your eyes widen that Ran already knows what you wanted to say. An amused smile appears on his face. He laughs. “I am not a virgin. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Why would I worry about it?” There’s an offence in your voice and he laughs some more. 

He laughs and laughs and laughs stopping only when your eyes soften and lips form the prettiest smile he has ever seen. “What?” It’s his time to wonder now. 

“Nothing.” You look past him at the clock that hangs on the wall between bookshelves. Even with TV noise Ran can hear them counting the time.  “I am going to head out in twenty minutes.” 

“You don’t live here?” “Oh. No. I live in Shibuya. In my mom’s house.” 

“We are almost neighbours. My little brother and I live in Roppongi.” 

“I suspected just as much.” 

When he laughs again, the sparkle in your eyes reappears, but this time it is familiar [even if it’s too far to be burnt by it yet] so he doesn’t stop.

*** 

In the middle of the summer, on a hot July day, Kakucho asks Ran to help him do his annual shopping. Despite the air feeling like dragon breath and unreasonable early 12pm meeting, Ran agrees. It might be because he adores shopping or because he hasn't seen you in a week and there’s a good chance he might stumble upon you on Cat street. It’s in Shibuya and you’ve mentioned before that you live close to it. That’s of course if his calculation is right and you are already back from your trip to Osaka. 

There is a special nook in Ran’s brain where he holds the memory of you telling him you are going to be away for a couple of weeks. It was the first time he was allowed to be inside of the bookstore's garden. The day was sunny and pleasant in a non-caring manner. Inside of the hugely oversized white t-shirt - that Ran suspected was male - you had sour cherries, carrying them in the pouch of the said t-shirt. It reminded Ran of kangaroos and therefore of Rindou who liked this weird animal when he was little. 

When you sat down on the wooden floor, boards under you squeaking, cherries fell in your lap and Ran stared at them for the longest time. Bloody red on sparkling white. He was no artist, but in that moment he wished he was so he could immortalise this moment forever. Have someone else to see with the same raw emotion he did. If you noticed his hesitation you didn’t say anything. You spoke to him about your best friend, her grandparents and trip to Osaka. Saying you won’t be in Tokyo for two weeks or maybe a bit more. You didn’t know, really. You were excited and happy. 

Sitting inside the garden Ran ate cherries from your laps. Fruit scattered along you seemed sacred. As you were telling him how much more delicious takoyaki was in Osaka than it could ever be in Tokyo, you glanced at him. Your lips pink from cherries tugged in a pretty smile and Ran knew he would eternally miss this very moment; you.  

Wanting to accidentally meet you now was not a surprise to him. 

The yes of course I’d go with you to Kakucho was too said very easily. Much to Rindou’s suspicion. 

Despite his desire to see you he doesn’t search for you and so shopping and hanging out with Kakucho is pleasant. Ran truly loves his company. Kakucho is comfortable to be around and he is too polite and too kind and sometimes Ran catches himself thinking that Kakucho has no business being a criminal. He isn’t like them. He is [almost] innocent. But then Ran remembers the way Kakucho’s eyes light up in a fight. How he lands one blow after another and when his opponent is defeated, sprawling on the ground, and the look full of enthusiasm on Kakucho’s face shatters all illusions Ran might have about him. 

It’s truly peculiar how there’s perhaps two Kakucho that never meet. One that has a kind heart and gentle soul and the other one that is corrupted by anger and rage. Ran has seen both of them. Ran wonders if he is the same. If there’s good in him too. 

He sees you first. You stand outside of a shop with hands full of bags and a cup of an iced coffee. You are wearing a plaid short skirt, a blouse and a beret and while the outfit is perfectly composed it seems too out of season. But by now he knows you quite well to tell that it was intentionally done. He thinks you look beautiful [as you always do] and Ran allows himself to admire you a little bit more, eyes lingering on your face. 

“She’s way out of your league, Haitani. Didn’t think she’s your type. More like Rindou’s.” Attentive to details as usual Kakucho immediately notices Ran’s interest in you. They both stopped under the streetlamp that won’t share its light for some hours yet. 

Ran smirks, he lets out a short laugh and tears his eyes off you, looking at Kakucho. “You think I can’t pull her off?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

The verdict sounds like a challenge. Ran snorts and takes a step in your direction, partially confident, partially pondering if he really can’t make you like him. The thought is cold, but it changes with a rush of excitement that strikes his body when you raise your head and see him. There’s a huge smile on your face and in your eyes when you notice him and he grins back. 

“Ran!” You call him by his first name before you fly across the street and press your body into his as you hug him, your arms snaking their way across his neck. Plastic bags bump onto his back and thawed drops of water from the coffee cup stain his shirt. But he doesn’t mind it. He feels you smiling into his skin and he doesn’t mind it at all. “You won’t believe me, but I had a feeling I would see you today here.” 

“You probably just wanted to see me that much.” He replies in his usual lazy manner and he can feel you smiling wider, but then you pull away from his arms and glare at him acting bothered by his bold words. 

[He knows you enough to say you aren’t.]

“You so wish I was.” Your words are true and he almost admits it - maybe he does it with his eyes gleaming so intensely as he loses himself in your presence, but neither of you notices it, only Kakucho who stands to his left - yet you interrupt him. “What are you doing here?” 

It’s a sudden violent jerk that Kakucho makes that peel your attention from Ran to his friend. You gasp and purse your lips, tilting your head as you take him in. Whatever you are thinking about Kakucho is masked by your so out of character sweet smile [Ran tries to remember if you ever been this friendly with him and miserably fails] and a barely there whisper of your full name.

Ran frowns. The joy from seeing you evolves into slight annoyance. It grows even more when Kakucho, being the sweet guy he is, suggests they walk you home. And that’s how Ran finds himself carrying your bags full of fabrics and buttons - you say so yourself when he asks you why they are so damn heavy - to your mother’s home where you live because you claim it’s closer to school this way and not at all because it’s closer to your mom. 

Ran knows first what it’s like to lose parents and all the micro ways to cope with the loss. The colour you bleed is all too familiar to him; to his own. 

The walk to your home is short and soon enough the three of you are standing in front of a nice small two story house. Its grey facade and black roof doesn’t suit you at all. Your house [your mother’s house] is too dull for you, but Ran knows better than to say this outloud. Instead he appreciatively hums as he focuses on some pretty yellow flowers standing in a huge pot next to the entrance. 

“It was really nice to meet you, Kakucho! Never knew Ran has such nice friends.” You say accepting your bags from Ran’s hands. 

“He never mentioned me?” He asks, sounding genuinely offended. “Not even once?” 

The sound of your giggles rises in the air and you shake your head an affirmative ‘no’. “No. He mentioned his little brother a couple of times, though. Actually. I’ve been thinking. Me and my friends are going to “Womb” today to welcome us coming back to Tokyo so if you want to come along, you can. What do you think?” 

It’s Ran who’s been eerily silent all the time that responds. “Yes. Of course. I’ll pick you up.” 

“Great. See you at nine then?” 

“Can’t wait.” 

The words have a slightly ominous feeling to them. Maybe it’s just the tone with which he says them or maybe you both have been struck by the gift of foretelling because when your eyes stay on him a little too longer than usual, there’s no mistake that you know how today will change you both. 

*** 

Inside the bathroom where Ran has been soaking for a good hour the air is heavy. It’s hard to breathe and the voices that slip from the living room to the confinement of white marbled floor and white walls aren’t tangible. Ran catches them again and again and again, but they don’t stay and he finds himself on a rope that leads to the inner world of his very being. Somewhere where he doesn’t want to be. Ever. 

Shadows there are cruel and they bite worse than an angry stray dog. Those gushes never close and Ran knows for a fact that he will have to tend to them till the day he dies. 

“No. Ran never spoke about her.” It’s Rindou’s voice that takes Ran out of the whitish void of nothingness. It’s Rindou’s voice that speaks about you. “Is she pretty?” 

There’s no answer to that from Kakucho. Only laughter from both of them and a whistle from Shion. Ran can only guess what gesture or facial expression his friend made to describe you. 

“Ran type of pretty or my type of pretty?”  

“You think I know what you consider pretty, Madarame? You’ve never even said oh look that girl is pretty. You are always like bet she’d take my dick really well.” 

They laugh again and their laugh is warm and Ran smiles the way he would be as if he was with them now and not inside a bath full of scorching hot water. Yet, he belongs there, with them, and so he allows himself to be a part of conversation about you, about him. 

The outburst of joy follows a content silence which is interrupted by Kakucho's loud sigh. Ran can’t see them, but he can tell that his friend is smiling and he has Rindou’s and Shion’s full attention on him. 

“What is it?” “Nah. You gotta see it for yourself, Rin. I am not going to take the experience away from you.” 

“Honestly? I just hope she is not a stupid bitch.” 

“They all were stupid bitches to you, Rindou.” 

“Were they?” 

“Oh, yeah.” This time it’s Shion. “Even though Yui was pretty much fuckable you still called her a stupid bitch to her face.”

"That's ‘cause she was and Ran never went out with her. They just fucked a couple of times. Anyways, should we…” 

The rest of the conversation gets lost in between splashing water when Ran gets out of the bath. His skin is tingling and red as he wraps his body in the soft towel [Rindou likes prickly ones more]. He wipes the misted mirror with the back of his hand and when he finally sees himself in the reflection he can’t help but wonder from where in his cursed body this sweet tug comes from when he hears his friends talking about you.

And because he has no answer he at least can hope that his younger brother won’t consider you a stupid bitch. It seems really important to him in the box that is the white room. 

*** 

The grey house doesn’t make any impression on Rindou. He can’t understand if you are rich or poor or what your status is or anything related to your character because the house is dull. It’s ordinary and Rindou thinks that even he with his minimalistic approach to life and fashion got to hate it too. 

Maybe, though, he is salty that his older brother urged him away from the front seat of his car the moment the freshly changed tires of Ran’s Honda stopped in front of your house. 

His eyes stop out of the huge pot with flowers - he can’t tell the colour of them though, his poor eyesight being an obstacle - and then drift to the enormously large window where he can spot your dark silhouette. You probably are putting your shoes on. 

Rindou couldn’t care less about you. That though doesn’t stand for his brother. He loves Ran more than he loves anything and when he stares at his brother stealing quick glances at the house he swears he can see through the walls and see you just as well as Ran does. His heart [it’s Ran’s] beats faster and faster and long fingers grip the steering wheel too painfully. Anticipation, excitement, eagerness. 

Rindou feels it all through Ran. He feels what Ran feels for you. 

So when you slide into the passenger seat in your really well put too stylish outfit Rindou is overwhelmed by the moon waves of calmness that strike through his body [Ran’s]. He is burnt when you touch Ran’s arm and side hug him. To Rindou you are like a blazing sun, but for now he feels you through Ran and the intensity of it all swallows him whole. He is barely here. 

Until you turn your face to him and say. “You must be Rindou. You look so different from Ran, but you are the same.” 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done to you if you mistook my little brother for Shion.” Ran laughs a pretty earnest laugh and a huge smile blossoms on your face as you turn to him not waiting for Rindou’s answer. “It’s Shion Madarame, by the way. My friend.” 

“Nice to meet you, Madarame.” You speak as you lazily stretch your hands before yourself. You are wearing opera gloves.  “Nice to meet you too, Rindou.” 

The first name basis specifically for him doesn’t go unnoticed, but Rindou doesn’t say anything. He is perplexed by you and what you are. 

He might not know you at all yet. You might be nothing to him and that dull grey house is so distasteful he swears he doesn’t want to see it ever again. Yet he likes you already. Through Ran he does. And that’s why when your eyes meet his in the rearview mirror and you smile at him he smiles right back at you. 

*** 

“Womb” is the farthest thing from some classy nightclubs in Roppongi that Ran and Rindou like very much.

It’s too spacious, too grand and too flashy. It’s pretentious. And as well as Rindou hates this obnoxious trait in people he hates it with the same passion in the inanimate objects. The whole club and people in it irritates him to the point where it’s borderline rude angriness. Kakucho is the first one to notice it and he - a gentle soul - in an attempt to soothe Rindou throws his arm around his shoulders. Rindou appreciates the gesture, but it doesn’t dissolve an annoying feeling. 

He, for whatever reason it may be, wishes Ran would notice his changed demeanour, but right now it’s too much to ask. Ran is focused on you. Rindou sees the way his brother’s head slightly leans to yours as he attentively listens to whatever it is you are saying to him. You hold Ran by his elbow leading him to wherever your friends are. Shion follows close behind, but he doesn’t participate in the conversation and Rindou understands too well why. 

His chest hurts. 

But he is curious and an unknown eagerness comforts him. 

Every single one of your friends is stylish. Too stylish. Pretentiously stylish. Rindou assumes they also are quite rich or either they have connections. Tons of alcohol and a spacious private booth overlooking the dance floor is what makes him think so. If he was Ran he would also notice designer clothes and bags, but he doesn’t. You introduce them to your friends and one of the girls eyes Ran a bit too much. Too suspicious. But then she relaxes and her eyes go wide in recognition. She exclaims, now I understand why the yukata she makes is so pretty, and instead of looking at Ran who with a half-smile looks at you, you look at the floor. 

When the clock strikes just one after midnight Rindou is more than curious and a tiny bit tipsy. He now knows every single one of your friends - and you - by name. He knows that one of your best friends is in Geidai studying architecture, and the other one studies design in the same school as you. He also understands that one of the boys - your classmate - likes you very much and it’s so painfully obvious, Rindou cringes every single moment he approaches you in his lame attempts to flirt. [Not that Rindou is better at flirting, he just doesn’t hit off with this particular guy or rather it’s the guy who doesn’t like either Rindou, nor Ran or Kakucho or Shion]. And as expected one of the girls sneaks glances at Ran a bit too much and as expected Ran notices it and as expected he doesn’t pay any attention to her at all. 

But both of you don't speak much either and that’s where Rindou’s curiosity lies. 

Just one after midnight you plop on the sofa beside Rindou and set a half-full glass full of gin on the table. You move it away, dragging it across the table, with the back of your left hand. The sound it makes is not pleasant. It sounds tired. 

“So?” You say. 

“So?” He echoes, turning his head to look at you. In the blue disco lights that reflect off your skin you look ethereal.

You whine. Dramatically. And biting a lip you  tilt your head to the side. “I asked first, Ran’s little brother.” 

He gasps then and under the influence of alcohol your words that weren’t said in intention to be playful seem so funny to him, he laughs. You laugh too. 

“Ran’s little brother? Is this how he calls me behind my back?” He asks you, a beautiful teasing smile on his lips. “Have he told you a lot about me?”

You squint your eyes at him and scoot closer, the leather under you squeaking. “Not really.” You move even closer and then you lay your hand on his arm squeezing it. “He said you love music, want to own a club one day, hate McDonalds and that your favourite colour is white.” 

“That’s all he said?” 

“No. Not really. He mentioned that you like DJing. Have a whole setup at home and he hates it when you use it, because it’s too loud, but he lets you do your thing anyway. Oh. And your obsession with the gym.” 

There’s a loud noise coming from the dance floor. It’s a woman screaming. She sounds happy. Music doesn’t stop and she screams some more. No one pays her attention besides you. You turn around and a small smile tugs at your lips. When you shift back you lay your head on Rindou’s shoulder. He doesn’t mind it. 

He doesn’t mind you at all anymore. 

*** 

The night passes quickly as all good pleasant things do.

But as usual there’s a moment of worry. A moment of uncertainty. A threshold to where all the things go wrong. It finds you after four in the morning. 

The music is slowing down and people that have remained are barely a crowd. The club is going to close in an hour or so. The lights are fully on and Rindou is discussing with Kakucho how everyone will get home. Despite you and Ran barely interacting throughout the whole night both boys are sure he would want to take you home. But for now he is still sitting at the table chatting up a cute girl. A friend of yours from the oil painting department of Geidai. The nature of your relationship with Ran is more abstract than ever. Rindou can’t crack it up. 

“Here you are.” The voice is loud so everyone stops talking and turns their attention toward a young obviously very drunk man stepping through the door. “And here I was thinking what club you were whoring yourself out today. With whom are you sleeping these days?! Is it this one? Or this one? Or maybe it’s this one?” 

The man is tall and he is very beautiful and that makes the situation even sadder than it already is. When beautiful things are stained, unfairly so, they become cruel. The ugliness seeping through the holes. 

“Orochi.” It’s you who speak and so it’s you to whom the words were addressed to. “Go away. You are drunk.” 

“Will you come with me?” He asks, extending his hand. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “No. I won’t.” 

"Is it because I am drunk or is it because you have someone else?”

Your best friend snorts. “You say it as if you were ever together. Come on, man. Get the fuck out of here. None of us wants you here. Especially her.”  

His head falls to his chest and he lets out a miserable laugh that reminds Rindou more of a bark. “This is how it is?”

The knife appears from his pocket too quickly, too sudden no one reacts in time. But this Orochi guy is intoxicated a bit too much and so when he flashes it aiming to drag it across your face, it doesn’t even touch you. He tries a second time, cursing at you. Stupid ugly bitch, he spits, the knife slicing the air again. Such a whore. Dumb fucking slut.

“Easy here. Watch how you speak to my girl. One more word and you are not going to end up simply beaten.” Ran voice is steady. It’s venomous. And what everyone perceives as a promise for Rindou is a certain fact. 

“Who the fuck are you?” “I am Ran Haitani and right now we are going to leave, but I will find you a day after tomorrow and you are going to regret every single word you said.” Ran crosses the booth stepping in between you two. His back to the guy. It’s disrespectful. It’s humiliating. It’s very Ran of him. Rindou can’t see from where he stands besides the door, but by the way Ran’s hands rise up, he can assume he is holding your face in his palms. He whispers to you. “You okay? Let’s get you home.” It’s stupid and naive, but it’s expected for Orochi to be hurt and another attempt to poke - this time Ran - with his knife is stopped by Shion who is the closest to where you stand. He hits him in his jaw and the booth suddenly turns red. There’s a tooth laying under the sofa now. 

When Ran turns around. His face is calm. He holds your hand and even with his bad eyesight Rindou catches the tenderness with which he caresses your skin with his thumb. “Don’t overdo it, Shion. I want him to at least show me some resistance when I see him next time.” “Aye, captain. As you wish. Go get your girl home. Me and Kakucho will take care of the rest. Right, Kaku?” 

Kakucho shrugs. There’s nothing really left to say or to take care of. The world is suddenly gloomy and cold. 

*** 

Rindou doesn’t really understand how, but he ends up in your house with a bowl of instant noodles and leftover chicken. 

You and Ran sit opposite him on the couch. Your knees are touching. You speak of cherries. Rindou has no idea what is so amusing about these specific fruits, but he listens anyway. The TV is off and your conversation the only entertainment available. 

“I am actually really sorry you had to witness that.” You sigh, head low. You aimlessly poke your noodles with chopsticks as you speak. “I’ve never had anything with Orochi. He was just a friend of mine and he said I led him on, but I don’t think I’ve ever done something for him to believe I like him or you know…  He just made a move one day and I said no. And that was it. Mizu says he is obsessed.”

“That he is for sure.” Ran takes the bowl away from you. “Good thing he won’t be anymore.” 

“Ran… I don’t want you to… It’s not necessary. It’s too much.” The tone is almost pleading and Rindou knows his brother a bit too much, feels him a little too well to know two things. The first one is that he hates it when people he cares about decline his help. The second one is that he terribly achingly wants to kiss you and it only intensifies when you continue speaking. “It’s not that I am afraid for Orochi, but I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. It’s like a betrayal and I don’t want to betray you ever.” 

“Hey. Can I use your bathroom for ten minutes?” Both you and Ran snap your attention to Rindou who stands up from the armchair. You furrow. “It’s upstairs. Second room to the left. And you can use it for however long you want. Do you actually both want to stay over tonight? You are probably too tired to drive anyway.” 

“Yeah. Yeah. Good. I’ll be back in ten minutes exactly.” 

When Rindou disappears in the blue haze of dawn that slips through the windows of the second floor he hears Ran’s soft laugh and your whispering. It’s probably about him, but then again, he doesn’t mind it.

He doesn’t mind sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in your house for fifteen minutes - just for a good measure - so as to give his brother a chance to slowly kiss your bad night and worries away. To pull the thread of sadness that has been knitted through your face since the episode in the club and all the way till now away. He doesn’t mind it either when he goes back, fake yawning, and sees his brother laying on you, his face in your neck as he draws comfort from your warmth. He fetches you a pillow and a blanket and takes you to your bedroom, leaving you two alone. Ran might pretend he is sleeping, but Rindou knows better. He doesn’t mind this innocent lie. 

He doesn’t mind you and as he lays in your bed he thinks that there was never a single time today where he wanted to call you a stupid bitch just like all girls Ran has been with before. But then was Ran ever with someone before? 

Rindou says no. He says it’s loud and then he remembers how Ran called you his girl. Rindou thinks it suits you a bit too much. Being Ran’s girl and all that it includes. 

He doesn’t know you well and there’s still a long road before he does, but he trusts you and he likes you and before he falls asleep he hears a sweet sound of glass chime. The aroma of orchids fills the house. 

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Void Bonus Chapter - Namjoon

Summary: Namjoon is having a hard time keeping his crew on mission.

Word count: 6.8k

This chapter takes place concurrently with the events of Chapter 7 of Void.

Content warning: This chapter features some erotica that Namjoon brought on board with him. Be warned the erotica features a commander being kidnapped by aliens and forced to impregnate them, so it's non-consensual. It's heavily stylized, he is mostly enjoying himself and it's not meant to be actually happening within the universe of our story, but it is intentionally written as partially arousing and partially horrifying. If that isn't something you feel like reading, skip second portion of italicized text. You won't miss anything plot related if you skip it.

“We should all be having sex. For the good of the mission.” The chief botanist puts her hands on her hips and flips to the last slide of her powerpoint. “Here are my sources.”

Namjoon can’t make out the words, but it seems like a lot of sources. 

“Any questions?” she asks, staring down each crew member in turn, a shocking level of confidence for a woman who just propositioned a whole room of lonely horny men. She locks eyes with Namjoon and there is a determination there that is impossible to deny. It scares him. 

Someone laughs nervously. Namjoon leans back in his chair, trying to keep his face steady as he decides the appropriate response. He doesn’t want to embarrass her, but this is ludicrous. Why is she doing this?

“You put sources on your powerpoint about how we should all start fucking?” Yoongi asks.

 Namjoon clenches his fist beneath the table, trying to contain the surge of rage that floods through him. Yoongi must be at fault somehow. None of this was a problem before she started getting involved with Yoongi. How can he joke about this now?

“It’s important to cite your sources,” she mutters in response, shoulders slumping. Namjoon needs to get her out of here. He needs to make sure she’s okay.

“Are you saying we should start fucking you or each other?” Taehyung asks.

“I meant you should all have sex with me,” she replies, biting the corner of her lip and looking back at her wall of sources. That can’t be what she wants. Can it?

“But like, how would that work?” Jungkook asks.

“Well there are seven of you, so one per day seems doable.” She licks her lips, scanning the room. When her eyes lock with Namjoon’s, his stomach flips. 

Jin leans over next to him and whispers, “Um, commander, are you going to say something?”

Namjoon grimaces. What is he supposed to say? She’s staring at him again and the back of his neck is sweaty. 

Jimin whirls to face Yoongi. “Was this your idea?”

“Look,” Yoongi throws up his hands. “It’s not my fault she’s such an insatiable slut.”

Any attempt to conceal his anger evaporates as Namjoon surges to his feet. “Officer Min! How dare you address your colleague that way!” Only Jin’s hand on his arm stops him from grabbing the flight engineer by his jumpsuit and throwing him onto the table. 

Yoongi recoils backward from the table, but their botanist steps forward. “No, no, no, Commander,” she says, placing herself between him and Yoongi.  “Yoongi’s right.” Her eyes fix on Namjoon's, pupils dilated. “I am an insatiable slut.”

Namjoon’s stomach does that flip-flop again. “What?” 

“I need you to fuck me, Commander,” she says, stepping closer, coming to stand, between him and the kitchen table. “For the good of the mission.”

“I…” Namjoon stammers. Her gaze trails up and down his body and he feels hot all over. This is wrong. It’s inappropriate. He doesn’t even feel that way about her. She’s his crew member, she’s always just been part of his crew. Fuck, why is he getting hard right now?

“Well, someone is going to have to fuck her,” Jin mutters from beside him, still seated. “It’s really becoming a problem.” 

“Please, Commander…” she whispers, leaning against the table and teasing at the zipper of her jumpsuit.

Namjoon’s cock is fully erect now. “But… but…” He searches for words. He shouldn’t do this. Why shouldn’t he do this?

“Come on, Commander, we all know Jimin isn’t satisfying her properly,” Jungkook chimes in. 

Jimin. Surely Jimin will be bothered if his commanding officer fucks his girlfriend. Namjoon looks to Jimin, expecting him to object. But Jimin justshrugs. “Let’s see what you got, Commander.”

“Like the gorillas,” she says, propping her butt up on the table and spreading her legs a bit wider. “The alpha male should go first. Our leader should set an example for everyone else.”

“I’m not a gorilla!” Namjoon objects, palms beginning to sweat. “And I’m not an alpha male! This isn’t part of my job.”  Her shoulders are bare as she shimmies them out of the jumpsuit and he gasps as he realizes she is naked underneath. 

“Where are the rest of your clothes?” He asks, reaching for her before she can remove the jumpsuit fully. He needs to stop her. He needs to protect her. But she takes his outstretched hands and guides them to her breasts, letting the jumpsuit fall to her waist. 

“Yes!” Jungkook does a little fist pump next to him. “Show us how it’s done, Commander!” he urges, looking back and forth between the biologist and the commander. 

Her skin is so warm. Namjoon groans out loud. Her nipples perk up against the palms of his hands and his dick throbs and it’s so wrong but all he can do is stare as her warmth seeps into him.

“I’m sorry my hands are so cold,” he mutters. Has she always been this attractive? Has she been running around his ship like this for two years and he was only saved from himself by some beige coveralls? 

She laughs, letting go of his hands to discard her jumpsuit entirely. She's now bare on their kitchen table, save for one pair of small red panties, surrounded by seven ravenous men. But she’s only looking at Namjoon. His dick strains against his own clothes as she drops to her knees in front of him, naked breasts bouncing free from his hands.

“I needed to be ready for you, Commander,” she whispers. “Ready for you to use.”

“Holy shit,” Jungkook gasps from beside him.

“No, wait, stop.” Namjoon tries to object one last time. “The whole crew is here.”

She smiles. “I know. I intend to implement with full commitment.” She lowers her face to right in front of his crotch and mouths along the outline of his cock. The sensation lights all his nerves on fire. 

The whole crew is watching as she stares up at him from her knees. “Please, Commander,” she begs again, and his dick throbs yet again. “Please, I need you.”

“I… I don’t know…” he stammers. He’s not handling this correctly. What is he supposed to do now? They did not cover this in officer training. “Is that really what you want?” 

She nods, climbing up onto the table. “None of them can fuck me like you can.” She spreads her legs, revealing a large wet spot where her panties stick to her. She’s dripping for him. 

“Dude…” Taehyung whistles long and low. “I mean, you have to fuck her now. Look at her.”

Namjoon shakes his head. He can’t. He’s supposed to be impartial. He’s supposed to be better than this. But then she pulls the crotch of the panties to the side, revealing her wet, shameless cunt. 

He places his hands on her thighs. God, she’s so soft and she smells so good and he’s so hard. He picks up her thighs, pulling her right to the edge of the table and spreading her wide. He’s going to fuck her. Right here in front of his whole crew. It’s what she wants. It’s what she deserves. 

A loud thud echoes through Namjoon’s sleep pod as he crashes into his ceiling, startling himself awake . His top half has managed to wiggle its way out of his sleeping bag. His bottom half is sweaty, still trapped in his covers, dick standing at full attention. The gravity is off. 

“Well, shit,” he mutters, fighting to free himself from the hot confines of the bag. Yesterday’s meeting must have rattled him more than he was willing to admit. He checks his watch and finds it’s a little after 4 am Earth-time. Too early to get up and too early to turn the gravity back on. His dick pulses in reminder that it is wide awake, even if the rest of him isn’t. 

“That is highly inconvenient,” he groans, palming himself through his pajama pants. There’s no cold showers here. He pulls himself along the ceiling and over to his desk, kicking himself free of the sleeping bag as he goes. 

Waiting at his desk is his tablet. He picks it up, searching through the tabs until he reaches a file marked “Mars Mission” despite Namjoon never traveling to Mars . It’s disguised to look like a technical file, the first few pages copied from documents of his first lunar mission, just in case someone checked . But he only has to scroll a few pages to find what he wants. Something to solve his problem and take his mind off his crew member. 

Whores of Olympus Mons - First Book of the Martian Succubi Series

A woman with dark hair, huge breasts, and photoshopped green skin kneels over a red Martian backdrop, looking up at him with large green eyes . The only alien things about her are the color of her skin and her gravity-defying tits. Namjoon has smuggled all 18 books of the series on board.

He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath as his dick throbs again. His dream comes back to him now, visions of their botanist with her legs spread for him on the kitchen table. 

He shakes his head. It’s not about her. He’s not interested in her like that. She’s his co-worker and his responsibility, not some harlequin romance character. He’s just feeling a bit pent-up is all and yesterday’s meeting brought up some things he has been avoiding. But once he gets off and his head is clear again, he can figure out how to approach this professionally . He opens up Book 1. 

I wake up in darkness, head pounding. My helmet is gone, but I am still breathing. It’s a cave of some sort, cool and moist. A single ray of light shines down from a large crack above me, a sliver of the yellow-brown Martian sky visible just beyond it. Judging by the position of the sun, I’ve been unconscious for hours. Or maybe days.

 I’m suspended against a wall, my feet dangling about six inches off the floor. My arms extend out to either side of me. I try to move them and I can’t. I try to turn my head to look at them, but my head is stuck in place as well. A musky tar-like substance covers my whole back, neck, and down each arm and leg. Like a fly stuck in flypaper, I am pinioned in place. 

Fuck. I'm about to be eaten, right? I struggle, wiggling back and forth, but it only presses me further into the goop. Some giant space spider is going to emerge from the dark caverns in front of me and devour me. I only hope it’s quick. My skin starts to itch and I begin to feel feverish. Have I been stung? Is there venom working its way through my system now? I try to check myself for wounds, but without the ability to turn my head, I can’t tell. 

Something stirs in the darkness, just beyond the edge of the light. But it's a woman that emerges from the darkness, not a giant arachnid. She avoids the direct sunlight, but I can make her out well enough in the light filling the cave. Two things catch my eye immediately: one, she is naked and two, she is green. Other than her coloring, she looks human, with dark black hair falling in waves down her back, but something in the way she moves suggests other-worldliness, like the bones under her skin are not the same as mine. 

“Relax human, I am not going to eat you.” Her lips don’t move but her voice echoes inside my head as she holds my gaze with her piercing green eyes and keeps walking closer. Her voice is soft but deep, with a slight snake-like hiss trailing each word. 

I am not relaxed. “What are you? Where am I?” I ask, tugging futilely on my trapped limbs.

“Relax,” she hisses again in my head. She’s only an arm’s length away now. If my hands weren’t stuck to the wall, I could touch her. “You fell into our home. My sisters and I. But we will take care of you.”

I've been so preoccupied with this woman I didn’t even notice the dozen or so other women hiding in the shadows. But now I see their green feminine faces peering out of the shadows.

“You’re not human,” I say. Perhaps she doesn’t intend to eat me, but all the faces watching me appear ravenous. 

“No, we are not.” Her mouth smiles but the rest of her face stays smooth and changing. She reaches out and entwines her fingers with mine. Her skin is warm and soft and unnaturally smooth. Her fingers are shaped like mine, but she has no fingerprints, no ridges or creases, no wrinkles or blemishes of any kind. “We are shape-shifters.”

The burning sensation in my skin increases in intensity, radiating out from where she is touching me. “What do you want with me?” I pant, trying and failing to twist out of her grasp.

A pink pointed tongue flashes between her lips and a new sound echoes in my head. Repetitive bursts of hissing, like if a snake could laugh. 

“Our species has no males of its own,” she answers, trailing her fingers up and down my arm, heating my body further. “We can reproduce without them, but over time our gene pool becomes stagnant.” As she says it, her tongue protrudes from her mouth again and she begins to lick up my arm, using her tongue to free my hand from sticky goo. 

The warmth from her spreads to my groin where my dick begins to harden against my will. “And how does that involve me?” I gulp. 

She places my now free hand over her round, green breast. It has that same perfect smoothness as the rest of her. “You will mate with me. And my sisters. Until you no longer can.” 

My mind recoils in horror, but my cock leaps upward. Tingling sensations cover my whole body as I shiver. What will happen to me once I no longer can?

I try to pull my hand away from her, but I can’t, as if it's been magnetized to her flesh. If I get even a centimeter off the surface of her, an invisible force pulls me right back. She grins and begins freeing my other hand. 

She places one of my fingers in her mouth and begins to suck. Her mouth is warm and wet, but smooth inside. None of the hard teeth of a human mouth meant for eating. This mouth is purely decorative. She adds another finger. I can’t help but imagine what her mouth would feel like on my dick, which is now straining against the confines of my pants. 

“But my crew…” I pant, struggling and falling to remove my fingers from her mouth. “I have to go. They need me. I can’t stay here.”

That same hissing laughter reverberates through my head. “Your crew is gone. They left you here with us.”

She holds up my hand so I can see my life monitor flashing on my wrist. No heartbeat. No breathing. It looks like I am dead. My crew would have followed protocol and not come to find me if I were dead. I would have insisted on it if I were still on the surface with them and one of them had tumbled into a crater. No sense in risking everyone to save one. Especially one presumed dead. I am alone.

“Oh don’t look so sad,” she says, still sucking on my fingers. “We’ll take good care of you.” She places my other hand on her other breast, so both green globes rest in my hands. Two hard nipples poke into the palm of each of my hands.

“We can take whatever form is most pleasing to you.” As she says it, her breasts expand beneath my hands, growing larger and heavier, until they are nearly the size of my head. My hands barely cover the nipples. I can’t help squeezing, feverish with the desire to bury my face in them. My cock hurts with how hard it is pressing into my zipper, but I can’t adjust it with my hands glued to her breasts. 

As if she can read my thoughts, and perhaps she can, she glances down at my groin. She holds out one long finger and as I watch, it elongates and sharpens, until it is the size and shape of a kitchen knife.

I watch in horror, powerless to do anything but squeeze her enormous green breasts, as she uses her finger to slice clean down the center of my suit, cutting through all the layers like butter and leaving my bare torso exposed to the room. The watching women in the shadows exchange glances at each other and lick their lips. 

“You won’t be needing these anymore,” she says as she cuts through my pants as well. My erection bounces free and points directly at her. The remnants of my clothes remain stuck in goo behind me, my clothes hanging in tatters over my otherwise naked form. Weirdly the room doesn’t feel cold. In fact I am way too warm. 

“He is ready,” she says, still in my head, but not directed at me. “Get him down.”

Three of the other women, also naked, rush over to me. My heart races. I brace myself so that the moment my feet hit the ground, I can run. The other women repeat the same licking procedure to free my legs. I can’t turn my head to look, but I feel their little tongues running up along the backs of my legs, leaving behind my clothing. I am limp as they free me, not wanting to give away my plan. Finally the back of my head pops free of the sticky goo and I fall forward. 

My feet hit the ground, but they don’t support my weight. In fact they don't respond to me at all. I crumple forward into the arms of the first woman, falling to my knees and unavoidably burying my face in her chest. Even though I am free from the goop, my body remains limp and unresponsive. 

“What’s wrong with my legs?” I ask, my voice muffled by the enormous breasts on either side of my head. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” She strokes up and down my back in a tender gesture. “Legs are not necessary.”

All I can do is groan as she picks me up like a small child, leaving my face buried in her luscious chest. The collective attending women spread my tattered clothing on the floor and she lays me down on it, naked and unable to move. She detaches my hands from her breasts and they fall limp to the floor. My erection curves up toward my belly, undeterred by my powerlessness. 

As the women stand over me, I get my first glimpse of the slits between their legs. Pink, like their tongues, and wet, like their mouths. I wonder if they are smooth on the inside as well. My dick twitches, a small drop of moisture beading at the tip. My captor sees it and grins, licking her lips. 

“Prepare him,” she commands to her surrounding attendants. 

One of the women lays down next to me, grabbing the base of my cock and pointing it upwards. Another woman takes the opposite side, cupping my balls in her hand and rolling them around her palm. 

“He is full.” It’s hard to tell which of them says it when none of their mouths move, but it’s probably the one cradling my testicles. The one holding my cock licks her finger, then slides it into my ass. Whatever they have done to my legs seems to also be happening to my anus, because her finger meets no resistance.  As she prods at my prostate, more clear liquid trickles from my cock. “We are ready.” 

The first woman, the one with the still gigantic breasts, stands over me. I watch as the pink slit between her legs lowers closer and closer to my awaiting cock, forcibly pointed directly at her. As she gets closer, the tingling burning sensation clusters in my groin. It’s driving me crazy that neither of the other women move their hands at all. I can’t get away. I can’t make it happen faster. I can’t do anything but lie here and let them do what they want. Powerless to stop them. Powerless to end it. My cock is so hard it hurts. 

She reaches me and sinks down. She’s warm and wet, expanding to receive me. I groan in frustration as she moves down so very slowly. She’s so tight. Smooth and tight and warm and wet. Unlike a human woman, there is no end to her, she just keeps sucking my dick inside her until our pelvises are flush with one another. 

“Please, please,” I beg and I don’t know what I’m begging for. I want her to stop. I want to get up and leave this place. I don’t want to impregnate a hive of telepathic shape-shifting spider women. 

And yet… and yet the way she squeezes around me, the way she rakes her hands up and down my chest as she rolls her hips, the way her warm smooth skin feels under my hands, it’s all I can do to not explode on the spot. 

She smiles, as if she can feel my desperation. “No need for endurance here. You will come, again and again. No matter what you do.”

She rolls her hips again and squeezes even tighter and I’m coming. All the other hands begin moving and I cry out. The hand on my balls massages gently. The fingers pushing on my prostate pulse in rhythm with my own muscle contractions. It’s the longest orgasm I’ve ever experienced. My abs hurt from contracting over and over, trying to thrust up into her, but powerless to do anything but lie there and take it. 

I come so much that some of it leaks out back out of her, spilling down both sides of me. The woman with her finger in my ass uses her other hand to scoop some of it up and taste. “Mmm, he is delicious.”

The woman on top of me smiles, rubbing her lower belly contentedly. Maybe it is my imagination, but it looks slightly swollen. “Ah, you like this,” she says in my head. “You like watching me grow round with your seed. Come again for me and I will grow more.”

There’s no way. I’ve never been one for multiples and that was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. My dick is already softening and yet she only gives me a moment before she is moving again. Something inside her seems to suck my dick into her, holding me in place even when no longer erect. It’s unbearable and astounding. All I can do is squeeze her breasts harder and beg her to stop. Then she starts moving again. 

 I think I might die. Over and over, she brings me to climax, with the aid of the hands of her eager accomplices. She places my hands on the swell of her abdomen and I can feel it as she swells again. She keeps growing larger, belly more and more distended and lord help me, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. 

Each time I come, I beg her to stop. “I can’t do it again. There’s no more left.” 

“You can and you will.”

The last time I come, my dick isn’t even hard any more.  But I still feel it pulse feebly inside of her. Every muscle in my body aches. There’s nothing left.

“He is empty,” one of them finally says. The woman on top of me smiles again and strokes my cheek. “Well done,” she whispers. 

“Are you…” I fight to ask on the edge of consciousness. “Are you going to kill me now?”

The hissing laughter echoes around the room. “Why would we do that?” The main woman asks. “Your stores will replenish overnight, yes?”

“Yes…” I nod, closing my eyes. 

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow,” she says. I feel myself being lifted and placed upright back on the wall, still naked. “There are still so many of my sisters needing your services.” My arms are pinned back into place and I lose consciousness. 

Namjoon stares down at the release cooling on his belly with a mixture of relief and regret. God, if any of his crew found this document… if they knew the trashy ridiculous things he was getting off on… How could they still respect him ? How could they still trust him with their mission and their lives? 

At least now that he’s not battling a hard-on, his perspective on their botanist is clearer. This sexual longing isn’t really about her. He’s sexually frustrated and she’s provoked this response in him by mentioning the thing that was previously unmentionable . As long as he can keep his own urges at bay, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

He is concerned about her though. Despite her assurances that she is of sound mind and knows what she’s doing, Namjoon doesn’t see a way this ends in anything but a larger problem for her . 

He navigates away from the porn to his messages and is relieved to find there are no signed HR forms in his email. Surprising though. His crew has more discretion that he would have guessed. 

________

Namjoon emerges from his sleep pod a little while later, having washed and dressed for the day, and heads for the bridge. It’s time to relieve Jin of bridge duty, so the pilot can get some sleep. 

Halfway to the bridge though, he discovers his chief engineer floating in the observation bay, staring out into the black night sky.

“Good morning, Officer Min.” They haven’t talked to one another since yesterday’s surprise powerpoint and Namjoon’s not sure he’s ready to have this conversation, but the slight frown on Yoongi’s face as he stares into space suggests he might need someone to talk to.

“Good morning, Commander.” Yoongi sips something out of a zero-g drink pouch. Probably coffee.

“How are you this morning?”  Namjoon asks, inwardly cringing at how awkward this feels. He and Yoongi have always had a peaceful relationship. They are comfortable with each other, work well together, have known each for years and have been on several missions together. But they don’t talk much about feelings. 

Yoongi side-eyes Namjoon, squinting skeptically. “I’m fine. Is there something I can assist you with, Commander?” 

Namjoon huffs, frustrated that Yoongi is making him spell it out. “I was surprised I didn’t receive an HR form from you this morning.”

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow and takes another sip of his drink. “You want us to sign the HR forms?”

“Well, no, no I don’t.” Namjoon shakes his head. “But I assumed, what with your relationship with our botanist…”

Yoongi grunts. “We don’t have a relationship.” 

Ugh, why does he have to make this so difficult? “But you did, didn’t you?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi looks back out into space and shrugs in a way that feels entirely too nonchalant. “We helped each other out, when the need arose.”

“Goddamn it, Yoongi, can you please give a damn?” Namjoon chastises. “ All of this nonsense is your fault. The least you could do is care.”

“My fault? How is this my fault?” 

“You used her!” Namjoon roars, his frustration rushing out all at once. “You started this cause you couldn’t keep your own urges in check.” 

“You think I’m using her ?” Yoongi scoffs and it is enraging how little guilt he seems to feel about his role in this. “She doesn’t need you to protect her, Namjoon.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. He grabs Yoongi by the shoulders and spins him to face him. “No, she needs you to protect her. When this all goes south, which it inevitably will, it will all come down on her.” He shoves Yoongi away so hard that Yoongi has to grab onto the window sill to prevent flying to the other side of the room.

Yoongi sighs and slumps against the window, looking sad and defeated. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Can’t you go talk to her instead of sulking here? This whole seven forms thing just seems like an effort to make you jealous. Clearly your form is the one she wants the most.”

Yoongi laughs unhappily. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I asked her to sign a form. Too fucking late obviously, but I did ask her.”

“You did?”

“Yeah and then she made a powerpoint explaining how she’d rather fuck six other men than be with me.”

“You wanted her to be exclusive with you?”

Yoongi sighs again, fidgeting with the now empty drink pouch in his hands. “When it started, I just wanted to make her happy.”

Uh oh. Namjoon has seen that wistful sadness once from Yoongi before, back before this mission . The flight engineer’s feelings must run deeper than he is willing to admit. “Well, shit,” Namjoon says.

“Yup.” Yoongi replies. 

Perhaps she really does want no-strings-attached ape sex. Their botanist seems to think she can biohack her way to group cohesion, emotions be damned . 

“Are you going to…?” Yoongi starts to ask, but trails off, perhaps deciding he doesn’t actually want to know. 

“Sign the form?” Namjoon asks. Yoongi nods. “No.” Namjoon shakes his head. “It’d be a huge ethical breach. Plus, I’m not sure I could take it. Best to never go down that road.”

There’s silence. Yoongi turns back to watch the stars out the window.

“If no one signs, do you think she’ll let it go?” Namjoon asks. 

Yoongi chuckles. “I doubt it.” 

“Yeah…” Namjoon didn’t have high hopes for that one. “Well, I’m due on the bridge. Take care of yourself, Yoongi.”

“You too, Namjoon.”

_______

Namjoon’s hopes of it all going away if no one signs are dashed the next day by a signed form from Taehyung. It’s not very surprising given how lonely and homesick Taehyung has been. 

But then there are no further forms for days. And everyone is behaving so professionally that he might think he had hallucinated the whole thing if he didn’t have his own ready-to-sign HR form from her still sitting in his inbox . 

It catches him off guard on Monday evening when his phone pings with a notification from Jin and he opens it to find a signed HR form . Really ? Jin? Why wouldn’t Jin talk to him about this first? Shit, he needs to find him. 

Namjoon checks Jin’s sleep pod, but he’s not there. He pulls up the form again to double-check, as he heads to the kitchen. Sure enough, Jin’s signature is scrawled right next to hers. 

Really ? Jin? He didn’t think his pilot had any particular interest in their botanist beyond collegiality . Or she in him, for that matter. At the meeting, Jin had only seemed concerned about the welfare of the group. 

Another ding on the tablet pulls Namjoon from his thoughts to discover there is yet another signed HR form in his inbox, this one from Jungkook . Uh oh. Something is happening. He starts walking faster.

Is Namjoon going to be the only one who doesn’t sign? But there’s no way he can sign, right? His job is to protect her and honor her and do what’s best for her. She’s his responsibility. His only female crew member. He’s her commanding officer. He can’t just be another man who fucks her. 

Namjoon’s inner crisis is suddenly ended by a head-on collision with something warm. Something soft. Something that giggles.

“What the-“ he says, throwing his hands up, eyes greeted by a wall of bare flesh. 

“Shit, sorry commander.” Jin says. Namjoon has been plowed into by his pilot hauling their botanist ass-up over his shoulder. And the warm soft things that had collided with his face were the backs of her naked thighs. “Excuse us.” Jin steps around him with no explanation and continues down the hallway. 

What the fuck is happening? 

He makes eye contact with her as she peers over Jin’s absurdly broad back. Her eyes go wide and oh god, she’s so cute. The mix of embarrassment, determination and mischief on her face is so appealing he’s having trouble even being angry about the obvious breach of protocol .  Right before they disappear from view into Jin’s sleep pod, he hears them both giggle. They’re having fun together. 

Ugh. Namjoon slumps against the wall and massages his forehead with one hand. What is she doing naked in the middle of the hallway? How is he supposed to keep things professional if she’s running around naked all the time? 

Namjoon clenches his fist and heads in the direction they came from, seeing if he can figure out what happened . He finds Jungkook in the kitchen, staring at a bowl of ramen noodles. 

“Jungkook?” Namjoon asks. “Everything okay?”

Jungkook looks up at him and swallows. “Um, yeah, um, fine.” The youngest crew member stands up, looking shaken. 

“Did you see what happened just now between our pilot and our botanist?”

Jungkook nods.

“Well? What happened?” Namjoon asks. 

Jungkook laughs in disbelief and shakes his head. “I’m not sure you’d believe me even if I told you.” He looks up, eye catching on the camera in the corner of the room. It’s covered by a cloth or something, Namjoon’s not sure what. Jungkook’s eyes widen again and he rushes over the camera, taking the cloth off the camera and tucking it into his pocket . “The camera recorded most of it.” Jungkook adds. “If you’ll excuse me Commander…” 

Jungkook weaves around Namjoon so fast, Namjoon barely has time to scold him. The specialist is rattled . He disappears into the hallway, leaving his noodles uneaten. 

None of this makes any sense. Has everyone lost their minds? Namjoon has half a mind to call Jin down for a cognition test right now. But he grits his teeth and heads for the bridge. 

Jimin is manning the bridge, but Namjoon boots him out, muttering something about "personnel issues" . He rushes over to the ship monitors and rewinds the recorded video of the kitchen feed by twenty minutes. 

He hits play when he finds Jungkook eating alone at the table.  For thirty seconds, nothing happens. Namjoon almost fast-forwards, but then shouting begins in the hall. 

“What do you want from me?” their botanist shouts, still out of sight of the camera.

Yoongi comes storming into the kitchen with her following closely behind. She’s glaring at the back of his head as he moves in the direction of the pantry. If Yoongi took Namjoon’s advice to talk to her, it wasn’t going well. 

She puts her hands on her hips and turns to Jungkook at the table.  “And what about you? Don’t you want to fuck me?”

Namjoon can’t see Jungkook’s face, but Jungkook’s whole body twitches. “I, um…” Jungkook stammers. 

She leans against the table, bending over him. “Didn’t you enjoy my video? Don’t you want to see the real thing?”

“Uh…” Jungkook shivers again, but gestures toward Yoongi. “ Maybe the two of you should talk this out…”

She crosses her arms, pressing her breasts upward and leaning further into Jungkook’s space . Namjoon has never seen her like this. She’s so determined. It’s both terrifying and arousing. 

“This isn’t about him,” she says, gesturing at Yoongi’s back. “Whatever the flight engineer wants to do is up to him. He knows where I stand. This is about me and you.”

Shit, where does she stand? What did she say to Yoongi? Does Yoongi really know what she wants? Because it didn’t seem like it the last time they talked. 

“It’s not like I’m not interested…” Jungkook’s legs bounce with nervous energy. “But I told you I was in love with you and you literally had a panic attack.”

Jungkook’s in love with her? When did that happen? How much has been happening on this ship that Namjoon doesn’t know about?

Their determined botanist startles slightly and pulls her tablet out of her pocket. Her eyes widen as she reads something on the screen. 

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, slight edge to his voice. 

And then Jin appears in the doorway and seems surprised to see her. “Oh, I thought you’d still be on shift.”

She looks equally surprised. “You signed the form,” she says. 

“What? He did?” Jungkook leans forward trying to see her tablet screen. 

“Oh, um, yeah,” Jin laughs. “That’s what you wanted right?”

“Yes, that’s what I wanted.” A shift comes over her as she stands up. Namjoon recognizes her change in demeanor, though he's only ever seen it before in regards to mission parameters or experimental protocols . She has a plan. Namjoon involuntarily shivers in anticipation. Every man in the room has his eyes fixed on her. “You’re the first one I’ve gotten,” she says. “So you can go first.”

“Wait, what?” Jin stammers. “But you and the commander?”

Kim Seokjin, you idiot. Namjoon puts his head down on the console in exasperation. If only he had asked Namjoon first. Why would he leap to this as the next logical step?

She shakes her head.”He didn’t sign.” Namjoon squints at her face on the screen, trying to gauge if she is disappointed by that. But the camera is too low resolution to decipher much of her expression. 

“You and Taehyung though? I saw him take off his shirt and cover the camera,” Jin argues. 

Goddamn, there is so much that Namjoon doesn’t know. He misses some of the next exchange as he wonders what exactly she was doing with a shirtless Taehyung. 

Jin is flustered now. “Oh, well, um…” he tugs at the collar of his jumpsuit. “ Maybe we can talk more about this after dinner?”

“That’s one option…” she moves closer to him, fingers on the zipper of her jumpsuit. Namjoon’s forehead breaks out in a sweat. “Or you could fuck me now.”

No, no, no. It’s so reminiscent of the dream version of her that he slaps himself on the cheek to check he’s actually awake. 

Jin moves to the other side of the kitchen, as intimidated by her as Namjoon is at the moment. “There are people eating here!”

“Nothing they haven’t seen before.” She begins unzipping her jumpsuit and neither Jin, nor Jungkook, nor Yoongi, nor Namjoon can look away . When did their cute nerdy botanist become this crazed seductress? Namjoon has half a mind to ask Hoseok to double check the asteroid samples for alien brainwashing parasites . 

Her jumpsuit reaches her hips and she peels off her tank top. Just as Namjoon catches a glimpse of her panties peeking out from the bottom of the jumpsuit, she throws the tanktop toward him and the whole screen goes dark . 

“Shit!” It takes all of Namjoon’s self-control not to rip the screen out of the console in an impossible attempt to move the shirt off of the camera . “No, no, goddammit. What happened?”

He scrolls forward in the video, but it remains dark until Jungkook finally pulls the shirt off the camera again and Namjoon finds his own shocked and dumb face starring back at him . 

“Fuck…” he lets out a long low whistle as he rests his head in his hands and lets his heart rate calm down.  “This is so fucking inconvenient.”

[dairy-farmer]

>:Dc

You know~ I was a pondering~ the FASCINATING plot potential of Pink Kryptonite on an ALREADY Hella Bi Kon? When I realized! Why not make it SPICIER~♡?

Because I DO so enjoy? That "thrill and danger of sleeping with a living God. A man who's very body is so strong it not only can crush you, but they have to ACTIVELY try NOT too. Who you touch and it feels like touching living marble." Vibe~! On TOP of Alien Sex and good ol Wholesome Kent Boys!

Because yes PLURAL!

What IF? Suspect research facility? What they up too *suspicious squint*? Why your building lead lined? Gasp! Kryptonite research! Luthor! Fuck, not AGAIN! They are trying to make artificial Kryptonite, because (for obvious reasons) the Justice League keeps finding and DESTROYING any natural supplies.

Infiltration Time.

Superboy(Jon) is NOT allowed to come. But Kon can. In fact, he insists. And? It would be good bonding? Clark is trying to be better. Is still awkward around him. But there is improvement!

Kon, of course, brings Tim. For hacking and mostly emotional support. Also Kryptonite containment if they find any. Batman is somewhere in Prague. Let's go team!

Honestly? It was a terrible fucking idea. Clark should have asked someone NOT deathly allergic to this specific rock to do it. Tim carrys the mission HARD. They destroy stones. Destroy chemical supplies. Research gets copied and obliterated. They barely manage to avoid a few "evil superman" scenarios. Stressful all around.

0 out of 10 stars in Tim's book.

But there is one building left. Well separated from the others due to a heavily redacted "incident" Tim doesn't have the time to decrypt. One left right? And at least they KNOW it's not Red in there. Let's go.

And, see, neither Kon nor Tim have ever SEEN Pink Kryptonite before. Only Clark has. The NATURAL crystals? Made him a rather flaming Queen for a while. He hit on Jimmy. And? The solid, dull, magenta BLOCK of rock in the lab they find? Deeply artificial. Clearly meant to try and REPLICATE Pink Kryptonite.

Hits Clark like a magically backed punch to the lower gut. He can see Kon stumble out of the corner of his eye. Everything feels... warm and pleasant against his skin. Tingly. Oh... oh no.

Kon's hair suddenly looks so nice. Soft and fluffy. Clark's eyes are being dragged over his figure almost against his will. No.. NO! That is his... his SON. Cousin? Clone! Blood! S-stop that! He wrenches his gaze away and... oh.

Oh, Tim grew up WELL, didn't he?

He's leaning over to examine the block. Unaware of two sets of eyes locked like hunters onto him. Effects like Pollen, that he can not feel. It.. IS weird that Kon has stopped chatting though. He was making fun of the lab, wasn't he? Hey, Superboy, what's uuu-? Uuuuh you guys... good?

Tim contains the rock. Quickly. No dice. Apparently the exposure was enough. Will need to wear off. He inches around the two fixated Kryptonians to a computer console. What the HELL is going on? He finds out. Compares it to Bat computer notes. Mixed compound? Likely lack of impulse control...

Well... Shit.

Okay. Okay, don't panic. Just call Lois for Clar-! Tim is airborne. Heeeeey, Supes! Wanna put me down? Gonna just call your wife real qui-. Nah. Clark wants you. He hugs Tim like a teddy bear from behind, carefully of course. Steel bands would be easier too escape. Clark rubs his cheek against Tim's hair and neck. Soft~

Kon? Well HE always really, REALLY wanted to eat Rob out. The guy's super squirrelly. He legit thinks a few dozen orgasms might fix like... SO much about his life. Or at least would help with the constant STRESS. And he LOVES the guy. Plus Kon is GREAT with his tounge! He's been practicing. Getting tips.

And for some reason? He can't think of a reason NOT too right now.

So now Tim is in the air, feet not touching the ground, trapped between two drugged out Kryptonians, and getting his PANTS undone. Kon? Kon, buddy!? Next thing he knows, his legs are being held in place by immovable hands, tossed over his friends shoulders, and Kon is dipping forward.

Hot and wet plunders as it pleases, making him jolt and squirm. But he can't escape. Can't get any leverage. Even if he could, he's being held by SUPERMAN, what good would it do?

Kon's tounge is less relenting then a human's. It's almost like being teased by the wet drag of a toy. Clark is kissing his neck. Holding him easily with one arm, now. The other working open his uniform. His powerful hand sliding in to run lightly, so very lightly, across Tim's chest.

And from what feels like an iron bar digging into his back? Clark has completely forgotten the "no threesomes unless I get to be apart of it and/or watch" rule that Tim is technically not supposed to know about. Lois is going to murder him.

He'd care more, if there weren't fingers carefully working there way into him. Distracting him and starting to melt his brain. Kon CHEATING, using his stupid TTK to run hands that aren't there over skin and press kisses everywhere. And when Kon fumbles open his costume, desperate, hands hovering but not touching. Trying not to GRAB because he's so, so turned on and doesn't even trust himself right now?

Clark just rumbles "I got you" from behind Tim like this isn't surreal. Like he's not about too-. And Clark just crowds closer and slides Tim ONTO Kon like he's some sort of shared toy. Because, Tim is vaguely and hysterically aware off, if KON slide home? He might accidentally break Tim's pelvis! Or worse!

And Kon is gripping Clark's arms hard enough to bruise. Hissing through his teeth as he makes himself stay still. Because Tim feels so, so damn good. Clark is rocking him, steady and perfect as you please, a waterfall of murmured praises falling from him.

Then, when Kon's shuddering apart? His grip relaxing and control returning? He helps Clark. Pulls Tim into HIS arms. Lifts him up and slides him down on to the wet dream of most of the planet. They take turns. It's hours before Tim touches the floor again and by that point they've flown back to the Nest.

Tim seemed tired, after all.

Tim manages to distract them with Needy Demands from their almost medically exhausted fucked out Robin. Manages to army crawl across the bed to a silent alarm. Nightwing, bring the GREEN Kryptonite and red sun lamps or so help me, you'll be down a brother.

*near immediate sound of nearby window crashing open*

FOR FUCK SAKE, I HAVE A DOOR!

Just? The spirit is willing but the flesh is squishy Human, guys. There are two of you. You are both LITERALLY super human! It's in your ACTUAL CAPE NAMES. P-put down the Tim... w-we can talk about this! *ravished like a romance novel Protagonist* oh nooooo~♡ lol

Kon feels moderately bad about it. On one hand? Mmmmmm~♡ Tim sex. Nice. But on the OTHER? Big Oof. Leaving your bed partner one big bruise from Too Much Sexing is BAD. Deeply conflicted.

Would delicious take out from that place you like in Italy and all the oral you desire help? *interested Tim noises*

Clark? Hunted for sport. Lois? Terrifying but moderately understanding. It WAS Kryptonite. But BATMAN? You fucked his baby boy, Clark. Didn't even take him out dancing first. You, a married man, old enough to be his father, FUCKED HIS BABY BOY. *smashs bottle and menaces with the jagged edge* Run.

-🐼🐼🐼

bruce would NOT let clark know peace 😭😭😭

[catgirlxox]

thoughts on ester and ben? i didnt really like her and ben when i first watched omniverse but i brushed it off as me being petty cause i only really cared about benrook lol, idk why but to me it seemed like ben wasnt really that into her and was just going along. however, i see people (mostly on reddit) say she was perfect for ben and im just like, uhm- did i miss something? i do kinda feel bad for her cause i think ben should have at least made it clear he didnt want to commit to her from the get go but idk, i skipped every other scene she was in LOL

oh thank fuck someone else said it.

I HEAR THIS SHIT EVERYWHEREEE 🙄 LMAO like I get it, she's considered the better option because she's not insulting him every other second, trying to use him for something, guilt tripping him over choosing to do his job instead of giving her attention 24/7, she has alien powers and therefore fits into the fighting crime aspect of the series. I understand that. But...in that case, it's like a band aid solution? They just didn't repeat the problems the "bad" love interests had, and by process of elimination, she’s the better option out of a bunch of debatably bad options.

But besides checking all those boxes, it's kind of a boring pairing. I think that's the real thing here that wrote them into a corner and contributed to kicking her out in favor of Kai the drama starting bitch with an attitude who tries to "challenge" Ben and create some kind of fucked up chemistry. It does give them something to make a plot from.

Ben 10 isn't and never was a romance focused show, so I don't think we need to expect an amazingly crafted romance plotline from it. And if people are content with a satisfactory romance, they can be. But again, if you want MY opinion, it's boring.

No wonder it seemed like Ben wasn't really into her 😂

To be fair, I have made a (less petty) point here that I do still agree with - they're teenagers. Dating around and things not working out isn't uncommon, unrealistic or unreasonable. Yeah, the romantic subplots could have been planned out better, but the argument can be made that the teenage years are for that kind of exploration.

But also actually you know what fuck that I put together a new tag for my petty posts about the bitches cause it's my blog and I get to bitch about whatever I want. You're welcome? haha

[silentwillowwhisperer]

*sparkle*

Hi, yep, I'm alive (maybe.)

Here we have cute flower shop Lance and Keith who is very bad at peopleing.

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

Keith slams the door of the nearest shop open and dashes inside. He bends over and grips his knees, panting. His drenched clothes are making a large puddle at his feet.

"Um... Can I help you?"

Keith looks up and surveys his surroundings. There are various plants of all shapes and sizes on every available surface, and brightly colored flowers pierce Keith's vision. His eyes trail all the way to the far end of the room until they meet iridescent blue.

"Are you ok? You look like you've been running from a herd of angry purple alien cats armed with guns."

Keith has to snort at that. It sounds like the plot of a cartoon made for 7-year-olds. (Which is exactly the sort of thing he likes to watch, but can we just let him pretend to be cool?)

The guy has golden brown skin and a splash of freckles across his cheeks. He has a couple inches on Keith and broad shoulders. The corner of his mouth is quirked up into a little smile, and oh my goodness, Keith really hopes that this guy is at least a little bit gay. (That would definitely make his day go from 'horrible freaking disaster' to 'wonderful freaking disaster.)

This is Shiro's fault. It's that dumb, skunk-haired jerk's fault that Keith is standing sopping wet and making eye contact with an unbelievably cute guy in the middle of a flower shop.

Keith had been sleeping peacefully when Shiro called him at 3am (you read that right, Shiro is a monster) to remind him to take medication. Keith could appreciate this gesture when it wasn't the witching hour, but it was and then Keith was awake, and yeah he hid take the medicine, and because insomnia exists, Keith gave up on sleep and decided to go for a very early run.

Keith can't be blamed for forgetting to check the weather forecast, it was early and he couldn't think about anything but coffee.

And that's why Keith decided to walk the 5 miles from his shack in the middle of nowhere to the nearest town to find a Starbucks.

And that's also why he had to run the last 3 miles because the sky opened up and god decided to have a good cry all over Keith and his favorite sweatshirt.

Yep, completely, 100% Shiro's fault.

Wait. Keith has been staring at the flower boy for too long hasn't he? He can tell from the furrow in his perfectly shaped eyebrows that Keith is not following social conduct right now.

"Right. Sorry. Raining. Water. It's wet." Keith is forcing out words and desperately hoping something he says actually makes sense.

The cute guy laughs. (hallelujah!) "Yes, I can see that. Would you like a towel?" All Keith can do is nod stupidly, terrified of saying something else and having Shimmery-Eye-Dude realize that Keith is about to pass out from social anxiety.

He walks up to the cash register to accept the towel being held out to him. As soon as he does, Dreamy Man smirks and leans up against the counter so that his wonderful face is only inches away from Keith's.

Is it safe to assume that Mr. Ocean Eyes is into guys?

Is this a thing that platonic male companions do when greeting each other??

Is Keith being initiated as a 'bro???'

Why is Keith allowed to leave home on his own???? He should never be allowed into a public area without someone to supervise him!

"I-I- um... h-hi?" Oh look, Keith's stutter is here to say hello.

Tall-Mocha-and-Handsome barks out a laugh. (Wow, Keith would really love a cup of coffee right now.) "Hi there. You come here often?"

Wait. Wait! Keith knows this! Shiro explained this to him last week! Flirting! Keith might have a chance after all!

"I- I've never been here inside of this place and if you mean have I been in front of your face before, no I don't think so because your eyes are kind of sparkling very loudly right now and I don't think I would have forgotten that even though I'm face bland and who are you because you might be flirting with me right now and I really hope so because your face is pretty and hi I'm Keith I'm gay."

Keith has to gasp in a breath of air after the word mush that just erupted from his traitorous face hole. Flirty-Person stares at his face in shock as he tries to process the words that have been shoved at him.

After what feels like an eternity, Please-Marry-Keith's mouth returns to its position in a crooked half-smile and his brow furrows slightly. Keith can't tell if this face means confused pity/teasing or endearment.

"O...k then. You're blunt, aren't you?"

Keith has used up his capacity for language-speaking, so all he can do is flush bright red and try to hide his face in the hood of his sweatshirt.

"Welp, I can work with that. Keith, is it? I'm glad you're not homophobic, you we're staring at me so long that I was worried that you were about to start spouting some nonsense about crimes to humanity. I'm Lance, and are you from outer space? Because your body is out of this world!"

Stop. No. There is no way that Lance (yay, finally, a name! Keith was about to start calling him Sokka.) is a dork. Because Keith's weak heart will actually die. Oop, too late, he's already dead. Deceased. He has officially kicked. the. bucket.

He can't help but dissolve in to giggles. He so caught of guard by the pick-up line that he has to brace himself against the counter to keep from collapsing onto the ground. He rests his forehead on the smooth marble surface and desperately tries to stop choking on his laughter.

"Awww, what? That was my best line!" Keith looks up at Lance's face to see him smiling fondly at him. At least he hopes that's what it is. It there still a chance that Lance is fake smiling to hide the fact that he's calling the police?

Keith finds himself smiling back.

(Two days later they have their first date at the park, Lance prepares a giant picnic and Keith has never been more excited.)

(Shiro never lets Keith hear the end of this.)

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

I think that was an acceptable ending. Alright, now no one wake me up until I've had at least 10 hours of sleep or I might cry. (That means you @gavemebluethenpurplepinkskies, are you happy now?)

[witchofthesouls]

I think we need more first contact that isn't Autobot or Decepticon related. Just Cybertronians trying to survive the collapse of their world.

Imagine this scenario, you're taking a break from the university (the only one that gave you a full ride because Reasons) since you find out you're one of the handful that came out the Corner in the Library from finals week. (You managed to cram in a month's worth of information in less than six days and a lot of camping preparation.)

You find out you inherited a property in the middle of nowhere because you fulfilled the necessary requirements to claim it.

It's a small farm. Luckily, the livestock are still alive since someone opened the latches or the wards broke down over time, and the plants seem to takeover the entire plot, except the stone pathways. You're trying to figure out who started this when you hear noise in the deteriorating barn...

You expected a bear or raccoons or even the ghost of the original owner. It's none of the above.

What you didn't expect is a giant alien in the barn. A giant alien with kids. Metal aliens. Giant metal kids. Well, one of them is a thumb-sucking tot, and the other is a very pink bird-girl.

So yeah, on a short break from university, you inherited a magical farm and a few tenets from space.

[partywithoutsmiling]

I know I will probably disappoint lot of Creek fans, but honestly I prefer him canonically gone XD;

(This is by no means a post made to pour critique on Creek fans; I am simply explaining why he won't make any appearances in my AU past the necessary plot device in the first movie events)

I said in my previous ask that Creek is unempathetic to needs of any other creature but himself. He looks upon others- most likely subconsciously- in ways that would make them useful to him, not as someone whose life has an equal value to his own.

This calousness is shown in his remorseless acceptance of sending his whole Tribe to his death- even shrugging like 'what can you do' when he lures them out.

I called him chilling and that still checks, and I go as far as call him unnerving.

However, ultimately, he is a wimp XD;

I know there are plenty of writers out there who likes to paint him as a sinister villain, who'd go as far as to try and cause deliberate harm- and maybe if he was pushed enough, he'd do so, like a cornered rat

But really, similar to Branch, he wants to avoid physical conflicts, and especially wants to avoid any harm to himself. His greatest strenght was always his cunning, and being more aware of how to spin situation to his favour-

And yet, he is also so stupid and activelly sabotaging himself XD

(Srs, my guy, peacocking around under Chef's hand, confident he saved his own life, while not even trying to leave himself an escape plan- or leave a small thread of oppoturnity to allow him to be accepted back into his tribe)

He's the Peter Petigrew of the Trolls franchise, a Wormtongue level of villain. Confindent, self-assured and arrogant- but only when he is absolutely sure he has a backing of a bigger bully, unless he is the 'biggest' himself.

As soon as things get too hot, he bails; and while he maybe would have entertained going back to his Tribe after his betrayal, he would be on the bottom of the totem pole now; no power and no oppoturnity to get it back- and he certainly doesn't have the drive to try and redeem himself.

From story telling perspective, it would make him a rather poor antagonist. Annoyance at best, not even similar to Team Rocket who can be funny and heartfelt; just pathetic level of a villain really. He served his purpose and there is no need to drag his character on after that.

I just cant honestly imagine him being that interesting, in my AUs- because, since they are mostly from Branch's or Poppy's view, they wouldn't even notice that he's there.

He would avoid them like a plague; use the miracle oppoturnity of having a clean slate with other tribes to worm his way among them; in fact, he'd consider it a hindrance if any Pop Trolls showed up and recognized him.

But as I said, he's stupid.

In Wanderer AU, the Strings in Branch's hair would call to his powerhungry nature; he wouldn't even consider that Branch might have more connections among the other tribes than he'd even imagine; if an oppoturnity arrives where Branch shows up in a place where Creek lives (as he wouldnt have been caught dead roughing it up on the road), he'd see Branch alone, without the backing of the Pop Tribe or Poppy.

He'd try to steal the Strings while Branch is asleep. Eyes on the goal, not even considering the consequences. He just knows Strings equals power, and he wants power.

He'd be caught- and that would bring Branch's attention to him even being alive in the first place. Truth of the Traitor comes out- and since the alliance, the rumours would spread like wildfire and Creek would have activelly burned any bridges of goodwill he had managed to build, or that he could have build.

in Rock Beast AU, much the same- he'd try to find safety under the wings of a bigger bully, and alienate everyone because of it- no matter what tribe it is.

A wimp, and a fool.

This is why I said he never consciously used his friends- he doesn't have the capacity to do it consciously XD;; everything is instinctual, a learned habit, inability to function any other way.

Truthfully, he is not even a villain; antagonist to our protagonist, sure, but active villain? Ehhhhhh

He is just a hardcore oppoturnist, to the extreme; there is no real malice beside the consequences of his actions; he just doesn't care that deeply about these things; I don't believe he would ever even consider Branch his enemy, or a rival, not like Branch would have considered him back; Creek just really doesnt care about anyone but himself- and that certainly means he would never care hard enough to even muster the hatred necessary to plan someone's demise or harm

[moomoog017]

fic ᯓᡣ𐭩 more than credits ꔛ✿

Boba Fett x Bounty hunter! GN Reader

Synopsis: You pick up a mysterious job for some extra credit (money), only to be paid in another currency. ;)

Genre: smut w/plot and fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Smex club, dom!Boba and sub!reader, cream pie, degrading but also praising, gn reader but Boba calls them princess, light choking, ass smacking, aftercare, cute shit

A/N: First smut! Skip the smut if you don’t want it I labeled it. This took a surprisingly long amount of time to write but I like how it turned out! Enjoy lovely’s. <3

Header @general-ida-raven

You walk into the cantina with a glide to your step. The menacing jingle of your blasters rattle on your belt. The soft and elegant tapping of your heels against the cold ground always caught the attention of all sorts of people and aliens. You brush off the wandering eyes on you and head to your designated table at the back of the cantina. This is where you always got your jobs, but this time you weren’t met with a familiar face. Instead a hooded figure reached out their hand to the seat in front of them, ushering you to have sit down. You cautiously sat down crossing your legs and placed a light hand on your blaster.

“Where is he?” Your voice is cold and deep. “He didn’t feel like comin’.” The voice came through a helmet which denied any recognition through the voice changer. “He knows I don’t do mysteries.” You placed a firm hand onto the edge of the table. “I’m only doin’ what I was told. Extra credits in this one but at the price of information.” The voice spoke, twirling their gloved fingers. “How much?” You questioned, and eyebrows cocked. “More than a few galactic credits.” The cockiness in their voice, you could’ve sworn they were smirking under that damn helmet. You thought to yourself for a moment before speaking. “What am I sacrificing?” They answered short and sweet. “A name, and a face.” Your eyes narrowed.

For more than a few galactic credits you were willing to play. “Fine, give it here.” The gloved hand reached into their cloak, pulling out a small holo device. They tossed it across the table. You removed your hand from your blaster and picked up the device. Turning it over between your fingers you read the information on the back. “Only location and time?” You removed your eyes from it to meet the absent ones of the figure's visor. “The price is pretty.” Was all that was said. You hesitated. “Take it or leave it.” You clutch the device in your hand and get up from the table. “Happy hunting.” A low chuckle rumbled from behind you, but you kept forwards.

Later that day you started to prepare for your mysterious bounty upon your humble ship. You glanced at the holo device, you knew exactly where you had to go but not who you were looking for, you enjoyed a bit of a challenge. “Must be someone famous if someones paying a couple galactic credits for their head.” A smirk crossing your colored lips. Slipping into your gear for the night you placed on all your little accessories. “Different, but it’s gonna have to work.” Unlike your usual hunter attire it looked more like you were going to a dinner party than to murder someone (which was the goal). But you felt light without the protection of heavy armor and leather. You gazed at yourself in the full length mirror, doing a little spin. “But I look damn good.” You smiled at yourself in admiration. You slipped some sleek discreet weapons under your garment. Satisfied with your looks you covered yourself with a cloak and exited your small ship.

The cool night wind whipped at your face. The corners of your cloak drifting through the breeze. Despite the twin suns resting just underneath the sky the humid air was strong. The streets are still bustling with active folks of all shapes and colors. Signs of stores and cantinas illuminating in the darkness. You walk briskly to your destination, eager for your hunt. The crunching of sand beneath your heels. Not after long you reach your designation. Your eyes meet the bright sign hanging just above the entrance. The colors spread to your face as you take it all in. Loud music and people aren’t usually your typical time out, but the credits will make it all worth it. You take a sharp inhale in as you brace yourself. Shifting your shoulders, ready for a show. 

The noise sets fire to your ears making you wince. Your eyes scanned the giant room for any possible suspicions. Your attention being drawn everywhere made your brain a little fuzzy. You went alongside the wall as a starting point to start drawing your victim out. You walked past drunk and sweaty people as you made your round along the edge. The strobing lights from all directions help light up the darker areas of the cantina. As your eyes follow the light it illuminates a sign that catches your attention. “VIP.” A smirk plastered onto your face quickened your pace to the door. Only to be stopped by two burly men. You rolled your eyes. “I’m here for business.” Is all you said before flashing your blaster from beneath your cloak. The two men looked at each other only to deny you once more. You release a heavy sigh before looking around you. No one was paying attention, good. You quickly immobilized the first man by striking him in the neck. The other man reached to grab something from his pocket. Before he could you took out his knees and knocked him out. The two men lie unconscious on the hard floor. You look around once more, no one saw. Or so you think.

Your hand goes to twist the knob only for it to be locked. You bend over searching the two men you had knocked unconscious. You pull off a key and enter it into the lock. The door opens, a somber song of jazz playing. Different from the main party area, which was a bit obnoxious. The music soothed your aching ears, as you peered into the door. Velvet reddish-magenta wallpaper line the hallway of doors. Looking both left and right you see signs hanging upon the door say occupied or vacant, each lined with a kiss left from lipstick. You scoff, “charming.” You close the door behind you, locking it and placing the key in your garment. You press your ear up to an occupied door. Your ears are assaulted with heavy groans and high pitched moans. Your mouth turns into a tight line of dismay, rolling your eyes. You continue down the hallway with light steps keeping your heavy heels off the floor.

Rounding the corner of the hallway a large open room comes into view, the sound of smooth jazz echoing the hallway more intensely. You fix your clothing and strut into the room. A live band playing and a woman singing sweet notes in the middle of the room. People watched and some danced to the music, but most sat elegantly in velvet chairs and siping on expensive alcohol. No one seems to pay any mind to you, which is a relief. As you gather information throughout the room no one catches your attention. But you feel as though there is someone watching your every move. Uncomfortable, you shift in your garment and continue walking. Your eyes shift to another hallway lined with sparkly beads draped on the door frame. You nonchalantly guide yourself to and through the beads. You walk the long hallway, lined with the same walls and doors. Reaching the end of the hallway you think to yourself for a moment before you start to turn around. 

Before you can turn you are harshly pressed into the wall by a firm body. You grunt, trying to force yourself around to draw your weapon but you are firmly held in place. “Hello Princess.” The voice immediately reached your ears and recognition struck you. “Boba.” You said while your face was pushed up against the wall. “What are you doing here?” You snarl. A light chuckle comes from the helmeted hunter. “I could ask you the same thing. But I already know.” Your ears perk up and confusion washes over you. “What are you talking about?” You try to move once more but you are forcefully pushed back to the wall. “My little hunter.” Boba’s helmet comes closer to your ears. His voice reaches the deepest part of your core, making you warm everywhere. “Your bounty? I wanted to play with you, little one.” His gloved hand strokes the side of your face gently. “It was all a set up?” You said through gritted teeth. “Don’t be upset, you’ll get your reward but it won’t be in credits.” Confidence thickly lining his words. He presses his knee in between your legs forcing them to spread, you bite your lip. “I was going to wait till you noticed me but I got impatient. You look too good in that outfit.” He played with your clothes. Maker, you hated him, the way he teased you, the way he played with you until you were hot and bothered. But it made you feel things you’ve never felt before, something you couldn’t resist. 

Fett finally shifted his weight off of you and you turned to meet him. He looked down upon you, but you weren’t intimidated, you wanted him closer. Boba offered his hand, you daringly took it anticipating what would come of it. He grasped your hand light but firm with intention. “Let me take you away, little one.” Was all he spoke before leading you to the exit down the hall to the main room. Embarrassed, you hid your face as you were rushed away by Boba Fett. The streets were still lively as ever. And a few feet away Boba’s ship came into view. He opened the ship's door and pulled you inside, the door closing behind you. Every step causes your heart to race and you can feel the heat between your legs grow with each second. Now out of complete view of anyone, Boba lets loose. “I’m taking over this bounty now Princess.” He growled through his helmet, the words he spoke dripped in passion and lust. 

!!NSFW Section!! (Skip down for SFW :))

Boba forcefully pushed you to his work table nearby, you fell backwards onto it. The cold metal sensation through your clothes makes you wince. “Fuck.” He starts to remove pieces of his armor, undoing straps and buckles. He removes his clothing from the waist up, tossing them aside to the ground. His helmet shifts back to you. Your eyes drifted down, his strong figure made you gulp. His wide shoulders and muscles exposed, you couldn’t help but to let your eyes drop to see the tent building in his pants and you bit your lip. His chest rose and fell, only making you stir. He comes closer to you, he starts fiddling with your clothing desperate to rip it off. Looming over your body, his heavy breaths escaping from underneath his helmet and onto your skin. You start to help remove your clothes and your bare chest becomes exposed. The sudden action had a moan escape your lips. “You’re so good Boba.” In response he slowly dragged his beskar helmet gently against your hot skin trailing down to your waist. Your back arches. He then removed any fabric covering your sensitive area. His quickness was eager and you could tell he was pent up.

Taking a step back, he admired his work, Boba then thrust himself forward, taking your hands and moving them to his belt. “Take it off.” He said firmly. You gulped, your hands shaking with excitement. You removed his belt painfully slowly, you slid his pants off and his throbbing cock sprang out into view. Boba grunted, placing his hand to the back of his head.The growing heat between your legs caused them to spread eagerly. You’ve been waiting for this ever since you last saw him. You had both been busy working but tonight you could finally give yourself to Boba. “You look so amazing, all sprawled out for me like this.” A soft whine came out and Boba chuckled. He pressed his cock up against your aching hole. You wiggled your hips to try and gain friction against his shaft. He finally removed his helmet in one smooth motion, placing it behind you. His amber eyes burnt through your naked body with primal hunger. You stared back with half lidded pleading eyes. Boba lifted your legs up, moving you farther onto the table and he landed a firm smack to your ass. Moaning your head moves back, seeing his helmet only making you more turned on. “Boba!” He smirked, “yeah you like that? To think you could try to find me, now look at you.” Boba spoke, his voice laced with cockiness. “It’s worth it.” Your words came out breathy and needy. He smirked once more, he knew you liked it. Fucking him was always worth more than credits.

Smacking your ass harder he raised his voice. “Say you want my throbbing cock.” He grabbed you by the throat firmly pressing on your esophagus. An airy moan trying to wiggle its way out. The air slowly left your body as you clawed at his arm gently. “Fuck me Boba. Please!” You pleaded with faded words and you wrapped your legs around him, his pulsating cock now against you. “My good little princess.” He smirked before granting you your breath. You took a deep inhale gasping for breath. Pressing him closer to you. Boba’s hands lined his cock to your hole and he pushed it in. You gasped at the sudden fullness of his rock hard dick. He grunted, one hand moving your leg up to reach deeper inside of you.

He slid it further and he stretched your tight hole, you squeezing around him. You clawed at his hand, biting your tongue. “Come on, I want to hear your voice.” He smoothly stated. He started moving inside you and you lost it. The cord inside of your stomach began to tighten in you. Boba fucked you like no one else had, everything about him made you want to cum all over his cock. You moaned loudly as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Damn!” You cried as Boba began moving in and out faster. His hips thrusting deep into you. You held onto the table to ground yourself. This only caused him to go harder, with each thrust he grunted praising you. Boba wasn’t the most talkative but when he was inside of you he couldn’t shut up (not that you wanted him too.) The string fraying every time he kissed the deepest part of you with his cock. You began to drool, you were just a limp cocksleeve and Boba loved every second of it. 

He squeezed your ass roughly before smacking it multiple times. A squeak he got in return. Oh it turned him on at how brainless you looked, such a mess all for him. “You take my cock so well my little one. Are you gonna cum all over my cock?” A teasing tone to his voice as he breathed between your thighs. Your hole clenching around him, and the look on your face, he already knew but he wanted to hear you say it anyway. “Yes Boba!” You screamed out as drool rolled down the corners of your mouth. “Yes! Don’t stop!” Your words slurring as the pleasure broke you. He kept a fast and rough pace, thrusting as deep as he could reach. Breaking your core you finally explode, your mouth wide open as you moan incoherent words. The sound echoing through Boba’s ship. The slap of skin slows as you feel his warm seed fill your already sopping hole. And with a final growl from Boba he makes one more strong thrust. “You’re mine princess.” Both of you hot and sweaty you lie there limp as he slowly pulls out, cum dripping onto the table and onto the floor. “I love you Boba.” You say softly with a raspy voice. He gently puts your legs down and places a kiss on your cheek, smiling down on you. “I love you too, little one.” 

!!SFW!! (Wholesome aftercare)

Boba then got up from you and went into the refresher to grab you and him a warm wet towel. He then gently cleans you both off and helps you to your feet. “I’m sorry if I ruined your outfit.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You smile gently at his loving amber eyes. “It’s ok, so worth it.” He smiles, then puts his arm around you, walking you to his private quarters. A small bed just big enough for the both of you, he sits you down slowly. “Just a moment.” Boba rubs your thigh with his thumb and exits the room. You lie on your back getting comfy on the bed and you stare at the steel colored ships walls and your eyes softly shut. A minute later, Boba enters one again. Your eyes flutter open, he had new clothing draped on his arms and was dressed in more casual clothing. He places them beside you and hangs his armor up neatly. You clutch the clothing in your hands. “Can I keep these?” You smirk. He chuckles barely reaching a whisper. “We’ll discuss it later, little one.” The twin suns started to rise as it lightly shone in the corner of the room. You pull the clothing on and you get under the soft fleece comforter. A sleepy smile graces your face and he smiles back. Boba lays down beside you, resting his arm behind your head, coddling it sweetly. You nuzzle into his chest, he’s cozy and warm. He whispers in your ear. “Goodnight, I love you (y/n).” You were already falling into a deep sleep with Boba at your side.