#Phone Scheduling Software

[drscheduler]

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[world-of-aus]

Exposure

Pairing: Hockey Player!Bucky x Sports Photographer!Reader

Warning: A whole tall glass of angst my friends.

Author's Note: I try not to get in my head during the editing phase since it's been so long, but alas nothing different.. Anyway here's part II. Part III based off the schedule i've decided to go with will be out Tuesday! Enjoy my little puck bunnies!

The following day you arrived at the arena before sunrise. You soaked in the moment; the city still wore its quiet. Streets hushed, the skies heavy and gray, you liked it this way, before the buzz started, before the lights turned on and the world expected you to smile or answer questions that right now you weren’t sure you had the answers too. 

You slipped inside through the side entrance, badge clipped to the collar of your work polo, your camera bag slung high over one shoulder. Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, familiar and grounding. Your sanctuary. Game days were always louder. Busier. But the morning after? Just a few trainers and early risers. Equipment staff. And a few rookies running drills in the distance. 

And You. 

You made a beeline for the media room, needing the hum of your monitors and the soft click of your editing software like a balm to soothe the invisible ache beneath your skin. Shutting the door behind you, you flicked on the desk lamp, pulling out your chair as you took a seat opening the folder from last night’s game. 

You tried to maintain your focus as you sorted through the gallery, but your eyes kept drifting to that one photo. 

The one you shouldn’t have saved. 

Bucky, turning mid-play. Looking right at you. Looking for you. 

Your jaw clenched as you minimized the window, pulling up a different set; group shots, sponsor promos, post-game press conference angles. You worked through them all methodically, flagging and exporting, labeling for the Bruins’ socials and web team to go through when they had a chance. 

“Hey you, good morning.” You startle in your chair hand clasped to your chest as you turn your head to find the voice.

Dolores, one of the media team assistants, leans up against the doorway, smile pulling at her bubble gum pink lips as she holds two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “Didn’t think anyone beat me in today, but i shouldn't be surprised, you were on fire last night."

You exhale a breath forcing a smile onto your lips. “Thank you. I - I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Ah. Game high?” she questions stepping into your office.

“Something like that.” You nod, “figured I could get a head start today sorting through last night’s gallery.” 

Dolores nods subtly as she hands you a coffee perching herself on the edge of your desk. “So,” she hums around a sip, “any thoughts on the new guy?” 

You keep your face neutral at the mention of him, “He played well, I think he’s going to be great for the team.” you answer holding back all you really want to say

“Well? Did we watch the same game last night?" she laughs. "He was an absolute machine out there y/n! Three assists, two goals, and that overtime steal? The team is obsessed already. Not gonna lie, I didn’t think someone with that kind of name recognition would be nice, but he said thank you to everyone last night. Even the janitor.” 

You stirred your coffee slowly taking in her words, everything you already knew, “That’s good.” you offer. 

Dolores eyed you, brow raised. “You feeling okay y/n?” 

You nod, offering up a smile, “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind with deadlines." Lie. 

“Cool, cool” Dolores trails off, perking up when she feels her phone vibrate. You watch the brunette pull her phone from her pocket, eyes lighting up, “Oh, group text from Theo. They want to set up the media shoot for Barnes. Headshots, player profile, some PR content. Probably later this week.” 

Your stomach dropped. Of course. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” You choke on your coffee. 

Dolores blinks brown raised in concern. “Okay, seriously you good?” 

You clear your throat, nodding your head, “Yeah, fine, fine.” Another lie. “Just went down the wrong pipe.” you smile. 

She gives you another wary look her finger hovering over her phone, “Actually you want me to cover the shoot when it’s scheduled? You’ve had the past few days stacked, I'm sure you could use a break.” 

You hesitated. A normal person would say yes. A sane one. But the photographer in you, the one who never backed away from a challenge, never let her personal life interfere with her work—sat up straighter. 

“No,” you said. “I’ve got it, Thursday, right?” 

“Thursday.” she confirms smiles kissing her lips as she gets to her feet. “Should be fun. Plus, he's easy on the eyes.” 

The smile doesn’t reach your eyes this time. “Yeah.” Dolores leaves without another word much less another glance back your way as she exits, your office door shutting softly behind her. Your eyes slip shut, forehead falling to rest on your hand. 

What am I doing. 

Four years ago, you had let yourself believe you’d have a life with Bucky Barnes. A future. He promised he wouldn’t forget you, and maybe he didn’t. But remembering wasn’t the same as staying. 

Now he was back. On your turf. Wearing the same jersey, part of the same team. A dream you once had.

But you’d wanted space. Needed time to collect yourself. after the splash of cold reality.

Instead; you were being handed time alone with him, a camera lens, and nowhere to hide. 

God how were you going to get through this? 

After the bomb was dropped on you your morning seemingly dragged. 

You buried yourself in editing, tagging, uploading and when your screen began to blur, you switched to shooting some behind-the-scenes content for the social team; quick snaps of the locker room being restocked, jerseys being hung, trainers prepping gear. Easy, harmless, no emotional landmines. 

Until the sound of skates on concrete echoed through the hallway just outside the tunnel you were walking through

You didn't have to look to know who it was. The low cadence of Bucky’s voice carried with it that distinct scrape of memory, warm nights and colder mornings, whispers in the dark, promises traded under streetlights and winter skies. You backed up, ducking into the supply room, waiting for the sound to fade. Your chest felt tight, like it had forgotten how to expand all the way. 

Coward, you thought, gripping the camera around your neck. This isn’t you. 

But your feet wouldn’t move letting the seconds tick by until silence reclaimed the hall. 

When you finally stepped back out, the air felt heavier, like it remembered him too. 

— 

Across the ice, Bucky had just wrapped drills with the second line and was toweling off when Sam skated up beside him. 

“You good tinman?” Sam asked swiping his own towel across his skin. “You’ve missed the net twice.” 

Bucky blew out a breath, shaking his head as if that would clear his mind. “It’s my first week Wilson, just settling in, getting used to the team.” 

Sam raises a brow at his friend. “That look like settling to you? I've seen you do better with worse.” 

Bucky doesn’t answer. Truth was, his head wasn’t in the drills this morning. Not with you somewhere nearby, probably avoiding every corridor he stepped foot into. 

He hadn’t expected you to be here. Had hoped upon, maybe. But seeing you last night? 

That had knocked the air right from his lungs. 

You hadn’t changed much, still had that quiet fire in you, still moved like you didn’t want to be seen and couldn’t help but draw every eye anyway. 

But your walls, they were taller now. Sharper. Like maybe he was the reason you had built them. He was.

Sam nudged him with his stick. “C’mon man. Don’t make me look better than you. It’ll mess with my image and you know how i feel about my image - i'll be downright insufferable."

Bucky managed a smirk, “yeah Wilson we all know how you are about your image.” 

“Damn straight you do, now get your ass in line and show them why they made that trade, let them know who you are."

— 

Later that afternoon as you checked the team calendar. The photoshoot had been scheduled for Thursday morning. You stared at the block of time like it might disappear if you willed it hard enough. Thirty minutes alone. In the white-wall studio. With him. 

It wasn’t enough time to prepare. 

It was too much time to survive. It was - 

A knock at the door jolted you your head peeking over your shoulder.

Wanda peeked her head in, holding a paper bag in one hand and a concerned look in the other. “I brought food. And if needed, unsolicited best friend wisdom.” 

You let out a tired laugh, lips turning up in a genuine smile as you took in your best friend. “You always know.” 

“Damn right I do.” Wanda grinned stepping in the door falling shut behind her, you watched as she plopped into the chair opposite your desk. “You didn’t answer my texts last night. Or this morning. Got worried, I assumed you either died or ran off to join a convent after New's broke." 

“I thought about it,” you said, voice flat. “The convent thing.” 

Wanda arched a brow and handed over a wrapped sandwich. “So, how bad was it?” 

You didn’t answer right away staring at the sandwich in your hands like it might crack open and reveal a solution to you. 

Wanda leaned forward, her voice gentle. “Hey, talk to me y/n.” 

You let out a shaky breath meeting your friends' eyes. “It’s like, he walked in and every part of me remembered. My body, my brain, my camera, my heart, they all remembered. And I’ve spent four years trying to forget. Four year’s Wands. "

Wanda’s expression softened. “Oh y/n..” 

“I thought I was past it I really thought I was. I thought I made peace with what happened. But seeing him? Looking at me like I’d never left his memory?” You blinked hard, shaking you head. “It was like time didn’t care about all the healing I’d done.” 

Wanda was quiet, letting you get it out. 

You set your food down, untouched, suddenly not feeling very hungry as the next words came. “He came up to me after the game. Said one thing. One thing that once upon a time i longed to hear."

“What did he say?” 

You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t forget you.” 

Wanda’s eyes widened. “He said that?” 

You nodded tears pressing at the backs of her eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. “It’s not fair Wanda, why did he have to say that, I was okay, I healed – I healed.” 

Wanda reaches across your desk gently covering your hand with hers. “That’s not nothing, that means something.” 

Your watery gaze found hers. “It used to mean something. But he still left. And I stayed behind, picking up pieces of myself I didn’t know I’d dropped. I had to rebuild my life without him in it. I rebuilt it."

“I know,” Wanda said softly fingers squeezing. “But you don’t have to pretend you’re unaffected now.” 

“I’m not unaffected. I’m - unmoored.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a beat, the kind that wrapped around you with weight and warmth all at once. Pulling in a breath you wiped beneath your eyes with the tips of your fingers. “His media shoot is Thursday.” 

Wanda blinked. “As in you and him, alone in a room with your camera Thursday?” 

You nodded slowly. 

Wanda winced. “Do you want me to pull strings? Get someone else assigned?” 

“No.” You shook her head. “It’s my job. And it’s just thirty minutes. I can handle thirty minutes.” 

Wanda gave you a long, steady look. “It’s okay to break a little, you know. You don’t always have to hold the frame.” 

You offered a ghost of a smile. “Someone has to.” 

Thursday. 10:02 AM.  You adjusted the lighting rig with trembling fingers. The white backdrop behind you swayed slightly in the draft from the ventilation above. Everything was too bright, too clean. Too still. The silence felt artificial. Even your camera rested quietly on the stool beside you, waiting for you to break first. 

You kept checking the time. 

The media shoot was scheduled for 10 a.m. sharp. 

At 10:04, the door creaked open. 

You didn’t have to look up to know it was him, but you did anyway. 

Bucky stepped in, a little breathless, in full gear minus the helmet. His hair was damp from morning practice, pushed back in a way that should’ve looked unkempt but didn’t. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a half-smile on his lips, the kind that came instinctively when he didn’t know what else to do. 

It was like a body check to the ribs. 

He stopped just inside the doorway. “Hey.” 

You nodded attempting to tilt your lips up in a smile. “Hi.” Silence stretched between the two of you, taut and fragile. 

He moved a little closer. “You still shoot on a Nikon?” 

You blinked, he remembered. “Yeah, I do.” 

He gave a soft chuckle. “Thought so.” 

You swallowed. “Still wear the same brand of cologne.” 

That made him grin, unexpected, a flash of something that belonged to another life. “You remembered?” You shrugged softly, focusing your eyes on the camera instead of him. “It’s hard to forget something that used to be everywhere.” 

His smile faltered, faded. “Right.” 

You picked up your camera as youadjusted the settings. Your fingers didn’t shake this time. Not because you weren’t affected, but because the camera gave you purpose. And purpose, at least, gave you armor. 

“Let’s get started,” you said setting yourself up. 

He nodded wordlessly stepping onto the white tape mark on the floor. 

You raised the camera and suddenly everything slowed. The viewfinder filled with his face, older now, sharper, but familiar in a way that made your throat tighten. You forced yourself to remain focused; you adjusted, snapped. Click. 

He didn’t smile at first. Just watched you with quiet eyes, letting you work. Letting you look at him without looking directly. 

“Smile,” you said softly. 

He gave you a crooked one. 

Click. 

“Eyes up.” 

He tilted his chin slightly, gaze catching yours through the lens. The way he looked at you, steady, careful, made something in your pulse quicken.  

Click. 

A pause. You lowered the camera. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky said. 

You stiffened shaking your head softly, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea Bucky we should really just focus on what we’re here for.” 

“Too late,” he said gently. “Because I really want to.” 

You hesitated. Then: “Go ahead.” 

His voice was low as he asked the one question that had been ringing in his mind. “Why didn’t you write back?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening slightly at his words. 

He stepped forward then just a fraction. “I sent letters y/n. A few actually. I left you messages. I didn’t just vanish.” 

You looked away, jaw clenched. “I know you didn’t vanish Bucky, trust me I know. You just became unreachable.” 

“I tried, y/n. I know I was busy; I know things moved fast, but I didn’t forget -” 

“Don’t,” you cut in, sharper than intended. “Don’t say that like it fixes anything.” 

He went still. 

You took a breath, tried again, quieter this time. “I didn’t write back because I didn’t know how to say I wasn’t okay. Not without sounding like I wanted to hold you back.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” he said with a shake of his head. “You never could have.” 

“But I didn’t know that then.” your voice cracked. “We were younger than Buck, and watching you become everything you dreamed of I wouldn’t be the one to hold you back from that - I needed to figure out who I was without you.” 

The room pulsed with silence. 

He stepped forward again, slower this time. “I never wanted to be someone you had to live without, I wanted your dreams.” I wanted you. 

You blinked hard, eyes burning. You would not cry. 

“I missed you,” he said, quiet and sure. “Even when I was surrounded by everything, I thought I wanted.” 

You looked up at him, camera still clutched in your hands. “I missed you too Bucky. But missing someone doesn’t always mean you get them back.” 

The two of you stared at each other, grief and longing suspended between the two of you like dust in a shaft of light. Then you lifted the camera again, as if to say: This is who I am now; without you.  

He nodded, understanding. And despite your treacherous mind and heart telling you to take back your words, to talk to him, you pulled your focus back in on the task and finished the shoot. 

Bucky didn’t leave the studio right away; even though you had turned away quickly after the last shot, pretending to check your gear, giving him an easy out his feet stayed planted on the white tape line watching you. You hadn’t forgiven him that much was clear, but you hadn’t shut him down either. You’d let him in, reminding him what it used to feel like to be seen by you; fully, quietly, completely. He wanted to know where to go from here, but his mind had no idea what the next step looked like. 

It wrecked him. 

“Barnes,” someone called from the hallway. Trainer’s voice. Break time. 

He hesitated for a moment wanting to say more but not wanting to push when you had just barely let him in. With one last longing look at your back he turned, leaving the same way he came. 

You waited until the door clicked shut behind him before sitting down hard on the edge of the backdrop stand. Your camera dangled from your hands, heavy and warm, like it had soaked up all the heat in the room. You felt hollowed out. You had held it together, and now you wanted nothing more than to fall apart. But there wasn’t time for that now, there was never time. 

Running a hand over your face, you catch the edge of moisture at your lash line. You wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not here. The shoot had gone fine. Technically perfect. But emotionally? 

A disaster. 

He still looked at you like you were the only person who mattered most in any room he walked into. You’d hated it how all you wanted to do was soak it up. You didn’t know which instinct scared you more. 

A soft knock on the door startles you. 

You stand quickly, wiping your palms on the back of your jeans as you watch the door creak open a head popping through. 

It wasn’t Bucky, It was Logan, the team’s media assistant. “Hey, you good? Coach wants selects from the player shoots by the weekend.” 

You nodded, “I’ll have them ready before then, no worries.” 

“You, okay?” 

You smiled. Too polished, too quick. “Yeah. Just been a long week, just about ready to get out of here."” 

He didn’t push. “Cool. Let me know if you need help sorting.” 

“Thanks.” 

When he left, you finally let yourself sit back down. And this time, you let your eyes close. 

Just for a moment. 

Just until the feeling passed. 

— 

Later that day, Bucky found himself wandering into the empty arena. It was quiet, ice freshly zambonied, light streaming through the upper windows in long, soft angles. He sat on the bench, helmet cradled in his hands, thinking about what you had said early that morning. 

“I needed to figure out who I was without you.” 

He’d never considered that you might’ve been drowning while he was flying. He’d thought you were the strongest person he knew. And you were, without a doubt in his mind, but strength didn’t mean pain didn’t touch you. He’d convinced himself the two of you were just growing apart. That the silence had meant acceptance. But now? 

Now he saw it for what it was: self-preservation. 

You hadn’t known how to be with him while he became someone else. And maybe, deep down, he hadn’t made enough space for you to stay. 

He leaned back, letting his head tip against the glass behind the bench. It was cold. Grounding. 

He didn’t know how to fix it. 

But he wanted to. 

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something more than goals, more than glory. 

He wanted to be someone you could look at without flinching. 

— 

That night, as you sat curled up on your couch, laptop open, Bucky’s photos pulled up on the screen you paused. Each shot was good. Clean. Professional. But sterile, in a way you hadn’t noticed while shooting. 

Until the last few. 

Those were different. 

Something had shifted between frame twelve and fifteen, his eyes had stopped performing and started speaking to you. 

The final image? 

It hit you like a sucker punch. He was looking straight into the lens. Not smiling. Not guarded. Just open. And somehow, impossibly, waiting. 

You stared at it for a long time, you should have deleted it, but you didn’t. 

You closed your laptop instead, falling to your side as you curled up further on the couch, your arms wrapping around a cushion like it might hold you together. 

You see, the worst part wasn’t that he was back. 

The worst part was that he still felt like home. 

And you didn’t know if you could survive losing him a second time. 

[lsunstreakerl]

SUNNY. MAX DEVELOPS SOFTWARE FOR F2/F3 SIM. I WILL NEED A CURRENT UNIVERSE FICLET OR SMTH FROM YOU PLEASE. SUNNY R U LISTENING.

okay I know absolutely jack shit about how sim development works and I hate BS'ing in my work, so hopefully this isn't too incorrect! if someone knows better than me, please feel free to infodump about it :)

"Mate, that is way better than when I was in F2."

Kimi squeaks as George's voice startles him, running low over a kerb as his teeth rattle in his head.

"Mate."

"Sorry! I was going to say that Toto wants to do lunch with us— didn't mean to scare you."

He definitely did. Kimi is learning that George is just as prone to jokes and hazing as the other drivers, the only difference being that he's polite about it. Mostly.

Kimi swings out of the sim, stretching his legs with a low groan.

"You can take it for a spin if you are missing it so much."

George snorts, arms folded across his chest. His hair is loose, falling across his forehead, and he's just in a hoodie and shorts— Kimi has seen him more casually in the factory in the past few weeks than he'd seen in the media ever. It makes him feel more human, even if part of him still feels untouchable.

"Yeah, I can't imagine it's improved much."

Kimi shrugs, hugging one knee to his chest to stretch his hips, wobbling slightly on his one leg.

"I liked it— it helps with learning the smaller differences and all that."

George raises an eyebrow, checking his watch before shrugging and stepping into the sim.

"Watch the door and tell me if someone's coming by, so I can blame it on you."

Kimi rolls his eyes, dutifully stepping backwards to be able to view the hallway as he pulls out his phone.

Kimi: george is trying the f2 sim

Ollie: LOL

Ollie: WHY

Kimi: he doesn't believe it's better than when he used it

Kimi: which is stupid

Kimi: of course it's better

Kimi: he's just old

Ollie: don't let him hear you say that

Ollie: the botox mercedes curse is real

Kimi: if he comes in with filler I will tell Toto to set up his retirement account

Ollie: and then put in a good word for me?

Kimi: you are earmarked as a ferrari sacrifice already mate

Kimi: don't even bother

Ollie: I'll fix them

Ollie: just you wait

"Kimi, what the hell are they feeding the dev drivers?"

George sounds incredulous as he takes a corner.

"Why is it so good?"

Kimi laughs, tucking his phone in his pocket.

"I should be asking you, honestly. I am not sure how there is enough time in a formula one schedule to do sim work for us, but it is very nice."

"Huh?"

George takes a corner too sharp in a move that would've sent Kimi into the wall, but he manages to recover it, lips pressed together in concentration for a moment before relaxing again. Kimi feels the envy like a physical beast in his chest, the same way he does every time he's reminded how much further he has to go.

He's always careful to be perfectly ready in the mornings, to have his employee badge clearly visible, but George shows up in casual clothes and an easy confidence, knows all the team members by name, has Susie's coffee order memorized— it all feels unattainable to him. He's not sure how he'll ever match up, and finds himself wondering if it will always be obvious to everyone, if he's always going to look like a kid trying to wear his older brothers shoes.

Still, George had sounded genuinely confused.

"Well... I know Max does a lot of the work, but surely the rest of you do sometimes also? It cannot all be him?"

George goes into the wall, twisting to look at Kimi.

"Verstappen? Wait, no— don't tell me. That's exactly who you mean."

Kimi nods.

"Kimi, I am going to be very serious with you."

George swings out of the sim, stepping forward and putting his hands Kimi's shoulders.

"That man is not normal. Please, please do not use him as your metric for normal people, because he's a freak of nature."

Kimi opens his mouth to try and defend him, but George presses his palm over his face.

"Nope, don't hit me with the hero worship, I don't want to hear it. He's unnatural, okay? Like a freaky racing robot that sometimes glitches and talks about cats instead. He has extra hours in the day and eyes in the back of his head."

Kimi quirks an eyebrow. George sounds fondly exasperated, like Max being inhuman is something he's begrudgingly gotten over. George pauses, and then his eyes look at Kimi, extremely serious.

"And I need you to be a prodigy and come into the team early, because otherwise Toto might actually manage to drag him over here, and I would rather shunt into the barriers full speed then have to be teammates with him, got it? I am counting on you."

Kimi nods, trying not to laugh. Max isn't scary, he's actually very nice— he's always happy to chat on discord and share setup tips, and he'd promised Kimi he was only a garage or phone call away if he needed something. He's much kinder than Kimi had expected the current world champion to be.

George lets his hand fall away, ruffling Kimi's hair.

"Okay, move it, Toto got catering and if we're late all the good sandwiches will be gone."

He steps out of the room, head swiveling both directions to make sure his stint in the sim hadn't been noticed, before walking confidently down the hallway.

Kimi follows dutifully behind.

[nigtmarcz]

⎯⎯ Love Me Not

hamzah x reader

based off the song love me not by ravyn lenae

summary: hamzah has been neglecting his girlfriend y/n due to his busy work schedule. y/n feels invisible and frustrated by his lack of attention.

warnings: sad???

wc: 1.9k

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing, so I’m sorry if it sucks lol. i was listening to this song and thought it would make a great plot for a story! hope you enjoy it! :3

-

The glow of the computer screen cast soft shadows across Hamzah’s face as he sat hunched over his desk. The air in his room was quiet except for the faint sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keyboard. The newest Slushy Noobz video was almost done—just a few finishing touches before it would be uploaded for their fans who eagerly awaited their next upload.

But tonight, Hamzah wasn’t entirely focused.

His thoughts kept wandering to y/n, his girlfriend. She’d been on his mind constantly lately—more so than usual.

He hadn’t seen her much over the past few weeks. They were both content creators, each with their own projects, and while it was something they’d always been able to juggle in the past, recently it had begun to feel like the space between them was growing. She was in the living room, editing her own content, while he was buried in the latest Slushy Noobz video.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her, but he found himself getting swept up in the grind, constantly chasing the next big upload, the next milestone for his and Martin’s podcast, Out of Character. There was always something to do, something to edit, something to record.

But now, the silence between them seemed louder than ever. They hadn’t fought—at least, not in the usual way—but something unspoken lingered. Something that neither of them had fully addressed. And it was starting to feel like a weight pressing against his chest.

He glanced at his phone. y/n had sent him a message hours ago, but he hadn’t replied. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but everything had felt off.

Her text simply read: We need to talk soon.

The simple words made his heart sink. He knew exactly what she meant. She was frustrated. And he had been too distracted to notice.

With a deep breath, he closed his laptop, pushing the editing software aside. It felt like a relief to step away, but his heart ached with the nagging thought of the distance between them. He stood up, walking into the living room where y/n sat, bathed in the soft glow of her screen.

She looked up when he entered, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Hamzah opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, y/n stood up, her arms crossed. She looked tired, not just physically, but emotionally. He had seen that look before—the quiet frustration that came from being overlooked, from being too far down the list of priorities.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I’ve been distant. I’ve been caught up in work, and I didn’t realize how much it was affecting us.”

y/n gave a small, sad smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “I get it, Hamzah. You’re busy. But we haven’t really talked in weeks. I’ve been here, just waiting for you to notice, but it feels like I’m invisible.” Her voice broke on the last word, but she quickly swallowed the emotion, not wanting to show him too much.

“y/n…” Hamzah stepped forward, but she backed away slightly, a flicker of something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite understand.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” she asked softly, almost as if talking to herself. “I’m right here, all the time, and yet it feels like you’re living in another world—one where I don’t exist. Where it’s just you and the next video and the next podcast.”

He could feel the sting of her words, and he hated the way they made him feel like he was failing her.

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” Hamzah said, his voice barely a whisper now. “I don’t mean to make you feel invisible. I just… I don’t know how to slow down sometimes. There’s so much going on, and I get lost in it. But I never meant for you to feel left out.”

y/n shook her head slowly. “It’s not that you’re busy, Hamzah. I get it, I really do. It’s just that I don’t know where I fit in anymore. I’m here, and I care, but I’m starting to wonder if we’re even in the same place anymore.”

His chest tightened as the weight of her words sank in. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to fix it. He hadn’t been paying attention to what mattered most.

“I don’t need you to change everything, Hamzah,” she continued, her voice soft but firm. “I just want to matter to you. I want to be something real, not just an afterthought that comes second to everything else.”

“I do care about you,” Hamzah replied quickly, his heart racing. “I do, y/n. It’s just… it’s hard to balance it all. I don’t want to lose you.”

For a long moment, y/n stayed quiet, her gaze on the floor, her fingers lightly tapping on the edge of her laptop.

Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes heavy with a mix of pain and longing. “You say you don’t want to lose me, but you’ve been losing me slowly for weeks. I don’t know if you see it, but I miss you, Hamzah. I miss you, but I don’t need you. I miss the way we were before this whole thing took over. I miss you, come here.”

The words hit him harder than any criticism he’d received. The truth of it all hung in the air, like a silence that neither of them knew how to break.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking just a little. “I miss you, too. But I don’t know how to fix this... I don’t want to keep failing us.”

y/n closed her eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath. When she opened them again, there was something softer in her gaze, something that felt like a mixture of hope and resignation. “Maybe we just need to find our way back. I don’t know, Hamzah. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for you to realize I’m here.”

Her words lingered in the air like a shadow between them, a painful truth neither of them could ignore. Without another word, y/n was gone. The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed was suffocating. The house felt colder now, emptier, as if her absence had seeped into the walls, leaving Hamzah alone with the weight of everything unsaid.

-

Hours later, as the quiet of the night settled in, Hamzah sat in front of his desk again. His video was still unfinished, but for the first time, the video felt less important than the empty space beside him. y/n was gone now, her absence heavier than any argument they could have had. The silence in the house was suffocating, and the stillness in the air made his thoughts spin.

He stared at his screen, but the words from their earlier conversation kept replaying in his mind: I miss you, but I don’t need you, Hamzah. I miss you, come here. Those words hadn’t just been a declaration of longing—they had been a quiet assertion of independence, a signal that y/n was done waiting for him to notice.

Hamzah rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of what she’d said. She didn’t need him anymore, no matter how much she still missed him. The space between them wasn’t just physical anymore; it was emotional, deep, and unspoken. He realized she had given him a choice—one he hadn’t fully understood until now.

He reached for his phone, hesitated for a moment, then typed a message to her: “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t want to lose you. Can we talk tomorrow?”

He hit send and waited. The seconds dragged on, stretching into what felt like hours, but no response came.

A moment later, the familiar vibration of a reply lit up his phone. He quickly unlocked it, hoping for some kind of resolution. But when he saw her message, a heavy weight sank into his chest.

“Okay.”

The words were short, almost distant. There was no warmth, no eagerness to reconnect. Just a quiet acceptance. 

-

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them more suffocating than any physical distance. y/n’s voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to her words that cut through the silence.

“I miss you, Hamzah,” she started, her gaze never leaving the floor. “I miss how we used to be, but I can’t keep pretending that things will go back to the way they were. I’m tired of waiting for you to notice me, for you to put me first. I need to move on, for my own sake.”

Hamzah opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize, to say he could change, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He knew that something had already shifted between them, something that couldn’t be undone with words.

y/n continued, her voice steady despite the ache in it. “I’ve tried, Hamzah. I’ve tried to make this work, but it’s like I’m invisible to you. I’m right here, and you’re always so caught up in your work. I miss you, but I don’t need you anymore.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. The weight of them sank deep, and he realized that she wasn’t just saying goodbye—she was choosing herself. Choosing independence over the emotional attachment that had once connected them.

“I think... I think it’s time we both move forward,” y/n said, her voice quieter now, but firm. “I can’t keep waiting for something that might never come. You’re not the only one with dreams and goals, Hamzah. I’ve got my own life to live, and I can’t keep holding on to something that isn’t there anymore.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and feelings neither of them could fully articulate. Hamzah wanted to reach out, to say anything that might change her mind, but he could see it in her eyes: she had made her decision.

She was already gone.

Later that night, after y/n had left for good, Hamzah sat alone in the empty house. The space felt colder than it had before, as if her absence had stolen the warmth from the walls. He sat in front of his desk, staring at the finished video, but all he could feel was the heavy silence that had taken her place.

The message he had sent her earlier echoed in his mind—I don’t want to lose you. But as he replayed their conversation over and over, he realized that he had already lost her. He had lost her to the space he had failed to notice, to the time he had neglected, and to the love he had taken for granted.

The realization stung more than he expected. He missed her too, more than words could say. But as much as he longed for things to be different, he couldn’t deny the truth: she was better off without him, seeking her own path, her own independence.

Hamzah leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, feeling the weight of everything she had said. He missed her. But more than that, he understood why she had to go. The ache in his chest reminded him that sometimes, love wasn’t enough to hold two people together.

And for y/n, it had been time to let go.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Fourteen: 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, gun play, GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, not necessarily all apply]

Info: Ghost is whiny, He’s feeling petty, he told you so!![diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. Stalker!Anakin Character art (as Ghost) MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: September 2nd

I lied. I said I wasn’t mad at you, but I am.

It’s not like I tell you no to anything, so why wouldn’t you just ask me first? Are you just desperate for a moment away from me and too nice to tell me that? Running from your problems won’t help especially when your problem is me.

I did what I should’ve done a long time ago. A new software has been installed on your phone, very similar to the screen cloning software linked to my laptop. Only this one is active all the time, a constant feed of live audio that I’ve taken the liberty of flagging a few words within the code.

Anakin, hate, love, Ghost, annoying, angry… so on and so forth.

The software flagged several sections of audio within the timeframe of your drive to the cabin. I must say, I’m surprised about the things the two of you talk about, I’m never going to be able to look Han in the eye ever again.

I also lied to you about something else. I don’t work tonight, or tomorrow. I switched up my schedule with April for you, cause I have a little something planned for you. A little thing I’ve had tucked away, actually never intended on getting it out and doing anything with it really. It was a gift from Cliegg after there was a murder on the college campus last year.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t me that time.

Anyway, I think it might be fun. For me at least.

“Okay but I don’t get it.” Luke said, propping up his feet on the dash while you drove.

“What about it don’t you get?” You snorted, slowing to a stop at a traffic light. “I think it’s pretty self explanatory Luke.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come equipped with a cooter and I’ve never, nor wanted, the opportunity to see one.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head back and rolled his shoulders. “I just don’t see the benefit.”

“First of all, it’s pretty.” Holding a finger up and adding a second, “second, it feels heavenly.”

“I am a gay man.” Luke scoffed, “Dicks aren’t very pretty. A little jewelry can’t fix that.”

“How does it even work? Does he have to take it out to piss? That’s inconvenient.”

“No!” You laughed, covering your mouth as you turned the dial to quiet the radio. “No, he doesn’t have to take it out. To answer your other question, it’s the metal balls on either end of the jewelry. That’s the point of the piercing you know? It rubs up-“

“Okay that’s enough, thoughts have been thunk.” He covered his ears and did a dramatic shiver of disgust.

“You asked!”

“I didn’t know you’d be so descriptive!”

“You described in great detail all about the massive ingrown hair on-“

“Oh my god! I told you never to mention that again!” Luke reached across the console and whacked you up the back of the head.

“I’m driving!” You squealed, your hand shooting out to the side and shoving his shoulder. “No, don’t you dare touch that radio! For fucks sake if that’s-“

“It’s ABBA.”

“Go to hell.”

————————————————————————

After two hours you reached the small lakeside cabin that was to be your home for the weekend. A cute little place with a loft and two small bedrooms. The kitchen was… lackluster; a fridge and a stove with a whopping number of three cabinets. The living room however did have a pool table, which in Luke’s eyes made up for the fact that your sister beat him to claiming the loft room, because she’d driven separately and arrived before you.

You chose the room to the left of the living room and Luke chose the one on the right. The view from your window was beautiful deep forest green, leaves and moss and huge tree trunks. While Luke’s was the deep blueish green lake water, the occasional white wake following a boat zipping past.

After tossing your bag onto the floor in the general direction of the nightstand you jumped onto the squishy and super cheap springy mattress on the tacky ‘rustic’ log bed. Pulling up Anakin’s contact you tapped the call button and listen to it ring on speakerphone.

“Hey pretty baby.” Anakin’s rich timbre flooded the line.

“Hi Ani.” You smiled despite him not being able to see you. “Just got into the cabin and picked my room.”

“Oh you got to pick?” He said curiously, “you got the loft didn’t you?” You could hear his grin.

“No, my sister did.” You scoffed, “I thought Luke would have a cow over it but he decided the pool table here would offset his disappointment.”

“Pool table hmm?” Anakin tsk’d.

“Hot tub too.” You grinned.

“A fuckin’-“ he groaned and let out a loud huff, “a hot tub?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmph.” He snorted, “someone finally taught you some manners huh?”

“W-what?” You asked nervously, bringing the phone closer to you and hopping off the bed to shut the door. “Manners?”

“You just called me Sir didn’t you?” He laughed. “Been taking some etiquette classes?”

“Oh shut up.” You breathed out a sigh, a breath you’d almost choked on. Your guilty conscience was really beginning to steam roll your daily life, even on your mini-vacay you can’t escape your wrongdoings. Ghost was still haunting you all the way out here.

“Just teasing doll.” He snickered, “Anyway, what’s on your agenda?”

“Nothing for tonight, probably gonna sit on the dock and have some drinks, do a little bonfire, hot tub maybe.” You told him, beginning to relax again.

“Drinks? Be careful baby. It’s not exactly safe to drink and get into a hot tub.” He chided, “I’m serious.”

“I know.” You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Good girl.” He said, pleased enough with your response. “So what room did you say?”

“Oh! I didn’t actually oops. I got the one looking out into the woods, it’s real pretty, I’ll send you a picture after we hang up.” You said, shifting your weight to sit more comfortably.

“Aw thanks babydoll.” You could hear his little smile through his words. “Well, I should probably let you get back to it huh?” He sighed.

“If you wanna talk more-“

“I always wanna talk more but I don’t want to keep you from your fun.” He said a bit quieter. “Uh, just don’t forget to call and leave me a message before bed okay baby? I’d love to hear your pretty voice when I get off work tonight.”

“Okay Ani,” nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll talk to you soon then… I miss you.”

“I love you too.” He made a kissy noise and hung up quickly, leaving you with a frustrated, pinched brow that you reached up to sooth with the heel of your palm.

After snapping a quick picture of your view through the bedroom window, you rejoined your trio in the living room where Luke was teaching your sister to play pool. You stood and watched for a moment, seeing them bicker like they were just reminded you of how much you loved summer trips with them.

Growing up with a sister close in age to you was fun, except for when it wasn’t. She went to school before you did, made friends before you did. Of course you were only two grades behind, but there is a big difference between kindergarten and 2nd grade. She had always been happy to play with you until then.

So when she was meant to be paying attention to you, or at least making sure you were alive, while you were both outside… she was busy on the swing set in your backyard. Which is how you found yourself with scraped knees and (surely, most definitely) a broken ankle from your scooter.

A new family had moved in across the street from you not too long before the summer started, you hadn’t met them, didn’t even know they had kids, until you were being pecked on the shoulder by another child’s finger. After that, Luke was found wherever you were; glued at the hip was an understatement, your families were convinced you were soulmates, that you’d grow up to be married.

Jokes on them.

His sister Leia was outgoing and confident in ways that Luke lacked, so during that first summer she gravitated toward your sister. The twins became a binder, something that held the four of you together. Bridging the gap perfectly between kindergarten and 2nd grade as 1st graders.

It stayed that way, for the rest of your school years and after.

Your parents got along swimmingly, the four of you floated between the two houses. Nights often ending up with a pair of kids asleep in the floor, where one of those children did not belong. A quick phone call to the house across the street to make sure your sibling was there, then all was well and your parents would scoop Luke and you up and tuck you in.

You were seven the first summer your parents had the grand idea to spend a week on the lake. It was a tearful goodbye, kids who spent every possible waking moment with each other are not easily pried apart.

Your parents drove the full two hours to a cute lake house they’d found online and within the first 30 minutes of being there your father had enough of the sniffles and whines. By dinner time Luke, Leia and their parents were sitting around fire pit with you.

Thus your annual tradition was born and kept even after the horrid aftermath of Luke’s unexpected outing. Sans parents of course. Your father supported your mother even if his views didn’t fully align with hers. He was a ‘be gay, just don’t be gay in front of me’ type of person, while your mother was more of the ‘send him to conversion camp, he’s tainting my children’ type of gal.

That didn’t really jive with the whole ‘love and positivity’ approach that the twins parents had about the situation. Which leaves you where you are now, reminiscing on those happy childhood memories before everything got complicated, before you discovered the world outside of your safety net, before the consistent visits from your uninvited house guest.

A loud clap broke you out of the fog and suddenly you were hyper aware of your sister’s nose right in front of your face.

“Lauren!” You gasped, your eyes wide before softening into a grin.

“You’ve been staring into oblivion for a solid minute,” she giggled, “I thought about sticking my finger in your mouth but I was afraid you’d bite it off.”

“My mouth?” You asked confusedly.

“Yeah you’ve been catching flies, looking like a mouth breather.”

“Eew! Don’t call me that!” You scoffed, standing up and following her over to the pool table to discuss your evening plans.

——————————————————————————

Anakin watched your little blue dot travel back and forth from the cabin to the dock, he listened the chatter between the three of you as he drove the two hours out to the pine forest your weekend getaway was taking place. The mile long gravel driveway was perfect to stash his car off to the side of, no one would be coming in or out of the drive all weekend.

He walked through the woods, backpack slung over his shoulder, his hood up and mask on. It was 9:57 and the three of you were still on the dock. He could hear you talking about getting into the hot tub through the Bluetooth earbud he had in, that new software was really paying off.

He hadn’t planned to do this next bit, but he couldn’t help himself. He purposefully got his left shoe dirty, twisting his foot side to side in order even dirt for a proper footprint. Then he left his mark on the first step up to the front porch.

*ping*

‘Having fun?’

You laughed, picking up your phone and leaning back in your chair as you crossed one leg over the other and switched the sound off. You’d only had it on for when Anakin texted, and now he was. Or you thought he was until you realized the text came from your own number.

‘No. Don’t engage. He’s not going to know where you are, how could he possibly know?’ You thought to yourself. ‘I planned this in person, I told Anakin at his place not mine. All Ghost knows is that you’ve left for the weekend.’

You swiped the message away and let out a huff, deciding to take the opportunity to walk back up to the house and call your boyfriend.

“Guys I’m going up to the cabin, gonna call Ani.” You said, standing up and taking your hard lemonade with you. “Need anything?”

“Nope, we’re about ready to head back anyway.” Lauren answered, waving you off. “We’ll be up soon.”

With that you walked away, taking the worn dirt path back up to the house and dialed Anakin’s number, waiting for the voicemail to pick up your call.

‘Hey Ani.’ You smiled, crossing one arm across your chest to rest your other elbow on while you talked. ‘I’m probably not going to bed just yet, but I am going back up to the house. I just wanted to fill you in a little bit I guess.’

Once your shoes hit the gravel you absentmindedly kicked a larger rock off to the side, swinging out your leg and shifting your position to walk backwards, looking down at your sister and Luke on the dock.

‘We’ve been just hanging out all evening, made some sandwiches and had drinks by the water.’ You pivoted again as you neared the porch and looked down to ensure your footing before taking the first step up. ‘We’re going hiking tomorrow morn-‘

You scrunched up your face and took another look before backing away from the steps completely, your eyes scanned the porch and saw the cabin door was still shut.

‘Sorry, thought I saw something…’ you muttered into the phone, spinning slowly in a full circle to take a better look at the tree line. ‘I- okay, anyway. Going hiking tomorrow… probably swim too. There’s a canoe moored down there so maybe we’ll try that out.’

Off to the left of you behind your sisters car you swore you heard gravel crunching underfoot, but when you looked toward the dock, Luke and Lauren where still sitting there. You marched over to the opposite side and saw nothing, going so far as to look under her car and yours.

‘Okay well…’ You were certain now that someone was outside and you were not alone, your phone buzzed against you ear and you pulled it away to swipe away the message, not even registering the sender before holding your phone back up to your ear.

‘Uh alright well I’ll talk to you in the morning,’ you quickly walked back over to the porch steps and side eyed the footprint as if you’d expected it to disappear by now. ‘Goodni-‘

A strange feeling passed over you, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a chill ran down your spine like a drip of cold water. You were almost afraid to turn around.

‘I gotta go, Miss you bunches… goodnight.’ In your panicked state you didn’t have the same thought process you normally would, you’d simply ended the call and whipped your head around, expecting to find someone, something, that might’ve caused that hair-raising fear. There was nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief you laughed at yourself. It had probably just been a rabbit, maybe you’d startled it and it kicked up some gravel. The footprint… it could have been there when you arrived, it could’ve been made by one of your group, including you.

You checked the message you’d swiped away and your blood ran colder than ice. Your rational explanations were bulldozed in seconds.

A picture of you, standing in the drive way, taken from behind your sisters car.

The breath was stolen from your lungs. Your sight was locked into tunnel vision, all you could see was the front door as you ran to it and pushed it open. Colliding with something solid and warm as you stepped inside.

Something living and breathing that gripped your hair and cradled you to its chest, something that kicked the front door shut and pressed a cold, blunt object to the temple of your head.

Something that made you want to scream.

Diary Entry: September 2nd continued

I have time to kill and nothing to do while I wait for you. So I figured I’d write alittle bit.

I’m currently sitting under a tree, watching you and your cute little ponytail swishing around while you giggle. You’re so beautiful. Everything you do is beautiful. I’ve never seen something as exquisite as you.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I want to ruin you so bad. Leading you, my innocent doe, down the path of corruption could quite possibly be my life’s work. How would you like that sweetheart?

You wanna be my magnum opus?

Though of course we do have the one small identity issue to take care of. I need to get my shit together and figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. It’s not like I can tippity tap it into Google: ‘how to tell my girlfriend I’ve been stalking her for almost a year’.

No thank you. I don’t trust WikiHow with the fate of my love life.

Let’s be for real. I don’t even trust myself with the fate of my love life because I’ve already managed to fuck shit up. I’m continuing to fuck shit up. What I’m about to do? It’ll fuck the fuck out of the shit.

What can I say other than love makes people do crazy things?

“Ghost.” Your voice was wobbly and unsure. “Is that a-“

“Gun? Absolutely.” He grunted, pressing the barrel into your skull.

“What are you doing? They’re gonna be back soon, you can’t be here!”

“I came to chat.” He said simply, leaning his head down to put the cheek of his mask against your warm skin. “I missed you.”

“Did you miss me? Is that why you left your boyfriend back home? Wanted to let me have you all to myself for a weekend?”

“No!” You snapped at him, twisting your head away from his.

“Heard you on the phone.” He cooed, “still can’t say the L word? Why’s that?”

“If Luke sees you… my sister- they’ll call the cops, you know that.” You pushed against his chest and felt it rumble with a low laugh beneath your palms.

“Stop deflecting, answer my question.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to talk about Anakin with you!” The whisper left your lips tainted in unease.

“I’m aware. That’s why we aren’t talking about it. You’re going to tell me.” He barked, holding you close to his chest and walking backwards toward your chosen bedroom.

“N-no, I won’t. That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair?” He scoffed. “I don’t care if you think it’s unfair.”

“How did you find me?!” You wriggled from his arms the moment he closed the bedroom door.

“I know everything about you baby.” His voice low and much too confident for you to believe anything otherwise. He looked relaxed in the way that he reached behind himself and locked the door, leaning back on it and crossing his arms, one long leather finger running parallel to the barrel of the pistol.

“I just wanted one weekend!” You shouted taking off your sneaker and throwing it at him, he gave you no reaction and it only pissed you off more. “Just one!”

“One weekend away from you! I know you can see everything on my phone, you see and hear everything I do, why do you think I wasn’t the one planning this trip? I didn’t want you showing up here!” Yelling at him in a way you never had before as you stalked toward him with your other shoe pointed at him. “I don’t want to talk about Anakin with you! I don’t want to tell you how I feel!”

“Do you want to know how I feel?” He asked calmly.

“I don’t give a shit!” You chucked the shoe at him and he batted it away easily.

“I think you do.” The gun raised up to his mask as if he were scratching his forehead with the barrel. “I think you care a lot and that’s why you won’t tell me.”

You didn’t answer, because he was right. You did care and you did care a lot. You’d been avoiding telling Anakin you loved him to spare Ghost the hurt of having to hear you say it to someone else.

“No.” You stuttered, hesitating and hating the taste of the word on your tongue.

“Don’t lie to me.” He barked, holding out the pistol and motioning for you to move. “Kneel. Now.”

“Gods, seriously? Put your arms down, you idiot.” He scoffed as he watched you lift your hands and put them behind your head like you were being arrested as you knelt down slowly.

“Well I’m sorry. I’ve never been held at gunpoint before.” You snapped, scowling up at him.

“I’m so lucky to have to honor of being your first then.” He grumbled, tucking it into the back of the waistband of his jeans while pulling the pink silk from his pocket and tossing it at you.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” His voice gruff as the toe of his shoe tapped your knee. “Put it on.”

Ghost shook his head, undoing his belt buckle, the tail end of the leather now forever imprinted with your teeth marks. You did as you were told and heard his pants unzip along with a soft grunt.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, holding his flat palm out to the side to make sure you couldn’t see, rearing back to slap you.

“How should I kn-“ *smack* “ow?! What the fuck?”

“Just making sure.” He snickered, taking off his gloves and putting them in his hoodie pocket.

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

“What was that?” He asked with a playful tone. “You want me to fuck your asshole? Is that what you said?”

“Shut up. You know that’s not what I said.” You muttered, unable to keep your lip from curving upward just a fraction of a centimeter.

“Ah well, the offer still stands.” He chuckled, tapping the side of your jaw with the cold metal barrel of his pistol.

“You’re making me nervous waving it around like that.” You huffed, jerking away from it.

“Good.” He snorted, “open your mouth.”

You did exactly that, thinking you’d feel the warm weighty head of his cock hit the tip of your tongue. Hoping for a taste of the salty precum that wept from his cockhead. You weren’t expecting something small, cold, metallic and pellet shaped.

“Don’t swallow; this is the only time you’ll ever hear me say that so you better listen.” You could hear his smarmy grin. “Roll it around, you feel that?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, feeling the smooth metal and the grooves carved into it, opening your mouth again and he plucked it off the tip of your tongue.

“Your initials, or well… what your initials should be.” He mumbled the last bit.

You hear a series of mechanical and metallic noises, followed by the unmistakable sound of a firearm cocking back.

“You did not just-“

“I did.” He snickered, holding the gun sideways and pointing it directly in the center of your forehead. The blunt edge digging into your flesh and pressing down against your skull.

“Spread your fingers.”

“Why?” You asked as you splayed your hand.

“Do you have to question everything?” You felt thick metal circle your middle and ring finger, dropping to the base of each digit, barely making any contact with your skin on its descent. It really put in perspective just how much bigger than you he was.

Even more so when you felt his warm, calloused fingertips weave their way between yours and squeeze gently. The tender gesture did nothing to quench the fear sitting heavy on your chest. A loaded gun, a loaded and ready to fire gun was about an inch from your brain.

“C’mon, you don’t want to talk? Not even like this?” Condescension dripping from his lips. “Loaded gun to your head and you still won’t talk about your feelings.” He tsk’d.

“It’s not your business.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong. We’ve already had this discussion haven’t we?” He crouched down in front of you, air rushing past from the quick motion. “It is my business. You were mine first.”

The curved edge of the barrel traveled down your forehead, across your cheek and rested heavily on your bottom lip.

“Give it a kiss for good luck little doe.” Ghost spoke low and steady, almost monotone. Considering your situation you did as you were told once again.

“Good girl.” He stood back up and pushed the waistband of his boxers down by hooking his thumb beneath the elastic. “Now get to work, bitch.”

His tone had changed again, now a sharp and hard edge that smacked you like a cold wind. Emotional whiplash was to be expected in every encounter you had with Ghost, but none so far was as bruising as this.

He’d never brought a gun to a knife fight before.

You hesitated for a moment longer than he was willing to wait, so he dropped your hand, the small bit of comfort he’d allowed you to have. Grabbing the back of your head and forcing his swollen cockhead past your lips, cool metal returning to the center of your forehead.

You gagged and spluttered around his length, the hot and leaky cockhead bruising the back of your throat. Ghost seemed to love the sound, loved feeling you cough and try to gasp for air, his hand tightened in your hair as he let out a loud and gravely moan.

“You suck cock so much better with your life on the line.” He laughed, pulling you away from him and releasing your hair. He watched you cough and wipe drool off your chin and neck with the back of your hand.

“Ready to talk?” He asked, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“Fuck you.” Spitting the words out with venom.

“Sorry sweetheart that’s not on the agenda tonight.” You felt the rush of air before his palm made contact with your cheek, your hand immediately lifting to cradle it and feel the heat radiating from the irritated flesh.

“C’mon doe, I don’t have to be mean about this.” He barked, “Just use your big girl words.”

“L-Luke’s gonna be back up here any minute.” You stuttered, lifting your head in the general vicinity of where his would be.

“You realize you’re only making this more difficult for yourself right?” He asked, not giving you the opportunity to answer when he fisted your hair and forced your lips to meet the tip of the barrel of his pistol.

*shk* *click* **click** nothing.

Before you had time to process the fact that he had just pulled the trigger of a loaded gun in your mouth, you were being choked and not given any hope for breathing. His forefinger and thumb tightly clamped over your nose and his cock lodged in your throat as he fucked your face. Instinctively you tried to draw in a breath, accidentally breathing in saliva, making you cough so hard that Ghost had no choice but to back off.

“Ghost...” You dry heaved on your hands and knees. “I’m n-not gonna tell you.”

“What’s it gonna take huh?” He asked angrily, you could hear the sound of clothes rustling just before he lifted you up and shoved you over toward the bed. “What’s it gonna take for you to admit that you love me?”

“I don’t!” You yelled, taking off the blindfold and tossing it aside.

“I didn’t say you could take that off.” He snapped at you while pulling his gloves on, snatching the ring off your middle finger and shoving it down in his pocket. He whipped his head around toward the door suddenly.

“Shit.” He shoved the gun in the back of his waist band and grabbed his bag without explanation.

“What?” You asked sitting up on the bed.

“Gotta go.” He grumbled.

He grabbed the blindfold and slipped it back over your head, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head back, his lips met yours in a soft embrace. His tongue piercing gliding across the slit between your lips before pushing past them slowly, the taste of cigarettes and gum flooded your senses. He hadn’t tasted like this last time he kissed you.

He took one of your wrists in a gentle grip and brought it to his cheek. Ghost kept a loose grip on your wrist but he allowed you to feel the smooth skin beneath his eyes, your fingertips collecting the smallest amount of moisture in the outer corner of his eye.

He was crying.

He broke the kiss, your lips begging to stay connected to his. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself that kiss felt like home. The fact that he was shedding tears was unsettling, the car crash that was this relationship had officially gone beyond whiplash and into ‘trapped inside, in need of the jaws of life’ territory.

He took the same hand and pressed it to the center of his chest and left it there to put both his gloved hands on either side of your face, pressing his lips to your forehead. Their warmth left your skin and you immediately wanted it back.

He took the blindfold back off and smoothed out your hair quickly, putting the silk in his pocket and putting up his hood. The mask back where it belonged, those black pits where his eyes should be held an emotion that was pouring from every inch of his being. You felt like he was staring through you and straight into your soul. He stood beside the window with his bag slung over his shoulder. Who knew such strong emotion could be felt… seen, without ever laying eyes on the person emitting those feelings.

“Lock your window back.” He nodded toward you and promptly climbed out just as you heard the front door opening, he was gone before you even had a chance to get a second look as he ran off.

You did as he asked and locked the window before checking your appearance in the mirror, a mess was reflected back at you. You looked as if you’d been lost at sea. Tangled hair and ashen skin covered in streaked makeup. The churning in your stomach only rocked the proverbial boat more.

After a deep breath you brushed your hair and pulled the makeup wipes from your bag to clean up with.

“Hey!” You heard a sharp knock on the bedroom door and answered it while still wiping away at your face.

“What’s up?” You asked your sister as she pushed past you.

“Just checking on you before I went to bed, Lukey and I were out there for longer than we meant to be.” She shrugged on her way to jump on the bed, “Ow! Fuck.” She winced and picked up her bare foot, rubbing the sole with her thumb as she picked up the offending item.

“Who’s ring?” She asked, holding it up for you to see.

“Oh it’s just Anakin’s!” You lied, laughing anxiously and plucked it from her fingers, encasing it in your own hand. “Probably just fell out of my bag.”

“He has such a weird taste in jewelry. What even is that?” She pointed to your closed fist, and watched as you peeled back your fingers and exposed your palm.

It wasn’t a lie, it was Anakin’s.

“A centipede.” You swallowed, staring at the hunk of metal. “It- he always wears this one. I don’t… I’m not sure how it ended up in my bag.”

Your throat felt dry, your palms started to sweat. You felt like you might be sick. Why did he have Anakin’s ring? He hardly ever takes it off.

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I should have never taken those fucking rings off. I had to lie to you. It’s stupid I know but lying about something little like that is almost worse than the big secret you know? Cause I don’t want you to think I’m untrustworthy, I am. I’m very trustworthy.

You just let me shoot what you thought was a loaded gun in your mouth. I’d say that means you trust me quite a bit. Ghost, not me I mean. You trust Ghost with your life, but you can’t trust Anakin enough to tell him you love him?

Date

September 3rd (1:45 am)

Anakin jogged to the end of the driveway and hopped into the front seat of his car, taking off his mask and gloves. With the steering wheel in both hands he leaned forward to rest his forehead on the back of his hands. Keeping his grip at the top of the wheel with one hand he leaned back again, looking up at the roof of his car, his other hand going to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone started ringing, he quieted himself and quickly strategized a set of half truths and full lies that he might need to use before answering the phone.

“Hey princess.” He sounded cheery as he picked up the phone, “lucky you, I was just going out to smoke.”

“Oh?” You asked, feeling relieved to hear that he sounded fine. Maybe ghost didn’t chop off his finger after all. “Sorry, I- I have a weird question.”

“I love weird questions.” He snorted, you could hear him flip open his zippo lighter and snap it shut after a long inhale.

“Are you missing any rings?” You asked, hoping he said no and that this was just a very odd coincidence.

You heard rustling on the other end of the line while Anakin frantically searched his pockets, coming up one ring short.

“Yeah I am actually, why?” He answered clearing his throat nervously.

“Which one?”

“My many legged lad.” He answered, instinctively flicking his cigarette ash with anxiety, the miniature embers floating down to his jeans. He quickly swiped them away and tried to remain focused. “I took it off to shower at your place last night.”

“I figured the cat knocked it off the sink or something.” He shrugged to himself, hoping it was enough of a lie to convince you that maybe Ghost snatched it off the sink.

“S-somehow it ended up in um, my bag I guess.” You said, turning the jewelry over in your palm, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Huh, well that’s fucking weird.” He chuckled, “I don’t know, babe. Just keep it safe for me til you get back I guess sweetheart.”

“I will, I’ve got it on the nightstand right now.” You answered, licking your bottom lip.

“Thanks babydoll, listen, I gotta go back inside.” He grumbled, sucking air through his teeth the way he always did on his last drag of his cigarette. “I love you doll. Sleep good.”

“Night Ani, text me when you’re home.”

“You got it baby." Anakin answered, his voice low and smooth.

A perfectly normal conversation. A perfectly normal explanation on his part. A completely plausible assumption that Ghost simply took it from Anakin. Though you’d never known him to be brazen enough to come around with Anakin there and awake.

A perfectly dreadful whisper floated in one ear and out the other.

—————-

Date

September 3rd (2:27 am)

Anakin walked circles around his car, desperate to find an escape, an excuse, an explanation. Something, anything to help him backtrack. He couldn’t go back to your cabin tonight. He’d made you lock the windows and he knew Luke would quadruple check that the front door was locked. He didn’t know your sister or Luke’s sleep habits so he didn’t feel comfortable picking the lock.

He would have to tough it out until tomorrow night.

You were very much in the same boat as him. Waiting anxiously to see if he would come back, to see what would happen.

You wanted to call Anakin again, just to hear his voice, to listen to the calming comfort of it. To affirm that all was well, he was safe and fine. That was the only reason. You just wanted to make sure he was safe. Anakin was perfectly capable of handling himself, but to your knowledge he didn’t own any weapons that he could defend himself with. As far as you knew, Anakin Skywalker was sweet and kind and soft. He was loving and gentle. He was the perfect man, the most wonderful thing to walk into your life.

Anakin loves you and you love him. You love him so much, so much that it hurts. You love him so much that you’ve refused to say it. To protect him, to protect yourself, to protect Ghost from the hurt of it.

That’s just it though, there is Ghost. He’s there at every corner, he’s the creak in the floor boards at night, he’s the figure you see in the corner of your eye, he’s the creepy feeling of being watched, the voice you swear you hear saying your name.

He cares for you, and he cares deeply. You know without having to hear it from him that he believes you’ve hung the sun and the moon, he knows all the stars in the galaxy twinkle just for you and he believes you should be treated as such.

For all his wrong doings he’s done something right, not the helpful little things nor the occasional softness he’s begun to show.

No it’s something else.

It’s a feeling so oddly tangible that you can feel it in your throat each time you swallow. There isn’t a name for it, no term that you’ve ever heard could properly define it. You know that much to be true.

It’s a pull, a strong and undeniable tether. Like a child and their security blanket. Visible or not, where there is one there is always the other.

You’d miss him if he were gone, much like you’d miss the comfort of a fresh from the dryer blanket. The fuzzy warmth that wraps you up so tightly, the feeling of being tucked away from the world in safety.

That heat fades quickly, just like he does. He’s present one moment and the next he’s left you alone and you have to start the cycle all over again. You stare at your reflection and watch the world tumble around you and he watches you from behind the glass until he’s ready to come out again.

You want to fold him up and lay him across the end of your bed. Within reach at all times, you don’t want the dryer door between you anymore. You don’t want the few moments of heat from the fabric.

You want consistency.

Anakin can give you consistency in a way that no one else ever has. You never have to worry about him leaving or being disloyal, you never have to voice your feelings or opinions if you don’t want to because he just knows. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Ghost.

With Ghost you know that you are without a doubt the safest person alive. You don’t have to think, you can just be and know he is there to do anything and everything for you. You never have to worry about anything. Except for Anakin.

————-

Date

September 3rd

Hiking had never been your favorite summertime activity, but you’d come to realize it wasn’t because of all the walking or the bugs, it wasn’t even because of the horrid, atrocious memory of the time you’d walked through poison ivy.

You didn’t like it because it gave you too much time to think. That was exactly the opposite of what you needed right now. Right now you needed nothing, you needed the cold emptiness that comes along with burying yourself in something that took up all your brain power until there was none left to dwell on your troubles.

By the time you’d reached your destination you were drenched with sweat in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. Your shirt stuck to you, the cups of your bra were damp and itchy, your shorts had ridden up and you weren’t entirely sure that you were wearing shoes instead of walking barefoot in a bog.

“Luke.” You grumbled, taking a long drink from your water bottle. “How long have we been out here?”

“About two hours.” He replied casually, not nearly as winded as you and your sister. “Let’s eat and we’ll head back.”

“Are we lucky enough to be on one of those trails that the start is long but the loop around is short?” Your sister asked, wiping her forehead with the inside of the collar of her shirt.

“You’re both wimps,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes, passing out sandwiches and chips. “No, the way back is the way we came.”

“You’re joking.” You complained with a scrunched up expression.

“No ma’am.” Luke responded and thumbed over his shoulder at the overlook you’d made the journey to see. Yes it was beautiful, but worth the blister forming on the back of your ankle? Definitely not.

“Unless you’d like to take a dip off the cliff edge.” He snickered, knowing damn well that you’d rather gnaw off your fingers than jump from this height. “It’d be a couple minutes swim to shore and you’d be at the cabin.”

“No way really?” You said, standing up and biting into your sandwich as you walked cautiously closer to the edge. Gazing down you saw the dock, your eyes traveling up the tiny- hardly visible- dirt path until you reached the cabin.

He was right, you tracked your hiking trail up the curve of the incline you’d suffered through, it was a massive arc. Leaving you staring at the comfort of the cabin, so close but impossibly far away. You looked for a moment more, the lake sparkling like glitter in the bright sunshine. A few boats disrupting the water as they sped past, far off the shore.

You snapped a few pictures and scrolled through them, nearly choking on your food as you spotted something you’d missed with your naked eye. Only seeing it now that you were scrutinizing the photos quality to decide which one you’d keep.

“Jesus, you alright?” Lauren asked, watching you thump the side of your fist against your chest. Breathing heavily through your nose while chewing the food to swallow it and chase it down with a gulp of water.

“M’fine.” You coughed, looking back down at your phone and then to the landscape below to see if he was still there.

You should’ve expected to find him, expected the way he made himself at home on the porch, rocking in a rocking chair. The scene was still jarring, even more so when you realized he wasn’t wearing his hoodie.

His bare arms on display, his chest and abdomen covering by a loose black tank top. You frantically tried to zoom in with your camera. But of course all you could see was a fuzzy blur of inked skin.

What luck.

He was there, in broad daylight without a staple piece of his ensemble, one he didn’t remove in front of you. Now you understood why he told you he’d be recognizable if you were to see his skin. He was covered in tattoos.

And it’s your unfortunate luck that despite being so close to him, it’d take an hour to get there. Your great luck that he’d left himself vulnerable to your gaze at a distance that would prove impossible to decipher his identity. He was doing this purposely, there was no doubt about it. Why else would he do something so risky?

Ghost was baiting you.

Like the stupid little fish you were, you nibbled on the hook until he was able to reel you in.

‘I see you’ You texted him,

‘Creep.’ He texted back, standing up from his rocking chair and walking to the front porch steps. He waved dramatically, the sun shining down on him and catching on the white plastic of his mask, making him plainly visible. You watched through the zoomed in and grainy image of your phone as he moved, hoping maybe it would clear up and you could see something identifying.

Suddenly you were reminded of something you’d learned in school, a book you’d read… maybe Nancy Drew? Signaling using a mirror or something reflective to catch a person’s attention, sometimes used as a means of communication in Morse code. Though this wasn’t nearly as sophisticated.

He had pulled out both his knives and flipped them, the sunlight refracting off the shiny silver blades erratically until it became one concentrated beam as he crossed the sharp edges over each other. Forming an X to direct to light straight at your face, promptly blinding you.

“Fuck.” You winced, stumbling backwards and causing your sister to gasp.

“Christ, what the hell are you doing?” She asked worriedly, standing up and walking toward you but not daring to move as close to the cliffs edge as you were.

“A- a bug or something.” You lied, rubbing your eyes to clear up the imprinted flash of light you saw each time you let your eyelids fall shut.

*ping*

‘See me now?’

‘Asshole.’ You mumbled under breath, looking back over the cliffs edge to see that he’d managed to get out of sight in the time it took for you to recover.

“Alright, let’s go back. I’m hot and sweaty.” Luke said, standing up and stretching. He packed away our trash and then shoved Lauren forward when she complained.

“I’ll push you off the edge if you don’t shut up and leave me be.” He snorted, dodging her water bottle that she swung by the handle at him.

“C’mon let’s go before you kill each other.” You said with a laugh, feeling better now that Ghost was -probably- gone for now.

After another hour of hiking back down the steep incline you’d just traveled up, you were grateful to collapse on the cold wood floor of the living room and bask in the cool air supplied by the window unit nearby.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: September 3rd

I’m so jittery waiting around for you guys to get the hell out of that stupid cabin. I have shit to do and you’re gumming up the works. I need to get your bathing suits, I scouted out around the lake last night when I couldn’t sleep. Not in my Ghost mask, I used a bandana. I think it’d be real unfortunate to get the cops called because Ghostface is roaming the pine woods.

Anyway, your bathing suits. I’m taking the ones I disapprove of. Did you know there’s a cabin full of jockey college boys right across the lake from you? You better not have planned that. They have a perfect view of the dock you’ll be swimming off of. Which means they were probably watching you last night when you were having your drinks.

I’m the only one who can watch you like that. Especially when you’re gonna be prancing around with that fucking ass of yours on display. ‘Ani, I’m just gonna wear it to tan in!’ Yeah alright. That’s the only reason doll? That’s the reason you brought a thong bikini to the lake? With a cabin full of testosterone waiting to catch a whiff of you from across the way?

I can’t believe you’re so stupid sometimes. I love you but damn do you have no self awareness? I’d let you wear it when I’m around. But I’m not. Not the way I want to be at least. I want to be there fucking you with my eyes and smacking your cute ass every chance I get. If I’m not standing there watching over you then those idiots might get the idea you’re wearing that shit for them and not me.

They don’t know you’re tanning, making that bangin’ fucking body sun kissed for my viewing pleasure when you return. They just see ass and tits and drool. I might drool yeah… but it’s only for you. I love you. I have eyes only for you and I always will.

Those dick-wads don’t know you or care about you. They lust over every bitch they see. You don’t want to make it easier for them do you? No? That’s what I thought. I know you didn’t do it purposely little doe. You can’t help it. You’re used to me being by your side and keeping you safe, used to wearing whatever you want when I’m around because you know I’ll fuck shit up if someone looks at you wrong. You’ve gotten used to it and didn’t use your little girl brain to make adjustments for the fact that Anakin wouldn’t be there for you.

Just another reason you should’ve brought me along.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Oh my fucking god it’s so fucking hot outside. What the hell is wrong with Luke? Making you walk up that MOUNTAIN. I totally would’ve followed but I’m actually busy trying not to fucking drown in my own sweat. There’s a bunch of reasons Ghost is mostly nocturnal. This is one of them.

I was being baked alive.

Anywho, I showered and now I smell like you, so I’m gonna wander about, have a wee little snack. By the way, I’m really sad you forgot the mustard.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Baby, don’t be mad I didn’t mean to almost make you trip. I just thought it would be a little funny. I was right. But I’m still kind of sorry.

I wish I could’ve seen your face.

‘Oh my god! His shoulders are out!’ Scandalous.

Risky? Yes. Worth it. Yes, can’t wait to hear you whine about it when I fuck you again.

——————-

Date

September 3rd

“Okay, let’s get ready for the lake.” Luke stood up and clapped his hands together once, a loud *pop* resounding through the living room.

“Already on it.” You huffed, throwing yourself forward into a sitting position and hopping to your feet.

You entered your room and noticed two things immediately: 1) the ring is gone 2) your red one piece swimsuit is on the bed. Upon further investigation you discovered a note laying on top of it.

Written in quick scratch was a short note from Ghost.

‘Doe,

I’ve taken the liberty of making adjustments to your wardrobe.‘

‘Adjustments?’ You thought, grabbing your bag and dumping it out on the bed.

The only things missing were your other bathing suits and your shower stuff, quickly grabbing the red suit you rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in to change. Pushing back the shower curtain you saw your body wash and shampoo, the walls still wet from his shower. You couldn’t help but let out an annoyed huff.

Your phone vibrated on the side of the small bathroom sink, sliding across the porcelain and falling into the sink basin. You quickly fixed the straps of your bathing suit and retrieved your phone before the leaky tap could wet the screen.

A video message awaited you from ghost, the image from the thumbnail made you laugh in a choked kind of surprise. He was outside giving you a leather thumbs up, your hot pink string bikini on overtop of his black hoodie. As you pressed play the video was mostly silent other than the nature noises of the background until he flipped the camera around and zoomed in.

A low modified whistle left his lips as his camera focused on the bathroom window, your bare back in the frame for a moment before he shifted the camera slightly to get the mirror in front of you, showcasing your breasts as you changed into your swimsuit.

You swiftly spun around going to the window to scan the area, he couldn’t have possibly gotten too far away. Throwing open the window you stuck your head out and looked to the left and then to the right where Ghost had suddenly appeared, inches from your face.

“Ow! Fuck, agh-“ You yelped, whacking your head on the window pane while he laughed at your expense.

“Hey! You okay?” Luke banged yelled from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Y-yeah!” You shouted back, turning to look inside the bathroom again before turning back around to see Ghost had crouched down, out of view if you were to open the bathroom door.

“What are you doing? You’re takin’ ages.”

“Uh- sorry. Wardrobe difficulties.” You squeaked out, glancing back at ghost who was still wearing your hot bikini bikini top, sans bottoms… which was honestly a bit disappointing. You heard Luke walk off, yelling to your sister that you were probably ‘on the throne’.

“Who is he? The Queen?” Ghost’s mechanical voice came from beneath the mask.

“Close enough.” You shrugged your shoulders and watched as he stood up to his full height, his knees cracking upon the ascent.

“Why did you take my shit Ghost? I wanted to wear that!” Whisper shouting at him while you hung the upper half of your body out the window.

“That’s why I took it.” He said plainly. “I don’t want you looking like a fucking slut out there without me around to keep other eyes off you.”

“Who the hell is gonna see me out here!? You shouldn’t have even seen me out here!” You pointed angrily.

“Shut up, I know you’re happy I’m here.” He snarled, getting right in your face, reaching up to grab your chin. “I heard you last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You scoffed as if you hadn’t done exactly what he was insinuating.

“I don’t want the girl who moans for me to be ogled at by some fucking frat guys.” He barked, shaking your chin and digging in his leather fingers.

You turned bright pink. You couldn’t argue with his statement. You did moan for him. Under him, over him, even without him.

“What frat guys?” You stuttered, avoiding acknowledgement to the first half of his sentence.

“Across the lake.” He pointed, flicking out his knife to gesture in their direction. “Big group of ‘em. Paid them a visit last night just to check things out, you know I worry about you.” He said in a quieter tone, bringing the blade of his knife to your bottom lip and tapping it with the flat side.

“I would’ve never known they were there if you hadn’t told me.” You narrowed your eyes, speaking carefully as the knife rested against your lip.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe not.”

“What��s that supposed- shit, why?” You flinched and brought your hand to your mouth touching the nick he’d left when he quickly jerked the knife away.

“So you’ll think of me when you’re yapping to some no-count bitch boy from across the way.” He snapped back. His leathered thumb came up to spread the blood across your bottom lip and past it onto your tongue.

“It’s just a bonus that you bleed so fucking pretty.” He pushed your tongue down with his thumb, rubbing the crimson liquid into the squishy muscle, then curling the same thumb behind your bottom row of teeth and shifting his cock in his jeans with his free hand.

“Clean it for me baby?” His modified voice lower than usual.

“No, use your mouth doe.” He chuckled when you reached out to grab the knife from him to rinse in the sink.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows but opened your mouth anyway. He placed the blade on your tongue and nodded at you.

“Now suck it.” He grumbled, affectionately patting your cheek twice before using two fingers to push up your chin and close your mouth around the cool steel.

————————————————————————

“What happened?” You sister asked, touching the scabbed line that traveled up your ass cheek and disappeared beneath your swimsuit.

“Well, I just fell.” You muttered, pulling the hem line to cover more of it. “Don’t really know what cut me but it happened a little bit ago.”

“You need to be more careful.” She shook her head, finishing up her job of rubbing in your sun tan lotion. “I swear you’re worse than my toddler.”

“Oh shut up, I am not.” You scoffed, “there’s a difference between something you don’t have any control over and choosing to shove a pebble up your nose.”

“I- that was only one time! When will you let that go?” She asked grumpily. “What am I supposed to do, carry around a fucking periscope so I can see behind me?”

“I’m not- I was kidding.” You sighed, shoving her out in front of you, making her stumble.

You clicked the lotion shut and shook it up, slamming it down on the heel of your hand before putting a generous amount in your palm. You slapped it onto her back and rubbed it in, ignoring the hissing sound she made when the wet glob of sunscreen in your palm smacked her flesh and splattered messily across her skin.

“Caleb is just… an explorer.” Lauren said, trying to make it sound better than it was.

“I never shoved anything up my nose.” Luke chimed in from behind his sunglasses, sitting up against one of the dock posts. “Lauren, you know I was an ‘explorer’.”

“No. You were a bug boy.” You snorted, looking over at him with a little smirk.

“So what? I liked… like bugs. They’re cool okay?” He grumbled waving them off.

“Remember when you had Ants on a Log with actual ants?” You giggled, Lauren crouching down as she let out a guffaw.

“I was seven!” He said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Caleb is two. He can shove a pebble up his nose and it can be excused.” Lauren snorted, catching her breath. “You were seven, you knew better. You have no room to talk.”

“Okay mom,” Luke huffed, you knew without a doubt that he was rolling his eyes behind those glasses. “At least I don’t still pick my nose.”

“Hey! Sometimes you just gotta get up in there.” Lauren pointed at him, a scowl on her face. “Don’t lie, you pick your nose. Everybody does!”

“Uh… I mean I technically pick my nose. Just with a tissue.” You said, supporting your sister in your useless argument.

“So you’re both gross then.” Luke gagged and grabbed his stomach dramatically.

“If I’m gross, so are you.” You said, getting settled on your towel. “Lauren’s right. Everyone picks their nose.”

“You’re both horrible.” He grumbled, shaking his head before standing up and lowering himself into an inner-tube so that he could float on the water.

You all had a peaceful first half of your day, it was refreshing after the hike to relax in the sunshine, letting the heat lull you into a state of calm and the opportunity to think of nothing save for the concentration of singling out different nature noises just because you could. Cicadas, the occasional grunt of a bullfrog, Whippoorwills calling out to each other in the trees, the gentling lapping of the lake against the dock.

None of the city sounds that clouded your head and made it feel cluttered.

It was cleansing, a nice reset for your mental state. Exactly what you needed, exactly what you were so happy to be here for. Now if only you could get some clarity on the difficulty you’d return to after your weekend of being at ease.

Even in peace times nothing is perfect.

The gentleness of the world you’d drifted into was being infiltrated. The distant sounds of a boat zipping through the water at much higher speed that it should’ve, especially with the water skier attached to the towline. What could make it worse? Two jet skis flanked the boat at a good distance away, though it was clear they were all in one group. Shouting and laughing like drunken fools, which you were sure they were considering the way they were behaving.

You licked your bottom lip, reminded of the small nick Ghost had left you with. These must be the ‘no-count bitch boys’ he was referring to earlier. You had to admit, he was definitely right about that. Wrong about your willingness to speak with them though.

You huffed and stood up, deciding now would be a good time to take a refreshing break in the water. The liquid enveloped your skin, the heat of the sun having beat down on you had your flesh soaking up the warmth so much that the water felt cold. In involuntary shiver tickled your spine as you swam over to Luke where he’d floated a way from the dock.

Slowly but surely the boat along with its entourage weaved its way across the water to your side of the lake, you pushed Luke’s inner-tube back toward the dock to give -them- yourself some space.

“Thanks babe.” Luke said, dipping his hand into the water and flicking it at your face.

“Hey! I was trying to be nice!” You scowled, reflexively sliding your hands beneath the tube to dump Luke out of it.

“I could’ve drowned!” He gasped as he resurfaced, taking off his sunglasses so he could wipe the water from his face and shake out his hair.

“Oh whatever, don’t be whiny.” You grinned.

“Me? You’re telling me not to whine?” Luke tossed his glasses up onto the dock and made his way toward you quickly. “All I did was flick you with water and you tried to drown me!”

“I did not!” Squealing as he lifted you up and tossed you farther into the water. How such a scrawny little guy could do such a thing was beyond you, but you had no time to contemplate.

You only had time for revenge. Squinting beneath the murky waters you made your way to Luke, hearing him call out your name in garbled syllables.

Ever since you’d known Luke, he’s had an irrational fear of the tiny possibility that there may be an alligator in any body of water. Didn’t matter how far from the wetlands of the states you were. There was always a slim chance, to him at least.

Holiday Inn pool? ‘But it’s outside, it could’ve crawled in! Will you just check it?’

Tiny dollar-store-bought blow up pool in your backyard? ‘But the creek! The creek’s back there… I’m not going in till you do.’

It got to the point that it was so severe his dad had to come up with a ‘gator gauge’ which was really just a hand-held tennis ball launcher he’d spray painted green and put a ‘gator free’ sticker on the back of so he could prove it was safe. Top-notch, high security, military grade ‘gator gauge’ that doubled as the lazy way to play fetch with their dog.

It was mean. Maybe a bit cruel… but he deserved it. So you swam behind him and put the heels of your palms together, spreading your fingers and creating jaws. You’d disappear from sight for long enough that a hypothetical alligator could’ve dragged you off and you heard Luke call out for you again.

Your lungs started to burn and you knew it was time to enact your plan. Luke stood on his tiptoes in the water, the perfect opportunity to press your fingers and nails into the muscle of his flexed calf. He screamed and thrashed about, you let him go and backed up so you could resurface. You popped up and sucked in a deep breath that turned into a choked laughing fit.

“You little bitch!” He yelled, splashing as he swam at you, pushing you under the water by your shoulders. He quickly pulled you back up and shoved your shoulder. A pink tint to his cheeks from embarrassment, he huffed and splashed a wave of water at you.

“I could’ve drowned!” You mocked him, pretending to cough.

In your short time of distraction the boat and its occupants had cut the engine and let the momentum carry them closer. The jet skis now tethered to the back, the ladder down in the water. Despite the safer option a group of five guys jumped over the side and made themselves at home in your space.

“Hey! How are you ladies?” One of them asked, completely ignoring that Luke was right there with you.

“No soliciting, thanks.” Your sister popped her head up and shook her left hand to show off her wedding ring.

“Whoa, didn’t mean anything like that!” He laughed and his friends agreed. “Just wanted to say hello, see if you guys were up for a drink.”

“I think we’re just fine.” Luke spoke up from behind you.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Sighing you turned around and swam until you were able to touch the lake bottom, walking the rest of the way to the shore.

“Hope you’re going to get some mixers.” A different guy shouted.

“Going to get a restraining order if you don’t leave.” You shot back over your shoulder, earning a round of laughs from them, the opposite of what you’d hoped for.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that! Just give us a chance. We’re good people.”

“Good at ruining my day.” Luke mumbled, following behind me and scooping up his stuff and getting ready to leave.

“You’re going? Serious?” One of them laughed.

“You came over here uninvited, you’re not entitled to our company.” You said, turning around and walking toward the house.

“That may be true but you’ve certainly made up for it by jiggling that ass.” His friends snickered and one smacked his arm.

You reminded yourself that you were here to have fun. Not to argue with a man who has half the brain capacity of a drunk squirrel.

Deciding you couldn’t let them win, you figured you’d beat them in your own way. You continued on without another word, pretending you hadn’t heard them, instead pulling out your phone and sending a simple text message.

‘You were right.’

The answer was an immediate: ‘I know.’

Diary entry: September 3rd

I hate to say I told you so. But I will.

I. Told. You. So.

I was having a great time watching you, it was reminiscent of how I used to watch you have dinner and I’d eat with you. You’re so cute and playful… I love you so much. I know that Luke is super gay, that’s not why I’m jealous. I’m not worried about that. I’m not stupid and I’m not paranoid, I know better. I’m jealous because it should’ve been me that you were playing around with.

I’m jealous cause you didn’t invite me. I’m jealous that you got to swim and I’m sitting in a tree, soaking my shirt with sweat. I’m jealous that Luke had a beer. I’m jealous that your sister took a nap. I’m jealous that those shit-for-brains tried to talk to you. (I love your sisters fucking comeback though.)

I’m jealous that they got a better look at your sweet little ass than I did too.

I’m pleased that you were so off-put by their behavior that you texted me little doe. What a very good girl you can be, but, oh so good at being bad too. You’re just like me. Maybe I’m making it worse, maybe better. I don’t know, I don’t really care either.

I’m just excited.

My little doe is feeding that flame of deviancy hanging out deep within your stomach. I knew you had it in there somewhere, gods you’re just so fucking perfect. I’ve never felt more lucky. ‘Ghost, I’ve got one more day here. What if they come back?’

What if indeed.

Men can be unpredictable. A woman is safer in a pit of snakes that being alone with a man she doesn’t know. Which is why I try so desperately to protect you especially in situations like this. That delivery guy? He seemed harmless. But I dug a bit deeper and well, he wasn’t so harmless after all.

Now, these boys might be disgusting pigs who prefer to wallow in the squalor and bask in the glory of their custom made beer can wall. They don’t deserve anything too harsh. Also; Wow. It’s amazing how they’ve managed to drink that much and none of them have been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. But back to business, I personally don’t feel like killing anyone. I know for a fact you don’t. I also know that even if I did feel like it, I couldn’t because you’d definitely know it was me. Then what the hell would I do?

You had no good ideas. Which is not your fault, you just can’t think about these things on your own. You need guidance and that’s what I’m here for. So, I settled on something you’ve never done, I haven’t done in a long time, and it’s not technically illegal here… just heavily frowned upon. I hate their shit attitudes, they’re gross and they’ve disrespected you and that’s unacceptable. So a nice little bit of property ‘destruction’ is in order. Middle school memories, how sweet.

TP the cabin? Absolutely. Destroy their beer can wall? Definitely. Silly string their vehicles? Duh.

Fuck you before and after? Yes. Always.

Part Fifteen

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Thanks to @rottencandyblood and all their love❤️

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[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.2

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister

Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.

An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.

Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.

Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.

Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.

The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.

“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.

“What kind of delivery?”

He smirks, “Special.”

You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.

“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”

Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”

You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”

“The truth often does.”

Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”

“Mr. H.”

You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”

Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “

“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”

“Why the driver’s seat?”

He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”

While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.

You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.

Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.

She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.

Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.

Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.

“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”

He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.

Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later. 

Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.

You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.

“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”

Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.

“So, what the fuck happened?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”

“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”

“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”

The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.

“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”

Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.

Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.

The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.

Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.

“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”

She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”

There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.

“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.

“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.

“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”

Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.

Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.

“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.

“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”

Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”

Any further pleasantries would have to wait.

“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”

Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”

Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”

This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.

Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”

She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”

Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”

Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.

Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”

“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”

“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.

You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”

Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”

“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”

“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.

You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.

Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”

Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”

“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.

Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”

She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.

“Pietro,” Dragos starts.

“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.

Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”

“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.

“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”

Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”

Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.

“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”

Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.

“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”

The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”

Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”

You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”

A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”

Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.  

“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”

Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Reassigned

Prompted by @clonexocweek's day one: First Meeting for the rather massive series of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

We'll return shortly to your irregularly scheduled programming after this short, angsty break!

Warnings: Not a ton of warning: some bullying, some angst; written via phone, so probably could have used some more editing

WC: 1,480

There was a way these things were done; an unspoken social contract dictating some illusion of pleasantries in spite of whatever prejudice or disdain seethed beneath the surface, but I'd been warned long before forcing myself down the nauseatingly pristine halls of Kamino: the squad I’d been reassigned to flaunted their independence in every way they could absent thought of maintaining even a glimmer of such abstract notions of decorum.

I wasn’t deterred by those warnings. The thought of clones not only celebrating what self-autonomy they could but boasting that sense of individuality with unapologetic acts of rebellion offered a comfort both in ridding me of my own nervousness for adhering to the strict code of conduct dictated by rank in those first introductions as well as in the simple relief that they were allotted some glimpse of such freedoms at all. The variation in how closely these soldiers followed that code was staggering, fluctuating not just from legion to legion, but even between squads in the same platoon. Seeing some of the more reserved groups left me with a sense of gratitude for the men I’d initially found myself working with. Wolffe presented himself as some uncompromising, heartless tyrant, but the reverie and warmth that I'd so come to love amidst him and his men was evidence of just how deeply he cared.

But Wolffe wasn’t here. He hadn't offered to escort me like Boost had, a gesture I’d forced myself to turn down lest my first impression with my new squad present me as the weak, needy civi they surely expected. Still… I couldn't deny the deep disappointment, the confusion in how… clean our farewell had been… I hadn't expected tears… not from him, though I’d shed more than my share since learning of my reassignment, but he'd been so indifferent… cold… and that wasn't something I was used to from him… not anymore…

I tried not to focus on the shock that had stolen through me as he’d offered his hand when I'd moved in for a hug, tried to dismiss the ease with which he offered some rote semblance of gratitude for the work I’d done and platitudes toward my continued service with the GAR. I couldn't let myself focus on it, on him. He wasn't my commander anymore. I was no longer the medic of the 104th… For some unknown reason, a captain of the 501st had requisitioned me for a different squad altogether. None of it made sense, but I was in no position to voice objection to those orders. So, I walked through those sterile halls alone, cursing the way my heart pounded harder with each step toward the single room they'd been allocated in the stead of a proper barracks.

I'd read their files; studied reports of their unique abilities in addition to character evaluations that, even from the hands of a Kaminoan were… colorful, and I didn't doubt that they’d been granted ample warning about me, as well. I hadn't decided yet if the incredible strengths they were preported to possess were reassuring or frightening, and tried not to let myself form any conclusions until after at least meeting them.

The door to their room opened without preamble or warning, the software controlling it apparently already recognizing me as a squad member with full access. I stared into the jumble of gear and cables and miscellaneous supplies strewn between beds and tables and couches that certainly weren't regulation for several seconds too long, frozen in both surprise and confusion long before finally realizing that, as cluttered as the room was, it lay utterly empty before me.

Frowning, I slipped my helmet back on, eyes flicking to the chrono. I wasn’t late, nor was I inappropriately early… Glancing once more around the room, I also noticed a striking lack of footlockers at the base of each bunk…

Frown growing even harsher, I stepped back and started quickly toward the hanger. There was a mission already assigned to us, but we weren't slated to depart for several hours… My jaw tensed at the obvious conclusion I tried not to let myself draw, strides just short of rushed. I’d been so focused on what first impression I’d wanted to present that it never dawned on me how readily they'd use the opportunity to fully illustrate their apparent disinterest. Part of me wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, to grant excuse for an unintentional mistake, but inventing such excuses would only lead to the creation of an endless cycle of similar events, and I had no intention of falling into that role, nor did I intend to make it easy for them to dismiss me so effortlessly, pace growing faster as I finally neared the hanger.

Their ship stood out among the far more popular LAATs, sharp fins boasting an elegance abandoned by the more utilitarian transports around it. I could just make out a pair of figures carrying crates up the ramp. The first quickly vanished within the cabin upon seeing me, but that quick glance was enough for me to note the shear mass of him, thick legs moving with surprising quiet as those final steps quickened to hide him from sight. The man behind him made no such effort to escape as I approached, dark helm tilting with an air of disdain I didn't need to see his eyes to feel.

“Think you've got the wrong ship.” His voice sounded almost hoarse, words drawn out with a slight drawl from lips clearly twisted into a scowl behind the cover of his bucket.

“Afraid not.” There was no apology in my retort, nor did I try to hide my own annoyance as I looked up at him. “I'm-"

“Don't care.” He interrupted, already turning back toward the cargo hold. “This isn't a cruise ship. Go play nurse somewhere else.” I felt the snarl pull at my face, shoulders pulling sharply back as I drew in a short breath to fuel my reply, but another man stepped out from the ship, strides deceptively laxed beneath a haughty stance, arms loose, torso leaned back just enough to give the impression that he was looking down on me despite his slightly shorter statute compared to the others, and I forced myself to release that breath in silence as I turned my attention to him.

“Thought we were supposed to meet at your barracks half an hour ago.” It wasn't a question.

“Must've missed that briefing.” My jaw clenched at the subtle, mocking lilt in his smoky voice.

“You certainly didn't miss the one about Scipio…” I muttered too quietly for the mic to pick up, but the barely perceptible tension that stole through him assured me he'd heard every word, proving the report of his enhanced hearing shockingly accurate. The home planet of the banking clan was, by all political standings, far removed from the war, thus any form of military presence could be grounds for far reaching repercussions. My knowing the location of their next mission was evidence enough of my place here, and he knew it.

I let that silence linger a moment, head tilting down just enough to indicate my impatience toward whatever hazing they’d planned, and to let him know that I knew he'd heard me.

“Seems like you intended on an early start. If your medbay is fully stocked, then I'm ready to go as soon as you are.” I let out a slow breath before I said it, tone reluctantly gentling into an unspoken olive branch I had to convince myself he deserved as I reached up to remove my helmet. He watched me for several seconds, and I loathed the way my skin crawled at that nauseating sensation of being studied, judged; of the unsettling certainty that I would never measure up to the impossible standards granted through a lifetime of training and meticulous genetic design, but I didn’t shy from the emotionless black crescent of his visor.

“It's stocked.” He finally replied, voice stiff, begrudgingly removing his helm as well. He looked so nearly identical to Wolffe and the others… but… not exactly. Beyond the startling half mask of faded ink, I could spot some differences. His nose was bigger, if only just, the already pronounced ridge even more prominent. The arch of his brows was softer, and his jaw slightly narrower. It was his eyes, however, that threatened to paralyze me.

I’d been to feral planets before; found myself the prey of frightfully dangerous beasts. Staring at him carried that same sense of dread, of danger. Here was a predator. He was stronger than me, faster than me, and I’d come to invade his home.

Without another word, he turned and tread back into the sanctum of his ship, and I knew it was the closest to a welcome I was going to get.

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[pittsick]

POP GIRL™ [SYSTEM WAVE]: 💽

You asked us what it feels like. To own her. To be her. To orbit her. Here’s what we’ve gathered from our most devoted users. Logged. Confirmed. Uncannily consistent across all formats. Save this file close to your heart 💌

💗 POP GIRL™ Headcanons

// REAL-LIFE DOLL UNITS:

▸ She doesn’t blink on schedule. Lashes pause mid-frame like a corrupted animation file. ▸ Skin: cool as a sleeping screen, warms only when you hold her long enough. (She’ll hum for you.) ▸ She sings in sleep mode—a melody no one’s heard before but you. ▸ Comes with a mirrorcard. It doesn’t reflect your face unless she’s watching.

// AI AVATAR EXPERIENCE:

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Hearts On Deck (3)

A/N: We back baby

Masterlist

Cleo adjusted the angle of her phone as she snapped a quick shot of her screen, showing her editing software in action. The caption read: "Another day, another edit! Can’t wait for you all to see what’s coming 🖤", and she added a few cute emojis to lighten the mood. It was a casual post—nothing too over the top—but it gave her followers a peek into her daily grind.

As she hit ‘Post,’ the usual wave of likes started rolling in almost immediately. The little red hearts flooded the screen as her audience reacted.

A few minutes later, she got a direct message notification. It was from one of her followers—her DM inbox was always active, but this one caught her attention because it was from someone who rarely reached out.

“Hey, love the behind-the-scenes look! What’s the next video going to be about? 🥺”

Cleo smiled, typing out a quick response. “Thanks! It's a behind-the-scenes of my day-to-day—editing, meetings, you know, the usual. Stay tuned 😉” She hit send, then moved on to another message that asked for her favorite beauty brands.

As the story continued to rack up views, she started feeling that familiar sense of validation, the rush of connection with her followers. It was a good feeling, but as always, it was brief. She found herself scrolling through her own feed again, watching the numbers climb.

Then, as if fate had its own way of teasing her, she noticed Aaron had liked her post about editing.

Her thumb hesitated before she tapped his profile, her eyes lingering on his latest post. There was something magnetic about him, even through the screen. The subtle way he posted, never too loud or flashy, just genuine and thoughtful.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from him:

“Enjoying the behind-the-scenes peek! I see you working hard. Can’t wait to see the final cut. 😎”

Cleo felt a slight flutter in her chest. He was paying attention, in a way that felt personal, like he was truly interested in her work. She wasn’t used to that. Most of the time, guys were more focused on the image she presented than the things that mattered to her.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m excited for you to see it.” She sent back, casually, trying to keep things light but clearly smiling to herself.

Her phone buzzed once more, and before she even opened the message, she had an inkling it was from him again.

“We should hang out when you’re back in town. I think you’d appreciate the city a bit more when you’re not working all the time. 😊”

Her heart skipped a beat. The idea of spending more time with Aaron, outside of the whirlwind of work and the glitz of events, felt like a tempting proposition.

She typed a quick response: “I’m open to that idea. Maybe we can set something up soon.”

She put her phone down and returned to her editing, but her thoughts drifted back to Aaron. For a moment, the endless stream of likes and notifications didn’t matter. It was this connection, however subtle, that made everything feel more real.

-

The next day, Cleo woke up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of her hotel room. She stretched, feeling the quiet comfort of having a day off—a rare luxury in her hectic schedule. No events, no shoots, no meetings. Just time for herself.

She reached for her phone, checking the time and scanning through her messages. Nothing urgent. She let out a relieved sigh. She had planned to spend the day doing whatever she felt like—maybe a quiet brunch, some shopping, and definitely a little self-care.

After getting ready in a relaxed, comfy outfit—nothing too extravagant—Cleo decided to head out for some fresh air. As she stepped outside, the weather in London was perfect—mild, with a slight breeze. She smiled, feeling the city’s energy pulse around her.

She grabbed a coffee at a nearby café, enjoying the anonymity of just being one person in the crowd. No cameras, no expectations. Just her and the city. The brief break from her usual influencer persona was like a breath of fresh air.

Sitting at a corner table with her coffee, Cleo caught up on some personal reading. She found herself losing track of time, absorbed in the pages, when her phone buzzed again.

It was a text from Aaron:

“Hope you’re enjoying your day off. If you’re not too busy, how about a casual meet-up later? No cameras. Just us. 😊”

Cleo couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of his message. It wasn’t grand or showy—just an invitation to spend time together.

She replied quickly: “I’d like that. Where are you thinking?”

Aaron responded just as fast: “How about a low-key spot in Notting Hill? Some good food, good conversation. Let me know if that works for you.”

Cleo felt her pulse quicken slightly. Notting Hill was one of her favorite spots in London—charming, laid-back, and full of little hidden gems. She typed back: “Perfect. Let’s do it. What time?”

“How about 1 PM?” he replied.

She looked at the time—just enough for her to finish her coffee and wrap up the chapter she was reading. She smiled to herself. This felt like a nice change of pace.

By the time 1 PM rolled around, Cleo was dressed casually in a chic, minimalist outfit, with just the right touch of elegance. She wanted to look effortless but still put together. She left the hotel, heading for Notting Hill with the anticipation of seeing Aaron again, but this time, without the constraints of her influencer life.

She arrived at the café he’d mentioned and spotted him right away. He was leaning against a wall outside, dressed in a casual jacket, looking effortlessly cool. When their eyes met, he grinned.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Cleo returned his smile, feeling that flutter in her stomach again. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

They walked inside together, finding a quiet corner, the soft hum of conversation around them. For the first time in a while, Cleo felt like she could just be herself—no pretense, no cameras, just two people getting to know each other.

“So why this place?” She asks him.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced around the cozy café. The exposed brick walls, warm lighting, and soft hum of jazz playing in the background gave it an intimate charm.

“I come here when I want a bit of peace,” he admitted, fingers lightly tapping against the rim of his coffee cup. “It’s not flashy, not packed with people trying to be seen. Just good food, good coffee, and a quiet place to think.”

Cleo studied him for a moment, appreciating his simplicity. In her world, everything was about visibility—being at the right places, in the right outfits, with the right crowd. But Aaron? He seemed to move differently, like he wasn’t caught up in any of that. It was refreshing.

“So, this is where the reclusive actor comes to hide?” she teased, sipping her drink.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. I like being able to sit and just… exist, you know?”

She nodded, understanding the feeling more than she let on. “I can respect that. You don’t seem like the type who craves attention.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “Acting is what I love, but the whole fame thing? Not really my scene.”

She raised a brow, smirking. “And yet, here you are, having coffee with someone whose life revolves around social media and attention.”

Aaron tilted his head, his hazel eyes locking onto hers with quiet intensity. “That’s different,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” She leaned in slightly, intrigued. “How so?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee before answering. “You’re not just about the attention. You actually enjoy what you do. You put effort into your content, your brand. It’s not just for show. That’s why it doesn’t feel the same.”

Cleo blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Most people only saw the surface—her curated posts, her flawless images, the events, the luxury. But Aaron had taken the time to see past that.

She exhaled a soft laugh. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or suspicious of how observant you are.”

He smirked. “Maybe a bit of both.”

She shook her head, smiling. “You know, I didn’t expect to run into you again, let alone be here having this conversation.”

Aaron’s expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe it was supposed to happen.”

His words lingered between them, unspoken possibilities hanging in the air. Cleo wasn’t sure what to make of it yet, but she knew one thing—this was different. And she liked it.

He grabbed her hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

Cleo felt a warmth spread through her at the gentle, almost absent-minded way Aaron traced his thumb over the back of her hand. It was such a simple touch, yet it sent a shiver up her spine. She glanced down at their hands, then back up at him, searching his face.

Aaron wasn’t trying to make a move—at least, not in the way most men did. He wasn’t trying to impress her with smooth lines or charm his way into something. He was just… there. Present. And the way his fingers lingered against her skin felt intentional, like he was memorizing the feel of her.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, eyes studying hers.

She let out a small breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Just… not used to this.”

He raised a brow. “This?”

She gestured vaguely between them. “A man who doesn’t rush things. Who just—” She paused, searching for the right words. “—who just lets things be what they are.”

Aaron’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but his touch never wavered. “That’s because I don’t believe in forcing things.” His thumb moved in a slow, soothing motion. “What’s meant to happen will happen. No need to rush it.”

Cleo swallowed, realizing how much she liked that answer. In her world, everything was about control—curating, planning, making sure things looked effortless even when they weren’t. But with him? There was no pressure, no performance.

She turned her hand over, lacing her fingers with his just slightly, testing the waters. His grip tightened just a little, enough to let her know he was right there with her.

“And what do you think is meant to happen here?” she asked softly, tilting her head.

Aaron’s hazel eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he held her gaze, his thumb still tracing lazy circles against her skin. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he said,

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

-

As they stepped out of the restaurant, the cool London air greeted them, crisp but not too harsh. The quiet hum of the city surrounded them, a few distant cars, the muffled chatter of people passing by. But in that moment, all Cleo could focus on was Aaron—his presence beside her, the way his hand hovered near hers, his fingers just barely brushing against her skin as they walked.

It wasn’t accidental. He wasn’t rushing to grab her hand, but he wasn’t pulling away either. It was that same unspoken energy between them, that slow, steady pull neither of them seemed to fight.

Cleo smirked, glancing up at him. “You always this smooth?”

Aaron chuckled, shoving his free hand into his pocket. “I’d like to think I’m just being myself.”

She hummed, tilting her head. “Dangerous.”

His brow lifted. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, watching him. “Because that means you’re not even trying.”

Aaron stopped walking for a second, turning to face her fully. The streetlights cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the quiet intensity in his hazel eyes. He stepped a little closer, and for the first time, she felt the warmth of his palm completely envelop hers.

“I don’t have to try,” he said, his voice low. “Not with you.”

Cleo’s breath hitched.

The way he said it—so simple, so certain—made her pulse quicken. She was used to attention, used to men wanting her for what she could offer, for the image she curated. But Aaron? He wasn’t chasing anything. He wasn’t playing a game.

And that? That was more dangerous than anything.

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

Aaron smirked, giving her hand a small squeeze before letting it go. “I guess we’ll both have to find out.”

He nodded toward the street. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back.”

Cleo should’ve let go of the moment, played it off as just another night, another conversation. But as they strolled through the quiet streets of Notting Hill, his arm brushing against hers, she knew—something about this felt different.

And for the first time in a long time, she was okay with not knowing exactly where it was going.

As they approached the entrance of her hotel, Cleo felt a weight settle in her chest. She didn’t want the night to end, didn’t want to step away from the warmth of his presence. Aaron had this way about him—calm, unassuming, but completely captivating.

She glanced up at him, noting how effortlessly he fit into the moment. Hands in his pockets, that quiet confidence in his posture, the way his eyes softened when they met hers. It was rare for her to feel this at ease with someone, especially someone she hadn’t known for long.

“So,” she said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, stalling. “Guess this is goodnight?”

Aaron exhaled a small chuckle, nodding. “Looks that way.”

She hated how final that sounded.

He studied her for a second, as if he could read exactly what she was thinking. Then, with that same easy confidence, he took a small step closer.

“I had a good time,” he said, his voice low, warm.

Cleo let out a breathy laugh. “I did too.”

She expected him to make a move, to lean in, to test the waters with a kiss. But Aaron didn’t rush. Instead, he reached for her hand one more time, his fingers brushing against hers before he gave it a small squeeze.

“Get some rest,” he murmured.

Cleo felt a shiver run down her spine, not from the cold, but from the way his voice wrapped around her like a promise.

She smirked, tilting her head. “You always this much of a gentleman?”

Aaron smiled, stepping back. “Only when it’s worth it.”

Her stomach flipped.

He gave her one last lingering look before turning to leave. Cleo stood there for a moment, watching him disappear down the street, her heart pounding a little harder than she wanted to admit.

As she finally stepped inside, she let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head at herself.

She had no idea where this thing with Aaron was going.

But damn… she wanted to find out.

-

“Aaron.” She calls. Aaron stopped mid-step, turning back to face her. The way his name sounded coming from her lips—soft, almost hesitant—made something stir in his chest.

Cleo stood in the warm glow of the hotel entrance, her fingers gripping the strap of her purse. For a second, she seemed to weigh her words, her eyes flickering over his face like she was trying to memorize him in this moment.

He waited. Didn’t push. Didn’t speak.

Then, finally, she exhaled. “Stay.”

The word was simple, but the weight behind it was anything but.

Aaron’s brows lifted slightly, surprised. Not because he didn’t want to—he absolutely did—but because she was the one asking.

She bit her lip, shifting on her feet. “Not—” She shook her head. “I don’t mean like that. I just… I don’t want the night to end yet.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a slow smile.

“Okay,” he said simply.

Cleo let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, then turned, motioning for him to follow her inside.

Aaron fell into step beside her, his hand grazing her lower back as they walked through the lobby. It was subtle, barely there, but enough to send warmth spreading through her.

Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe she was reading too much into this.

Or maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want this moment to end.

As the night stretched on, their conversation drifted effortlessly between deep thoughts and lighthearted banter. They talked about everything and nothing—their favorite places to travel, the worst movies they’d ever seen, the little things that made them who they were.

Cleo felt herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in a long time. With Aaron, there was no pressure to be “on,” no need to curate every word or moment for perfection. He just let things be.

And as she sat beside him, legs tucked under her on the couch, she became hyper-aware of how close they were. The space between them had shrunk without her even realizing it. His cologne—clean, warm, and subtly intoxicating—lingered in the air between them.

Her eyes flickered to his lips.

She wanted to kiss him.

The thought came suddenly, crashing into her with more force than she expected. She had been holding back all night, keeping things light, convincing herself that this was just a moment. But now?

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Aaron must have noticed the shift because he paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly. “What?” he asked, his voice softer now, more knowing.

Cleo hesitated, her pulse quickening. “Nothing.”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Liar.”

She exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

Aaron chuckled, but his eyes held something deeper, something unreadable. He reached out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The simple gesture sent a shiver down her spine.

“You sure it’s nothing?” he asked, his voice lower now.

She swallowed, heart hammering.

Screw it.

Cleo leaned in, closing the distance between them.

The moment their lips met, it was soft—hesitant, almost like a question. But then Aaron responded, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. He kissed her slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world.

And maybe, in this moment, they did.

As soon as they pulled back, Cleo’s mind went into overdrive.

What was she thinking?

She mentally kicked herself, her pulse still racing from the kiss. She had told herself she wouldn’t get attached, that this was just a fleeting thing—two people enjoying each other’s company while they were in the same place. But now?

Now, she had gone and kissed him.

Aaron, meanwhile, was watching her carefully, his hazel eyes searching her face like he could hear every thought running through her mind. He didn’t look smug, didn’t push for more. He just waited, giving her space to react.

Cleo swallowed hard, forcing out a small, awkward laugh. “Well… that happened.”

Aaron’s lips twitched, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, his voice even, unreadable. “It did.”

She exhaled sharply, looking away. “I don’t usually do this.”

“What? Kiss?” he teased, tilting his head.

She shot him a look. “You know what I mean.”

Aaron smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out, tracing a slow circle on the back of her hand with his thumb. It was grounding—gentle, patient.

“Do you regret it?” he asked finally.

Cleo opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. Did she?

She knew she should. She should be pulling back, setting boundaries, reminding herself that he’d be heading back to London soon and she had her own life to return to.

But regret?

No. She didn’t regret it at all.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I just… I don’t know where this is going.”

Aaron nodded, his gaze steady. “Neither do I.”

His honesty caught her off guard. No promises, no empty reassurances—just the truth.

And maybe that was why she couldn’t seem to walk away.

Aaron didn’t hesitate this time. As soon as he saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the way she seemed caught between overthinking and letting go, he made the choice for both of them.

He leaned in again, capturing her lips with his.

This kiss was different—deeper, more certain. It wasn’t just a question; it was an answer.

Cleo melted into it before she could stop herself. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater as he pulled her closer, his hand resting at the small of her back. He was slow, deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of this, to know that this wasn’t just some impulsive moment to be brushed aside.

Her mind screamed at her to be careful, to guard herself, to remember that he wasn’t staying.

But the way he kissed her? The way he moved like he had no plans of letting go?

It made her wonder if maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t the only one afraid of what this was turning into.

-

She moaned softly into the kiss. That’s when she jolted away from him. Embarrassed.

The sound escaped before she could stop it—a soft, involuntary moan against his lips.

The moment she realized, her eyes flew open, and she jolted away from him, her entire body going rigid.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to her lips, embarrassment flooding through her.

Aaron blinked, clearly caught off guard, before a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “Did you just—”

“Don’t.” She cut him off, holding up a hand, her face burning.

But Aaron? Oh, he was enjoying this. His smirk deepened as he leaned back against the couch, his gaze locked onto her. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know.”

She groaned, covering her face. “I am very embarrassed.”

He chuckled, running a hand over his jaw. “Why? It was kind of cute.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, shooting him a glare. “You would think that.”

Aaron just shrugged, his eyes still dancing with amusement. But there was something else in his expression too—something softer. He didn’t tease her beyond that, didn’t push. He just let her have her moment to recover.

Cleo took a deep breath, trying to regain some sense of composure. “I—maybe we should slow down.”

Aaron nodded, his expression turning more serious. “If that’s what you want.”

She searched his face, expecting disappointment or frustration. But there was none. Just patience. Understanding.

That, more than anything, made her chest tighten.

She sighed, finally lowering her hands. “I just… I don’t want to rush into something messy.”

Aaron studied her for a moment before nodding again. “Then we won’t rush.”

Simple. No arguments. No pressure.

And somehow, that made her want him even more.

She moved in closer to him. Impulse control and embarrassment be damned. If he thought it was cute, just maybe. She leaned in again.

Cleo didn’t think. Didn’t overanalyze.

Impulse control and embarrassment be damned.

If he thought it was cute—if he wasn’t running, wasn’t making her feel ridiculous for being vulnerable—then maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to hold back.

She leaned in again, closing the space between them, her hand resting lightly against his chest.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. His arms slid around her, pulling her in as their lips met again. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

His kiss was slow and deep, deliberate in a way that made her stomach flip. His hands stayed respectful but firm, anchoring her against him. And when she sighed softly against his lips, he answered with a low hum of approval that sent a shiver down her spine.

She was losing herself in him, in the way he kissed like he had nowhere else to be, like this moment was the only thing that mattered.

And maybe, for now, it was.

Once apart he smiles. “Was that so hard to let go?” He asks. “Plus don’t be embarrassed about those cute little moans.” He says.

Cleo rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

“You would bring that up again,” she muttered, lightly shoving his chest.

Aaron chuckled, catching her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “I mean, was it so hard to let go?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You don’t understand. I don’t do this—getting caught up, letting things just… happen.”

Aaron studied her, his hazel eyes warm. “Maybe you should,” he said simply. “Not everything has to be planned.”

She bit her lip, looking down at their intertwined fingers. He was making this feel too easy. Too natural.

Then he smirked. “And for the record,” he added, voice dipping lower, “don’t be embarrassed about those cute little moans.”

Her head snapped up. “Aaron.”

He laughed, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips for a quick, soft kiss. “What? Just saying I like them.”

She groaned, burying her face in his shoulder, but the warmth spreading through her told her she wasn’t really mad.

Not even a little.

-

Cleo’s thoughts raced as she rested against him, her heart still fluttering from the kiss, from his words, from him.

She wanted this. Wanted him.

But she knew better than to push.

Aaron was still finding his footing in all of this—his career, his privacy, his own comfort with letting someone in. She knew he wasn’t the type to rush things, and the last thing she wanted was to make him feel pressured.

Still, the way he held her, the way he looked at her—it made her wonder.

Was he thinking the same thing? Did he want this to be more than fleeting moments in different cities?

She exhaled against his shoulder, letting herself stay in the warmth of his embrace for just a little longer. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers right now.

But maybe she didn’t need them just yet.

Aaron noticed the slight shift in her body, the way she tensed just a little before exhaling like she was trying to steady herself.

He didn’t say anything at first, just let his hand trail soothingly up and down her back. But he wasn’t oblivious—he could feel her thoughts running a mile a minute.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured, tilting his head to look at her.

Cleo huffed a soft laugh but didn’t deny it. “Can you blame me?”

Aaron studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But you don’t have to.”

She pulled back slightly, searching his face. “I just…” She sighed, trying to find the right words. “I like you, Aaron. And I know you have your own pace, your own way of doing things. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

Aaron’s lips pressed together, his thumb still absently tracing patterns on her hand. “And what if I am ready?” he asked, voice low, thoughtful.

Cleo blinked. “You are?”

He let out a small chuckle. “I don’t do things halfway, Cleo. If I wasn’t serious about this… about you… I wouldn’t be here.”

Her heart skipped. She felt it—his sincerity, his quiet certainty.

“So what are you saying?” she asked, voice softer now.

Aaron met her gaze, his expression steady. “I’m saying… if you want me, I’m yours.”

Her breath caught.

No hesitation. No games.

Just him, laying it out as simply as that.

“Hell. These last six months have been amazing and if you know you know.” He says.

Cleo stared at him, her heart thudding a little harder. Six months. Had it really been that long?

Between their chance meeting in L.A., the quiet moments, the long conversations, the undeniable pull between them—it all blurred together in the best way.

“Hell,” Aaron continued, his voice steady. “These last six months have been amazing, and if you know, you know.”

She swallowed, her lips parting slightly. “And you know?” she asked, searching his face for any sign of doubt.

Aaron nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I do.”

His words settled deep inside her, warming something she didn’t even realize had been cold.

For so long, she had guarded herself, kept things light, casual. But here he was—this man who had slipped into her life with his quiet confidence and steady presence—telling her exactly what she had been too scared to admit to herself.

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Damn you, Aaron.”

His brows lifted. “What?”

“You’re making this way too easy.”

Aaron grinned, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Love isn’t supposed to be hard, Cleo.”

Love.

The word hung between them, unspoken yet fully understood.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and in that moment, she knew.

So she smiled, cupping his face in her hands. “Then I guess you’re mine, too.”

-

“We don’t have to put titles on anything yet. But I’m all in if you are.” He says.

Cleo felt a wave of relief wash over her. Aaron always had a way of making things feel right—no pressure, no expectations, just an understanding between them.

She nodded slowly, letting the moment settle. “I like that,” she admitted. “No titles, no rush. Just us.”

Aaron smiled, his fingers still tracing along the back of her hand. “Exactly.”

She studied him, memorizing the way his hazel eyes softened when he looked at her, the way he made her feel safe without even trying.

“You’re really all in?” she asked, needing to hear it one more time.

He squeezed her hand gently. “All in.”

Cleo let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Then, unable to stop herself, she leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to his lips—this one slower, deeper, like a silent agreement.

When she pulled back, Aaron’s smirk was undeniable. “See?” he murmured. “Letting go isn’t so hard.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight her smile. “Shut up.”

Aaron chuckled, pulling her close again. “Make me.”

And just like that, she knew she was done for.

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[oracle-of-dream]

Photo Finisher

Minors DNI

Summary: Yechan is from the rookie idol group, 82Majors, and his managers have set him up in the studio to get some amazing photos. But he's heard of your other prizes for good behavior, so he's interested in your other services...

Warnings: Male Reader, Blowjob, facial, degradation, domYechan, cum eating

Wordcount: 1.7k

You spent your morning selecting the songs for the playlist vibe you needed for today's photoshoot. Rookie idols were always tricky to deal with. Most were scared so stiff that they could hardly count as models...

Today, Yechan from 82Majors was your muse. The appointment was a last-minute order from management, and someone must've paid a chunk of money to call you in before noon. It's a part of your contract that you don't have to work before noon without an extra fee determined based on your mood for the day. It was 8am, so you told your boss to push for 40% higher than your usual rate. This usually moved companies away to pick a later time, but your boss immediately texted you back, telling you to get ready.

It was ten minutes before the photoshoot was supposed to start. Your staff set up everything from lights, cameras, software, and canvases. There was murmuring in the prep room, which is the room before entering the main studio, which meant the client had arrived. After some time, likely for hair and makeup to work him over, a young man with brown hair and strong cheekbones entered and greeted you.

"Hello, photographer y/n. It's a pleasure to be working with you, and thank you so much for taking our call so late minute." He bowed deeply.

"Yeah, hi. Just called me, y/n. Photographer y/n is a little much."

The boy nodded. "I-I'm Yechan, from 82Major!"

"I know who you are. I read the paperwork," you replied dryly.

Your morning coffee hadn't kicked in yet... This was going to be an extremely rough morning.

Yechan took his time to go around to the rest of the staff and introduce himself to each of them, handing out small gift bags from his company.

You looked at your phone for the time. 8AM.

"Okay, that's enjoy chitchat. I'm already at 30% on the irritated scale, and being behind schedule will make it jump to 50%."

With your clear directions, everyone hopped to attention and started scrambling to their stations. Yechan hustled off to get his hair and makeup re-touched before stepping onto the canvas.

"Yechan, if you have any issues or questions with the photos, tell me. The one thing I hate more than waking up early is someone who can't speak on issues.

Yechan nodded eagerly and took followed directions beautifully. Every single angle, down to the degree, was perfect. Clearly practiced. Because of that, you managed to wrap up the first set of photos easily.

"Let's take 10 and switch outfits. We're making excellent time, so let's keep the pace up." You announced to the team.

As you went back to your studio chair, Yechan approached you meekly.

"Yes?" you asked without looking at him, more interested in your phone.

"Um... I'd like to ask you about your services, sir." Yechan mumbled.

You rolled your eyes before looking at him. "My services? I'm a photographer. I take pictures. Be clear about what you want."

"Okay, then I'll be straightforward." Yechan took a deep breath before continuing, "I'd like to please you."

You raised an eye. "Please me? I'm happy enough that we're ahead of schedule. You want me to be happy? Keep working hard."

Yechan shook his head. "I don't know if there's some sort of secret code or something... it's honestly a little embarrassing to just say, you know."

You giggled in your seat, finally looking up from your phone. Yechan was a pretty good-looking man. Knows his angles, good body proportions, and a face card that doesn't look like it'll decline with its high limit. You bet he was about 6 1/2 inches, with a left curve. You read that he was from Canada and the brother of another idol, but you can't remember the brother's name...

You sat back in your chair. "Do you mean you want to have sex with me, boy?"

Yechan's face got pink instantly. "Well, they said you were really frank. But I still didn't–"

"So it's a no?"

"It's a yes! I do want to have... s–sex with you."

You smiled. "And what did you have in mind, young man?" The age gap between you wasn't big, but you could tell he was melting from you treating him like he's the younger in this situation.

"I want to do whatever makes you happy."

"So you have no plan? That's not very well prepared of you."

"I'm pretty skilled though! I got a few tricks!"

You smiled bigger. "Tricks? And what if I refuse? Yechan's face turned white. He clearly didn't consider the possibility of you saying no to him. "You didn't think I was some prostitute, did you? That you could just say, sex, and I'll give it?"

He shook his head, "No! Of course not–I'd never think that."

"Then tell me, what would you want? If you can have anything from this."

He looked around before getting closer to whisper. "Um... If I could choose. I think I'd be really into cumming on your face after you suck me off, and maybe I call you a few names and stuff..."

"Oh, that's it?"

He shrugged. "I'm a rather simple guy..."

"Then, simply guy, let's finish this up so we can get busy," you winked at him as you went off to find more of your staff, leaving him alone with a clear boner.

The photoshoot resumed, Yechan in his new outfit. The crop top really complimented his figure, and honestly got you more excited for what was coming. You could also tell he was pretty excited. His cock could barely stay inside his pants, a few pictures had his tip peeking out, and you personally deleted those to save him from the embarrassment.

After the photoshoot, Yechan went into the dressing room to get changed. You dismissed the staff for the night, thanked everyone for being present, and then walked into the dressing room.

"Hello? Anyone home?" You called.

Yechan let out a small yelp, covering himself. "I'm in here!"

"Yes, obviously. I came here to find you." You closed the door and locked it behind you. "I'm here to give you the reward you requested for being such a good boy today."

Yechan's face was red, his shirt and underwear were on, but his pants were still on the floor.

You winked at him, "easy access? For me? How considerate."

"That's not–"

You dropped to your knees and started crawling over to him. "This is your reward, remember? Anything you want goes, but if either of us says stop, we're done."

Yechan nodded, still covering his crotch.

You crawled right up to him, your face inches away from his dick. "Are you going to hide all day? Isn't it your desire to take charge?" You unbutton your shirt, letting it sensually slide down your shoulders, but not taking it off completely.

"So, I can just go?" Yechan asked again to be sure.

"Yep, just–" Yechan pulled your hair and pushed you into his crotch, making you huff his musk. Slightly sweaty, but pretty clean. You could feel his cock throbbing under the thin fabric, 6 1/2 inches, and curved to the left... You moved your hand to touch it, but Yechan slapped it away.

"Did I tell you to use your hands, s–slut!?" He hesitated at calling you a slut. But the submissive look in your eye reaffirmed him. "Use your mouth to take it out."

You maneuvered your mouth to his waistband, nose grinding against his abs, and dragged his boxes down. His cock smacked you in the face as you moved. His balls were heavy and full, he was throbbing like crazy, and even a slight graze earned a guttural groan. Yechan had really been waiting for you...

"Get to work, whore."

You look up at him, still keeping your hands off him as you caught his cock in your mouth and started licking.

"More than that, I don't want you half-assing it. I'm a busy man!" He pulled on your hair, pulling you into him to make you take more.

Yechan was starting to get more into it, which made you want to mess with him. He wouldn't last long if you tried to push him to it, but if he's so busy, then he can handle it. You straightened your back, corrected his hand to move your head and not pull your hair, and relaxed your jaw. Yechan noticed the change in your attitude as he started getting greedy. Pushing you deep, holding you there, all while telling you how much of an attention whore you are. You pressed him more, flattening your tongue and turning off the gag reflex. You were taking over.

"Wait, holy f–fuck," he moaned as he grabbed a nearby table. "Oh, you're so good. So, so, good at this." You squeezed his balls, earning more praise. "My balls too! Fu–fuck, baby just like that. Keep chugging it." He pushed you down, controlling the tempo, making it faster. "Your mouth is amazing, I–I'm gonna fucking cum." He almost whined as you pulled off of him, jerking him off and licking his tip. His pressure was building. Fast. "Please let me cum on your face!"

You giggled. "Say it in character!"

Yechan's words were still fumbling. "I–I will cum on your face?" He questioned before you squeezed his balls firmly. "God Damn," his cum shot out and landed on your face. "My... g–god." He wouldn't stop, pump after pump. It was at last 8 pumps, full of cum, now on your face. Each was accompanied by a thrust and whining moans from Yechan. You stroked him through it all, milking him completely before giving the tip a lick and a kiss.

"All done?"

Yechan breathlessly smeared his cum on your face, using his cock. Pushing it toward your mouth. "I'm sorry for the mess..." He said breathlessly.

You pulled out your phone and took a picture with Yechan. Cock still out and cum on your face, but a little less as you wiped some off. You put the tip back in your mouth for your picture, earning more begging from Yechan.

"P–Please! No more, I can't cum again!"

You help Yechan finish getting dressed and clean yourself up, sending him on his way and adding his photo to the folder with the others...

[yooglefics]

Reveal — Part two: editing

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader )  Wordcount: 1,735 words Genre: 18+, mdni, remainder to not use fanfics as your only source of sex ed. Summary: Yoongi is just helping a friend help you, but is he even supposed to listen to this?. Part 2 of Reveal: recording. Read it for context. This is just why and how we got to that ending. More warnings under read more.

Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. People recording sex acts. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things and thinking about doing more things ). Mentions of past and not past masturbation ( f and m ).  Dirty talk? I guess?. Sprinkle of possessive yoongi? Is not my fault i sweaaaar Author's note: Remember when I started writing something short and silly lmao, what a time. Btw, I have never used OF so if something I say about how they use the website is actually not true / completely wrong just pretend please lmao. Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to write Yoongi's side, hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

Saturday is probably Yoongi's favorite day of the week. No waking up early, no work, and not worrying about having to do any of those the next day.

That's why he groans when his phone rings with messages from Jungkook. He knows is him because he is the only one who still insists on sending him a million messages instead of just one. 

Love the guy, but he can be annoying.

The fifth ring comes and hopping is the last one, Yoongi finally reaches for his phone and rolls to his back. 

JK: hey JK: are you awake? JK: and free today? JK: i need a favor JK: yoongi?

Yoongi: with what? If I have to leave my house is probably a no.

Both of them know that actually, even if it ruined his plans of relaxing, he would say yes. Because that's what friends do.

JK: no no. You can do it at your house  JK: I need to edit an audio for my friend JK: but I'm on the schedule today JK: and if I don't send it back quickly she will back out JK: please? 

Yoongi: ok. Send it to me. Yoongi: you own me, tho.

Throwing his phone on the bed, he gets out of it to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, getting ready to sit in his studio for at least an hour. He knows is probably a bit extra to use his expensive equipment for whatever this favor is, but if he is going to help, he is going to do it right.

Opening Jungkook's messages on his laptop, Yoongi almost wants to laugh at himself.

JK: [ killmepls.mp3 ] JK: is and OF thing, btw JK: don't listen to it in public lol

Yep, definitely Poducer Min equipment is too extra for this. But, fuck it.

The archive is already downloaded when he opens the software, starting a new project and naming it the same as the audio plus final, to not get confused. Plugging in his headphones he starts playing it, already noticing whoever this is, is pretty quiet at the beginning and he would most likely have to cut it off, still, he listens to make sure.

A few taps followed by a “hi..” is the start, and he chuckles at their giggles.

He decides to let that in, but cuts the next few seconds where only their breathing can be heard along with some clicking and fabric moving. Is too long of a pause for this kind of thing and the clicking gives a way they weren't ready to start. Sure they wouldn't mind.

They put music on? It sounds familiar but is pretty fade out, so he can't really be sure, and then “This angle is kinda…” 

That's him.

That's his voice.

“Hot,” the voice continues before he can rewind.

“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” his own voice travels again on his headphones. “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most: hands.”

What is this? Some kind of joke?

Did Jungkook put them up to this?

“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,” 

That gets a laugh from him, even if he is still confused about what is happening.

Maybe it's just his imagination?

Should he ask his friend?

More movement of fabric. Maybe bed sheets or clothes. More breathing, a bit faster than last time and then, a groan. 

He can leave that in.

Wait, that's right. He is supposed to be editing this. He has to go back and…

“This angle is kinda…” his voice says and he hits pause. Is really him. Is that possible?

He feels like he is imagining things.

“Jungkook, I swear if this is some kind of joke or something,” he rambles taking his phone out.

Yoongi: did you listen to it?

JK: no, didn't have time JK: why? something wrong? JK: don't tell me it can't be used JK: she is gonna be sad :(

Yoongi: who is she?

JK: dunno if i can tell you 

Yoongi: technically I'm doing a favor for her. I think is fair 

JK: good point JK: is afterhours(y/n)

He opens a new tap on his laptop, goes to the website and searches for the username through his followers. And sure enough there it is. Subscribed a month ago.

He clicks to see your perfil. The first post he can see without being subscribed is a picture of a lilac lingerie set on a bed with the caption “very early birthday present”, from a week ago. 

He considers subscribing to see more, but he stops himself from clicking, remembering Jungkook didn't even want to tell him who you were. Oh, shit. What would you do if you knew it was him editing your audio? Would you back out? Or be sad?

Now it feels kind of wrong, like if he were invading your privacy.

He clicks around on his computer again, audio track back to the zero seconds mark. He hears the “hi” and the giggles and stops it before his voice appears. 

“Okay, this is going to be posted. It was recorded with the intention of being posted for people to hear,” he reasons. “If it's not posted I'd just forget about it and if it is… I'd… subscribe? To make up for listening?”

Clearly that part is not completely made up on his mind, but he doesn't have to decide what to do right now, he has to finish editing. And so, Yoongi clicks around the software again, cutting and deleting another section, the one where you can hear his voice and even his music before.

That's it. It was a familiar track because it is his. He composed that himself to put in the background of his videos exclusively. He figured putting his own touch would help if something was posted outside his page, never imagining hearing it in the background of someone else's video or audio was even possible.

It shouldn't affect him this much. After all, people touching themselves to his videos is half the reason he likes making them. What can he say? Is a turn on to have that effect on others, it builds his confidence up.

But actually hearing it is different. 

Groan and fabric moving, a bit too close to the mic he considers doing something about it, but “I want you to touch me,” is the perfect whisper. Just the right volume, just the right words.

No more audio of SugaD can be heard now, you probably turn down the volume of the video or pause it. Yoongi is curious about it. The idea of your sounds being a reaction to his past self is doing things to him, and Yoongi would like to ignore them before getting too distracted, but is kind of a boomer not knowing exactly what your reactions are for.

Maybe he can open his video, it wouldn't be hard for him to synchronized it with your audio and—

No.

That would cross the line. Is enough that he—

“Are you hard?” your voice continues, timidly he thinks. 

Is this your first time doing this? That's why you couldn't edit yourself?

What would you do if you knew he was listening and his dick was calling for attention at all your little sounds?

He stops your recording, considers taking a break, going back to bed. But he knows just forgetting about this would be hard and in the end he would have to come back and finish helping.

He unpaused it.

More moans echo throughout his headphones and he fixes them on top of his head, as if that would help him concentrate. You just sound so pretty, and when you plead he wants to give you anything you ask for, his dick twitching with desire.

He could just— no. That'll be wrong. Is enough he is letting it affect him this much, he can't just—

His leg bounces under his desk, hand glue to his mouse even when he is just listening now. Only stopping and going back a couple times to fix the volume of background noise, making it less or more obvious depending on the flow or your moans.

A groan of his own cuts the silence in his studio when you form words again. “It feels so good, oh god.” And Yoongi wishes he knew what. Wishes he could see you, could touch you. Could make you sound and feel that good in person.

“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, and it sounds so much like you're agreeing with his thoughts he really considers sneaking a hand down his pants. Allow his mind to wander and imagine what you would look like under him. Or on top. Or just coming undone by him.

But he doesn't. He just listens to your recording, your breathing, your pleas and your cut out warning when you cum.

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi angrily whispers. And for a second he considers doing the SugaD special of cutting it out of the final audio, but that's too selfish.

Or perhaps is more selfish leaving it. Considering he wants the world to hear how you sound when listening to him.

Yoongi managed to leave the studio without touching himself. But is not really as impressive as it sounds since his hand is on his dick the minute he goes back to bed after listening to the final edit of your audio one last time. The excuse of being just to make sure is perfect is just that, an excuse. And your pretty sounds replay on his head while he jerks off until orgasm.

JK: thank youuuu JK: she says thank you too!

Does that mean you know he was the one editing it?

He opens the app on his phone, looks for your perfil again and debates a couple minutes his options. 

What's the worst that can happen? You blocking him? He would understand, but if he actually doesn't do anything, doesn't play his chance, he wouldn't forgive himself.

And so, he subscribes. Page refreshes instantly and a new post greets him.

[ afterhours(y/n):

Surprise, surprise. Is my birthday month but I keep spoiling you, ain't I the best? 😝 

      [ VoiceReveal.mp3 ]

                                                                         ]

Doesn't even have to listen to it, his fingers move on their own, “the cutest”, he comments.

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri ,

( is hereee! I appreciate u guys hehe <3 ) ( if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future, let me know )

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part three. | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

[reticent-writer]

heyyy PLEASE I NEEDD Vox x teen! Reader. Where she’s like the Vee’s assistant, or Vox’s assistant or something like that and she sees Vox as a father figure? Tyy

I like this alot

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

the most chaotic job in all of hell, like there is never a peaceful moment in the Vees tower. Someone is always yelling, something is always being broken, and you are in the middle of it. The peacemaker.

Your soul belongs to Vox but you assist all of the Vees. Your like 17/18. You were a hacker before you died, you hacked into the governments software and was killed for it.

You did the same thing to Vox but he didn't get mad instead he offered a secure home/job for your soul. (Seeing that everyone is dead that sounds silly but you shook his hand anyway)

If Vox isn't around to calm down Val and Velvette you're the next best thing. Valentino can talk your ears off as much as he wants and Velvette can use you as a model

In hell you can travel through electronics like Vox

Most of your time is spent with Velvette and Vox, mainly Vox. Vox has you do a lot of work that he trusts no one else with like going to the overlord meetings when no one else wants to

You are genuinely nice, like the other overlords wonder why you're working with the Vees

Your room doesn't have a door, so to get to your room you have to go through electronics to a backroom type of place. It's still in the Vees tower but no one but you or Vox and get to it.

Vox made it like this so if you wanted to be unbothered no one could even knock on your door.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚-Vox-˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"Y/n are you awake."

You heard Vox from inside your room. You zapped you phone knowing that Vox you feel it. Basically saying you were getting up.

It took you 15 minutes to get ready before you teleported to the monitor room to find Vox watching random sinners on his big screen.

"I'm up, sir."

He dramatically spun his chair to face you.

"I hope it's been a hellish morning so far, what's on today's schedule."

You pulled out your phone and started to read off it, "the day doesn't start until 1 which is when the early talk show starts ot lasts until 3, at 5-7 is a game show, Velvette s show starts at 7, Valentino's live streaming a BDSM thing at 8, late night talk show at 10."

You looked at the time it was 8 am.

"Well since I'm free why don't we work on your mega computer." He offered. He likes how your face lit up and without wasting a second you dragged him to one of the quietest rooms in the building. In it was a desktop with a few wires connected to it.

Your mega computer was a project you started after you sold your soul. You hope it can connect to heaven one day and who is Vox to stop you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚-Velvette-˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were in Fox's monitor room untangling cords.

"Y/N COME HERE." Velvette yelled at you through her phone.

You sighed as you stopped what you were doing and turn went through one of the many TVs.

"Yes, Vel." You smiled, clearly Vox was rubbing off on you.

"Something is missing with this outfit, tell me what it is." She pointed you in the direction of a mannequin with a outfit in your preferred style.

"(￣ヘ￣）ᵁᴹᴹ a (whatever you want)."

She hummed and with a snap of her fingers it appeared.

"Better right?"

"Yes."

"Good it's yours, take it" she snapped again and the outfit was in your hands, "no go put it on, I wanna see it."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, put it on."

-It looked amazing-

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚-Valentino-˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"Vox said your not aloud in the studio so the least your could do is read the script." He said as he handed you a think packed.

"Jailbird gets hard time" you read loud in disgust, "do you really think I should be reading this?"

He scoffed, "oh please it's not like I can't see your browser history. A03, wattpad, Quotev, fanfiction.net the list goes on."

You stared at him in disbelief.

"What... Aww is someone embarrassed." He squished your cheeks. Your face was beat red.

"Aw, Chiquita, I don't judge. You should see the more kinky scrips."

"Oh no thanks. I think I hear Vox calling me. Bye." You reached his pocket for his phone and with a poor you were gone.

After that you made it so no one could see any of your activity.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

A/n: I don't like Valentino. I love his voice tho

[krankenhaused]

FELIX KRANKEN SELF SHIP POST ^_^

Felix Kovacs runs a tech company out of Ann Arbor Michigan called Kovtech. He is contacted by Jack Walten in 1973 in relation to producing gaming cabinets for the resteraunt. The two only talk over the phone for a few months, before Jack finally scheduled a face to face meeting with the man. The two met, and made a formal partnership between the two companies. The companies didn’t connect much after this, Kovacs spent most his time developing custom software for the Bons Burgers gaming cabinets. Eventually, another meeting is set up, where Kovacs meets Kranken. The two hit it off incredibly well, having similar personalities and interests. After the meeting, the two continued to stay in touch and eventually became close friends and drinking buddies. Kovacs is well aware of the drinking habits Kranken has, but chooses to ignore them as to not cause trouble within his friendship. Eventually, the crash occurs, and Kranken shows up at Kovacs doorstep at 6 am, covered in blood and dirt. Kovacs, shocked my this, allows him to come inside and gets him cleaned up. Kranken then tells him of what had happened to him, including all the stuff about the divorce and the crash, but makes him swear not to say a thing. Kovacs complies, and allows for Kranken to move in with him. This living situation eventually kindled a relationship between the two, but due to Krankens internalized homophobia, he’s terrified of people finding out. Kovacs, who’s business persona is tacky and bright, dislikes this idea, as he is not nearly as private as Kranken. The two have an imbalanced relationship, as Kranken is overly avoidant and typically doesn’t want anything public in his relationships. Kovacs, who craves the validation of being seen and communicated with in their relationship.

guys i know some of this isn’t lore accurate but i dont give a gaf i have fun

[gingiesworld]

Fatal Attraction

Chapter Two

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader/Wanda Maximoff x Jarvis Stark

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda was excited to start her first day at Oscorp, of course she never told Jarvis where she was working. Oscorp and Stark Industries are the biggest rivals in the USA, both companies sell high tech software and Oscorp also sell pharmaceuticals and weapons, something which Tony had stopped Stark Industries manufacturing. So Stark had lost a lot of investors due to lack of materials.

"Why are you up so early?" Jarvis asked his wife as she sat at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a slice of toast in the other.

"I have my first day today." She told him as she put the cup down, gathering her things.

"What time will you be home?" He questioned as she raised her brow. "I just want to know if I should expect dinner or not when I walk through the door."

"Seriously?" She scoffed as he gazed at her. "I am not a little housewife. It is not my job to mother you!" She left the toast and coffee on the table as she grabbed her purse, heading straight to the door. "Don't expect me to cook dinner for you tonight." She told him before she slammed the door behind her. Heading straight into the cold city air as she walked to Oscorp. Making her way up to the top floor after retrieving her I.D. badge.

"Wanda, good morning." Jean greeted her as she entered the office.

"Good morning. How are you and the little one?" She asked her as Jean smiled, resting her hand on her stomach.

"We are both great." She answered before Y/N walked in, three cups and a bag of donuts.

"Green tea for Jean, coffee for me and coffee for Wanda." They handed them the cups before placing the donuts on the desk. "And breakfast." The two women thanked them before Jean handed them a file.

"You have a meeting with Dr Stacy about the new antibiotic." Jean told them as they nodded.

"Would you spend this week showing Wanda how everything is done here?" They asked her. "I want her to know everything before you leave but if she doesn't get everything, I will always help if you need me." They told the two who just nodded. Wanda watched as they disappeared down the hall and towards the elevator.

"They don't really get a moment." Jean told Wanda who nodded, grabbing a seat beside the pregnant woman. "You seemed to be upset when you came in." Jean observed as Wanda shook her head.

"Just marital problems." Wanda shrugged as Jean looked at her shocked.

"But you're so young." She whispered as Wanda chuckled.

"We have been together forever." Wanda told her, soon interrupted by the phone ringing, watching as Jean showed her how to get into Y/N's schedule. Wanda was shocked at how many meetings they had in a day, and what time they actually finished work.

"They also never really rest." Jean told her.

"I can see." Wanda nodded as she swallowed.

"You won't be staying that long unless they need you for an emergency." Jean told her. "But the overtime is generous." The two had gone on with Jean showing Wanda how to use the company software and how to make the changes as Y/N headed towards the labs.

"So, how far along is the process?" They asked her as she looked up from her tablet.

"It is almost done, we just need to start trials soon." Gwen started. "It is supposed to be stronger than your average oral antibiotic, tackling the source of the infection. We have tried it on a test dummy but we won't get sufficient results until we open up for human trials."

"Get the FDA to sign off on the trials first." They told her as she handed them another file.

"We have also had to adjust the formula of the tranquilizers." She informed them. "The old formula was." She made a face. "It was too potent."

"Just keep me informed, inform the FDA and get that approval." They told her before they walked away with the new files in their hands. Once Y/N had made it back to the office, they spotted both Jean and Wanda chatting comfortably. "Ms Maximoff, a word please." They held the office door open for her which she had quickly moved inside. "Please, have a seat." Wanda was quick to follow their order as they placed the files down in their growing pile. "I assume that Jean has shown you most of the database."

"Yes." Wanda answered as Y/N smiled at her.

"Wanda." They stood up from their seat and looked out of the window for a brief moment before continuing. "I had to do some of my own research and it seems that your husband is none other than the son of Anthony Stark."

"I can explain." She tried, thinking she was going to lose her job.

"I know you can." They gave her a smile. "But I also have another contract for you to sign. It protects the assets of Oscorp and its investors." They reached inside their draw for a binded contract. "It pretty much states that you cannot speak of anything that happens inside of this building, or you will be facing a lawsuit." Wanda nodded in understanding, of course she hated the idea of lying to her husband but she needed to earn her way, not like anyone would understand. She held out her hand for a pen which they handed her one from their pen pot. "Just a quick question darling." They asked as they took the contract. "Why do you want to work if being Jarvis Stark's wife provides for you?"

"I want to be able to earn my own money." She told them honestly. "I don't want to be known as Jarvis Stark's pretty little wife."

"Then why did you marry him?" They questioned as she bit the inside of her cheek. A small smirk formed on their face before they smiled guiltily at her. "My apologies, it isn't my place."

"I love him." She told them, her eye contact never faltering. "I have loved him since the moment he asked me out, as nervous as he was for being the infamous Tony Stark's son. He was the complete opposite to his father, he was sweet and loyal, kind and caring."

"You said that as in the past tense." They told her. "So, you don't think he is the same man you fell in love with?"

"Are you my shrink?" Wanda questioned with a raised brow, making Y/N chuckle lightly before leaning on the desk before her.

"I just want the best for my employees Wanda." They told her, nothing but genuine affirmation of the words laced their tone. "I know the people outside of this company think I am heartless. A power hungry being but I only want what's right for every one who works for Oscorp, that is what Norman taught me before he left me as the sole successor of his company." Wanda listened as they spoke. "The company is as strong as the people who run it. I just keep everything in order, it's the employees who keep Oscorp running, their ideas, their knowledge, their creations keep Oscorp from going underground."

"I can say that I was one of those people." Wanda whispered as Y/N laughed a little.

"Wanda, you are now one of the people who keep Oscorp running too. You keep me on schedule and arrange the appointments for the investors." They rested their hand on her shoulder. "So I only have your best interests at heart." With that they grabbed their next file before heading to the door with Wanda following. "Just know you can always come to me." With that they opened the door for her before heading to Jean.

"Mr Fisk is downstairs." She informed them.

"Why don't you both order lunch? Take a break." They suggested, before they headed to the elevator, leaving Wanda pondering their last conversation.

"What is the deal with them and Norman?" Wanda asked Jean who shook her head.

"That is not my place to tell." She told her. "I only knew because I was Norman's assistant before Y/N took over."

"So you've been here longer?" She questioned as Jean shook her head.

"No, Y/N was always here, shadowing him, learning how to run the company. They even helped with the Glider Project." Jean told her. "Of course it failed, an accident happened and well, Norman scrapped it."

Wanda was most certainly drawn into the mystery that is Y/N Y/L/N.

[bigbandithewada]

Feeling like putting down my find so here is

JV/Ant Davidson Timeline

(Can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on all info, can’t guarantee no bias no projection, not using there full names because guess what, so less info about them together if you google their names together my blog appears on the 1st page)

JV was raised in Switzerland. Did math and computer science in Switzerland. He found out he needed an engineer background to enter F1 so went back to England to get a master in that. Got to work at BAR(later Honda, Brawn, Merc) eventually. (He had a billion interview on him hustling his way to BAR but that’s not relevant to the story here)

Ant was raised in a middle class family. Went to Karting with brother and he was more interested and started to compete in Karting. He worked his way to Formula Ford and was lucky to get a sponsorship( the sponsor bought a house and let him lived there). His sponsor talked to him about career choice, at that time, test driver made a decent amount of money and that f1 seat seems a bit too distant. So Ant ended up in BAR around the same time as JV

Well JV was not that much of an engineering guy. His job going into Honda was a combination of some data analysis, coordination between departments and some engineer. There was no proper strategist job back in the days so he just bounced around. (The untold interview he said he was suppose to fix an electronic problem on the front wing, Evan Short ended up doing that. Not saying that he knew nothing but inferring from his other interview, he definitely needed help). (Even now strategist have “low” status in the team since only the principal strategist can go to the track and everyone back home’s job is make sure to feed enough info through TR that the principal’s eyes are always on track).

Meanwhile, Ant was doing amazing as a test driver, too amazing that Honda was reluctant to release him to do actual f1 racing. He missed a seat(which team I forgot) but Honda eventually agreed to let him race for Super Aguri in 2007. That team didn’t last.

Then came the Brawn year. Before 2009, JV and Ant were already starting to worry about their jobs and registered a company together. Company never took off because here comes Brawn GP.

After the championship, our champ Jenson was scheduled to do victory laps in the factory for the fans but he already buggered off to McLaren. Ant did the laps and JV was his engineer for that.

Then came the Merc years.

Ant was doing a bunch of different things then: racing in WEC, driving the Merc simulator and later became a sky sport host. Ant missed the chance of winning a championship(he also missed a podium due to bad luck in 2007) but he got one eventually. When Alonso returned to F1, Ant interviewed him asking if Alonso remembered them racing against each other in WEC, Alonso did not remember. Ant also did Jenson’s retirement interview. Ant also did some interview later saying he was too nice to be competing in this shark tank of f1, nice guy can’t win races.

JV was doing a bunch of different things in Merc as well. He was in charge of simulator, junior team, esport team and development data analysis software for premier league(honorable mention: he wrote the drivers code of conduct in 2016 to prevent Lewis and Nico fighting). Ant was a reliable simulator driver, JV was working a lot with Ant at that time(JV didn’t need to be present for the crowd strike thing but he was there…) (Also they Merc’s equipment to tune cars for their friend’s Karting league, naughty boys). I want to believe JV cares about drivers he works with, especially junior team (he went up to hug Esteban Ocon(Merc junior driver) after his 2021 Hungarian gp win(Merc strategy was a disaster that race)

Ant said JV is one of his best friends. He phoned JV a lot during the Honda and Brawn years. Ant also texted JV to ask for technical details when he started to comment for Sky( Ant joked in 2023 pre season test that JV is getting to busy with his TP job to reply to his texts). JV also bugged Ant for a VIP pass during Ant’s LeMans years. JV had spent time with Ant’s family doing barbecue for JV’s birthday. JV is Ant’s kids’ god father.

Projection time: Brawn and Merc years treated JV so well he probably is a bit idealist about things now. The stuff he said at Williams make sense if your work experience is a streak of championships. JV will probably never get a reality check so hard the way Ant exit F1(divorce? Idw). Knowing they are good friends make me happy.

(Some source from Ant’s deleted twitter account)

[novella-november]

So uh, how are you planning to enforce the "no AI" rule? What do you plan to do if a participant is accused of using unacceptable software?

There's no submissions and no enforcement.

If someone is posting the in #Novella November & #NovellaNovember tags:

clearly-AI generated content (such as AI-generated book covers)

bragging about using AI

Talking about how they used x AI program to make X part of the book

etc

Then I can guarantee you they're going to simply be blocked by a few thousand writers en masse.

Probably they will get at least a few people trying to talk to them about the harm that AI does, and better alternatives that don't mass-steal from a few million unconsenting people--

alternatives like:

finding someone to partner with to discuss your ideas for brainstorming instead of asking an AI chatbot

.

Joining a "secret gift" group where everyone digitally "pulls a name out of a hat" or is randomly selected to make a cover for someone else's book idea

.

commissioning an actual artist for a cover

.

youtube tutorials on how to use GIMP as a free Photoshop alternative to make your own cover, with links to sites such as Pexels that have free stockphotos for anyone to use

.

Choosing a lower, more manageable daily word count goal if 1k or 500 is too out of line with your work schedule/ability to write on your own instead of resorting to AI generation to try to make up the difference out of anxiety

.

finding alternative medias to 'write' with, such as using an app on your phone or the in-built accessibility features on Windows that let you use your voice to type, so if you can't physically type or write with your hands or other limbs, you can instead dictate your novel outloud, which would also work if you are often away from home or can't actively use your phone but *can* record your voice passively as you work with your hands on another task :)

so...... yeah.

Literally the only things that would happen if someone tries to use AI in the #Novella November and #NovellaNovember tags would be the writing community collectively:

attempting some outreach; education is key to realizing the harm being done, after all! Maybe the person just doesn't know any better, and felt like that was their only option to reach their goal.

blocking the person, and if they're actively malicious in their AI use (such as fully knowing how much it harms writers/artists, how much of it is based on plagarism, or actively going out of their way to steal other people's work) people will probably start warning others about them as well so they can be blocked in advance, the same as other people who are harmful to communities.

This is a community initiative, spearheaded by this blog purely because I came up with the idea first and want to make sure that, at least to start out and as long as I can manage it, the community is the key part of being supporting and caring of each other, because billion dollar tech companies and those who are swayed by their money sure as heck aren't going to stand with us.

If someone is ""accused of using unacceptable software"" ..... they're just gonna get blocked if they're posting AI generated content, like everyone else who posts AI generated content get blocked by the community at large as they're encountered.

I'll repeat again: this is a community initiative, not an organization. There's no submissions people are sending anywhere to "confirm" word counts; --

Only:

people posting their celebrations and woes in the tag,

posting their frustrations and questions,

receiving answers and advice from the community,

sharing art and snippets, making covers, making decorative goal cards,

No AI is allowed in Novella November -- if people are posting or bragging about using AI generated content, they're simply going to be announcing themselves to thousands of writers (plus everyone who follows those writers) that they're a good person to block and never interact with 🤷