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xzaddyzanakinx · 1 year ago

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Seventeen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] warning: suicidal ideation no smut this chapter sorryyyy

Info: the boy is going through it. [diary entries from Ani {dates are odd but I promise it’ll make sense later}] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

September 9th, 11:53 pm

Anakin immediately reacted to your sudden, startled jolt. The gasp you’d inhaled had him momentarily concerned you may have hurt yourself in some way, it sounded pained and although he wasn’t sure what it could’ve been, that didn’t mean he could dismiss the idea entirely.

”You okay babydoll? What happened?” He asked, setting aside his Xbox controller to give you his full attention.

”Yeah!” You squeaked, nodding your head quickly, though your movements were perceived as slow by you. “Yeah, just uh, one of those weird ‘almost asleep but suddenly I’m falling’ things.”

”Oh…” He nodded, relaxing a little bit. “Do you need me to get you some water or something? That kind of thing is stress induced you know.”

”Yes.” You swallowed hard, fighting a lump in your throat that just refused to diminish. “I know, uh I think maybe I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

“Well, alright.” He said, giving you a critical once-over before waving you off and returning to his game.

Scurrying off to the bathroom in the most awkward way you possibly could, you shut the door with a bit more strength than anticipated, causing Anakin to call out and check on you. One forced ‘all good’ later, you were sitting on the closed toilet lid with your head in your hands. The initial panic was beginning to fade now that you’d removed yourself from the situation, making room for fear to frost over your skin and halt your critical thinking.

Ghost could be anyone, logically you know that. So there is no reason to fly off the handle and accuse someone you care deeply about of committing many, many crimes. There isn’t any way for you to peacefully have such a conversation without it feeling like an attack. In the event you are wrong, such an assumption would no doubt spell the end of the one and only stable, loving relationship you’ve ever had.

If you’re right… well.

But you’re not. Of course you’re not, how could Anakin be capable of some of the things, any of the things Ghost has done? He’s a gentle giant, the guy who would rather scoop up spider in his bare hands to set it outside instead of squashing it. He makes you feel special and adored, your moments with him are calm and caring. He’s practically the polar opposite of Ghost.

Ghost has his moments, few and far between, where he is more than the mask. The moments when he’s less grey and more moral. Less animal and more man. He’s what you’d expect a jar of licorice would be like personified. The candy no one likes, the one that gets over looked and outright hated on. But the people who actually like licorice, they defend it until their dying breath and it seems like you’ve become quite fond of the bitter sweetness and the tough to chew exterior. Once you get past it, it’s really not so bad. Just like Ghost.

you shook yourself out of the stupor you were in, standing up to turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, hoping to startle some sense back into yourself. After patting the sensitive skin dry, you pulled out your phone and promptly brought up your own contact info, dialing the number to call Ghost. It rang, once, twice, three times before disconnecting. He had hung up on you.

He had never hung up on you before this moment. While you knew he had every right to ignore you, perhaps never even speak to you again… you couldn’t let this go. So you tried again and again and-

‘What do you want?’ The text chimed through just before you could hit the call button one last time.

‘I think we should talk soon.’

’Why the fuck do you want that? You’re calling me this late for that? You should be groveling for forgiveness.’

‘This is me groveling?’ You audibly huffed at his response, waiting for him to send a follow up or not.

‘You can do better than that. I’ve seen you beg for cock, you know how to grovel.’ He responded.

‘Does it matter?’

’yes.’ Was the simple reply, short and sweet and read in his voice he uses when he snaps at you.

‘Nevermind.’

’fuck off.’

’Really?’ Outwardly scoffing at the text when it popped up on your screen.

‘Oh no, did I hurt the baby’s feelings?’

‘I should be meaner.’

‘But I won’t.’

Three texts in a row, three texts all containing completely different tones. Sarcastic, irritated, and ‘pissed but i still love you’. You thought about replying, started typing out a message but erased it, only to do it again. Finally you decided against replying at all, turning off your sound and putting the phone back into your pocket, flushing the toilet for appearances sake and running the water again.

You planned to head back to the living room, but saw that Anakin was cleaning up… sloppily, but still. He was straightening out the throw pillows and blankets, returning his controller to its spot beside the tv and pushing all the stuff on the coffee to one side, then calling it finished.

“Anakin. Are you alright?” You asked, standing in the entryway to the very short hall.

“Yes.” The word short and clipped.

“You sure?” Your voice was meek, timid, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want to sound… nit-picky or anything; it’s just that your cleaning habits seem to have changed and I know how you are about having a clean space.”

“The first thing you say to me after coming back from the worlds longest piss is ‘hey why’s your house messy?’ Really?” He scoffed, his eyes flickering down to your hands, your pockets.

“I don’t mean it like that.” You frowned, your eyebrows pinching together in a show of frustration. “I’m just worried that’s all, you never leave stuff like this, especially before bed.”

“No, no.” Anakin waved your half-apology off like he didn’t care to hear anymore from you. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get right on it.”

“Hey, it’s late. Don’t-“

“Shut up alright? Just… just go to bed.” Anakin snapped, shooting a glare over his shoulder at you.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?” You asked quietly, your face morphing into something resembling disappointment. He’d said that to you jokingly plenty of times, but this time, you knew without a doubt he meant it. The way it was delivered spoke volumes to how he was feeling.

Anakin sighed, turning around to run both hands through his hair and ruffle it up frustratedly. His arms crossing over his chest tightly, clenching his fists with his jaw set firmly, the muscle rolling beneath the skin when he gritted his teeth.

“I am sorry.” He said enunciated every syllable, almost looking through you rather than at you.

“Is it because of the pill?” You asked, meaning only to understand the situation better, though causing it to worsen.

“What an astute observation baby!” Anakin sneered, throwing his hands up frustratedly. “Wow. Now if only you could poke your cute little head a bit farther out of your ass. Yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Questioning him didn’t seem like the best option currently, but what else were you supposed to do?

“It… it really doesn’t matter.” He grumbled, spinning away from you to walk toward his kitchenette. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll feel better if I clean up. I’ve just been so stressed.” He hissed the last word, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Can- will you let me help at least? It’ll get done quicker.” You offered, trying to be helpful might distract him and you from everything else.

“No.” He sighed, his hands laced behind his head, his shirt riding up just a bit as he leaned backward to stretch. “No, I want to do it. Just go to bed. Please?”

“Kisses?” You asked quietly, clasping your hands in front of you awkwardly.

“Yeah, yes of course.” Anakin softened, coming toward you with open arms and an odd expression on his face.

Pretty, clear, sapphire eyes rake over your visibly anxious body. He seemed stuck between barreling past you to lock himself in the bedroom, scooping you up to hold and console you, maybe even smacking you if you spoke a few more tart words.

He did none of those. Instead he gingerly touched your face and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his expression unchanging in an uncomfortable way. His gaze piercing straight through you, burning upon entry and icing over at the exit. The muscles all relaxed save for the few pulling the corners of his mouth downward in a subtle frown. You hated it when he went blank like this, his emotions were completely unreadable, his skin taking on the properties of stone to stay cemented in place. A physical example of someone taking brick and mortar to their heart and mind.

“C’mon. I’ll put you to bed.” He said softly, nodding toward the closed bedroom door.

Turning the handle and pushing the door open, he led you into the cozy space that you were so hesitant to enter earlier. You braced yourself to have your fear confirmed, thinking you may find a hair band that didn’t belong to you, a false eyelash, the scent of someone new on your pillowcase. But as you walked to your side of the bed, stepping over a few stray clothes in the floor, you surveyed the nightstands, his was uncharacteristically crowded with cups and a collection of gum wrappers, yours was just the way you left it.

Technically, your ‘nightstand’ was really just half of his dresser. What wasn’t occupied by his large and ever growing hoard of shiny chains and oversized jewelry, rings, belts, wrist cuffs and the like; was home to a few of your things. It was mostly just for convenience sake, you did live just across the hall. All you really needed here was a little pink basket with your name sharpied on it that he’d bought for you containing all your ‘girlish possessions’.

Hair bands, bobbi pins, a scrunchie and a large hair clip tucked away in a small, clear plastic case that lay at the bottom of the basket. He even got your brand of mascara, concealer, foundation, blush and lipgloss in a cute heart shaped makeup bag. Among the other items he’d gotten for you were a hair brush, perfume, deodorant, a phone charger, your very own reusable water bottle (so you’d stop crawling over him and chugging his water at 2:00am), and a pink shark plushie that only slept in his bed when you were there.

You’d added your own items of course, your favorite shirt of his, some clean underwear and a pair of shorts and socks. Sometimes you just can’t be bothered to walk across the hall for such trivial things. It’d be nice to have a drawer like he has at your place, but the poor boy has so many clothes the things hardly close at all. So your basket serves you just fine.

After grabbing the charger and scrunchie you climbed in bed, already in pajamas. Already in pajamas. You moved from the mattress like you’d been burned, searing, scorching guilt licking at your palms to make them sweat. Anakin had been to distracted by picking up his dirty clothes and tossing them in the laundry basket tucked inside his closet to notice your knee-jerk reaction to the reminder that you were still in the clothes, still in the panties, that Ghost had lovingly peeled off your lustful flesh.

The panties that still had a little wet spot in the crotch, the ones he’d taken off just before your confession. The ones he threw at you in grieving anguish as he left you behind for the night. Thank the gods for those extra clothes, you grabbed them and swiftly went across the hall, passing a befuddled Anakin who watched you as you walked with purpose to the bathroom.

You couldn’t sleep next to him in that sinned in fabric. Even if he was being a complete ass, he didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. So you freshened up and changed clothes, rolling the dirty ones into a tight ball as if it’d squeeze out some of the shame before you tossed it in his laundry basket. Tying up your hair loosely to keep it out of your face, you brushed your teeth and then returned to the bedroom, opening the closet and dropping the clothes into the laundry basket without a second glance.

Anakin was laying face down across the foot of the bed with his arms limp at his sides, lifting his head to rest his chin on the blankets when he felt your weight subtly pushing down against the soft memory foam. His eyes flickered a shade lighter than before at the sight of you, though they quickly returned to the flat, unfeeling eyes you rarely saw.

“Why’d you change?” He asked, his voice rumbling tiredly in his chest.

“Just… wanted to feel clean before bed I guess.” You answered, looking down at your lap where your hands rested palms up.

“Clean.” He scoffed, nodding his head. “Okay.”

“What?” You snapped at him, irritated by his tone or perhaps feeling a bit agitated by being questioned on such a sensitive topic.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He sighed, giving you a lopsided, half-hearted smile. “Let’s get you to sleep.”

You didn’t verbally respond, not pleased with his response or the way it was delivered. Simply pulling up the covers to your chin while Anakin situated himself atop the blankets with an arm tossed over you, groaning because he realized the lamp was still on. So he rolled to his side of the bed, reaching out with his right arm to pull the chain. He audibly hissed as though the movement hurt him, turning your head to watch as he rolled back over with a scowl on his face. Not one of anger, but one of swallowed pain.

“You okay?” You asked softly, shifting to face him as his left hand snuck under the blanket to lace his fingers with yours. There was just enough light filtering through the open bedroom door for you to see the annoyance flash over his features.

“I’m sore.” His tone flat again. “Pulled a muscle or something I think.”

“I can rub your back if you want?” You offered quietly, reaching out to gently feather your fingers over the fabric of his tshirt.

“Appreciate the thought darlin’ but I don’t think it’d help. It hurts to touch.” He said, a genuine appreciation in his voice. It was nice to hear some real emotion from him, it relaxed you, knowing he might be coming out of whatever emotional episode he’d fell into.

“I’ve been putting Arnica on it.” He added, scrunching and wiggling his nose like it itched.

“Arnica? Like the stuff for bruises?” You asked confusedly.

“No.” He said sharply, rolling his eyes. “I mean, yes but no. It helps with swelling too.”

“Oh,” You nodded, taking his word for it to avoid anymore upset. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help.”

“Well, you can’t.” He said. You didn’t take it as a jab, although the words fell hard from his lips, you knew he probably just meant it as a matter of fact statement, so you nodded in acceptance.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” You asked, trailing your fingertips over his forearm.

“Once I get everything picked up.” He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Listen… today has been a train wreck, I have been a train wreck. I really am sorry.” He whispered, true emotion finally shining through in both his words and his expression.

“It’s okay. It’s just a bad day. Everyone has bad days.” You said softly, looking at him with sympathy. “I haven’t helped the situation I know.”

“I could’ve handled it better.” He sighed.

You shrugged. “Let’s not play the blame game. No one wins that one.”

“True.” He gave you a small but meaningful smile accompanied by a squeeze of your hand.

“Will you wake me when you come back?” You asked, your eyelids getting heavy after Anakin’s release of emotion, it calmed you, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed upset.

“Sure, why?” His eyebrows knitted together as he smoothed out a loop in your loose ponytail.

“Just cause.” You said quietly, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “I want to know you’re here.”

“Cute.” His voice affectionate as he let out a little chuckle. “I love you too.” He whispered.

“I know.” You nodded, still unable to say it.

You just couldn’t. You couldn’t before, you definitely can’t now. You’d already confessed it to someone else, someone who you probably should’ve ran from, got a restraining order against and begged until they locked him away. But that’s just love isn’t it? It makes you do crazy things.

Crazy things like betraying your dutiful and loyal partner with lustful trysts that should’ve never happened. Wild things like getting railed more times than a two dollar whore in the span of 24 hours by two separate men, one of whom being completely anonymous. Your sister would be appalled if she ever discovered that you were fucked with so little respect that you’d been sliced open and loved every second of it. In actuality, you wouldn’t mind doing it again.

All the things love tricked you into doing, you continued to allow and you would do so until the idolatry buried you alive.

Insanely deranged things like killing a man. Your panicked shooting indirectly causing another’s death by your lover’s hands. Perplexing things like the remorse fading in less than a day, the grief of extracting a human’s soul like that should’ve haunted you for life. But if it weren’t for your fear of being caught, you might’ve forgotten it by now.

Even if you could let those words slip through your soldered lips, you’re not sure that the barbs on your tongue would stop you from confessing more than just your love.

Or is it even that?

What if it’s not love and simply security and a devotion to the stability Anakin provides? What if you’re taking advantage of his kindness and trust in you, using him for the best of his qualities and his unwavering faith in you? Could you be so cruel and callous, is it possible you may feel indebted to him in some way and your heart is misinterpreting that for love?

Maybe it’s your subconscious, your self-preservation trying to crack through the deliberately placed cage in your mind. The dank corner of your mind where you squirrel away unmentionables, undesirables and guilessly horrid thoughts and memories. These days it’s getting fuller and fuller, the barrage of incoming files seemed never ending. The curator inside must be struggling, grasping at the iron bars in hopes to come out with only a few paper cuts. If just one of those bars bend, a flood may come running out and you’re positive that sort of unloading might turn you toward madness.

Diary Entry: September 9th

You’re finally asleep. God I wish I knew about your sleeping pills. Then I could’ve just popped one between those soft lips and you’d have went to sleep so much faster but you haven’t told Anakin you take them. I felt like I had to wait for hours, staring at your pretty face. I loved the view of course, however I didn’t love the way your lip kept twitching like you were upset as you were falling asleep. You’re still upset.

You’re just going to have to get over it. I won’t do it again. It was a moment of weakness and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t take it back anymore than I can’t make the memory of it go away. One pill. That’s all. Forget it.

I cleaned everything up. I even scrubbed the kitchen floor just to get some tension out. I’ve ruined my scrub brush, the bristles are all bent out of shape now.

When I went to check the bathroom and see if anything needed tidied up, I noticed my drawer hadn’t been closed properly, I know I didn’t open it. So it must’ve been you. Nosy bitch.

Well. I need a new hiding spot. Or maybe it’s just time to let that shit go. It’s not like I need twelve pair of panties and the other little trinkets I’ve stolen from you. I can take things and not have to hide it anymore.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 9th continued

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I never knew what i was doing but now i just feel like I’m paddling through shit creek with my bare hands and a wooden barrel for a boat.

My world is falling apart and I have no one to pray to because my goddess is just as rudderless as I am. How did i fuck up so badly and how the hell am I supposed to fix it when I just keep making it worse? I feel like I’m losing it, actually, truly losing it. I need guidance and the one person who has always been able to give me that is more lost than I am. I’m not meant to be a leader.

How can I bring you back from the dark when you are my light?

Is it even possible to atone for the things I’ve done or should I do worse and hope it cancels it out? Obviously I won’t try that because you can’t really get much worse than what I’ve done without doing some truly heinous things. See? I am capable of listening to the voice of reasoning I so often ignore.

You ignore yours too. I know you do or else we never would’ve made it this far. I used to think it was because you’re just a fucking idiot. I’ve come to the understanding that you are willfully ignorant.

I can’t even blame you. I can’t, not when I’m the one who set us up for this. It’s my fault and I’m just waiting for the window of your soul to chop me in half like a guillotine the next time I try to crawl through. You gave me such a slim opening and I was barely able to wrench myself away in time to only lose a few metaphorical fingers. The me inside my mind has yet to staunch the flow from the loss.

I know now why you won’t say it. Because you did say it. Just not to me, not to the me I made for you. I don’t know how to feel… relieved maybe, but I can’t help imagine it’s a bit unhealthy. For you I mean. I’m perfectly fine being the way I am, though I never meant to share the worst parts of me with you. Despite knowing, witnessing, participating in such a thing; you still chose to tell Ghost you loved him before you told Anakin.

I don’t know what to do with that information.

Then, you went and confused me even farther and denied me the only organic opportunity to tell you who I am. I’ve already shown you. That was the whole point of continuing all this. I could’ve stopped when we started dating but I didn’t because I didn’t want to. I realize now, you didn’t want me to either. You’ve seen the me I curated and molded into perfection. The me that you deserve. You’ve always had the option to take him and leave the rest behind but you still haven’t and I can’t foresee a future where you will.

Do you love Ghost because he is real? Is he real? Am I?

Have I always been him and never Anakin? Sometimes I think yes. Others I wholeheartedly believe I made them both just for you. Deep down i know its not true, I know who I am. I am an undeserving man. It doesn’t matter what way you spin it,. It doesn’t matter how many me’s I create, I will never be good enough for you. You know that, don’t you?

Can you tell that it’s a half-truth? Is that why you can’t tell me you love me? You know there’s something missing, it’s an incomplete file. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve known all along that I’m a fraud. You’re the only one. Other than my mother of course and don’t you dare make some sort of Freudian joke, that’s just clichè.

You are the only person I haven’t been able to fool. Further proof you are who I believe you to be. A goddess. They have some sort of ‘all knowing’ ability, yes? I’ve compared you to the Greek’s Artemis and her sister-goddess Diana from Rome, Goddess of the hunt. And hunt you have, even on those wobbly legs of a fawn. You hunted, hungry to learn and grow until you’ve turned into the beautiful, powerful doe I knew you were destined to be. My Doe. My Goddess.

You wanted to see me and you did. So why wouldn’t you let me tell you?

Are you afraid? I am.

I’m so afraid I tried to numb myself. Though like the savior you’ve become so good at being, you saved me from myself again. How is it that you can appear at just the right moment? I would’ve taken that second pill had you not come out to stop me. I might’ve even taken all your sleeping pills. Because I am afraid, and what do cowards do when they are afraid? They take the coward’s way out, it’s called that for a reason.

Diary Entry: September 10th

I hate lying to you. I hate hiding things from you.

I hate myself for doing that. I know I didn’t have to but I felt like I did.

I hate myself.

Diary Entry: September 13th

God I’m so fucking frustrated. Why are you being like this!? I don’t deserve this. You tell me you love me, you stop me from showing you my face, and I got pissed so I left. I gave myself blue balls but I’m going to blame you for it because it’s your fault after all.

We’ve kissed, we’ve touched, you’ve straddled my hips and rubbed your warm, wet panties all over my boxers but you won’t let me fuck you. You won’t let me make love to you. You won’t even let me get a finger beneath those pretty panties that I paid for.

There’s only so much my hand is capable of.

What are you afraid of? Telling me you love me? Probably. Last time you fucked someone it slipped right out. What a shame it would be for you to say it to me again.

Date

September 15th

You scrubbed at yourself in the shower, contemplating the man troubles that have plagued you ever since that night you finally made up with Anakin. He’s been grumpy, overly asshole-ish and so unbearably stubborn for the past few days that he’s on thin ice, holding a heat gun over the weak spot. Nothing you say seems to help but it also doesn’t seem to hurt, so you’ve been in a perpetual game of hot potato. As long as you keep going around the circle you won’t get burned.

Ghost hasn’t spoken to you in over a week and you’re beginning to think he may never make an appearance again. He hasn’t left a message, a note, a gift. He hasn’t even been inside your apartment. Ghost had never ever been so neglectful. It’s to the point that you might call and report him missing if you were certain of who he was.

The cameras in your home had been so well hidden that you didn’t think you’d ever find them, turns out they’re pretty easy to spot when theyre low on battery and the damn thing flashes red while you’re trying to sleep. You had always assumed he had a camera in your room, but to have it confirmed and see that it’s directly above your bed… was one of the more uncomfortable aspects of the odd relationship between you.

It was so tiny you couldn’t believe that it actually functioned as a camera. You plucked it from the hiding spot on your ceiling fan and put it in your jewelry box along with all the other things that Ghost had left for you. It was kind of entertaining, like a weird game of eye-spy to see if you could find the others now that you knew what to expect. You hadn’t found them yet, but you knew it wouldn’t take long for the rest of them to need charging too.

Oddly enough, it made you a little sad to think that he might’ve stopped watching. You always imagined that when or if Ghost ever left your life that you’d be relieved. If you would’ve told the terrified mouse who’d woken up to a stranger with a knife all those months ago… that she’d be sitting in the shower floor mourning the loss, well, she’d send you to the fifth floor without hesitation.

You’d wracked your brain over and over again, grasping at any idea that seemed remotely plausible in hopes that you’d conjure up some elaborate plan to fix everything. No grand scheme had revealed itself yet, aside from faking your death and moving out of the country, but Luke would hold a grudge against your faux corpse. You had promised that he would be allowed to die first because he couldn’t bare the idea he might outlive you.

Luke.

Maybe it was time to tell Luke. You wouldn’t have to share all of it, you could even lie a little, make it less rapey and more romantic. Sans murder and add a dash of sweetness. It’s not like you’ve lived a single day of your life for the past few months without telling a handful of lies a day. What’s a few more?

Maybe you should threaten warn Ghost first. As a courtesy of course. He should know if you’re planning on spilling your guts to your best friend, it’s only fair. What’s Ghost going to do? Roll up to Luke’s apartment and duct tape your mouth shut? No.

You sighed, stepping out of the shower, half expecting to see Ghost sitting on the sink again, unfortunately he was not. Unfortunately.

You didn’t have time for this. You didn’t have time to mope about, you’re a girl with a job that you neglected for days on end and they were kind enough not to fire you. So long as you were okay with being on probation; you were of course. Finding another stable job in a city like this on such short notice would be nightmarish. Thank the gods you’re their best waitress.

Ever since you returned to work, Sara has forced you to wear a ‘trainee’ badge and all your regulars have bullied you endlessly for it. Those little old men may seem sweet and harmless but the moment they find something to poke fun at they turn into a pack of jackals. Today you’d be back to serving them coffee sans the trainee badge of shame. Unless of course you are late.

Hurriedly dressing in your uniform and fixing yourself up enough to be presentable, you sprinted out the door and down the steps, quick walking to your car. You’d be late if you leisurely walked to The Bluebird like you normally did. You’d made a habit of parking right next to Anakin’s vehicle, so you had to walk past it everytime you climbed in to yours. You’ve not used your car since you returned from your weekend getaway and Anakin’s car hadn’t been there when you arrived.

You hardly glanced at it anymore, being so used to seeing it there. It always looked the same. He always parked it the same, always backing it in to the spot. So you weren’t expecting anything different when you bent down to pick up the quarter next to his driver side door. It must’ve fallen out of the overflowing change cup he kept in the door pocket.

You smiled, seeing it was face up, taking it as a good luck sign. You needed some good luck, so you picked it up. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed something different about Anakin’s car. The tire.

Dirt. Real dirt. Not the city street gunk or the sand and gravel mixture in the back parking lot of The Cerulean. It was dark earth and grass, trapped in the grooves of the rubber. Where had he gone that he might’ve needed to drive over actual dirt?

——————————————————————————

“Hey doll.” Anakin’s deep voice appeared suddenly to your left, his hand on your back as he walked past you to take a seat at the counter while you finished up taking your table’s order.

You gave him a smile and trudged off to the kitchen, clipping the order slip to the line above the stovetop. As you came back out of the kitchen, you shoved your pad and pen back into your apron pocket, surveying your tables to make sure everything was as it should be before you stopped to talk with Anakin.

“What’s up Ani?” You asked, leaning on your elbows against the counter.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows, tonguing his labret piercing distractedly while he picked at his nail polish. “Oh, uh I just wanted to come say ‘hi’ before I had to go to work.” He said, giving you a little smile, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

“What’ve you been up to today?” You asked, turning around to get him a Pepsi, watching the liquid pour out and bubble up in the cup.

“What’ve you been doing?” He countered, taking the glass from you hesitantly, looking you over like he was searching for something.

“Just been at home and here.” You frowned, unwrapping a straw and popping it in his drink for him.

“Got plans or anything after work?” He asked, taking a sip through the straw.

“No? Sh-should I? Did I forget something?” You asked worriedly.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head, eyes flicking down to his drink and back up to you. “No I just want you to stay at my place tonight.” He said quietly.

“But you work tonight.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m aware.” He said with a snort, looking at you with a flat affect.

“I- I mean I’ll definitely stay.” You nodded. “I just guess I’m surprised.”

“Why?” He asked, curling up his top lip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at your place when you’ve been at work before.” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“You haven’t.” He confirmed, unfolding a napkin in front of him and laying it flat, ripping off tiny pieces.

“Well, first time for everything then huh?” You smiled, hoping to break him from the reeking attitude he was carrying around with him.

“Come out to my car with me.” Anakin wasn’t asking, not even instructing. He was demanding.

“Oh-okay just a second.” You nodded, walking toward the kitchen doorway. “Vigo! Anakin is here, I’m gonna take a break.”

“Yeah sure.” Vigo waved you off, tossing a towel over his shoulder before he flipped on the tap and began washing his hands.

You turned on your heel and expected to see Anakin sitting at the counter where you left him. Though as you untied your apron and tossed it under the counter, you scanned the diner and saw him nowhere. Instead, he was already heading out to his car, the ‘Open’ sign on the glass door of the restaurant swinging back and forth just proved he pulled it open with more force than necessary.

Peering through the glass as you approached the door, hand out to push it open, you spotted him leaned against his car with his arms crossed. His head down, staring at the blacktop beneath him until he jerked to the side, sensing your presence growing nearer.

“Get in.” Anakin opened the drivers side back door for you and gently ushered you inside. A big contrast to the gruff tone he spoke with.

“Yes sir.” You rolled your eyes, speaking sarcastically. It didn’t seem like Anakin thought it was just a good natured jab. Rather, he reacted like it was a personal attack.

He firmly grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it as he climbed into the back seat behind you. He let go just as quickly as he gripped it, wordlessly splaying his fingers across your scalp to apologetically massage your scalp.

“What the hell was that for?” You scowled, batting his hand away from your head.

“We haven’t fucked since you came back,” he said, ignoring your question. “I want you to fuck me.”

Your jaw dropped through the floorboard of the car and shattered on the pavement beneath. Watching him unbutton and unzip his jeans, more comfortably spreading his legs and leaning back, his hands laced behind his head with a grunt. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, waiting expectantly for you to make your move, but you were simply speechless, frozen in place.

“Hello?” He snapped his fingers in front of your face to get your attention. “If you’re gonna sit there with your mouth open at least put it to work.” He scoffed, grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, pulling out his already hard cock with the other.

There was a split second of hesitation on his part, pausing like he realized what he was doing, suddenly coming back to consciousness after being possessed.

“Princess… I’m so sorry, y-you don’t have to do anything.” He turned his head to you revealing his paling cheeks as he quickly released the back of your neck from his rough hold, only to be shocked by the lustful gaze staring back into his worried eyes.

“Th-that was hot.” You squeaked out, melting into submission.

“Wait- really?” He asked, eyebrows pinching together in shameful hope. His hand hovering over the nape of your neck as if waiting for permission.

“Y-yeah, yes.” Swallowing thickly, cautiously sliding off the backseat and onto the carpeted floor to kneel in front of him.

“Sweetheart, no.” He shook his head, a mask of remorse passing over his features. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“Anakin.” You said quietly, “please shut up.”

“O-okay.” He nodded quickly, suddenly timid, so unlike that man from just seconds earlier.

You lowered your head without another glance up at him, moving to swirl your tongue and suck on the silver ball of his jewelry to slight push and pull the metal through the piercing before taking his cockhead between your lips.

You were too busy to notice the absolutely wicked, deriding, straight up unsettlingly evil grin eat away at the faux timidity he’d painted on his pretty face.

Diary Entry: September 17th

Is there a word for when you kind of feel bad about something because you know that you should, but you don’t actually feel bad about it? If there is one I’d like to know it. It’d be perfect for this. It’s exactly how I feel.

I don’t think I’m obligated to actually feel any sort of ‘remorse’ in this situation though because it’s not really my fault. Even if it is… it’s only indirectly. After all the excitement life has finally slowed down enough for me to notice I’m out of my meds. Have been like for a few days.

So, apologies for being a total jerk, but also no I’m not apologizing because I don’t believe you mind it. I think you just don’t like it. You don’t like facing what you already know to be true. Kind of like when you rearrange the magnets on the fridge. You get so used to seeing it one way that you hardly pay attention. But the moment you move ‘em around its like you’re looking at a brand new fridge every time you walk past it. It just jumps out at you.

Same fridge, same magnets. Same me, more Ghost, less Anakin.

Diary Entry: September 20th

Why does life have to kick me in the ass, why won’t it just pucker up and kiss it? I have a nice ass. You’ve said so.

I can list a hundred things that I would rather be doing this week, a thousand if I tried really hard. I would prefer to shove my hand in a manual meat grinder than go back to that stupid fucking doctor.

My mother makes her weekly FaceTime call and turns it into a game of twenty questions.

I know exactly what she was trying to do, fishing for information, trying to see how much I knew. She did the same thing when that murder on campus happened. It wasn’t me. The guy who did it was caught and locked up, it was a senseless crime. The poor kid didn’t do anything but stand in the wrong spot at the wrong time. Just because I live near the campus, doesn’t mean I’m involved. Except for this time.

I don’t do senseless crime. I’m not stupid.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a call from your doctor honey. Did you take me off the information release? You know you can’t do that Anakin, it’s mandatory.’

‘Your prescription hasn’t been filled, you haven’t taken it in over a week! Don’t lie to me!’

Fucking fine. Alright. I love the woman but Christ alive she gets on my goddamn nerves. Now I have to go back to the shrink because I didn’t call and request my meds to be refilled and I didn’t try to pick them up when they were ready. Apparently if you’re three days late to the CVS pharmacy they put your crazy pills back and hold them hostage. Some policy shit about controlled substances.

My mom watched the news and thought to herself ‘hmm, it’s been alittle while since I’ve questioned my son’s sanity.’

Have I not done enough to prove I’m capable of being a functioning member of society? The state says I have. Why can’t she do the same? Officials have signed off on my ability to be normal and surprise! I have ‘maintained mental stability’ and ‘reintegrated into society’.

They’re over it. Why can’t she be?

I mean for fucks sake, she was used to it. Those doctors and nurses who loved to sedate me while I was in that state school weren’t and they forgave me a million times quicker than mom did. I would’ve gotten grounded for months if she had been the one to find out I was stealing meds and reselling them. It’s not my fault they padlocked it with a big clunky thing from the 90’s. A toddler could’ve picked that lock with a spoon, but they trusted a school of delinquents not to capitalize on it? All they did was give me a time out in the bad boy box for a week. It was like a vacation, no classes, no people, no gym.

They expected me to be upset about that? Please.

The only thing I didn’t think I was going to get away with there was the whole therapy-chicken fiasco. My refusal to apologize definitely didn’t help. But when you live in the suburbs majority of your life you aren’t exactly accustomed to a fucking rooster thinking the sun is coming up at 4:00 am. I already had to deal with sharing a room with a chronic masturbator who snored and grease-trap McGee who thought axe body spray could substitute for a shower.

Adding chickens into a coop directly outside my window was the tipping point. A state official who believed caring for animals could be therapeutic almost cost me my graduation. Out of all the animals they could’ve chosen, they picked chickens.

They only lasted a week before I got fed up and wrung their necks like a washcloth.

But I’m an adult now. I’m a big boy, making big boy choices and one of those choices was to stop seeing my doctor. I would’ve kept up with my pills, however, I was busy following my girlfriend to the lake when I got the ‘prescription ready for pickup’ text.

I probably don’t even need them anymore anyway. I’m fine. But now if I don’t get my ass in there for an appointment with Dr. Bullshit I’ll have to get reevaluated through the court and have to see that little bitch ass man-boy I hit with a table. I can’t have that. Not when everything is perfect in my life.

Except for the stuff that’s really horribly terrible.

Appointment: date: September 28th 3:30pm

September 15th 8:23pm

Seconds after unlocking your front door, you flopped down face first onto the couch. Dropping your belongings onto the floor below you with a thud, you had no intention of moving until absolutely necessary. You just wanted to rot. Not because you wanted to die per say… its just that you wouldn’t mind feigning dead for a while and if you just so happened to perish while playing the part of a corpse; well it wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be way easier than living the life that you’ve found yourself in.

Everything had been so undeniably awful lately that the joy had been sucked out of even the smallest things that made you happy before. Like the nice old lady who gets coffee and a slice of cake for lunch, she’s so cute and small and she always leaves a peppermint as part of your tip. It always made you smile, always gave you a warm feeling in your chest, but today was different. Today the gesture made you feel hollow.

Since he left, it’s all you can think of.

——————————————————————————

9:52pm

After peeling yourself away from the comfort of your couch, you showered and ate a dinner fit for royalty: microwave stir fry rice. Then you dragged yourself across the hallway to Anakin’s. For reasons yet to be revealed you were dreading your time inside his place alone. The air felt heavy and stale as you walked through the space, into his living room. It was always like this when he was gone, like the apartment never fully ‘wakes up’ until he steps inside.

It’s odd, feeling like the room you’re in is in a state of dormancy. Yet, it’s not the cause of your hesitancy to stay here tonight, while he’s away. No, you’re hesitant because Ghost he usually visits on nights Anakin is at work. What if he shows up and you’re not there? Will he make an appearance here? Will he think it’s your way of saying you don’t care if you see him or not?

Worse still, could the hesitancy stem from that little voice trapped deep in the recesses of your mind? The one you’ve ignored every time it’s been able to rip the gag from it’s mouth?

The rope of dread wraps tighter and tighter around your neck each moment you’re here alone. No amount of distraction has been able to cure the itch, the burning, nagging itch to get up and search. Is that what he wants? What if he’s been here?

Are there cameras here too? That’s something you’ve never even considered before and the thought makes you feel ill. It’s one thing to have your own privacy breached, but Anakin’s… that’s unfair to him and it’s already gone past ‘innocent’ watching. The camera in your bedroom has surely caught things no one else should’ve seen and that knowledge has begun to haunt you.

He’d been watching you have sex. With him. With Anakin. He had hours of footage, a thousand thoughts crossed your mind at the realization. But only a few were significant enough to take note of. If he’s been monitoring your bedroom activity… why was he only upset about the time you and Anakin had sex in the living room? He was so angry about it, so angry he wanted to roleplay stabbing you. He cut you while he pounded you from behind.

Why hadn’t he been that jealous about every other time? Probably to spare you the embarrassment of knowing the camera was right over your bed. It would be stupid of him to reveal that sort of information, then he wouldn’t have all those videos, perfect for blackmail, presumably great amateur porn. He wouldn’t… would he? He killed a man.

Men?

So it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he might’ve been saving all that up in case he needed it. He did say he’d send those pictures to Anakin if you didn’t behave. That’s blackmail. That’s a threat.

Or maybe, he’d done something even worse. Ghost… could he have…? No. He’s too possessive. He wouldn’t try to make money off of you like that. Would he? Despite laughing off the thought, your phone suddenly appeared in your hand, thumbs working of their own accord to check any and every explicit website you could find using the tags ‘ghostface’ ‘masks’ ‘hidden camera’ ‘blindfold’ ‘gagged’ ‘knife’ and anything else you thought it might’ve been labeled under. Scroll after scroll you squinted your way through countless video thumbnails, all the big sites were clean as far as you could tell.

OnlyFans? Maybe. He’d make way more on a site like that than he would on a larger porn site. Right? Wouldn’t it be considered… niche content? So you searched there, preview and profile pictures of so many people popped up. Maybe it’s not as niche as you thought. The idea that others may be interested in something like that was slightly comforting and only a tad infuriating.

These people might not be your Ghost; but they shared his face. And, they had hundreds if not thousands of people watching them.

It shouldn’t bother you as badly as it does, but you can’t help it. Maybe his own possessiveness has started to rub off on you, because the thought of someone else watching a man in the same mask as Ghost… almost felt like cheating.

Realistically, he could be any of these men.

You could be looking at him right now along with whoever else is online and you’d never even know it unless you saw yourself pop up on the page. But then you’d have to subscribe to **every single one** of these profiles. You might waste your time scrolling through videos and never finding what you were looking for.

Because… realistically he probably isn’t one of these men.

“Enough.” You groaned, fisting your hair on both sides of your head, then pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.

Finally you got up and made popcorn, sitting yourself in front of the living room tv for a bit of a wind-down before bed. It would be hours before Anakin got home, X-Files was calling and you just had to answer. So you restarted it and settled in for a binge. The familiar theme washing over you in a nostalgic sort of way, late nights passing by on the projector of your memories.

Luke and you in his twin bed, comforter bundled around you as you sat huddled together, crosslegged in the soft glow of the tv and his small spaceship nightlight. Too old for ‘kid shows’ and too young for horror movies, so you found the next best thing: Goosebumps for grown ups.

His parents were fancy enough to have a DVR to record shows, allowing the two of you to rewatch your favorite episodes whenever you pleased. So long as his father didn’t record over them to catch the newest episode of American Idol.

Isn’t it odd how we so often return to the comfort of childhood in times of uncertainty? Clinging onto the old things that were stable even in the forever changing world you grew up in. Every night without fail, re-run after re-run of X-Files would play on channel 72. All night long.

Now you didn’t have to wait until 8:30pm. You could watch it whenever you wanted, or needed. The latter was true in this case. You want to believe. Just like Mulder. But, Scully is reasonable and you needed to be reasonable. An inkling isn’t proof, a feeling isn’t fact. Cold, hard evidence doesn’t lie. But your mind, your heart, your eyes and ears… are not as trustworthy as you might like to think.

You only got through two episodes before you stood up and sat your bowl of neglected popcorn aside.

“Skeptics are often the best detectives.” You mumbled to yourself, a very paraphrased quote from the show.

You’d come here to snoop once already and had found nothing. No evidence. But now you wondered if you may have been searching for the wrong things, in the wrong places.

“What would Scully do?” You thought.

You found yourself slipping into the role you once loved to play alongside Luke. You’d be the voice of reason to his fantasy world of the paranormal, when he’d come up with ‘cases’ for the two of you to solve. Only this time you would be playing both parts.

You’d started off toward Anakin’s bedroom when your phone buzzed, pausing just before passing the threshold into the space, you pulled your phone from your pocket and saw a text waiting to be read.

‘Do you miss me that bad?’

Ghost.

Unsure of whether to answer or not you freeze in place, staring down at the screen. He’d ignored you for what felt like eternity, now he was returning with a snarky comment about your internet searches. He can monitor your search history but he can’t say ‘hello’ for a week?

Your thumbs poised over the keyboard, a million jumbled words fighting for their chance to make an appearance in your quick witted, equally snarky, sarcastic-

‘Yes.’

‘Liar.’ The response came through the very second your phone showed that your message had delivered.

Your face heated up, how dare he call you a liar? After everything you would’ve thought he might know better. You chose not to entertain the comment, knowing it would only make Ghost think he’d successfully gotten under your skin. Even though he had, he wasn’t entitled to that information.

‘Your cameras are dying.’

‘I don’t need them anymore.’ The text finally appeared after several bouts of typing, erasing and retyping occurred on Ghost’s side of the conversation.

He doesn’t need them. At least he didn’t say he didn’t want them anymore, because that would imply that he didn’t want you anymore. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you hoped it meant he had something else planned, not simply that he had lost interest in watching your day to day activities.

It was a sobering concept; the idea that you may be losing his attention. Is it worth it to even try to find out? Will the answer just hurt you more than the not knowing? You suspect it might.

So you turned off your phone. No more googling, no more texting. Just searching. With X-Files to keep you company, you walked around the living room to carefully lift every item in the room. Each little trinket inspected and every backing to his picture frames removed, the couch cushions lifted, unzipped and felt up. Scooting every piece of moveable furniture away from the walls and pushing it carefully back into place. Anakin was peculiar about his things, if you misplaced something by even a centimeter, he would notice.

If you weren’t so angry at Ghost, you might’ve thanked him for the ‘take a reference picture’ before moving someone else’s things trick. It was no wonder you didn’t notice him being inside your house for so long. He really was good at what he did.

But you were angry. Angry at him, at yourself, at Anakin. But you were furious at the invisible wall that kept you from searching Anakin’s room. Every time you approached it, your mind thought up some excuse for why you weren’t finished looking elsewhere. There’s only so many logical hiding places and you were suddenly determined to find them all before moving open to the more… illogical ones.

Cereal boxes. Ice cube tray. Dishwasher and the dishwasher pac container. The fabric along the bottom of the couch. Behind the mounted tv. In the trash cans beneath the trash bag. The water tank of the coffee pot. His shoes.

You even re-checked the bathroom after remembering you never found out what was keeping that drawer from being fully opened. Turns out Anakin beat you to it and got it out of the way, so when you opened it, you removed the drawer completely to find that there was nothing there and never had been. If there’s nothing there, there must be nothing in his room either.

And suddenly, that invisible barrier dissolved.

“Oh you’ve gotta be fuckin’ joking.” Anakin laughed humorlessly, seeing his text deliver green. He tossed his phone onto the crate beside him, annoyedly pulling the cigarette from between his lips with pinched fingers and flicking the ash on the ground.

”What?” Trevor asked, pressing his back to the brick wall, enjoying a slow sip of whiskey.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Anakin grumbled, raking a hand through his hair.

“Oh come on now don’t give me that shit.” Trevor scoffed, scuffing his shoe against Anakin’s. “I’d like to think I know you well enough to know when you’re royally ticked off.”

”Trev. You don’t ever wanna see me royally ticked off.” He chuckled, deep and gravely from the back of his throat. “I’m just… irritated.”

”You’ve been barreling around the bar for the last week like a bull in a china shop.” Trevor said pointedly, taking a gulp of his whiskey. “I didn’t think anyone would ever beat April’s broken glass record but you’ve fuckin’ smashed it.” Trevor snickered at his own joke, clearing his throat anxiously when Anakin didn’t laugh along with him.

”Seriously man, I’ll help you out if I can. Just say the word.” Trevor shrugged, feeling an awkward silence that he hadn’t shared with Anakin in quite some time.

”This isn’t something you can help with.” Anakin sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket and rubbing his palms over his jeans, smacking his knees before standing up and tossing his cigarette butt into the designated coffee can.

”Girl trouble?” Trevor guessed putting both his hand palm up in front of him.

”When isn’t it girl trouble?” Anakin groaned, rubbing his face. “My girl, my mom, the fucking cat. Even the damn cat is being weird with me.”

“Well, what’d you do?” Trevor asked curiously, not trying to pry to hard.

”Oh you know.” Anakin shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Went on a murderous rampage, girlfriend caught me snorting some special K, didn’t give the cat a treat, told my mom off over the phone.”

”Shit, anything else?” Trevor laughed, standing up as well to follow Anakin inside.

”Beat up a middle aged man, mugged a gas station attendant, robbed said gas station, stole a motorcycle, spray painted a few buildings, busted up a change jar, fucked your mom.” Anakin listed off on his hand, turning around with a grin on his face after the last ‘transgression’ left his lips.

”I should’ve seen that one coming.” Trevor huffed shaking his head. “Tell your mother I said ‘nice tits’.”

”Oh fuck right the hell off.” Anakin snorted, shoulder checking Trevor into the wall as they re-entered the bar.

”Yessir,” Trevor tipped his imaginary hat and spun on his heel. “Next time i see you, I’ll be calling you son.”

”Just don’t ask me to call you daddy.” Anakin shook his head, faking a right and smacking his left cheek lightly before running off behind the bar.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:13am

Anakin left the bar after his shift that night, feeling a little bit lighter. His mind a little less foggy and a little more organized. He jogged up the steps to his apartment and almost walked in, his hand on the door knob in preparation to unlock it.

It was as if the other side of the hall was calling to him in a way he hadn’t experienced in a while. That same strong urge that had lured him into your life in the first place, he knew you were waiting for him, but it couldn’t hurt to make you wait just a tad longer, right?

Slowly he turned and switched keys, unlocking your door and stepping inside he flipped on the light switch and went about collecting the rest of the cameras he had so painstakingly set up all that time ago. Lining them up on the dresser in front of your bed just before taking all the little things he’d left, all the notes, and lining them up in chronological order from one edge of the dresser to the next, ending the sequence by taking off his centipede ring and placing the bullet he’d carved for you in the center of it.

He carefully plucked your hairpin from the jewelry box and held it for a moment in the palm of his hand, tracing over the delicately carved lines. He’d looked for so long, searched everywhere just to find it and you’d never worn it. He understood of course, he could understand the reasoning behind not wearing it. But keeping it tucked away in your jewelry box seemed like a waste of it’s beauty, a waste of what it represented for him. So, just like he stole it from that antique shop, he stole it back from you.

Anakin stood back as he slipped the hair pin into his pocket, looking down at his handiwork. It was satisfying to see it all laid out like that in front of him. Like a nice little history exhibit of your time together. It brought a small smile to his lips, a happy one, one that was real and genuine, proud.

He hadn’t planned this, he used to plan everything so carefully, so far in advance. He’d been running on instinct and the free feeling he got when he decided something on the spot for a while now. It felt nice to break from the mold he’d created for himself when it came to you, not so much when it involved murder. Anakin wasn’t a man who would admit to be scared about just any old thing. Scared of losing you? Absolutely he would admit to that. But scared of prison? No, he’s too tough for that.

Which is why he was blaming his tears on you and you alone. Despite his happy smile, he sniffed back salty droplets that graced his cheeks, unaware he was even crying until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the dresser.

He was well aware that he’d been sloppy. There were so many things that didn’t make sense at that crime scene and he was hoping that the police were stupid enough to believe it was all due to that poor kid’s hysteria. Anakin was smart enough to know that the police wouldn’t share any information that was valuable, if they had suspicions anyone else was involved. They’d wait and bide their time, gathering evidence and luring the suspect into a false sense of security.

He was paranoid, so, so, paranoid. Rightfully so.

None of the boys he’d left alive turned up that way, which in all reality made it a little easier for him. There’d be no witnesses and no one to point the finger at a real life Ghostface. Two of the boys had bled out, the other died from a stress induced seizure and choked on his own tongue. Anakin supposed that might be a reasonable reaction to being zip tied to two dead guys that had fallen over on top of you. He knew he should feel bad, he did, just not for what he knew he was supposed to.

He felt bad for himself.

——————————————————————————

September 16th 3:46am

You were on your hands and knees, using your phone flashlight to search under all the furniture in Anakin’s room. You even lifted the mattress, took out all the drawers in the dressers and nightstand, even checked the pockets of the clothes hanging in his closet. The suitcase at the top of his closet and the shoes at the bottom.

You gave up searching after you picked up a candle and turned it over, why in the world would you be checking a candle for anything suspicious? You were beginning to believe you were just horribly paranoid, rightfully so, you’d just aided and abetted and murdered not too long ago.

So you cozied up in Anakin’s bed and started watching the X-Files that you’d switched over into his room’s tv for background noise. Now Scully and Mulder had your full attention.

It was a good episode, a string of strange unsolved murders. Mulder had a theory that would connect these murders to ones that had happened several decades before. He was convinced they were committed by the same man despite the time passed between them. He even found matching finger prints to prove his theory, yet Scully was still unconvinced. That was until the culprit came after her, breaching her home’s defenses by squeezing through the air vents.

You jolted upright so quickly it made your brain feel as though it spun on an axis. With your phone in hand you went about the apartment, checking each air vent. It would be a perfect hiding place for anything really. You would’ve never even considered it had it not been for the X-Files. Your palms sweat with anxious anticipation, each one you checked meant you were one closer to finding, or not finding whatever it was the Anakin may or may not be hiding.

You saved the one in Anakin’s room for last, assuming if he were to have hidden anything it would probably be there. You were just about to shine your light through the slats of the vent when you heard the front door open, in a moment of panic you shot upright to your feet, your phone gripped tightly in your fingers. Your face the picture of guilt as Anakin rounded the corner, his face twisting from surprise to confusion.

”What’re you still doing up doll?” He asked, looking at his watch, “It’s almost four.”

”I couldn’t sleep.” You said quickly, realizing the phone flashlight was still on, you tapped the button the turn it off but your fingers were so sweaty you had to wipe them on your shirt before you could properly use the touchscreen.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, walking forward as he watched you struggle, “Looking for something?”

”No! Why- what makes you think that?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted in concern.

”Uh,” He pointed to the phone in your hand and watched as you tried and failed to feign a gasp of realization.

”Oh! Right, I could’ve sworn I heard a mouse in here, I was just about to look.” You said, gesturing to the air vent. Anakin took the phone from your hand and flicked the flashlight back on. Kneeling on the ground to look for you.

”Are you that afraid of mice?” He asked with a slight laugh, looking over his shoulder at your pink cheeks.

”No, not really.” You shook your head, “I- you just startled me when you came in I think.”

”Well I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to. I thought you’d be asleep.” He said, coming up off the ground and handling you your phone back. “If there was a mouse, he’s gone now.”

“Oh well that’s good then.” You sighed, nodding as you looked down at the vent again. He would’ve acted strangely if he had something down there… wouldn’t he have?

“Whatcha watching?” He asked, nodding toward the tv where a new episode had begun.

“Oh, it’s the X-Files.” You said with a slight smile, crawling back up into the bed. “You’ve never watched it?”

“Yeah I have, It’s been a long time though.” He said, leaning on the door frame and looking you over, taking his time as though he were looking for something. He was giving you a smile that seemed almost wistful, like he was sad about something.

“C’Mere babydoll. I don’t wanna get bar germs in the bed.” He pushed off the door frame with his foot, sauntering over to you, placing his hands on the side of the bed. Waiting patiently for you to come closer, his eyes seemingly soaking up every square inch of skin on your body. He smiled softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold your face lightly and gaze down at you before moving in for a slow and loving kiss.

When he pulled away, he scratched the top of your head with his large hands, raking his fingertips through your hair. Guiding your closer again by the back of your head so that he could place a kiss to your forehead and pat your cheek.

”I’m gonna get clean.” He said, walking to his closet and stripping himself bare, tossing his clothes in his laundry basket. He turned to wink at you, biting the tip of his tongue with a big grin.

It made you blush, seeing him standing there so confidently and so comfortable in front of you. But the thing that made you bite your lip was the way his cock twitched, growing harder right before your eyes just because he was naked in front of you. He could see the lust, the admiration for him and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t an ego boost. He’d also be lying if he denied how much it flattened his heart when you looked away, not shyly. Purposefully. Anakin hid his small frown well, looking down to the side and ruffling up his hair with a tight lipped expression as he turned two the dresser to get a clean pair of boxers.

”Oh my god!” You gasped loudly, the sheets and blankets rustling as you made your way over to Anakin from where you sat on the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin at your exclamation, turning around with wide eyes.

”What?” He asked looking around and down at himself in search of whatever had made you react so strongly.

”What the hell is this?” You asked, roughly grabbing him by his upper arm to spin him around and inspect his shoulder and back. He’d told you he had hurt himself, but he never let on like it was this bad. This was absolutely no pulled muscle.

“God this looks awful Ani!” You ran your fingers over the tender and multi-colored bruise on his right shoulder. “What happened?”

”Fuck.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the pointer finger and thumb of one hand. “It wasn’t a pulled muscle.”

”No shit? Really? I had no idea.” You said sarcastically, gesturing to the obviously painful bruise.

”Don’t.” He turned around, finger pointed at your face while his eyes stared down at you with darkened eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. He took a breath, closing his eyes again and when he opened them, a little bit of the light you’d grown accustomed to seeing shown through once more.

”I got in a fight.” He said simply, swallowing hard as his adam’s apple bobbed. “Just a scuffle at the bar, trying to break up an arguement. Just didn’t want to worry you princess.”

”I don’t appreciate being lied to over something so minuscule.” You scowled.

”You don’t? Oh, I had no idea.” He sneered, his voice sharp and clipped. “Sorry for trying to be mindful of you and your feelings. I didn’t think it would help our situation any, you know because you locked yourself away for a few days?”

You stepped back, the scowl fading slightly into something more sensitive. It was obvious you’d upset him, abundantly clear actually. The way he responded not only made you feel guilty for not considering the reasoning behind his lie, but also dredged up the guilt from the irony of your own words.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. “I should’ve reacted better, I was just- it worried me.” You admitted, walking over to pull him in for a comforting hug.

”It… It’s alright.” He sighed softly, nuzzling the top of your head to inhale your scent. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

”I understand.” You nodded, even though you didn’t really. He’d been acting so unpredictably as of late that it was starting to worry you in more ways than one.

“Do you?” He asked, the tone of his voice making it sound less like a question and more like a tease, though his eyes suggested it was serious.

”I think maybe you’re just really stressed or… or maybe something’s bothering you?” You ventured carefully not wanting to upset him again. “You’ve been acting different.”

”You haven’t spoken to my mom. Have you?” He asked, his eyebrow shooting up as he spoken.

”What?” You asked with a bit of a confused laugh. “No, I haven’t.”

He studied your face, searching for deception hidden beneath you confident denial and he was pleased to find none. He monitored your phone, he could hear you conversations, but you were aware of that and he was worried you might’ve found a way to bypass all his precautions.

”Okay.” He nodded. “Sweetheart, I’ve got- I need to… you know what? I think we should probably have this conversation after I put some pants on.” He said stepping back and giving you a smirk at the blush on your cheeks.

”R-right, I forgot.” You said, biting your bottom lip and allowing him to leave the room to shower. The second he closed the bathroom door you moved so quickly to the vent along the baseboard of the wall that you thought you might’ve given yourself rug burn on your knees when you dropped down to check it for yourself.

Empty.

Part Eighteen

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco @demieyesore @hemmoxloser

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

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ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask · 1 year ago

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Triple Chief Throwdown!

In the grand tradition of interdimensional meet-cutes...Our triad of Chiefs found themselves in the world's most unusual standoff: a super-soldier showdown in a surprisingly spacious hangar of a forward operating base. This wasn't just any old sparring match; it was the interstellar equivalent of discovering your doppelgängers at a costume party and deciding to duke it out for supremacy, or at least bragging rights.

Silver was all grit and grime, the kind of guy who probably thought 'subtle' was a type of sandwich. He launched into the fray with the grace of a sledgehammer, throwing punches that could've doubled as demolition work. "Alright, let's see what you've got." he growled, his voice dripping with the kind of irritation only a man wearing nearly identical armor to two other dudes could muster.

Chief, the veteran of countless battles, didn't just move—he flowed, like some kind of deadly ballet dancer, if ballet dancers were known to dismantle alien armadas. Dodging Silver's punch with a fluid sidestep, he replied with the calm assurance of someone who's been around the galaxy a few times. "It's not a fashion show, it's about efficiency," he said, his voice smooth as the maneuver he just pulled.

Enter Ranger, the human embodiment of a highlight reel, who probably thought the laws of physics were merely suggestions. He zipped around with such flair and speed that if you blinked, you'd miss three backflips and a roundhouse kick. "Too slow, gramps!" he taunted, bouncing around with the enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy on a sugar rush. His attacks were a blur, a testament to his statement, as if someone had cranked his action dial to 'anime protagonist'.

The hangar resonated with their combat, a chaotic orchestra of metallic clangs, grunts, and the occasional witty retort. Silver, not one to be outdone or out-snarked, landed a solid punch on Ranger, who just laughed it off. "That all you got? I've had harder hits from grunts!" Silver shot back, trying to egg on Ranger for another go.

Ranger, with the cockiness of youth amplified by being practically a superhero, upped his game. "Keep up, or I'll start thinking I'm in the wrong timeline," he quipped, darting in and out of his counterparts' attacks with infuriating ease.

Chief, ever the strategist, saw through the chaos, his movements deliberate, a testament to years of combat experience.

"This isn't about strength or speed alone," he intoned, parrying and dodging with the skill of someone who had seen it all. "It's about knowing when to strike and when to wait." His advice, of course, was promptly ignored in the frenzy of their three-way tussle.

As the fight drew on, it became clear this was less about proving who was the superior Chief and more an exercise in mutual admiration through combat. Each blow traded, each maneuver executed, was a lesson learned, a strength respected.

Exhausted, they finally called a truce, their standoff ending not with a victor, but with a newfound sense of camaraderie. They stood in the hangar, panting and sizing each other up with a mix of respect and amusement.

"That was... something," Chief conceded, his tone carrying a hint of respect. Ranger cracks a wolfish-smirk.

"Something? That was the best workout I've had in a hot second."

I love it! Great work. Hope they're able to figure out what they're all doing here now haha

#halo #halo fanfic #others writing #john 117 #jaune 117 #juan 117

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helix-enterprises117 · 1 year ago

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Halo Reloaded - Seeing Triple II

In the grand tradition of interdimensional meet-cutes...

Our triad of Chiefs found themselves in the world's most unusual standoff: a super-soldier showdown in a surprisingly spacious hangar of a forward operating base. This wasn't just any old sparring match; it was the interstellar equivalent of discovering your doppelgängers at a costume party and deciding to duke it out for supremacy, or at least bragging rights.

Chief, ever the strategist, saw through the chaos, his movements deliberate, a testament to years of combat experience. "This isn't about strength or speed alone," he intoned, parrying and dodging with the skill of someone who had seen it all. "It's about knowing when to strike and when to wait." His advice, of course, was promptly ignored in the frenzy of their three-way tussle.

"That was... something," Chief conceded, his tone carrying a hint of respect. Ranger cracks a wolfish-smirk. "Something? That was the best workout I've had in a hot second."

#halo #halo fanfic #halo fanfiction #john 117 #master chief #master chief fanfiction #master chief fanfic #halo au #halo headcanon #halo reloaded #ultimate halo #crack fic #halo the series #halo tv show #halo paramount+#halo paramount

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xxxevilfilms · 1 year ago

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Bi-Curiosity Killed The Cat: Chapter 2

Info: Stacey is invited back to Wallace’s apartment; Wallace starts to feel sparks.

Warnings: Fondling, Dirty Talk, Dead Dove Content, Dry Humping

Disclaimer: Proceed with caution as always; Wallace is hitting on a high school girl and is very unapologetic about it 🙃

It's been three days since Stacey and Wallace officially became a couple and so far, within the last 72 hours anyway, things were going pretty well. After Wallace cooked up a burger for Stacey and dumped Scott on his couch, they exchanged phone numbers and have been texting each other constantly. They mostly talked about innocuous things like video games, anime, and some gossip here and there, but it was nothing explicit which Stacey didn't mind. She was already careful not to leave her cellphone out in the open, but she didn't need her parents or her brothers opening up her phone and seeing Wallace’s 12-incher on full display in her messages. Stacey wanted to intimate to Wallace eventually that any dirty stuff should be limited to when they were physically together, whenever that'll be anyway. Maybe this weekend would be good if Scott didn't already make plans with him.

Closing and zipping up her bookbag, Stacey left class for the day and mulled over if she should head straight home to do homework or hang out with her friend Chelsea at her house to do it there. She and her brother owned a GameCube, and Stacey wanted to try it out before she pestered her parents to buy her one for her birthday. Smiling, Stacey wanted to text Chelsea to meet her in front of the school so they could walk to her house together, but as soon as she opened her phone, she saw Wallace’s name pop up on her screen and heard a jaunty tune that came with it. Stacey blinked and quickly answered the phone before placing it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hi..." She cleared her throat. "What's up?"

"You doing anything?"

"Um..." Stacey wasn't sure anymore. She really wanted to go to Chelsea's, but she also didn't mind seeing Wallace again. Quickly making up her mind, she sighed and said, "I was about to head to a friend's house actually."

"Ooh, that sounds like fun," He tittered. "Whatcha gonna do over there?"

"I was gonna try out her GameCube and stuff. Apparently it's got a bunch of games the PS2 doesn't have."

"I don't mean to ruin your plans or anything, but I gotta GameCube, too."

Stacey perked up. "R-Really?"

"Yeah, it's sitting in the box still. I actually completely forgot about it."

"Well, I didn't have anything set in stone yet, I was only thinking about going to my friend's place." She laughed a little. "I can come over."

"Really? I should straighten the place up a little then." He sounded even more chipper than he did before. "When can I expect you over?"

"Maybe an hour? I have to make some phone calls so my parents don't get nosy."

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"N-No, no, God no. I can't have you poking your head around here..." Not yet anyway. If any students or teachers saw her leaving with a college student, rumors would spread and she'd get into a shitload of trouble. "You can drop me off at the corner of my block later. You know, if you wanna do that..."

"That's not a problem. Just tell me where to park."

"Oh okay, cool." Stacey twirled her hair a little. "I'll see you in an hour."

"Hold ya to it, babe." He chuckled and then promptly hung up.

Stacey took in a deep breath, shook away the blush blooming on her cheeks, and dialed Chelsea for a favor.

After Stacey convinced Chelsea to lie about being at her house just in case her parents checked in on her, Stacey braced the twenty minutes it took to walk to Wallace’s apartment and was welcomed inside with the smell of home cooking and a pantsless gay(?) man with a spatula in his hand. Stacey would have been taken aback by how bummy Wallace looked, but one, it was his apartment, and two, it's not like she didn't know what he was packing in there. Stacey looked away from his bright red boxer-briefs in favor of greeting him properly however.

"Hey." Stacey trudged past him and shrugged her backpack from her shoulders. "Cool if I throw this on the couch?"

"I don't care." He followed after her and promptly got in her face to pull her into him. "Told you what's mine is yours, didn't I, baby?"

"Still not used to this boyfriend/girlfriend thing, I guess..." Stacey pouted, but accepted the hug. Her head rests against his chest, and she suddenly notices how small she was compared to him. Blushing, Stacey slowly pulls away and makes her way to the couch to toss her bag on a cushion before sitting down herself. Wallace chortles, which Stacey tries to ignore by asking him where his GameCube is.

"You didn't lie to me, right?" She raised a brow. "Where are the goods?"

“ Do you really think I'd lure you here with promises of video games just so I can taste that sweet, sweet teen cunny again?” Wallace placed a hand over his heart in fake revulsion.

Stacey could only frown.

“Yes, actually.” She said plainly. “Yes, I do.”

“Gasp! How appalling! I'd at least make you dinner first.”

“You're a creep, you know that?”

“And you're sexy,” He clicked his teeth at her. “Yeah, yeah, I still got the thing. I swear, you can kill someone with those eyes, hun.”

“Hmph...” Stacey said nothing and only watched Wallace retreat down the hall to go into his room. This guy was seriously so weird; how the hell does Scott meet these people?

“By the way, do you like spaghetti?” He asked from his room.

“Yeah, Scott makes it all the time.”

“Told you I'd make you some dinner,” He emerged from the hall with a GameCube box in hand. “Help yourself, hun. Once I'm done here I'll fix you a plate, okay?”

“Thanks...” Stacey nodded and watched Wallace set the GameCube at her feet before walking back to the kitchen to finish cooking.

He may be a creep, but at least he was a thoughtful creep.

It's been three days since Wallace and Stacey officially became a couple and so far, within the last 72 hours, things were going pretty great.

After cooking dinner, Wallace helped himself to some spaghetti and garlic bread while Stacey only nibbled at her own plate as she was too engrossed in the game she was playing to eat all of her food. It was Resident Evil 4, a game he had laying around and didn't have the chance to play, much like his GameCube. Watching Stacey mow down zombies with the most determined look on her face was adorable and reminded Wallace of Scott. They were complete opposites in terms of personality and maturity levels, but they looked almost exactly the same; a trait that made them look super cute when he saw them together.

Wallace sat behind Stacey on the couch, the younger girl perched in his lap as he watched the TV screen over her head. At first she was a bit shy to sit between his legs since she worried she'd be too heavy for him, but Wallace reassured her that it was okay. He wanted to be close to her, smell the perfume on her neck and the conditioner in her hair. Never has he felt so strongly for a girl before, but here he was basking in the warmth of a girly little tomboy who looked too much like her brother. It was definitely her resemblance to Scott that got Wallace’s attention initially, but her attitude was what kept it; he liked snarky bitches who knew what they wanted.

Wallace catches a whiff of her hair again before settling back into the couch, cock twitching when Stacey squirmed around a little in his lap. She was too focused on the zombies on the screen to notice and shifted again to get comfortable, a soft roll of her wide hips that made Wallace purr. He noticed rather quickly that he liked her ass. It was big, fat, and round, and since Stacey had a lot more ass to go around compared to the men he's used to fucking, Wallace loved playing with it.

“Shit, this game is hard...” Stacey cursed, her wriggling hips doing wonderful things to Wallace’s dick. “It's really fun though. You should give it a go if I die here.”

“I'm having lots of fun, hun, don't worry...” Wallace caressed Stacey's hips and gave her a wry smirk she couldn't see. “Keep at it, I'm fine just watching you.”

“You sure? It's your game after all--”

Wallace rolled his hips up into Stacey's tight ass then, the force behind his thrust making Stacey's words catch in her throat. Wallace chuckled under his breath and did it once more, watching the bulge in his boxers rise to life before it's smothered by the heat of Stacey's rear. He knew it wouldn't take long for Stacey to notice his arousal, but he didn't wanna spoil her fun just yet. With sneaky hands and parting lips, Wallace helps himself to his new girlfriend's body while she plays with her game, mouth catching the lobe of her ear as he smooths open palms over her big thighs. She flinches and winds up taking a shovel to the head by a rampaging villager as a result.

“T-Thanks for that...” Stacey huffed.

“Don't let me distract you. Told you I'm fine with just watching...”

“It's hard to focus when you're...!” Her breath hitches then. Wallace’s hands wandered to the crotch of her jeans, touching her where he wanted her most. He likes how she tastes and wonders if she'd want it again, if she'd wanna a few fingers to fill her up this time. Wallace never thought he'd like pussy, but after savoring Stacey's pretty cunt for the first time, Wallace was addicted. Maybe that's what he'll do before he lets her go, eat her out while he humps her face with his cock, but Wallace is fine with this. Grinding and biting like a horny high schooler was bringing back delicious memories of doing the same thing to curious jocks desperate for a fuck, except this time it's with a sixteen year old girl and not some jar head with a complex. Wallace thinks that the irony is funny and plays with the button to Stacey's jeans to get what he wants.

“Wallace...” Stacey moaned.

“Keep playing your game, baby,” He whispered into her ear. “So good for me, aren't you, pretty girl?”

He felt her shiver like a leaf and her body relax when he managed to unbutton her jeans and pull down her fly. He then made her raise her hips a little so he can pull them down, leaving her lower half naked save for a pair of striped panties that covered her fat ass. Wallace whistles at the sight and helps himself to his little girlfriend's body by taking two handfuls of her rear in both hands. He squeezes and grinds himself between the fat and flesh of her partially covered backside as he sucked longingly on the side of her neck. Stacey's hands shake and she winds up pausing her game to sink back into Wallace’s chest, her eyes closed shut and body shaking as she lets Wallace touch all over breasts and stomach.

“It's so cute how you just melt in my hands, hun, christ...” Wallace simpered. “Been waiting for someone to touch you like this, huh? Treat you like they own you?” He gropes her breasts hard and firm then, spreading long fingers over heavy flesh to knead them together. “I swear, it's like you were made for taking cock.”

“N-No, it's...not like...” Stacey gasped, the girl putty in his hands when he bites into her neck, leaving a bright red hickey that is quick to bloom on her skin.

“I think it is, baby. I think you want me to fuck you.” He grinds harder into her ass and huffs. “I think you want me to fuck that little pussy.” He kisses her neck and gently worries her skin with his teeth. “I bet it's all nice and wet, so tight and pretty just like you, yeah?”

Stacey whimpers as she covers her face, flustered and falling apart at Wallace’s words. She was shy, inexperienced, and impossibly virginal. The littlest touch and the simplest words were enough to set her off and Wallace liked seeing her face when she's ready to come.

“Don't hide from me, honey.” Wallace moved a hand away from her face and kissed her cheek. “I wanna see you.”

Stacey stiffens and at first resists the pull on her wrist, but eventually relents. Wallace kisses her again as a reward for her compliance and holds her in such a way that she has to twist her body around to face him. She does just that and looks up into Wallace’s eyes with the sweetest look on her face, plaintive and wanting like an eager kitten.

God, these Pilgrims will be the death of him.

“So much for letting you play your game.” Wallace cups her cheek and strokes the skin beneath her eye with a thumb. “Wanna play with me instead?”

“Depends...” Stacey shifts her weight and leans into his touch before giving him a heart stopping smirk. “Can I take it with me when I go home?”

“Cute...” Wallace’s smile matches her own. “Yeah, why not, hun?”

Stacey regards him for a time before craning her neck to kiss him. It's sweet and innocent, it's chasteness only wavering when he feels her tongue sheepishly poke at his lips. Wallace opens his mouth and encourages her to explore, take the lead as it were, which the young teen does without much hesitance. Her tongue is small, so much smaller than a man's, almost like he's swallowing a worm. It leaves lingering tingles on his flesh that makes him shiver, like popping sparks that go off in his mouth.

Sparks...

He hadn't felt sparks in a while before meeting her.

Wallace takes Stacey into his arms and eagerly returns her kiss with gusto as he moans into her mouth. Like a good boyfriend, he doesn't go to far and fucks her through their underwear like they did days prior. Stacey is fine with that and grinds back down, hands wandering over his shoulders and chest as she quickly gave into him. Her pussy clenches and convulses when she eventually comes, her cunt leaving a noticeable wet spot in her panties that seeps into his boxers. Wallace doesn't care though and creams in his own underwear when he reaches his limit, gasping and grunting into Stacey's mouth as his nails dig into the skin of her ass. Stacey flinches but doesn't move, only pulling away from Wallace when she has to breathe. Wallace’s head follows her however so he can kiss her chin and then her nose before collapsing back on the couch to catch his breath while Stacey lays her heat-stricken head against Wallace’s chest. There's silence save for the hum of the television set and the wind outside, but it's a comforting silence, almost ethereal in a way. He could fall asleep here if it weren't for the jizz in his boxers and if he didn't have to drop Stacey off later.

“It's dangerous to be around you...” Stacey sighed. “To think I'm having dry hump sessions with you of all people.”

“Hey, I'm surprised, too. All this kinda snuck up on me.” He chuckled. “There’s a certain charm you and Scott have that just pulls me in.”

“Pfft, like what?”

“Good question...” He hummed in contemplation then before shrugging it off. “Eh, but who the hell knows? I'm just addicted to you Pilgrims, ya know?”

“You're so weird...” Stacey frowned when Wallace rubbed his face against her own. “But it's...it's a nice kinda weird. Like ice cream on a cold day.”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're calling me an icy bitch.” He joked.

“No,” Stacey lifted her head and laughed. “I'm saying that I like ice cream.” She teased. “Even if that ice cream melts and sticks to my hand like glue when I touch it.”

“You're making me out to be some dirty old man.”

“Maybe cuz that's what you are, a dirty old geezer who can't control himself around girls... Or should I say boys?”

“Boys, but....”

“But...?”

“You're pretty boyish, so that counts for something, don't it?”

Stacey pinched Wallace’s cheek then. It barely hurt and only made him laugh which made Stacey laugh, too. The sparks ignite and go off like fireworks except in his soul this time and not in his mouth or loins. Wallace briefly wonders if Stacey feels the same way and if the sparks will last, but in this moment as he enjoys the company of his best friend's little sister, Wallace feels at peace.

Happy.

Fucking hell, he thought to himself. What did he get himself into?

#dead dove do not eat #scott pilgrim #evilfics #scott pilgrim takes off #stacey x wallace #wallace wells #stacey pilgrim

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husbandhoshi · 3 years ago

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imagine beating wonwoo in a video game

- you know who it is

hellloooo zeta :)

this might be an unpopular take but i feel like wonwoo wouldn’t get competitive with his s/o normally. actually, if you beat him in a game he’s pretty good at, he thinks it’s sexy.

but if you get a little too cocky, maybe teasing him a little too much or, worse, making a bet for whoever wins the next round, he’s dialed in. “you sure about that, love?” he asks as you’ve just said that whoever loses the next round has to give the winner head. and you’re on top of the world when you win Again, except little do you know that wonwoo might have just lost on purpose.

and now you’re bound to the headboard with his belt crudely around your wrists, wonwoo’s strong arms keeping your legs parted. “let me know if it hurts,” he had said firmly, holding your jaw in his hand to make sure he knew where your focus lied. and you, already horny from the anticipation of getting head, are in no place to deny him. “no, feels good,” you had replied, and his smile was enough to get you wet. he knew the both of you were experienced in restraints, but, god, it was sexy how he always checked in on you, always made sure you were comfortable and feeling good.

oh, you absolutely regret not setting better terms for the bet. because he’s licking you over the soaked through fabric of your panties, just with enough pressure that you feel the warmth his tongue, but not enough stimulation to get anywhere. “please, wonwoo,” you whisper, hoping for a crumb of sympathy as your hips grind up for more friction.

your underwear now sticks to you like a second skin so wonwoo can see the outline of the lips, the curve of your ass, the ridge of your clit. just to punctuate his question, he places his lips over your clit and mouths over the fabric. you throw your head back as another shaky moan is ripped out of you. “what’s wrong, love?” he asks. “thought you wanted me to kiss your pretty pussy? thought you deserved it?”

“s-shit—” you feel so bare, so powerless against your restraints and his strong arms holding your legs wide open, with no hope of escape. and with every moment of contact your hips tremble just a little bit, aching for more.

“smell so fucking good, princess,” wonwoo groans as he licks over the patch of wetness again, earning him another embarrassingly loud moan. “what color?” he asks, eyes intense and dark behind his specs.

“green,” you manage, tears already at the corner of your eyes. somehow you’re already at the precipice of your orgasm and he hasn’t even directly touched your cunt yet. “wonwoo, n-need it so bad.”

“mmm, this is all you get for being bad,” he replies, using a finger to lazily trace the outline of your cunt over the fabric. you instinctively pull at the belt to redirect some of the pleasure but quickly realize it’s futile. he laughs a little before lightly squeezing your pussy lips together with his fingers, just enough to put some pressure on your clit and enough so he can see your wetness shimmer in the low light, greedy hole already soaking with anticipation. every touch makes you whimper and your thighs shake pitifully as he slowly works you up to your high.

he lets you cum once in your panties, tonguing the seam of your cunt like a starved man and sending you over the edge. the entire panel of fabric over your kitty is soaked now, and he so meanly has you still wear them as he undoes the belt and challenges you to a rematch (which he wins and promptly fucks you bent over the table).

#w in wonwoo stands for weapon of mass destruction #ask #anon #wonwoo #mine #wonwoo smut #ww: streamer au

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tenthgrove · 3 years ago

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Discord Choose Your Own Adventure Game- Pt.1

My Discord Server are doing a new thing where we play choose your own adventure games in chat, and I've started my own. The concept is that Reader wakes up in La Squadra's House with total amnesia, and has to piece together what happened to get them there.

I thought it would be cool to share the results here so everyone can see the story we created, as it ended up pretty well. If you're over 18 and want to play in future sessions (I am hoping to continue this) you're welcome to join the server.

Your eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the bedroom as you come to. Warm daylight streams through the curtains. Have you slept in?

You roll over and rub your eyes, trying to get your bearings. The bedroom is sparsely decorated, with only a bed, storage furniture, and a sleek mobile phone on the dresser. In your tired state, it takes a while for the horror to dawn on you, but it’s here now alright. This is not your room. You don’t know where you are.

The panic throws your sleepiness aside and you scramble out of bed. You grip your torso. Clothes aren’t yours either. Phone isn’t yours. House isn’t yours. Body- why does the feel of your face surprise you?

You try all you can to think about your room, clothes, phone, house and body. Your real ones, not wherever you are now. Your heart sinks as you realise you can’t remember any of them. The more you try and recollect your thoughts, the more you realise you’ve somehow forgotten. You cannot recall a single memory from before you woke up this morning. Not even your name.

You fall to the ground, hyperventilating. Your brain feels like it’s twisting from the strain of how hard you’re trying to remember who you are. Nothing. All gone. It feels like an hour before you get up, but it was probably just a couple minutes. Time is hard to measure when you don’t have a reference. But then your rationality comes back to you, and you pull your shaking body up to stand. You need to get that phone. The home screen is still unlocked, so someone must have been here right before you woke up. You hit the settings button and search for the user details. The phone is owned by someone named Risotto. Is that you? Somehow it doesn’t feel like it. You’ll keep searching. You open up the phone’s contacts and read through the eight names on speed-dial. No… none of them sound like they might be you. But perhaps they might know you? You should ring one of them to see if they can help.

//Participants selected which member of La Squadra (excluding Risotto) to call. They elected to call Formaggio//

You look at the picture of this “Formaggio”. He seems the friendliest of the bunch, one of the few who seems to be giving a genuine, warm smile in his profile image. This looks like the sort of man you want to seek help from. Nervously, you hit the call button.

You get an answer very promptly. “Heya Ris!” a chipper voice comes through the speaker. “Didn’t you just go past me to the kitchen twenty seconds ago or is there two of you. Oh wait are we out of something? Please don’t say we’re out of chocolate milk.”

“I’m uh, not Ris,” you sheepishly admit. “At least I don’t think so?”

Formaggio curses behind the phone. You hear his footsteps as he marches into the next room with speed.

“Capo? I think you should handle this. The witness woke up,” Formaggio announces.

Witness, what does he mean witness? You’re starting to get concerned. You assumed these people would be your friends, but they aren’t even addressing you by name. Could they be criminals? What shady shit did you get yourself into?

“Hand the phone to me,” a deep, imposing voice commands. You hear it clank against something metal, jewellery perhaps, as the phone is brought to a second man’s ear. “Stay where you are, we’re coming into your room now.”

As the call ends, you realise you can hear footsteps on the other end of the house. They really are in the same building as you. You’ve got seconds to chose. Do you trust these men or not?

//Participants were given four options on how to respond. These were fight (burst out ready to attack), flight (try to escape by the window), freeze (hide under the bed) or fawn (stay put and greet the men). They chose the option to freeze//

You don’t trust them. Jumping out the window could be dangerous and attacking the men even more so. Your best hope is to dive under cover and pray they think you’ve left the room. You crawl underneath the bed, trying desperately not to sneeze at the cakey dust and curling up against the wall. Mere seconds after your movement stops, the door opens.

“Frieend? Friend?” Formaggio calls. You can see his shoes, green loafers, from where you’re hiding. You cover your mouth to stifle breath. “Huh, they’re not here.” Risotto joins him in the room, standing mere inches from you at the edge of the bed. You hear the sounds of sheets ruffling.

“Bed’s still warm. And my phone is right there.”

“Pe-cu-liar,” Formaggio remarks. He walks over to the wardrobe and opens it. “Think we scared them that much?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me after what they saw,” Risotto responds. “But we do need to find them.”

“Sure sure,” Formaggio answers him non-nonchalantly. “Wanna get Gelato in here with his stand? He’s the one for finding things and all.” More of them, just perfect.

“If needs be. But lets explore the obvious options first,” Risotto decides. He’s still standing over the bed. You feel your heart hammer in your chest, but your prayers go unanswered. Risotto lifts the mattress, revealing your quivering self underneath the boards. “Very funny, but there’ll be no time for that. Get out here, we need to talk.”

You scramble out obediently, standing in front of Risotto with your head down. He forces you to look him in the eye. “We are professionals, and we do not like to kill civilians if we don’t have to. We would appreciate if you help us to keep it that way, so for your own sake don’t try that again,” he commands.

“Yes… yes sir,” you answer meekly.

“Now explain yourself, since we still haven’t heard your side of the story. What exactly did you see last night?” he requests.

“Lay off them, man. You’re being scary again,” Formaggio adds in the background. Risotto growls at him.

“I don’t… know what you mean sir…” you apologise, tearing up.

“You do,” Risotto says darkly.

“No…” you whine, tears falling freely now. “I don’t even know who I am!” All composure leaving you, you fall against Risotto’s chest and sob openly, clinging to him for comfort and pity.

“Oh… Risotto enunciates. That’s… very unfortunate,” he admits.

“You believe them?” Formaggio checks.

“Yes, this is a very sincere reaction. Listen… you… I’m sorry I began so harshly, I assumed you remembered how you got here. We aren’t going to hurt you, but we can’t let you go. Now… what should we call you?” he ponders.

“You could let them pick?” Formaggio suggests.

“Pick my own name?” you ask in confusion.

“Sure. Just until we find out who you really are. Go on, take a minute and think of something pretty.”

//Participants were invited to suggest named for the protagonist. The name "Honey" came out as the most popular//

“Honey,” you blurt out. “Could you call me Honey?” Formaggio gives an approving nod, and pats you on the shoulder.

“Bold, but I like it. I gotcha Honey. Before we get down to business why don’t we find you something in the kitchen to eat. You’re probably weak all over from last night, so what do you say?” he proposes.

“Sure. Now I think of it I am actually kinda hungry,” you realise.

“I’m not surprised, you were unconscious for 31 hours,” Risotto enlightens you, totally deadpan.

Formaggio clicks for you to follow him and takes you to the kitchen on the floor below. You really must be weak, because you almost trip on the stairs. Risotto hovers over you for the rest of the journey, which you choose to take as a token of good will. You sit down on the first chair you see in the kitchen.

“So Honey, (heh, didn’t even do it on purpose) what can we get you? This house is stocked for nine people so I guarantee you can find anything you want!” Formaggio offers, pulling cups and plates out of the wooden cabinets.

“I think they should eat something plain. It’s best not to disturb the system after a coma so we should start them off small and simple,” Risotto interjects. Formaggio tuts loudly.

“You’re as fun as ever Capo, but probably right. Toast it is,” he announces, reaching for the bread bin. “Do you at least want some marmalade? Jam? … Honey?” he snorts.

“Sure why not. Honey,” you agree. “So are you in the mafia? You call him Capo,” you observe.

“Yes,” Risotto says bluntly. Formaggio looks at him and his face falls. He chooses, perhaps wisely, not to elaborate on his Capo’s answer any further.

“Well darling, two slices of toast,” he gives you. “I’m gonna go get Melone. He’s our doctor, so he should probably check you over after you were out so long. How about the two of you get acquainted while I go wake him up?”

Formaggio leaves the room before you have a chance to dispute the offer, leaving you alone with the intimidating man. You and Risotto lock eyes with a profound sense of unease. You take a bite of your toast to play distracted, but it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t.

“I’m sure you have questions, and you’ll get answers. But it’s no good for either of us to have you getting worked up. I’ll answer three of your questions to the best of my ability, but for now, no more,” Risotto offers you. You choose your words carefully.

//Participants were given six options for questions to ask Risotto. They chose: "Why was I unconscious for so long?"//

“Why was I unconscious for so long?” you ask with a hint of concern.

“We cannot be entirely sure, but Melone thinks he has a fairly good idea,” Risotto answers. “You fell and sustained what he considered a moderate head injury, but how long you remained unconscious despite no apparent loss of functioning did surprise him. He did mention at one point thinking your coma might be more psychological than physical. Like… a very advanced state of dissociation, I believe,” he answers.

“Christ,” you enunciate.

“Well, I’m very happy you’re awake now, either way,” he assures you with a weak smile. You smile back, and think of your next question.

//The previously rejected options were again offered. Participants chose: "What's going to happen to me?"//

You decide it’s time to be brave and face your fate.

“What’s going to happen to me?” you ask. Risotto sighs, though it’s more from sadness than annoyance.

“I’m afraid that even with your memory lost, we still cannot let you go. You might still be tied to us and the investigators might find a way to recover your memory or use you as evidence linking us to the murder even without it. Besides, now you have lost your memory I feel as though we have a certain… duty of care to you. You’re very far from home, and I promise nothing good could come of just letting you go. So, you’re going to stay here. At least for the time being.”

“And what does that entail?!” you blurt out, forgetting the question rule.

“I’ll count that as part of the last question,” Risotto admits. “That room you woke up in is unoccupied so you can use it as your bedroom. But we see no reason to stop you using the rest of the house as well, provided you behave. We will have to wait and see if you are discussed in the news before letting you out the house, but until then we will buy you what you need within reason on your behalf. And as for the others, don’t worry about them. They may be killers but they won’t mistreat you. If they do, you can come to me about it.”

“Thanks…” you respond, a little shell-shocked from taking this all in. You have one question remaining, so you better make it count.

//One final time, the remaining questions were offered as options. Participants chose to ask: "Why did you kidnap me?"//

It’s time to put the pieces together. “Why did you kidnap me?” you assertively asks. Risotto crosses his arms and nods.

“So you want the full story huh?”

“Yes, or as much as you can tell me,” you affirm. Risotto stands up and starts to pace slowly as he talks.

“My team and I were performing a hit. Businessman in an alleyway, fairly standard stuff. We had covered all the exits and thought that would be enough, but we didn’t count on someone coming out of one of the adjoining gardens. You saw us immediately and tried to scream, so we had to silence you and a scuffle ensued. You fell and passed out. We couldn’t leave you.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?” you ask.

“I don’t know why I bothered saying three questions, but very well,” Risotto sighs. “As I said before, we don’t like killing civilians, but we’ll do it if we have to. But with you… I don’t know. We just agreed without words we were taking this one alive.” He’s not looking at you any more, just staring out the window.

You suppose this brings an end to your session. It’s been… informative.

“Thank you Risotto, for answering my questions.”

Risotto just nods.

#la squadra #formaggio #risotto nero

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capaimagines · 5 years ago

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bang chan - safe

Pairing: Mafia leader!Bang Chan x Reader | Genre: mafia, angst & fluff | Warnings: mentions of a break in, fighting, mafia themes | WC: 1.6k

Request: Bang Chan mafia leader where you and Chan are having a night in when he hears someone downstairs and goes to check it out and calling for backup when he hears you scream upstairs bc one of the attackers had you !! Your got7 mafia fic was amazing

Safety and security was the one thing Chan always promised you. He wanted to keep you safe at all costs. You had put all your trust in him that he would keep his word. Being a small town girl you really had no idea about the inner and outer workings of the mafia. For a while there, you truly believed that things like that were all fairy tales and stories parents would tell their kids to warn them off of the idea of gangs and such.

When you met Chan that had quickly faded. Even then he had kept you safe, you were just an innocent passer-by. You had moved to the big city to land a good job and make money for your family. You hadn’t expected to walk—quite literally—into the crossfire of Chan’s group and another group. One of the men from the other group had grabbed you, pressing the head of his gun into your temple.

You were trembling and Chan could sense that, within seconds he had stood up. He may be a mafia leader, but he never harmed someone who was innocent. Especially a girl as cute as you. He had shot the man in the centre of his head without hesitation. Of course he didn’t miss; he never did. You had fallen to your knees in horror, trembling and shaking with nerves and disbelief at what just unfolded in front of you.

Chan, being your knight in shining armor, took you back to their base and helped calm you down after reassuring you that he only wanted to help protect you and that he or his team weren’t going to hurt you. You two started talking more and more and outside of his work, he was just a normal boy also finding his way in the world. It didn’t take long before you two started dating and he had always kept his word. He was to always keep you safe. You never had to look over your shoulder or fear that you’d be snatched when you were on your own.

Tonight though you had asked Chan for a night in. All you wanted to do was eat junk food and watch movies while you cuddled with him. A typically normal boyfriend-girlfriend thing to do. He had happily agreed and you two were sat with a tub of ice cream between you as you intensely focused on the Disney movie playing on the screen. You were so focused you almost missed the sound of glass breaking. Almost.

Of course Chan had heard it. He always seemed to be on high alert 24/7. You couldn’t blame him though. His career path was more dangerous than most and he couldn’t afford to be caught off guard, but that’s exactly what was happening right now. He had sent everyone home for the night, wanting to just spend time with you.

“Stay here and have Hyunjin ready on speed dial,” Chan told you.

You nodded, quickly pulling out your phone as Chan seemed to whip a small handgun out of nowhere. That was something that took you some time to get used too. Weapons of any kind just randomly hidden around the large home. Chan slowly opened the bedroom door before looking back over his shoulder at you.

“Don’t leave this room or open the door for anyone. I’ll come back for you,” You gulped at his words before nodding, feeling the anxiety start to take over you.

Chan quietly closed the door and you quickly stood up to lock it. You hadn’t noticed with your shaking hands that you had pressed Hyunjin’s contact and were currently connected to him. You heard someone saying hello and scrambled for your phone.

“Hyunjin! Hi! Sorry, we heard glass breaking downstairs and Chan wanted me to—HEY!”

You whipped your head around as someone plucked your phone from your ear. You did not like being interrupted in the middle of a conversation. When you had a knife aimed at your throat though, you couldn’t complain too much. The man was significantly larger than you. You had never seen him before but with the crazed grin on his face, you were happy this was your first meeting, and last.

Being the girlfriend of a mafia leader didn’t leave you completely defenceless. You knew how to defend yourself if you ever had too, you had just hoped you would never have too. You eyed the man in front of you, the glint of the metal blade hitting off the light which caused you to gulp, trying to understand how the hell you were going to knock that out of his hand without getting cut.

“Sorry, pretty girl,” The stranger cooed and you swallowed down bile, “You’re going to have to come with me,” You stood up slowly, never taking your gaze off the blade.

You briefly met the man’s gaze and clicked your tongue, “I don’t think so. You’re not really my type,” You could visibly see the man startle at your response. He obviously thought you were going to be an easy target.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to die here with your pretty boyfriend.” He remarked that you could only scoff in response as you rolled your eyes.

“That’s not really an option either,” The man looked very confused at the small figure that was talking back to him. He wasn’t here to play games though. His orders were clear. Either he brought you back with him alive or killed you there. He made his move and you quickly ducked down, thankfully Minho had taught you a few little tricks with examining one's movements.

You moved, yet not quick enough that the blade grazed your shoulder. You hissed in pain and turned to narrow your eyes at the man in front of you. He looked shocked, yet again, that you were putting up a fight. He growled, coming towards you again and you didn’t get as lucky. His knife cut into your hand as you grabbed for the blade which resulted in a hiss from you due to the pain, jumping back and that’s when he wrapped his arm around your neck.

“CHAN!” You screamed as loud as you could. You were so pent up on adrenaline you hadn’t heard anything that was going on downstairs. Now, your ears were open and you could hear banging and grunting coming from down there. You had only hoped Hyunjin was smart enough to know he should bring the others.

Thankfully, you’re assumption that Hyunjin was smart because a few seconds after you screamed, the bedroom door was kicked open by none other than Changbin with Chan hot on his heels. You were struggling against the man’s hold in hopes to wiggle out.

“Let. Her. Go,” Chan looked deadly and Changbin’s glare was no better. You were close with all the boys, but Changbin was probably one you were closest to besides Chan.

“Sorry, pretty boy, I have orders so she’s coming with me,” You felt something press against your neck and you groaned, finally letting your hands fall.

“I can’t believe this is happening again!” Everyone around you seemed pretty shocked at your words. Here you were, on the brink of being kidnapped or dead and you were making comments like that?

You heard the click of Chan’s gun being cocked and closed your eyes. You had seen the very quick flash of silver hair outside the window, signalling that it was Felix. You weren’t the one dying today at least. It was going to be the barbarian that still had his hands on you.

“Last chance,” Chan stated firmly, “Let. Her. Go,” Chan’s voice was dripping with venom and his grip on the handle of the gun was iron tight.

The man only laughed and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You inhaled a large breath and drew your elbow, swinging back as hard as you could. It was enough to surprise him and loosen his grip, which helped you to promptly slip away and scurry towards Chan. He saw the blood on your shoulder and the cut on your hand. His eyes darkened as he turned back to the intruder.

However, before he could pull the trigger, Felix graciously crashed through the window and tackled him. His hands were bound behind his back before he could even understand what had happened. You only smirked at the man as Chan ordered for him to be brought back to their base.

“I told you I wasn’t dying today, pretty boy,” You spat the words out and it seemed to anger the man but there wasn’t much he could do as he laid on the floor and hogtied.

Chan sighed as Changbin and Felix carried him out. He turned to you with a worried smile, immediately inspecting your hand, “I’ll come with you and let Minho patch it up. But I’m fine, Chan. Really. See?” You held his hand to your heart so he could feel it beating, “I’m right here, I’m breathing and I’m alive. Now let’s go! We just got this carpet and now my hand is dripping blood all over it.”

Chan could only chuckle as he gently guided you out the bedroom door and down to the car. Once he made sure you were safely settled in, he backed out and started driving.

“Are you really okay?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. You smiled and nodded at him then puckered your lips together before looking back out the window.

“Felix is going to owe us a new window by the way. That wasn’t cheap.”

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shyficwriter · 4 years ago

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Who's Tougher?

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Guardians find out that Reader maybe isn't Terran while playing with one of those labor pain/period cramp simulators. Inspired by that one episode of Lucifer where Lucifer got tased.

Author’s Note: Based off this dumb post I wrote earlier, because sometimes my dumber ideas are the funniest.

Part 2 here.

Word Count: 2,376 It had started with a bet.

Who was tougher? You or Peter?

Tired of hearing your bickering one day, and after having come across a video on the internet where a couple of guys were using a period cramp simulator, Rocket decided to whip one up with some spare parts he had lying around. Took him about 10 minutes, 15 if you count the time it took him to sort through his spare parts drawer.

You and Peter where sitting at the table with Kraglin when Rocket hopped up and slapped it on the table, interrupting your bickering.

"What's that?" Peter asked, his face one of confusion.

It looked almost like Peter's Zune, only bigger and instead of headphones it had four long wires coming out of it that were attached to thin disk-shaped objects.

"This is gonna settle your argument on who's tougher once and for all so I don't gotta hear your constant whining anymore." Rocket said.

"Hey! It's not constant!" you say, a bit offended, but also not looking forward to doing whatever Rocket was suggesting. "What is that even supposed to do?"

"Saw a video online where a couple of Terran-types were using electric pulses to simulate period cramps. It does that, more or less."

"More or less??" You cry uncertainly, "You want to electrocute us? Because that's what I'm hearing."

Peter laughs, "If you're scared you can just admit that I'm tougher." He leans back in his chair with a smug look that makes you want to smack him.

You glare at him. "I'm not scared. I'm just being cautious of accepting offers to let Rocket stick electrodes on us!"

Kraglin snickers from his side of the table. "Sound scared to me. If Yondu could trust him to wire his fin into his skull, I'm sure ya can trust him not to fry ya with that little thingy-ma-bob."

Yondu, having heard his name while walking by, stops by the table. "What's going on here?"

"Rocket wants to electrocute us!"

"Do not!" Rocket defends. "Well, not much... I just want to settle which one of them is really tougher so they'll quit whining about it."

Yondu shakes his head, chuckling. He looks at you. "So you're really gonna give in and tell Peter he's tougher cuz yer scared of a little shock?"

You glare at him. You knew he was only trying to razz you up, but you couldn't help it. "I'm not scared, I-"

Peter cuts you off. "Then prove it." He was bluffing, he didn't really want to try either. Who in their right mind would willingly let Rocket hook them up to an electric shock machine?? But his poker-face was good. Too good.

"Ugh. Fine. If to only wipe that smug grin off your dumb face." you say, rolling your eyes. "How's it work?"

Rocket grinned, as did the other two. "Ok, so you each get two of these electrodes," He held up the white disk, "and you stick them to your stomach, and then I'll take this," he held up the Zune-looking thing, "and turn it up until one of you taps out."

You begrudgingly took the electrodes from Rocket and he clarified his instructions by telling you both to place them below your belly-button. You retake your seats at Rocket's behest, him cockily saying that you 'might want to sit down for this'.

"Ready?" he smirked.

You looked at Peter's cocky grin and rolled your eyes. "Sure."

Rocket turned the dial. Nothing happened, so you assumed it had only just switched the device on, but you did see Peter give a little jolt.

You turned your head to him and laughed. "What you jumpy for, Mister Cocky? He hasn't started yet."

"Yes I did."

You looked back at Rocket, confused. "What?"

"I did start it. It's on level 1 now."

You look at Peter. He confirms it's on. "You don't feel anything?" he asks. You shake your head.

Rocket give you an odd look and says he's turning it up to 2.

Peter jerks again, softly grunting. "Hey, how high does this go?"

Rocket answers that it goes up to 10, and Peter makes a face that makes it obvious he's regretting his life choices.

"Oh, I can feel it now," you say, your mouth twitching upward in a grin. "It kinda tickles."

"That doesn't seem right?" Rocket switches it off. "Switch your leads, I want to make sure there's not a short in the wires."

You and Peter do what's asked. As soon as Rocket sees all the leads are stuck down properly he cranks it up to 2 without warning.

Peter jerks forward and grabs the table with a grunt. "Dude! What the fuck! A warning would be nice!"

You, however, only start softly giggling with a, "Hey!"

Rocket scratches his head, and turns the knob to 2.5.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries, but fails, to sit back up straight. You also close your eyes, but it's because you've brought a hand to press on your forehead as you lean back in your chair, still giggling.

As soon as Rocket turns the knob to 3, Peter taps out.

Rocket turns the device off and looks at you suspiciously before glancing at Yondu and Kraglin who only shrug in response. "I don't get it? That's not supposed to happen?" Rocket says looking his new device over.

"I'll have a go." says Kraglin. "I bet Pete's just being a baby."

This earns a chuckle from Yondu and an annoyed outburst from Peter, who challenges Yondu to do it with Kraglin if they're both so tough.

Smirking, Yondu actually agrees. You and Peter hand over your leads and Yondu and Kraglin put them on.

Rocket repeats the same process. He starts them out at 1, and neither react. He goes up to 2, and Kraglin winces like Peter had. Up to 3, and Kraglin grunts and starts to grip the table while Yondu only acknowledges he can feel it pinching, but from the look on his face you can tell he's just putting on a tough act.

Rocket turns it up to 4 and Yondu exhales out his nose while looking up at the ceiling. At 6 Kraglin taps out and Rocket turns the device off.

Yondu laughs and tells Peter, "Guess everyone here is tougher than you, boy." to which Peter calls bullshit, says he wasn't ready, and demands to go again, this time against Yondu.

Peter doesn't make it past 4, and you laugh at him, prompting him to glare at you and say, "You wouldn't make it past 4 either!"

You call his bet, laughing, "Guess I'd need to go up against Yondu or Krags then, because we know you sure can't."

Before Peter can retort the rest of the team has come over to see what the fuss is about.

Rocket explains that you're seeing who's the toughest, and this promptly makes Mantis and Groot, in their innocence, want to try. However, this is immediately shot down by Gamora, who says that any game, or whatever it was that you were doing, where you willfully electrocute yourself, was stupid.

Drax, however, says he'll have a go, and Peter jumps on this, telling you, "There you go! Go up against Drax. If you can outlast him I'll finally say you're tougher than me."

"Quill." Yondu says in a warning tone, the implication clear that he didn't think anyone could beat the behemoth and that he knew that Peter egging you on like that would only result in you pushing yourself too hard to prove him wrong and getting hurt.

"Relax, old man!" Peter turned to you with a smug grin. "You can take it, right?" Peter is really pushing his luck, but you agree, taking back your leads from Yondu, and Rocket instructing Drax what to do as he takes Peter's chair.

Once you were both settled Rocket made sure you were ready before turning the device up to 1, then after a moment 2, and after another moment 3, where you had left off before.

Drax was just sitting there unfazed, but you were giggling again like before, prompting Drax to ask you what was so funny.

"It tickles!" you say, covering your face again and giggling harder once Rocket announced he was turning it up to 4.

"I bet you're faking it just to mess with us." Peter grumbled at you as Gamora gave him a strange look.

They heard Mantis giggling and looked over to see Mantis pulling her hand away from your arm, her antennae glowing. "Nope. Not lying. I don't sense any feelings of deception."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense, but here's 5." Rocket said, turning the dial.

You jerked in your seat, drawing one foot up into your chair as you tilted your head back laughing, still covering your face with your hands. "Ok! Ok! Wait a minute!" you squeak.

"Are you saying you give up?" Peter said with a smirk. "Guess that means you can't say you're tougher than me."

You flip him off. "No! I didn't say that!" This makes Yondu chuckle. Like most of the rest of the team he had started grinning at your reactions. You may be being stubborn, but he supposed you being tickled was better than you being in pain, though by all accounts it didn't make sense. He had done it himself, and it most definitely didn't tickle.

"Well it's up to 5, you couldn't get past 4, Pete." Kraglin corrected, letting Peter know that you technically had just proved you were tougher by being able to go to a higher setting than him.

"That's not the deal we made. Besides, how can it count if it only tickles? The higher settings are bound to hurt." He knew his logic was flawed, but he was stubborn too, he wasn't just going to hand you a victory.

Seeing as you weren't giving up yet, Rocket went ahead and dialed it up to 6.

"How you doing Drax?" Kraglin asked.

Drax just shrugged. "Fine. It's not the most pleasant feeling, but it's completely bearable."

They didn't ask how you were doing. It was pretty clear how you were doing. You hadn't quit giggling this whole time, much to Rocket's frustration because it just didn't make sense. It was, however, the only thing keeping Gamora from making Rocket stop. She knew Drax could take almost anything, so he'd be fine. You didn't seem to be in pain at all, so she assumed you must be safe.

Rocket dialed up to 7.

Drax nodded his head. "There it is. I can feel it more now." However, there wasn't an ounce of pain etched into his face. Dude obviously had one hell of a pain tolerance.

You were still curled in your chair. One hand covered your mouth while you giggled, the other rested on your knee. You tried to psyche yourself up. It was only a tickle. You weren't a baby. You got this, right?

The foot that had been in your chair then slammed to the floor as you lurched forward with a shriek of laughter, gripping the metal armrest of your chair as your other hand wrapped around your middle.

"How can that still tickle!? It's turned up to 8!" Rocket questioned in disbelief, holding up the device to Yondu as if to prove it.

"Eight!?" you cry, "You were supposed to tell us, you rabid raccoon!"

Drax began to laugh as well and in disbelief Peter said, "Drax? Seriously?!"

"It doesn't tickle," Drax clarified, his laughter dying into a light chuckle. "It's just very funny to watch the smaller Terran react."

You attempted to glare at Drax for referring to you as the "smaller Terran," but failed at it. You stomped your foot on the ground as you felt the tickle get somehow worse, and knew Rocket had turned it up again. "Rocket! Please!" you whined, making a few of the others laugh. Maybe you don't got this.

"That one was for calling me a raccoon, asshat." Rocket said with a grin, his previous frustration seemingly gone in favor of mischief.

You quickly reach for the little shit, but you recoil as he jumped out of reach, a smug grin on his face as he turned the dial to the last setting.

"And that one was 'cause I can."

Drax barely reacted, but you were suffering.

Shit. Shit. Nothing had ever tickled like this before. You don't got this. You still had a death grip on the arm of the chair and you were laughing so hard you couldn't sit up straight. Screw the bet, time for begging. "Ok! Ok!" you squeal. "Rock-Rocket! Ahaha! Ok! I'm sorry! Please! I can't- I give up!"

Rocket and Peter laughed triumphantly as you continued to plead for mercy. Yondu had pity on you and chuckled saying, "Alright, Rat. That's enou-"

He was cut off by a metallic squeal and a snap that made everyone jump. The sound was only followed by the sounds of your dying laughter as you caught your breath.

You threw your leads up on the table, having had ripped them off when you couldn't take it anymore (and after having finally realized that was an option.) You finally look up at Rocket, still giggly and gasping for breath as you say, "Youhoo suck! Eheheh... you- you little brat... haha... Jeez..." Your eyes were glowing a bright blue that slowly faded as you raised an eyebrow, noting how your companions expressions have changed to something resembling "WTF??"

"What's with the faces?" you ask, only to follow Mantis's eyes down to the arm of your chair, or rather, what used to be the arm of your chair.

You had snapped it, but that wasn't all. It was now twisted both outward & downward and the place you had been gripping it had been crushed to form to the inside of your fist as if it had been made of foam board.

You hear someone hesitantly say, "Ya ain't Terran... are ya?"

You look back up at your friends' expectant faces with a nervous grin, squinting and blushing as you rub the back of your head. "Well, aha... This is awkward..."

#gotg #gotg imagine #x reader #peter quill #rocket raccoon #yondu udonta #kraglin obfonteri #fanfic #fanfiction #yondu lives #funny #fluff #fluffy fanfiction

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stevetonyweekly · 4 years ago

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SteveTony Weekly - August 1

Happy Sunday and Happy August!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories!

**Indicates my recent favs

~*~

***Science and Progress (do not speak as loud as my heart) by sirona (MCU/5K)

Steve's body is not the only thing affected by the Super Soldier Serum.

i can’t exactly hold your hair back by SirSapling (Ultimates-Sickfic/4k)

Steve had never particularly been a person people had turned to for comfort when ill, he mostly just wished people better and went on his way. However, this is Tony, and a sense of obligation wells up within him that he needs to help, but he’s completely lost as to how.

mother material series jay_girl88 (Kidfic/109k)

An alternate universe where Tony Stark was born Antonietta Stark, and Toni is definitely mother material whether she knows it or not.

Fluffy, slightly angsty works featuring superfamily, Avengers as family and a whole lot of Toni, Steve and Peter love!

***america isn’t chicken by amuly (616 Getting Together/130k)

After a Civil War, death, rebirth, a takeover by Osborn, brain deletion, and the fall of Asgard, Steve and Tony might just be starting to get back on solid ground with one another. Things aren't perfect, not yet, but they can be in the same room as each other without resorting to violence, and they've even managed to share a smile or two.

Seems like the perfect time, then, for Tony to try and fuck it all up with a stupid game of gay chicken.

Meanwhile, as if he didn't have enough to worry about, Tony realizes some kind of supervillainous trouble is brewing when increasingly advanced armors start popping up all over Manhattan, looking strangely reminiscent of his tech. On the other side of the world, Steve gets news that Zola is on the move in Russia, with some sort of nefarious plan at work.

Which will ruin them first? Will it be this unknown armored villain who is after Tony's tech? Or will it be Zola unleashing his mysterious plan on the world? Or will Steve and Tony prove to be their own worst enemies, destroying the tentative truce they managed to forge with their own stubbornness?

***a funny thing happened on the way to oblivion by sabrecmc (Canon Divergent/66K)

“Mr….Mr. Stark?” the man asked, shaking his head as if to clear it, grip convulsing spasmodically on Tony’s hand.

“That’s me,” Tony responded gruffly. Of course the man recognized him. His face had been everywhere before the whole Iron Man thing and now…well, now…so yeah, totally understandable. Guy was probably thinking of his lawyer’s speed dial number. “Look, ambulance is on its way, okay, so just sit tight. You’re going to be fine.”

“I—I think I missed my date,” the blond man said. And promptly passed out.

Or, how Tony accidentally kidnapped Captain America and then wanted to keep him.

Shattered by sabrecmc (Canon Divergent/25k)

Tony watches the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier unfold.

Or, I threw Stony at TWS. Take that, Stucky!

***who has known heights by MountainRose, szzzt (Wing Fic/72k)

Before his injury, Tony had been a fast, intuitive flier: agile in the air, as those of his wingshape usually were, able to tumble and swoop and then trade back the speed for lift, and always get the best of the bargain.

That was how he referred to it; not 'abduction' or 'captivity' or 'maiming' but injury, the most neutral word possible. Though Steve had never, not once heard him call it an accident.

on one condition by elwenyere (Bodyguard Fic/8k)

When someone calls in a hit on billionaire Tony Stark, Steve Rogers is assigned to protect him.

A Community Gift for the Cap-IM Holiday Exchange!

***never be alone by thepartyresponsible (MCU Getting Together/7k)

Steve comes jogging up the path in a pair of offensively small bright blue jogging shorts. He’s shirtless and windswept and glistening – actually glistening – in the warm sunset glow.

“Sweet abs of liberty,” Tony says, hooking his sunglasses down his nose to get a better look.

“Of thee I sing,” Clint intones, reverently.

dear tony by sirona (Letter fic/6k)

Once the dust after what no one is referring to as "The Break-up" has settled, Steve starts writing and doesn't seem to know how to stop.

the groundwork of disapprobation by haemodye (Soulmate fic/1.5k)

Steve and Tony don't touch skin to skin until their first handshake at Bethesda Fountain. There, in front of Bruce and SHIELD and everyone, they discover that they're soulmates.

Neither of them quite know how to feel about this development.

tony, no by kellebelle (Texting/2k)

Steve + drunk texting = enthusiastic billionaire

Or how Steve found himself possibly engaged to a man named Tony he's never met.

we’re going off script by ishipallthings (Fake Dating/5k)

“Or, maybe you just need practice?” Steve blinks at Tony’s question, confused. Maybe Tony needs more sleep than he thought. He’ll have to check with JARVIS.

“Practice - at dating?”

(Steve needs help in the dating department. Tony is happy to help out, because he’s a very good friend. That’s definitely the only reason.)

***i wanna hold your hand by sirona (College AU/27K)

No one understands what it's like growing up rich and yet more alone than anyone should be able to stand - except for people who grew up just like you, that is. In which Tony Stark goes to Oxford University and meets people and makes enemies and makes friends and changes people's minds and falls in love - amongst other tales of mishap and adventure.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #stony fic #stevetony weekly #stevetony fic #fic rec #rec list #steve rogers #tony stark #ironman #captain america

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areiton · 4 years ago

Text

SteveTony Weekly - August 1

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories!