#i knew with the timing there was a chance it could get traction

[forestofsprites]

💌✨️

[remlionheart]

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[queenimmadolla]

hey i have a req for the penny verse!! if u want can u possibly do penny gets her period and like starts freaking out and only eddie’s home so he’s like “uh- i’ll go get some pads” if u want to ofc!!! i love ur writing <33

five months later and i was finally able to get to this one. sorry about the wait and i hope i did it just! this was also definitely influenced by me finally having seen Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.

rockstar!eddie manip by the talented @themunsonator5000!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫

(dad!rockstar!eddie munson x mom!reader) *but like you're not even in this*

summary: Your daughter gets her first period while you’re away and only Eddie is home. Somehow, she ends up comforting him.

warnings: lots of sentiment, brief (and i mean brief) mention of an oc side character death, angst, fluff, some hurt and whole lot of comforting. and of course mentions of periods.

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲'𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁, 𝗴𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂! more dad!eddie here.

Eddie let out a sigh as he collapsed back onto the couch, body nearly sinking into it.

  The house was finally quiet. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Felt foreign to him, especially in the new house.

  He glanced around the living room, brown eyes lingering on a few empty boxes that had yet to be broken down from the move.

  It was a big change, moving from Hawkins to California and he was well aware there wasn’t a single member of his family that was feeling completely positive about the experience. He could tell you were trying to be, for his sake and for the kids, but leaving behind all your friends was difficult. Even Eddie was struggling, despite Jeff, Gareth and Anthony being close by.

  Corroded Coffin had picked up quite a bit of traction and a loyal fanbase that was stemming into a borderline crazed one. The demand for more performances and appearances was high. Eddie never thought they’d ever reach this level, had dreamed of it once but after he found out you were pregnant with Penny, he didn’t care for the dream anymore. He preferred his reality, his family.

  Then the kids got older and you always encouraged him to keep playing so they did, and it happened. It wasn’t instant, overnight, or even close in years but they’d finally reached the point where the members were rarely in Hawkins. It had been the source of a lot of tension in your relationship, the hardest thing the two of you had ever gone though. You hated that he wasn’t around much and so did Eddie, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Contracts had been signed and the ink had already dried.

  The fighting had been exhausting, at one point it felt as though the two of you lost each other and that had been terrifying. 

  And his kids—his babies. He was missing out on his babies growing up and it broke his fucking heart. Wayne appeared indifferent, but Eddie knew he cared and Penny was like you, always trying to seem okay and put together but she was hiding stuff from him—no scary secrets or rebellion, she was hiding her feelings.

  When you found out you were pregnant again, in the midst of all the fighting and distance, it had been the final straw for Eddie. He wasn’t about to let his family slip between his fingers. 

  The moment a show ended, and he didn’t have another the following day, he was rushing off stage to shower, throwing some inconspicuous clothes on to keep the invasive cameras from recognizing him, before he was on the next flight to Indiana. It didn’t matter if he only got to be there sporadically, he was there every. single. chance. he got.

  And when Maple was born during one of their concerts, Gareth was subbing in for lead vocals while he was holding your hand in the delivery room.

  It took time, love and a lot of nurturing but things got better. Then, you’d brought up moving to California. Most of Corroded Coffin’s appearances were based in the area which meant you and the kids would be closer to him, able to see him nearly every day if he wasn’t doing press or touring.

  You were extending the olive branch. 

  In truth, he hadn’t wanted to agree immediately, knew he’d be leaving Wayne behind (the old man said he wasn’t meant for city life, that he’d stay and have a place for his grandkids to visit and he couldn’t leave behind the women he loved, both of them now resting in the same cemetery), as well as your shared friends and the friends Penny and Wayne had made. It was a lot to leave. 

  In the end, you were willing to leave everything if it meant you’d never have to leave Eddie, never have to break your family. So, the boxes had been packed and labeled, goodbyes had been exchanged (Penny had cried when little Winnie, Megan and Margot Harrington, hadn’t wanted to let her go and Wayne had exchanged a heartfelt hug with his namesake, who was his favorite person to be around) and all your friends and family had been left waving goodbye to you from the rearview mirror.

  Yeah. Everyone was adjusting.

  Which led to today. Wayne had a field trip to the zoo, which he didn’t want to go on because of how new he was and his lack of friends. You’d been planning on taking the baby and going with him (the only way he’d agree to go) until Penny came down with something last night, complaining about not feeling good which meant you’d have to stay home with her. 

  If Eddie’s family was making sacrifices for him, then he was more than willing to make a sacrifice on behalf of Ari, his publicist, and canceled an interview he hadn’t even wanted to do in the first place. The guys were also happy to stay home, so it was a win. You took Wayne on his field trip, because Eddie couldn’t go anywhere without some dick with a camera following him around, and Eddie stayed home with Penny and Maple.

  Only, Penny locked herself away in her room and either Eddie was really out of practice or Maple just had a difficult time bonding with him because she would not stop wailing and shrieking. She had more teeth breaching her gums, and Eddie had tried everything he could to sooth her, everything he’d used with Penny and Wayne; frozen teething toys, massaged over the area of her gums, baby orajel, cuddles, she just fought him every time. 

  The only reason she’d gone down was because of how hard she’d been crying, little body shaking and trembling as she shrieked as loud as her little lungs would allow her to, tears streaming down her face and continuously pooling in her eyes. She’d worn herself out.

  Big moment of defeat for him, he’d felt guilty ever since he put her in her crib, wiping the wet trails from her face. Even in sleep, she didn’t look at peace.

  He could play to sold out arenas, had played a five hour concert in Madison Square fucking Garden, but he couldn’t sooth his baby, couldn’t take his son to the zoo and his oldest barely talked to him. 

  The life of a Rockstar.

  With a heavy sigh, Eddie reached to his side for the remote to the television. When his palm met the fabric of the cushions, he let out a more aggressive sigh, rising so he could take the couch apart in his search for that damn remote even though he knew it would somehow pop up in the most conspicuous place, though he’d last left it on that fucking cushion.

  He’d just lifted one large cushion when he heard a high pitched shriek.

  “MOM!”

  Penny.

  Eddie dropped the cushion as he ran upstairs towards her room. When he burst through the door, head whipping around, he still couldn’t find her. Then he noticed the light coming from under her bathroom door and rushed forward.

  “Penny?!” He called out, aggressively twisting the knob but it didn’t budge. He got desperate and shouldered the door, ready to break it down in an instant if she didn’t answer, “Penny, are you okay?!”

  “I need mom!” She called through the door.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He kept trying the knob, eager to just yank it off and get to his little girl.

  Had she slipped and fallen? Thrown up? Should he call an ambulance–no, fuck that, they’d be too slow, he’d grab Penny and the baby and take her himself.

  “NO! I’m fine, I just–I need mom.” Penny sounded closer, and Eddie felt a little relieved to know she wasn’t injured. But why didn’t she want him?

  “I can help, sweet pea! Your tummy upset? I can make some soup! Or-or I can go get you what you need!”

  “The only thing I need is mom.” She was right on the other side of the door now. 

  Eddie sighed, forehead dropping against his side of the bathroom door in defeat. Of course she didn’t want to talk to him. “Well, mom isn’t here right now. So. I guess you're stuck with me.”

  Alright, maybe Eddie had been expecting her to take pity on him but she didn’t.

  The door remained closed and she stayed silent so with a heavy heart, Eddie settled against the wall opposite of the door. He’d be there for her when she decided to come out.

  It took about ten minutes before he heard the door unlock and it opened slowly, just her head poking out in his exact direction, as if she’d known he’d still be there. Her big brown eyes were vulnerable, eyebrows slightly furrowed–she was nervous.

  “I’m bleeding.” She said it so softly, it had Eddie scrambling up and towards her. She backed into the bathroom to allow him in, but when he looked her over, he didn’t see any injuries. She was just fidgeting, playing with her fingers. It was when she glanced up at him and then nervously to the toilet bowl that it clicked for him.

  Penny had her first period. 

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Dad!”

  “Sorry, sorry! I just–wow, uh, first…”

  “Period, dad. I got my period!” She rolled her eyes and Eddie just nodded, head moving like a bobble head.

  “I know! I know! Trust me, I know what a period is. I’m just–you caught me off guard, I mean your mom said–.” And then Eddie recalled exactly what you said, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

  Eddie ran from her bathroom, towards the master bedroom. Sure enough, a peak under one of your shared bathroom cabinets produced a box of pads, unopened. 

  “Yes.” He hissed, snatching it from its place before he ran back to her room. Penny hadn’t moved from her spot, eyes widening as he offered her the box and wiped the hair out of his face.

  “Here. Your mom got you these, she said–she uh, had a feeling you’d, you know, start soon.”

  Penny took the box from his hands, glancing down at them in wonder. 

  Eddie watched her, heart clenching for some reason he couldn’t quite explain. 

  “Pretty big moment, huh?” He broke the silence with a soft chuckle, clearing his rapidly tightening throat.

  It turned out to be the right thing to say, she angled her head up to beam at him. 

  “I can’t believe I got it, everyone else has it but I didn’t think I would!” 

  Penny was excited about it, you’d explained to him that she would be when she first got her period, because Eddie knew how much you hated yours (unless you thought you were pregnant–then it was suddenly your best friend who you missed dearly). It would be a big moment for her, a right of passage in girlhood or something. Or at least one that tampon and pad companies established. 

  “So it is a big moment,” Eddie reiterated, blinking hard.

  “Yeah, I–dad, are you crying?”

  Eddie kept blinking, shaking his head as his vision blurred and he sniffled, “No. Why would I be crying? I’m not crying, my little girl has a period. That’s it. Nothing to cry over.”

  “Dad…” She started before she placed the box on the tile and hugged his waist.

  That’s when Eddie actually started crying, bending over to wrap his arms around her shoulders. He held her like that for a few moments, pressing a few kisses to the top of her head.

  It seemed like she was trying to comfort him because she didn’t pull away, just let him hold her until eventually he realized she’d need to actually use one of those pads.

  “You know how to work those, right?” He asked, standing straight though his hands remained on her shoulders as her arms went back to her sides.

  “I know how to use them, dad, some of the girls at school showed me theirs.” She laughed out, “I still can’t believe I got it!”

  “Is that why you didn’t go to school?” He asked and she got quiet, shifting her weight and toeing the grout before she looked up at him, eyes clouded with guilt.

  “Shanti’s having a sleepover tonight and if I went to school, they’d know I’m not sick.” She admitted and Eddie frowned.

  “I was actually talking about cramps, but she didn't invite you?”

  Penny went back to avoiding his gaze and walked over to the bathroom wall, resting her back against it so she could slide to the floor and pull her knees to her chest. Eddie immediately joined her, one knee up and the other leg spread out. She was finally talking to him, he didn’t want it to end.

  “She invited me, but they’re just gonna talk about their periods and boys and stuff. And I didn’t have my period so I didn’t want to go.”

  “Oh, I see,” Eddie didn’t want to talk about the subject of boys and stuff, he’d put that off for years if he could. “You could go now, you’ve got your period.”

  “I don’t know,” she put her chin on the top of her knees, and Eddie stared at her, still so amazed at how much she looked like you. “I don’t know if they really like me. I’m trying really hard, but it doesn’t feel easy, doesn’t feel natural.”

  “I know how you feel,” he muttered and when she glared at him from the corner of his eyes for daring to try to relate to a girl in the sixth grade, he started rambling, “Sometimes, you know, you feel like you’ve got to try hard to get people to talk to you and sometimes you feel like they’re not happy with you so you try harder, and then you can’t tell if they like you or if they like how hard you’re trying or how desperate you are to be with them and wanting them to spend time with you or if you’re just annoying them. And they feel bad for you.”

  Eddie stared at the large mirror across from the pair, at his reflection and soaked in the truth of it all. He could relate to Penny a little too much.

  His head lulled to the side, catching her eyes as she watched him.

  “But she invited you, baby. If you ask me, I think they want to be your friends. Maybe it doesn’t feel natural because you’re scared to stop trying so hard.”

  She considered his statement, pursing her lips. 

  “Maybe you’re right. Can I even go? You’re not mad at me for lying?”

  Eddie huffed out a breathy laugh, hand reaching over to stroke over her curls, “About this? No. I’m just glad you told me. You can go if you want, okay?”

  She nodded, and Eddie withdrew his hands as she stretched her legs out, figuring the conversation was over. He felt a little better about their relationship–she hadn’t iced him out after all. 

  Penny moved onto her knees, ready to push herself up and Eddie was about to do the same thing when she got his attention. 

  “Uhm, daddy?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I think the people you’re talking about moved from Hawkins over here because they want to be with you, too. All the time. You don’t have to try so hard, ‘cause we love you a lot. Maple’s just a big cry baby.”

  There was no way Eddie could deny the water at his lower lash line or the two large tears that trailed down his cheeks. “C’mere.”

  Penny wrapped her arms around his shoulders as Eddie hugged her to him tightly, eyes squeezing shut as the two ton weight that had been pressing on his heart was lifted by a little girl barely half his size.

  “I love you, daddy.” She whispered, squeezing him back. Ediie could feel something wet pressing against his neck and he realized she was crying, too. The last time he’d seen her cry was when they said goodbye to everyone in Hawkins. Eddie inhaled a shaky breath as he responded, a hand moving to cradle the back of her head.

  “I love you, too, baby. I love you all so much.” 

  They held each other until she pulled away, wiping at her face. 

  “I have to put on a pad, daddy.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah. I’ll give you some privacy.” Eddie pushed himself up, stretching his arms up and relishing in the sensation.

  “Can we watch The Wild Thornberrys after?”

  “Of course, baby.” That was the children’s show Flea always bragged about being on. Dude had so many movie roles, it was insane. 

  Eddie was about to leave the bathroom, doorknob in his hand to close it behind him when she stopped him again, “And daddy, if you want to spend time with me, you can always take me to the Spice Girls concert.”

  Eddie smirked, amused with the innocent act she was playing, eyelashes batting and making her eyes appear even wider.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  While Penny finished up, Eddie checked in on Maple–who was awake and waiting for him, pacifier in her mouth and little arms outstretched the moment he came into view.  His little mini-me (out of all of his kids, she looked the most like Eddie) cuddled up to him as soon as he picked her up, cheek resting on his shoulder.

  Then he went in search of the house phone so he could call Ari and get tickets for the next Spiceworld show.

(Penny ended up finding the remote for the TV on the arm of the loveseat where Eddie had not left it.)

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 22: A Painful Departing

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 2k

You thrashed in Marco’s arms, desperately trying to reach Ace. But Marco’s grip on you was iron tight, and you were forced to watch the love of your life throw flame after useless flame. Akainu burned too hot. Ace’s flames had no effect on him. You knew that, and surely Ace had to know that too. And now you had to sit back and watch him fight a battle he could never win. 

You saw it before it was going to happen. Your observation haki had never been so clear and concise. But you saw the final punch. The one that went through his chest. To protect Luffy. 

You couldn’t bear it. Your father and your lover in the same day. You refused. 

You went feral, thrashing in Marco’s hold. Any bit he would give you to break free would get you closer to Ace. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but you held your bracelet against his skin and sunk your teeth into flesh. 

“What the hell?!” Marco screamed and you used his shock to rip your body away from him, taking off towards Ace. 

“No!” Marco screamed, but you scrambled away before he had the chance to grab you. You said a silent apology to your child as you ripped your bracelet off and shoved it into your pocket, lava coursing back into your veins as you dashed toward Ace and Akainu. You were close. You could make it. 

It was a race between the three fire users: Ace, Akainu, and you. Who could get to their target first. Any mistake would end in death. 

Lava clashed against lava, your two fists smashing against Akainu’s one. It burned, but you could hold it steady. 

“Ace?” Luffy’s small voice came from behind you, but you didn’t dare lose your concentration. 

Akainu gave you a wicked smirk. “You’ve gotten weaker,” he chuckled, looking at how much you struggled to keep your hold against him. 

“So have you.” Your teeth grinded together in concentration, trying to push him back. Even just an inch. 

“Stop,” Ace begged. “Y/N, stop. You can’t-“

“Go!” You screamed. “You caused this! So take Luffy and go! Now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Fuck, Ace! Just listen to me for once in your life!” You screamed. It was ironic those words were coming from you, considering how many times others had said them to you that you had ignored. “Go!”

Your entire body ignited, pushing lava toward Ace and Luffy so they were forced to flee. You heard footsteps receding, and you turned your attention back to the battle. You had to give them enough time to get away. Enough time to be free. 

Your skin burned. Your vision grew spotty. You could feel the urge to vomit rising fast, but you forced it back down. You just had to hold Akainu for a few more minutes. Just until Ace and Luffy got away. You could do this. The pain was nothing compared to the heartbreak you had endured. 

Akainu gave you a smirk. “I see you’d prefer for me to kill you first.”

“I would prefer that, actually,” you hissed back, starting to lose traction. “Ace promised I could die first.”

His smirk grew to a wicked grin. “Then let me make good on that promise.”

His other fist swung around, aiming to connect to your face. You couldn’t stop it. You knew that. It was over. 

A part of you was relieved. You had been fighting just to survive for so long, it would be nice to rest for a bit. You could see Thatch again. You would never have to know life without your father. Your family would be okay. They had each other. And Ace had Luffy. You could die knowing you had made a difference. That’s what really mattered. 

You closed your eyes and waited for the impact. For the end.

The sound of a metal sword clanged in your ear, and the heat that was emitting from the Vice Admiral in front of you seemed to disappear. A gasp exuded from the crowd, and your eyes snapped open again. 

“Sorry I was late, Y/N.” Red hair and a black cape clouded your vision, Shanks comforting voice filling your ears. “We got a little busy on the way here.”

Just the arrival of Shanks and his executive crew made the Marines stop in their tracks. Even Segoku looked nervous. But all you wanted to do was cry. 

“I think we can call this a draw, Sengoku. Don’t you?” Shanks called up to the Fleet Admiral, still holding Akainu with his sword.

Sengoku’s eye twitched, but he didn’t move. “Shanks-“

“You’ve got Whitebeard, we’ve got Ace. Seems like a fair trade off.”

You looked over to your father, still standing tall despite the holes that had been bored through him, and you struggled to keep your composure. 

“She’s under my protection now, Whitebeard!” Shanks yelled out, for the entire battlefield to hear. “I‘ll protect them both until I breathe my last breath! I swear it!”

“Go,” your father’s voice came, soft but powerful. “Keep living. That is my final order as your captain and your father.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stared in awe, but Shanks threw you over his shoulder and darted away from Akainu as everyone turned their attention away from you. 

“No!” You screamed, smacking Shanks back. “He’s alive! He’s alive! We can’t leave him!”

Akainu quickly recovered from shock and shot a beam of lava at you and Shanks, but Shanks quickly evaded it. However, the brothers in front of you weren’t so lucky. 

The beam hit Ace’s back and Luffy’s torso, causing them to collapse to the ground.

“Ace!” You screamed, but he didn’t get up. 

“Ace!” You screamed again, twisting in Shanks’s hold to get a better view. “Ace! Get up!”

“Stop squirming,” Shanks scolded. “Trust me and trust them. Stay still.”

But you couldn't do what you were told. You never could. Ace was in danger, and you kicked and shoved until Shanks lost his hold of you. 

You dashed towards Ace and Luffy, falling to the ground next to them. Ace’s back was covered in lava, and you quickly worked to move it off him. His skin looked like it was melting, steam emitting from his body as he lay limp and unresponsive.

Luffy was faring slightly better than Ace, but they both had severe burns and wounds from the lava. You couldn’t even tell if they were alive.

“Ace,” you sobbed, trying to shake him and Luffy awake. “Please wake up.”

“Jinbe!” Shanks yelled. “Can you take them?”

“Please,” you whispered, cupping Ace’s face. “Please don’t leave me.”

“He’s dead!” Akainu shouted, approaching the three of you. “And soon you can join him.”

His fist ignited, and you leaned yourself over Ace and Luffy, trying your best to shield them so the lava wouldn’t hurt them again. 

“I’m sorry, dad,” you whispered, holding the brothers tightly. “I’m sorry Rayleigh. I tried.”

You could feel the heat of Akainu getting closer to you, just as you remembered in your dreams. You were too weak. You were always too weak. 

Suddenly you were lifted up, being carried away. You tried to twist your body, searching Ace and Luffy again, but the grip tightened and was too strong for you to fight. You screamed out, half in frustration, half in pain. 

“I have them,” Jinbe said. “Stop fighting me! You’re only hurting yourself.” 

Jinbe’s voice gave you a little bit of comfort, but you still panicked as you thought about Ace and Luffy. How were they doing? Would they even make it off the battlefield?

“Up here!” A man atop a yellow ship shouted. “I’m a doctor.”

Jinbe skillfully jumped up onto the deck of the ship and bolted through the door. He dropped you gently to the ground, and then set the two unconscious boys down for the doctor to take over. 

You tried to stand on your own, but your vision instantly went spotty. You staggered and tried to hold onto the wall for support, but you weren’t sure how long you would last.

Luffy was being carried away by about five different people when you finally looked up. Ace was face down on the ground, two men tending to his burn wounds. 

“Bepo, make us disappear.” The man with the spotted hat watched you cautiously. “At least you’re still standing. Looks like you’re the one I have to worry about the least.”

To counteract his point, you leaned over into the trash can and immediately threw up. You hadn’t had your bracelet on for at least 20 minutes, and you began to fear the worst as your stomach churned and shifted. 

“Sea prism,” you choked out, vomiting more contents of your stomach into the trash can.  “I need sea prism.”

You reached into your pocket and grabbed your bracelet, trying to cool your body back down. But even with the bracelet on, your entire body felt funny. 

You cried out in pain as another sharp stab hit your stomach, causing you to double over as you struggled to breathe. 

“You really can’t handle your own ability?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at you. He could tell something was wrong with you. This wasn’t normal levels of sickness due to devil fruit powers. 

You began throwing up again though, major cramps still tearing through in your abdomen. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” The man hissed, bending down and putting his hand against your forehead. 

“Tend to Luffy,” you whispered, gagging and curling into a ball to try and mitigate the pain. You clutched your sea prism bracelet, but the pain wasn’t going away.

“Tell me,” the man said, grabbing your jawline and forcing you to stare at him. 

“She’s pregnant,” Jinbe said, watching you wearily. Ace must have told him. They had been together in Impel Down, afterall. 

“How far along?” He hissed. 

“Five months,” you whimpered, tears beading at the corner of your eyes. You tore away from him to continue wrenching into the trash can.

He sharply inhaled. “Don’t you know not to use your powers during pregnancy?”

“I didn’t plan on it,” you snapped back. “But I wasn’t going to let Ace die!”

A blue hue appeared around you, and then suddenly you were dropped into an ice water bath. 

You screamed out in shock, unsure where you were. You prayed the Navy hadn’t found a way to get you back into their grasp.  

There was commotion outside, and suddenly Jinbe burst through the door to see you sitting in the tub. The other man followed in after him. 

“Luffy and Ace,” you said again, bile rising into your mouth once again. “Go check on them.”

“My crew is prepping for surgery as we speak. Do me a favor and stay still.”

Once again, a blue hue surrounded you. You weren’t sure what this man’s power was, but you were certain it was tied to the strange color that surrounded you now. 

He ran a sword along your body, and a scan came up. There were a several red alerts that occurred around your stomach, and your heart quickened. 

“Is it okay?” You asked. “Is my baby okay?”

“Ikkoku!” He barked out, and suddenly a woman appeared in the doorway. “Prep her for surgery. 5 months pregnant. Priority is lowering body temperature to normal range.”

“Of course, captain.” The woman said, walking over to you. “You’re going to feel a light pinch.”

“What’s happening?” you cried, the world starting to spin around you. “No, no, no! You aren’t listening to me. I-I need- to-” your breathing became low and rapid, thoughts getting jumbled in your head before you could speak them. 

“She’s going into shock,” Ikkoku called out, urgency in her voice.

“Shit,” the man hissed. “The others can wait. Take her into surgery now.”

“No,” you mumbled. Your body felt so heavy. “Luffy…Ace…they…need…”

And then everything went dark.

--

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep  @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir @twilight-loveer

[user211201]

Identity Death

--- Originally posted on 2024-04-12 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

As directed by @mrrharper

“Endless war will end our world!” Alan shouted.

“Stop funding our military!”

Alan was amongst the hundreds of protestors at the courthouse fighting against the proposed budgetary reforms. Schools, roads, transportation, parks, environmental protections agencies–they were all on the line. Through the presented bill, thousands of institutions would be shut down as billions of dollars would be rerouted towards a single entity: the military.

“The military corrupts! Stop the brainwashing!” Alan spat. He had organized this event under his alias, a popular political blogger on multiple social media outlets. Although his voice was loud and aggravated, Alan's physical appearance was anything but. He wore a baby blue tee and white-washed skinny jeans. 5’7 with bleached hair. All he needed was a rainbow somewhere to perfect his twink look. But he was not here to make that kind of statement. He was at the protest to make another form, something that could gain traction. Peering across the crowd, Alan saw his chance. 

A few of Alan’s fellow protestors were bombarding one of the towering guards with jeers. They scrutinized him, although it appeared none of their words got through the soldier’s heavy artillery padding. In fact, the solider stood proud in his position, dominantly poised with his chest puffed up in pride. Alan approached the guard slowly, noticing he remained perfectly still as the protestors continued to insult him. Without thinking twice, Alan approached and made his move. 

“How about you show us what they’re really funding, dickhead?”

Alan threw a fist at the soldier, putting all his strength behind the movement. Due to the crowds, the soldier did not recognize the motion until it was too late. Alan’s knuckle dove right into the much taller man’s neck, ricocheting into the muscular, masked chin. Instantly, there was a cheer from the crowd at the successful blow, but it was quickly hushed.

“You pathetic cocksucker,” the soldier growled. In a flurry, the once peaceful statue became a merciless brute, swinging down and dragging Alan out of the crowd. Before he knew it, Alan found himself handcuffed with the soldier escorting him off into the enemy’s territory.

“You can’t do this! This is illegal!” Alan cried out. 

“Shut your whiny mouth.” As soon as they were out of public sight, the soldier slapped Alan hard across the face. The warmth of blood soon filled his cheeks where the bruise began to bloom. Alan made sure not to react, but he could not hide the worry in his voice.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The barracks, you fairy prick.”

The soldier brought Alan to a building not too far from the protest lines. He guided them down numerous hallways, Alan losing track before they even made it halfway there. There were checkpoints, various nods, and some curt conversations with other soldiers, but nobody questioned about Alan or the situation. Eventually, Alan was tossed into a small makeshift bedroom, only holding a cot and a pile of unwashed clothes.

“Get undressed,” the soldier demanded.

“Why should I listen to you?”

Alan was met with another forceful assault, this time a punch to his gut.

“Cause I’m First Sergeant, maggot, which means out of the two of us, I’m in charge.”

Alan scoffed. “Is that your name: ‘First Sergeant’?”

“First Sergeant QF24,” the soldier gruffly shot back.

“That’s not a name either,” Alan replied. 

“Been in service so long I don’t need a civilian name.”

Alan wanted to jump on this, make a point about how this was evidence of the dangers of the military, but First Sergeant continued.

“While my identity is real, I assume the one you were about to give me is not. What do you go by, something like that 'AlanActivist' snot?”

Alan blushed, believing that his pseudonym had been cool and unique.

“It’s about time you considered that maybe it is not the military that enforces this ‘identity death’ you all are so worried about, but your own belief system.”

“You can’t be serious,” Alan snarked, surprised at the soldier’s intelligent argument. First Sergeant was however humorless, once again pointing to the pile of discarded clothes.

“Get dressed, degenerate.”

The soldier placed one of his giant, gloved hands behind the twink’s back and pushed him towards the pile. It appeared to Alan as a giant heap of army green and camouflage. Slowly but hesitantly, he began to strip himself of his clothing, hoping to avoid any further hazing. Once down to his underwear, he silently pleaded that he would not have to drop anything else.

“Soldiers go commando, sissy.”

First Sergeant quickly appeared behind Alan before ripping his underwear clean off, exposing the twink’s bare bottom and small package to the world. Alan quickly covered himself up with one hand before leaning down towards the pile. He grimaced, his fear no longer overriding the powerful musk seeping from the military cloth. First Sergeant chuckled at his disgust from behind.

“Aren’t homos supposed to like that kind of thing?” he asked, before grabbing the back of Alan’s head. “Go on, get a better whiff of it!” Amused, First Sergeant plunged Alan’s head into the musky pile of clothes. Alan’s oxygen supply was cut off, forcing him to inhale the overpowering masculine fumes.

“You idiots never consider that being in the military is hard work. It’s not all fun and guns.” First Sergeant smothered Alan’s head further. “‘Bout time you realize what it’s like, standing on the front line all day, hot and sweaty and random strangers berating you for protecting their country, their freedom.”

The military body odor seeped into Alan’s system, numbing his body and clouding his mind. By the time he was pulled away, the naked twink struggled to form a coherent thought.

“Much better,” First Sergeant noted the lopsided smile on the twink’s face. “Now, fit yourself into some tactical gear.”

Without questioning it, Alan followed the soldier’s command. He did not know every single piece of equipment that went into the common soldier’s uniform, nor did he understand the procedure to follow, but somehow Alan managed to get the attire onto his body.

Combat pants, military-grade socks, gore tex boots. Camouflage button-up, hardshell jacket, belt with holster and magazine pouches. Shooting gloves, army print hat, face mask. It took a minute longer for Alan to place every minor piece of tactical protection onto himself, but finally his smaller frame was completely covered, dwarfed by the oversized gear.

“Looking like a real soldier there,” First Sergeant mocked. “Now let’s actually make you one.”

Already covered in the musky clothing, Alan’s intellectual ability had been dulled considerably. But when First Sergeant approached, clutching Alan’s head once more before shoving it into his wet armpit, his brain completely halted. Coming straight from the source, the soldier’s stench wafted past all Alan’s barriers, taking control immediately. Its first instruction was to keep sniffing, its second was to conform.

With a chuckle, First Sergeant watched as Alan’s body began to expand underneath his hold. The shrimpy twink grew inside of the tactical gear, filling it out properly in every direction. Muscular arms filled the sleeves of the jacket, meaty hands stuffing the crevices of the gloves. The vest became as padded on the back as it was in the front, juicy pectorals and rigid abdominals forcefully pushing against the fabric. 

Thicker thighs padded the pants, bloated feet crowded the massive boots. Two muscular buttocks crammed the seat of Alan’s pants. A lantern jaw and cleft chin became prominent underneath the face mask. Buzz cut hidden by the cap, deeper voice waiting to confirm with “Sir, yes sir!” First Sergeant even noticed the prominent padding his new soldier was developing beneath the belt. When he ultimately removed Alan from his hold, the man before him now stood at the same domineering height.

“Good, now just stand still for one moment.”

Even if he wanted to, Alan could not move. The musk was still lingering in his mind, holding him steady as First Sergeant deposited an obnoxious military headset onto Alan’s head. He then plugged the headset into a walkie-talkie before tuning it to an empty channel. A robotic voice began looping into Alan’s ears, along with a few simple tones to open up the receptive pathways in his brain.

“Ready to get back out there?” First Sergeant asked, knowing his fellow soldier could not hear him. With a smirk, he escorted the dumbfounded subordinate out of the room, pacing slowly as Alan absorbed the propaganda. It was simple phrases, nothing too complicated but through repetition effective on the psyche. “Military good,” “pacifism bad”. “Nationalism good,” “multiculturalism bad.” “Masculinity good,” “progressivism bad.” The messages were rudimentary, but deliberate.

Once they stepped back into the open, fresh air, Alan’s consciousness resurfaced. He tried to fight back against the rampant messaging, doing his best to tune out the audios as the First Sergeant led him back to the front line. Alan was being attacked on all fronts: his morals, his identity, his sexuality. Every time he turned away to defend one trait, it was like he lost another. He felt himself dwindling, chipping away.

Before long, the two stood directly in front of the courthouse, mere feet away from their first encounter. First Sergeant loaded the new soldier up, arming the man with a weapon and other items necessary in case of an emergency.

“Let’s see if you’re done cooking yet.” First Sergeant looked directly into his subordinate’s eyes, pleased with their reflective quality. He then removed the headphones.

“Name and rank, soldier?” he saluted. The other man fell into place, mirroring his actions.

“Private Aaron Steel, MH36 sir!”

First Sergeant smiled. The name change was a good sign of transition, but complete removal would have been preffered.

“Ready for the task, soldier? Will you be loyal and obedient to the greatest nation? Follow every instruction in the name of tradition?”

The soldier nodded his head quickly, “Affirmative, sir.”

“Alright then.” First Sergeant replaced the headphones back onto the private’s head, knowing a little more time would do the trick. “Dismissed. Get back to work, private.”

“Sir yes sir!”

First Sergeant strolled back to his command at the front line. The new private monitored the crowd, absorbing his commands as he scanned for any disturbances.

[d-dixonimagines]

can u do enemy to lover prompt five

Prompt: "Don't touch me!" "How am I supposed to bandage you up if I can't touch you?"

I don't know what to really label this as. It's mild angst? If you wanna call it that? Reader is more moody than I originally anticipated them to be. Also, I clearly don't know how to clean wounds or how they would do it in the show, so the way it's described here is probably wrong.

Right from the very start of the day you and Daryl had been at each other's throats, bickering and yelling like you'd been married for 50 years. So it was beyond you why Rick thought it was a good idea to make you two go on a run together. Surely he knew there would be a chance that only one of you came back, and not because of any walker. The run wasn't supposed to be that big a deal. A quick day trip scouring for supplies and literally anything that would be of use and that you could carry. Everything had gone surprisingly well until you were making your way back. There was a run-in with a small hoard of walkers that happened to wander through where you were at; too many of them for just two people to deal with. You both made your way towards an abandoned house, killing off as many of the walkers as you could, focusing only on the ones that were a higher risk. If you had tried to pock off every single one, it would become too easy to get overwhelmed and ambushed as they all crowded together. So your only goal was to retreat to safety.

"Over here!" You heard Daryl's voice over the commotion of the moaning walkers. Yanking your knife from one of their skulls, you turned in Daryl's direction and made your way over. You both were almost at the house, eyeing it just beyond the tree line. There were scattered walkers wandering the property, making it difficult to make a direct run for it. "We should just keep moving. See if there's another place further down." You suggested, not seeing any other option. Daryl just shook his head. "Nah... we don't know how far the next place could be. This could be our only option. We jus' need'a plan." "We don't have time for a plan," you rolled your eyes, using every will power you had to not raise your voice and draw more attention. "I can see that, that's why we ain't gonna waste our time lookin' for somethin' else." Daryl growled back. "There's gotta be about seven or eight up there.. if we clear 'em out, go 'round either side of the house, there's bound to be a way inside." Glancing behind you to see the other walkers closing in, you let out a frustrated groan, getting yourself ready to run. "Gah!" If we make it out of this, Dixon, I'm gonna kill you myself!" You yelled, running off towards the house before he had a chance to sass you back. Clearing out your half of the yard, you quickly checked the front door to see if it would open but had no such luck. You continued round to the side of the house, killing off any stragglers. Finding a window above a pile of old wood, you attempted to climb up it to get a better grip of the window. When it didn't budge, you went to smash it but was interrupted when you felt hands grabbing at you, knocking you unstable. You let out a startled yelp as you struggled to keep the walker at bay, fighting to hold it back so you could reach for your weapon. It was just out of your reach, you could feel the tips of your fingers grazing it, scrambling to get some kind of traction to get a better grip. Daryl rounded the corner, stabbing the thing in the head and throwing it off you. "Finally you show up," you snapped at him, standing up quickly and grabbing your gun. "That's a funny way of sayin' thank you fer savin' yer ass." You just scoffed, holding your arm, not having any time to check the damage. "Did you find a way in?" "'Course I did, Princess. This ain't my first rodeo." You ignored his comments and followed him to the back door, barricading yourselves inside. After checking the rest of the house, you allowed yourself to relax just a bit once you knew it was cleared. Daryl set his things down on top of the counter and looked around the kitchen, checking to see if there was anything edible to eat. You wandered off in search of a mirror to tend to your arm. Raiding through the medicine cabinets and drawers, you didn't find much that would help. Just a tolerably clean cloth and some gauze. You started cleaning around it, as best you could, wadding up the cloth, dropping it, getting frustrated with... just... everything.

"Need help?" Daryl's voice brought you out of your head. You only looked at him for a second, getting a glimpse of him leaning against the doorframe before looking at your arm again. "I got it." He scoffed. "An infection is what yer gonna get if ya don't clean it right." "It'll have to do until we get back, won't it? I don't exactly have a lot of options here." "Water might help at least." "You see any water lying around?" "Yup..." Daryl stated simply, holding up a half filled jug. You kept your gaze on him, your eyes narrowing at him in irritation. Snatching the jug from his hand, you set it down harshly on the sink. You struggled with getting the cloth wet, not really able to use your injured arm. "Let me help." He pushed himself from the door frame. "I said I got it." Daryl didn't accept that answer, knowing you were just being stubborn. He reached over and grabbed the cloth from you, getting it damp before raising it as a silent request to keep going. Without saying anything, you contemplated for a long moment before slightly turning your body so he could get at it better. "This'll sting a bit," Daryl spoke gently, taking the water and pouring it over the wound, causing you to let out a hiss and jerk your arm back. "That hurts!" "I told ya! Ya can't get mad at me after I warned ya." You just huffed, turning back so he could continue cleaning the wound. After setting the rag down, he grabbed the gauze and gently gripped your arm, but before he could place it, you jerked out of his hold again. "Don't touch me!" Daryl let out a breathy sigh of frustration. "How am I supposed ta bandage ya up if I can't touch ya?" You stared daggers into him but he just stared back. The longer you stared at him, the more realization set in that being angry wasn't going to help anything. You weren't even really angry, you were just frustrated and overwhelmed. Daryl was only trying to help and you needed to calm down. Going back to where you were, you turned your body so he could fix you up, letting him do what he needed to. He placed the gauze on your arm and wrapped it as neatly as he could, tucking the end piece in to the rest of the material. "There... now ya have a better chance of yer arm not rotting off." There was a faint hint of smirk at the corner of his lips that you would have missed if you weren't looking at them.

You glanced down at your arm as you pushed off the sink. "My hero," you responded sarcastically. There was a beat before you looked up at him again. "Thanks..." There was another pause as you examined his face, that playful smirk vanished. "I mean it. Thank you," Your voice was softer, more relaxed. Daryl gave a soft nod before leaving the bathroom and heading towards the kitchen. "I'm starvin', I think I saw an opossum on the back porch." The moment was gone. You let out a loud groan as you followed behind him, revving up to give him an earful!

[billyharringson]

I guess it's probably a good thing that I react to a new fic post not getting traction by instantly writing something else.

Anyway have a little Mungrove thing that popped into my head.

Eddie had a habit of saying his thoughts out loud. Normally this wasn't an issue, especially if he was by himself. And when he was with others the things he said could often be explained away as a tangent, it was rare that he ever said anything completely out of the blue.

That all changed with Billy though. One of the side effects of his enormous crush on the other boy had been the lowering of his social barriers. Which led to his current predicament.

He'd zoned out of the conversation a few moments ago, because as much as he liked Billy he just couldn't bring himself to care about basketball. So he simply let Billy talk, smiling at how animated and energetic he got when he was really into something. His mind wandered to where it so often did when he thought about Billy.

To what he wanted to do with him.

It always started off innocent. He wanted to kiss Billy, wanted to hold him, make him laugh and keep him safe. 

But Eddie had been becoming increasingly pent up recently. Ever since realising just how deep his feelings for the other boy went he'd rebuffed any advances from other people. It had been at least two months since he'd last slept with someone and the increasing frequency with which he woke up to cum soaked boxers was telling him that he needed to do something soon.

It was just that he wanted the next person he slept with to be Billy.

It felt wrong to try and get with anyone else. Almost like cheating.

Which he knew was ridiculous. It wasn't like he had a snowballs chance in hell with Billy, so he should just get over himself and deal with his libido in an actually satisfying way. It wasn't like he was lacking attention. Since Corroded Coffin had started to become more well known hed been propositioned more times than he could count.

But he didn't want any of them.

He wanted Billy.

He wanted Billy in a very specific and intense way.

"God I just want to tie you up and make you cry." He said, resting his chin on his hand as Billy gesticulated about something.

It wasn't until Billy froze, turning to him in what seemed to be slow motion that Eddie realised he'd spoken out loud.

"What?"

[lexi0widow]

Can u write an ArthurTV story where you’re a youtuber/singer (Taylor Swift/Sabrina Carpenter style) and he’s got a huge crush on you that he’s sort of open about and gets bantered with about from the lads (he’s tweeted you before and they’re still up) but you don’t know anything of him. You’re friends with the Sidemen and they get you to do a 20 VS 1 and they invite Arthur along as one of the boys you date (they sneak him in after the elimination stage so you don’t have the chance to say no), the date goes well but nothing happens after that, however you end up doing another video with him in it (like Chips pub golf video) and there’s lots of flirting and either you kiss or end up going on a real date

I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS REQ!!!!!

ARTHURTV x READER

It was no secret to anyone that you had talent, you often wrote songs or did covers that showed off your voice and you weren’t a stranger to compliments. You had also started a youtube account a few years back gaining around 3 million subscribers and therefore a lot of internet popularity and mild paparazzi from time to time.

You were exposed to a whole new life of influencer events, interviews and touring the country meaning that you had not only gained a massive following of fans but a massive following of boys, particularly boys who would fantasise about taking you on dates and asking you out. Over the years you had became pretty good at ignoring this though, a bunch of 12 year olds trying to act hard around you wasn’t the best thing in the world but you knew it could be a lot worse.

However, Arthur wasn’t a fan of the traction that you had gained from all these people. Sure he was super happy for you and a major fanboy but deep down he had intense feelings for you and everytime he would see you with another guy he couldn’t help but feel a twang of jealousy run through him. Arthur had tried everything to get your attention- everything! He had even tweeted at you a few times in a desperate plea for your attention.

And yet still, you had never noticed him! Not to mention the fact that all of his friends tortured him for his crush on you, it was all friendly banter but god they could tear him apart. It felt like no matter how hard he tried he was always gonna be stuck watching from the sidelines. That was until he had gotten a call from KSI and was asked to come on as a date for a 20 VS 1 video he was about to turn him down until he heard who he would be dating. You. How could he pass up an opportunity like that?!

Two weeks later and hes showing up to the filming location excited and terrified at the same time, over those two weeks he had explained to the sidemen how down bad he was for you and they had agreed to sneak him into the game after eliminations so you couldn’t really say no. So he was say backstage bouncing his leg thinking off all the oppertunities he had right now. What if he comes off to weird? Or too forward or to-

‘Arthur?’ Harry knocked onto his dressing room door peeking his head inside ‘You’re up now don’t fuck this up or JJ will kill you.’ Harry laughed before closing the door behind him. This was it. This was his moment to make an amazing first impression and win you over. He could 100% do this.

He could absolutely not do this. He was sat across from you stumbling on his words sweating profusely and shaking. God why was he so nervous? Everything about you seemed so inviting and yet he found himself struggling to even introduce himself overcome with anxiety.

‘So Arthur, what do you do in your spare time?’ You had asked. He was so nervous it was suprising and honestly flattering to see how worked up he was just because he was talking to you.

‘I make youtube videos- a-and I used to study law! I also like to hang out with my friends andtweetfunnystuffontheinternet.’ You didn’t quite catch that last part due to his mumbling but you let it slide.

When his time was over you weren’t even interested in the other boys and what they had to offer. There was just something so captivating about him and his nervous laugh and goofy smile that you found yourself zoning out every so often to think of him.

When filming had come to an end you walked backstage hoping to find his room, strolling along the corridors and checking each door you passed you weren’t looking where you were going and bumped into someone. Luckily for you that someone was the exact person you were looking for!

‘Ohmygod I-I am so sorry!’ He almost shouted as he made sure you were okay,

‘Arthur its nothing- If anything I wasn’t watching where I was going. You are who I was looking for though.’ You exclaimed.

Arthur was taken aback. You were looking for him? Not that he minded he was just confused there was so many other boys you had spoken too- ones he had believed to be better looking than him or be more interesting. However the more you conversed with him the more comfortable he felt around you.

‘Hey Arthur?‘

‘Yeah?’

‘Can we go out sometime? Y’know like a date?’

‘I- Shit yeah. Yeah! Holyshit yeah!!’ Strings of curses fell from his mouth as Arthur hit cloud nine not believing that his dream girl had just asked him on a date. You smiled, happy with your achievement and that you were actually able to score a date.

‘Oh! Arthur one last thing!’

‘Oh? Yeah whats up?’

You grabbed both sides of his face pulling him toward you placing a quick but passionate kiss on the lips.

‘Bye bye Arthur <3’ You had said sweetly before leaving him stood there a blushing mess feeling like he had literally ascended to heaven.

He had finally gotten the girl.

[malebodyexhibit]

Pygmalion (a Next Door Boy tale)

You’ve been hearing a lot about the Next Door Boy agency. It’s was a sleeper hit with traction having only been among the wealthy. Now more terms and conditions are being laid on with the public gaining more and more interest in its services. I managed to ride the coat tails during its debut. In fact, I was one of the first hundred clients to try it out. I was a 63-year old business man who had a large amount of capital, even after my divorce and child support. When I was selected as to premier the service, I was ecstatic. But the wait for the actual service date was torture. You see, they had to find consenting adults to be the talent. Finding attractive, young men to be hosts to an older clientele would be hard. Whenever they found one for me, then I’d be able to try it.

But I had particular taste in who I wanted to be. I offered to help find talent and the company agreed. When you offer the amount of money desperate old men would pay to be a young fuckable hunk, it was easy to find Owen. Owen was an 18-year-old high school graduate. He had high dreams of becoming a Chaturbate star or OnlyFans model. He really worked that body of his. In my chats with him, he really detailed his workout routine, his diet, and his hygiene. It was important to him that others found him hot and sexy. I assured him that with his body, he was certainly a prize, but that he could make more money with this new company.

He signed on. He hardly needed to be persuaded! I spoke with Owen a great deal. In fact I knew him while he was a football player. I’d cheer for him during home games. My own son idolized him. My son went on to college while Owen stayed and worked out, trying to be that sex symbol. In my talks with Owen, I asked him what he wanted to do with his life. Owen said again the OnlyFans stuff, but when I pushed him further, he was at a loss.

“I’m not gonna let myself get old, Mr. [Redacted],” Owen said. He flashed me a cocky smile, running his hand through his curly hair. “I’m gonna settled down with someone and retire on the beach.”

I gave a pained smile.

Owen underwent the procedure to install the implant. He just wanted the money and didn’t really want to discuss the conditions of our deal. Finally we settled that I would co-inhabitate him for a half-a-year with me taking control every two days a month. He agreed to be placed in suspension due to not wanting a temporary body (which is basically being a roommate in someone’s mind with other displaced consciousnesses) or being in my old, out-of-shape body. I would spent two days living his life, enjoying his youth. As you imagined, I spent the first few times working his cock raw, playing with my abs, and trying to flirt with his straight friends.

Things really progressed slowly. Adjusting to the disorientation took a lot of time, so when the half year was up, we spoke again about new conditions. He really liked the money, but I felt bored in his small life. There was working out, hanging out with friends, and nothing else. I decided to offer him a place at my home in a larger city. There he could enroll in college courses or take up a job. He tried to tell me he wasn’t interested in those things, but I practically begged him that I was interested and wanted to experience those things as him. He didn’t have to go there. It would only be when I was him. So our new conditions were set up. I would be him for two days a week. He made sure I stuck to a strict diet and workout routine while I was him. I agreed. I started to enjoy his grind for a perfect body.

While I possessed him, I went to classes. I chose art courses for Owen because it was something I didn’t have a chance to do in my life, and it wasn’t heavy on studying or reading. Jobs for college students are usually pretty light so I got a gig at the school. The job I chose for Owen was a Math tutor on the days I possessed Owen. I knew math pretty as I was an accountant, so it didn’t feel out of place for me. My life felt so much better now that I could do something other than working out. I actually made plenty of art friends. I also had the benefit of ‘running into’ my son.

I chose the same college as my son, Levi. At first I assumed I chose it because it was convenient. But subconsciously, maybe I wanted to be closer to him. He always idolized Owen. Maybe I could show him a better Owen to idolize. When I ran into Levi, he almost didn’t recognize me. While possessing him, I usually kept Owen’s bro fashion sense: gray sweatpants, an Underarmor compression shirt, and briefs. I felt it made me unique among the hipster types in the art classes. But sometimes I decide to try something more risqué (think crop top tees, or tight jeans that show the outline of a jock strap). That’s when I ran into Levi. My lower abs peeking from a crop top tee. I was free balling in sweatpants with my dick outline obvious to the eyes. We were awkward at first, but we started talking about high school. I was able to flip through Owen’s memories and be convincing. We went out to eat dinner (I was stuck to getting something high protein for the diet condition) and walked in the park. As a couple months went by, Levi mentioned wanting to go on a camping trip with me and his friends. His dad used to take him camping before he divorced his mother. He missed those days. (Oh.) I was excited and realized that there were another three months before new terms could be made. I apologized to Levi that I couldn’t but maybe the next year.

We didn’t make much contact after that. But in my old body, I found Levi visited more often. It was I who offered a camping trip. Escaping into Owen the past months had calmed me. I had been livid with Levi’s mother during and after the divorce. We disagreed about everything even though we had a good few years. Things gotten strained when I couldn’t continue to live a life of lies. Now that I calmed, I actually managed to strike a comfortable friendship with his mother. And with her agreement, we decided to surprise Levi with a… goodbye camping trip of sorts. A goodbye to those bad memories and the old marriage. His mother didn’t like camping much, so it was more of a backyard camping situation with his mother sleeping in a cabin while he and I slept in tents a stone’s throw away. It was remarkably peaceful. The trip was about 8 days and I missed the possession session with Owen.

Owen continued his thing while I was away. He stay at my house was secret. He was usually out of the way, but whenever Levi came over, he had to be out of sight. He did want to reconnect with his old friend, but Levi finding his dad living with his old high school friend would be super weird. Owen usually busied himself cam whoring or working out in his private gym.

When the time came for new set of conditions, Owen actually declined to continue. He had saved up enough money and wanted to live his own life. I didn’t want that. I managed to convince him to stay. There’d be no easier money than this.

I wanted more of Owen’s time. I wanted to go camping with Levi as his friend. I wanted to get more serious with his education and career. I offered a suggestion. It was the one of the first serious suggestions of the time of this nature. Others have made similar serious suggestions, but quickly backed off when there was pushback from the company and host. I pushed forward, particularly because I managed to talk Owen into it.

I wanted to live a quarter of a year as Owen entirely. I didn’t want to do the six days possessed then one day normal type deal. I wanted to sleep and wake as Owen. Of course the company altered this as much as they could. I would co-exist with Owen. We’d switch off who was in control. This would be so that Owen wouldn’t be in a sleep-type purgatory for months since he vehemently disagreed with being me. The company couldn’t offer a temporary host for that long. Also, the company wanted to test this type of set up. It could open new doors for business.

It started really well. Owen would wake while I watched his life. He’d make his breakfast, work out, masturbate, etc. I’d take over and head to class. It was so mundane like putting on a suit for work. Sometimes he’d have me do the workout and masturbation while he would listen to lectures (well, we both listened to the lectures; I was just in the backseat). Eventually we’d argue in our head about what to do. I masturbate to men; he masturbates to women. I want to suck cock; he wants to fuck pussy. Most of our arguments were about sex. To get back at him, I remember just hooking up with guys as often as I could. When I was in control, was when I was in some guy’s hole. I think that was what caused the error. Whenever one of us was in the backseat of our mind, we could still observe and feel what was happening to our body, but when there was a repugnant or painful stimulation, we sometimes involuntarily dissociated ourselves. It’s a bit freaky. One minute you’re helplessly watching yourself fall, preparing for hitting the ground, then the next second, an hour went by. I think that happened to Owen. In the backseat of our mind, he watched helplessly as I sucked cock with his mouth and got fucked in his ass by another guy. I could sense him still, but he was quiet. Over time, it grew dimmer and dimmer until I felt I was utterly alone.

Next Door Boy reacted… curiously. It wasn’t that they were excited or upset, but they just wanted all the information on what happened. They decided to remove me from the host to see if Owen would recover. A week had gone by. Owen’s body still lived. It was sustained by an automatic response to breathe, but it needed to be fed and taken care of.

It seemed to be a lawsuit in the works, but they seemed to find a practical solution.

They stuck me back in Owen’s body. Now my body. My old body was on ‘vacation’ and would only occasionally come back. I tried to keep up the appearances of Owen and myself before it got to cumbersome. And my life truly was in Owen.

By that time, Levi and I as Owen went our camping trip. We had a blast with our friends. I felt Levi and I grow closer, and while it felt strange to feel this way towards Levi, I reminded myself I wasn’t his father anymore.

My old body would leave some money for Levi and his mother. The rest would be funneled secretly to Owen’s body. I would still have some measure of wealth and a younger, youthful body.

It’s been over half a decade and I graduated college with a dual major in Art and Accounting. I’m able to pursue an art career. I entered into a loving relationship with my husband.

The circumstances with Owen and Next Door Boy might’ve inspired the universal conditions that aim to protect the host, but I’m not at liberty to discuss it. I no longer use those services, in fact Levi and I laughed as we read the stories of middle aged men using young men to fulfill their sex lives. “How desperate do you have to be?” Levi asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said, truly not sure how desperate I had been. “But I’m glad we have each other.”

[theknightmarket]

"We've made it this far."

In which the Engineer and the captain are released from the effects of the wormhole, as they've always wanted. TW: cursing, angst, slight reference to gore Pages: 26 - Words: 9,500

[Requests: OPEN]

“Please, just hold on.” 

After dying so many times, it was weird to be on the edge of it. You’d tossed yourself off the cliff enough to memorize the feeling of falling, of becoming weightless and letting everything go – like a kind of acceptance, even if you were going not of your own volition. It had always been okay, though, because you’d come back seconds later, spat back up from a raging ocean with salt and spray into the arms of that cryo-pod. 

“I can get you out of here, don’t worry, I can do it.” 

But this time, you were looking down, your feet on the ground and the water seeming so far away. You had to make the choice now, of staying on that crumbling cliff, battled by the wind, and forced to stare straight at the fate you were faced with, or letting your feet shift and lose traction. 

“Come on, please, I know you can do it.” 

In theory, it was an easy decision, but you didn’t want to have to work for it anymore. You had done the hard part, the surviving at the peak, and now, you knew that this would be the last time. It wasn’t as though you could take a step back; you would always be watching the tips of the waves snap at you. You didn’t want to watch anymore.

You croaked out a simple, “Mark…” 

Your faithful engineer, kneeled at your side, likely for the last time. He wasn’t going to fall. He couldn’t. 

“No, no, please, don’t do that, just a little longer,” his pleads reached your ears well, but you forced yourself to ignore them, “our medics will be here, just wait.”

“Mark, I can’t.”

“No, you can, you have to!” Guilt tapped at the edge of your mind, you didn’t let it in, and it stayed right where it was. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. You were. You really were. 

“Come on, the- the colony haven’t said goodbye, the crew…” His thought went unfinished, but you understood him. You always did, even when he didn’t understand himself. You were half sure he didn’t know what he was saying, the panic and dread overwhelming him in a fight for majority. 

You assured him, “They’ll be fine.”

“Not without you.” 

“Mark, look,” a cough wracked your upper body like an earthquake, “look at it all, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

You were so damn proud of him, of the whole ship, of everything. You never told him directly, so you could only hope he knew. It would make this whole thing easier if he knew that you were proud of him, that you trusted him. He’d be easier on himself.

“Not far enough! We still have more to do, we- we can’t do it without you. You’re our captain.” A distant memory from just a few days before floated to the forefront of your mind. It was hazy, corrupted by the pain, but it was there. “You’re my captain.”

A deep breath in, as far as the pressure would allow you, before you whispered, “You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.” 

And suddenly you wished that you hadn’t been able to take that breath – that you had stayed silent and let the moment envelop you. The spark of realisation that you cherished in Mark’s eyes dug a pit in your stomach. 

“No,” was all you could say with what little energy you had left.

“But—”

“Uh-uh. Not this time.” 

You couldn’t, he couldn’t, neither of you would be able to handle another round of what you went through together. That quality of stubbornness you both possessed would surely fail you, abandoning you to the madness of eternity, worse if you failed.

“Why not!? I know how to do it, and we know how to fix it.”

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

Shit. That little energy was becoming smaller and smaller, but neither did you have it in you to let Mark create another wormhole. You couldn’t live with yourself if he gave you a second chance. 

“I’m not losing you,” you muttered, “and, yeah, I know how ironic that is.” 

You wanted to laugh, but all that burning the candle at both ends was catching up to you. The numbness that had crept up on your legs hours ago was lurching onto your torso. It wouldn’t be long before it was biting through your arms and neck, and you wouldn’t be aware of it when it reached your temple. 

“So, hey, just… just give me this. Please?”

The look in his eyes washed away. Leaving Mark like this was not your plan, but when had the universe ever listened to you? You could be thankful that you hadn’t gone insane in a place lightyears from your home, that Mark was not leaving you. You admitted that it was a selfish thought, but you didn’t think you could keep going if you lost him. You’d fought hard, but now you were done fighting. You knew he could do it for you.

And so did he. It was a cold admittance that he wouldn’t be the one to save you, this time. It felt all too much like giving up on the person who had sacrificed themself time and time again for him. Although it left a poor taste in his mouth – bitter, unwelcome, downright painful – you had proven to be steadfast in your decisions. There was going to be no convincing you.

“I love you.” If Mark was given a do-over, no strings attached, that would not be the first time he was saying it to you, aloud, just the two of you, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

And maybe he would have gotten to hear it from you just once. 

Your final breath cascaded against his knees, a waterfall that seemed eons from growing dry but dripped slowly into the grave it dug for itself. There was no sound, no last rites read, except for the heartbroken sob that broke free from Mark’s chest, echoing around the cavern walls.

Seeing the sun after so long in space was strange. Of course, you could look out of one of the many windows that Mark had installed and see a sun, but to stand in the rays of light from the sun of this galaxy? It made you want to brush off your duties, it made you want to throw your jacket off and run into the forest, it…

It made you miss Earth.

After exploring space for so long, you were always surprised that, wherever you landed, you felt homesick in the bottom of your stomach. The feeling slept when you were in transit and reared its head when you started to set up a colony, but it never truly disappeared after that. Hell, not even the visits back to your birth planet fixed the issue. The best thing you came up with was bringing little pieces along for the ride. 

But you didn’t have the time to reminisce. Just as you’d mentioned earlier, you had a colony to establish, and it was well on its way already. A dozen sectors sketched out, concrete paths linking each one to the other. There were still a majority of people left in their cryo-chambers, those that weren’t necessary for building or planning, who were being looked after by Celci. Gunther was on observation for threats – a duty he often groaned about – and Bert was waxing poetic while the rudimentary power generators were being built. So far, everything was looking good. As in, nothing was going to blow up immediately and force you back on that ship.

No, instead, there you were. Standing in front of your growing colony, the sun glinting off the metal of the parked ship, your feet on the ground of a healthy, new planet. How could you not let a prideful smile work its way onto your face underneath the helmet you had yet to take off? You had made it, and, if you squinted, you could practically see the bustling city this place would become. Stores on one end of the street, restaurants on the other, further down would be a sector of houses with a public park and a fountain. Young families would walk to their parents’ house, the group of teenagers would have no problem just talking to each other during dark nights, old lovers would duck from the rain into shaded alleyways to share one last kiss before heading home for a warm bath.

You caught the eye of your head engineer leaning against the head of the ship. 

And not that you knew it, you had also caught his eye, only that was a gross underestimation. Mark had been with you every step of the way on the ship, he’d seen what you could do, what you had done to save the crew and colonists. You’d long ago seized his admiration, and, soon after that, his affection, leading to where he stood in that moment; watching you as you ordered everything that needed to be done to be done, waiting for his own set of instructions that he would carry out perfectly.

Until you made eye contact with him, smiled, and then began to walk away. Mark’s feet were moving before he could process what was happening, and if he started to jog after a few steps, that was between him and the ship wall that he pushed off from. He slid to a stop when he was close enough to you, an unsure half-grin on his face.

“Hey, Captain,” he said as he fell into step beside you.

“Is everything alright, Mark?” was the only reply he got, though that was likely because of his expression more than any doubt you held.

To ease your concern, he tried not to make it too obvious that he was nervous. 

“Yeah!” The barely hidden voice crack did not help, but he continued anyway, “Yeah, it is, I mean- is there anything you want me to do?” 

Requesting work was difficult for him. Not because he naturally took things easy, but because he had been on his feet for the last he-didn’t-know-how-long. Hours, days, he hoped not weeks. It didn’t feel right to not do anything. 

“Why don’t you take the day off?” 

Panic struck him like a physical force. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, you could have still been angry about the whole incident, but he thought everything had been cleared up on the ship’s bridge. Had you already given him a job and he hadn’t been paying attention? Well, could you blame him if he wasn’t? 

It was in this train of thought that he realized you were waiting for a response. So, you weren’t mad. That was good. 

“Is now the best time?” he asked, “It’s your decision, of course, I just think—”

You stopped short of the next sector, some grid for farming, “Look, you’ve been to hell and back—” and hell and back and hell and back and hell and back, as you were both well aware, “—I think you deserve some time to yourself.” 

‘Time to yourself’. He didn’t want time to himself, he wanted… well, he wanted a lot of things and, to put it bluntly, he wanted some time with you, but you weren’t about to take a rest anytime soon, so neither was he.

“And while I appreciate the offer, Captain, there’s a lot to be done that I think is more important than having a break.”

You watched his face for a second, looked up and down as he started to sweat underneath the layers of his uniform. “Repeat that for me.”

“And while I appreciate the offer, Cap...”

His trailing off made clear the realization he came to. You sent him a knowing look, as he groaned like a kid told he couldn’t have another cookie. Of course, it made you smile, too. His dramatics were the highlight of your day when it wasn’t his stubbornness and jokes.

Today, he was vastly leaning into the former. “Only five minutes!” he demanded, scrolling through his arm-piece to set a timer.

“Ten.”

He scrolled slightly further. “Seven.”

“Fifteen.”

And slightly further. “Twelve.”

Your bout of laughter echoed through the trees around you. “You aren’t getting this, are you?” Mark’s arm was tugged away from him as you swiped through the timer yourself. He might have argued about it more if he weren’t so preoccupied with being close enough to kiss you right now if he had the gall to lean that slight bit towards you.

And, you were his captain, obviously, who was he to challenge your authority?

“Take the day off, Mark, and that’s an order from your captain.” You left him with a pat to his shoulder, luckily not noticing the vibrant blush spreading on his face that was too strong to blame the sun for.

He muttered to himself when you were a few steps away, “Pulling rank isn’t fair.” And he was certain that it wasn’t. It was a trump card, some ex-machina that you had no right to use on him. 

But he had his own little trick up his sleeve, or, rather, on his belt. You insisted on using some of the old-world commodities, even by Earth standards. The communicator on his hip with the antennae and grating would be his ace in the whole for your dumb day off punishment—

“And no using your walkie!”

“Damn it.” 

You were tired. Really tired. You’d slept a day and a half after the whole wormhole incident, and yet here you were, looking at every slightly level surface with literal bedroom eyes. You constantly had to remind yourself to pay attention, but that just made you think about paying attention and not listen to the person you were talking to – who, in this case, was Celci. As such, you were half sure it was important to the whole colony, relying on her reputation, mostly, because again, you weren’t paying attention, and you were actually imagining lying down on that rock you’d seen half an hour ago with the moss and grooves.

You weren’t listening, again.

“Or I could send you the report for you to look over later?”

When you snapped back to reality, you were none the wiser as to what that report was about, but it gave you time to figure it out. “Oh, yeah, that’d be great, Celci, thanks.”

She gave you one look and then asked, “Captain, is everything alright?” 

The half grin took most of your energy, so you promptly dropped it when you remembered that she couldn’t see your face. “Am I that obvious?”

“If you need a break, I can go and check the excavation site and one of the techs can do the propane levels. I’m sure I could get Mark—”

You immediately rushed to cut her off, “No, no, I’m fine. I appreciate the thought but I-I’m fine, really.” Jostling your body and comically widening your eyes, you made yourself as presentable as you could with a quarter of your fuel in the tank. You dusted off your suit and cleared the screen of your helmet, extremely thankful for the metal that made it a one-way mirror. “See?”

Celci hummed at you. Not a good sign. She was arguably the most responsible on the ship, and if she thought you were putting yourself through the ringer, she would do everything in her power to get you to relax. The only problem she faced was ranking, and it was the only thing protecting you from being forced into a nap. You had to get away before she could figure out how to circumvent your title.

“C’mon, Celci, don’t you think I know my limits?”

Disapproving silence. Even starting to walk away from her, you knew how little she believed you. 

“We only have to get through another three hours of work, and then everyone’ll be able to finish up; myself included.”

“Well, Captain…” And there was the crack you needed. Hesitation. 

“Besides, if we get the thermos running, we’ll be able to house some of the colonists and you can focus your efforts on the desert habitation.” That was her little pet project. When you’d scanned the surface, you found two nearby biomes that would barely receive any rain but stayed in the negative fifties for your entire surveillance period. It was backhanded to bait her with the idea, you knew that, but if it got you out of a glorified grounding, you were willing to do it.

Especially since it seemed to work, if Celci’s sigh and hands on her hips were anything to go by.

“Alright, Captain, as long as you finish as soon as the day ends.”

You exchanged a nod with varying degrees of satisfaction with that encounter, before going your separate ways. In fact, you did get a little jolt of energy out of it, as you waltzed along the concrete path. Any thoughts of taking a break were washed out of your mind by the torrent of work you still had left to do; all the sites to check out, all the staff to organize, all the paperwork to send back to the headquarters. The latter was always the worst part, but it was the price you paid for independence on the planet. Free reign was only yours if you played by your boss’ rules.

“Captain!”

Speaking of boss’ rules, as if on cue, Mark jogged to your side from wherever he was before, falling into step quickly next to you. You wouldn’t deny that seeing him gave you another boost of energy, which you immediately used to pat him on the back.

“How’s your break going?”

“I’d rather be doing actual work, but it’s fine. I appreciate it.”

“Good.”

And it was. You were glad he was taking it slow today. He was important to you, and the colony, and you didn’t need your head engineer passing out in the middle of an important task. Or passing out in general. Or doing anything else bad for his health that you could readily prevent.

He appeared alright, for now, although that wasn’t going to get him back on a job just yet. “Actually, I was wondering if—” he started to say, but a crew member cut him off with the crunch of their boots as they rushed towards you from out the surrounding woods.

Their report was normal enough, a few more pieces of information about the excavation site. They’d found another source of aluminum in the caves, which you noted down in case your supplies ran low. Mark waited at your side while you spoke to the person, half-way between listening and grumbling to himself. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly as you dismissed the crew member.

“Sorry, go on,” you said. The pair of you continued to walk, heading nowhere in particular aside from in the vague direction of the housing project.

He did as you prompted, getting out, “Well, I wanted to know—” before someone else called for your attention. Given you were nearing the first constructions of houses, it made sense that a builder caught up to you – despite that, you noticed Mark’s pout as he averted his eyes from the conversation you’d been drawn into. Just a material substitution you needed to sign off on, it was nothing to get worried about, but it was obvious that wasn’t what he was annoyed by.

You gestured with a grin for Mark to continue. Mouth only somewhat open, he paused and looked around, then rounded to your other side to cut you off from the majority of the workers. It was a futile effort, given that you were fast approaching the mass of houses, but it amused you either way. A combination of that drama and humor you were so fond of.

“I think, considering what we went through—” There was barely a crack of a twig in your ten-foot radius when Mark grabbed you by the hand and ran off the path. He didn’t know where he was going, and you definitely didn’t, but you were going regardless. His boots carved a line from the housing district all the way back to the ship. Hardly anyone was there anymore, only a few cryo-techs were loitering around to survey the colonists, so it was his best bet to get you alone, however creepy that made him sound. 

You weren’t given time to question him when you eventually skidded to a stop in a quiet area behind the ship itself. Mark was talking even before you caught your breath.

“I think that you should take some time off too because you went through the same things that I did, and, yes, I know you’re the captain, but having some time to recover from it all would be just as good as me taking some time, even better, because you made all the decisions back there, so you should just relax and I have some suggestions for how you can do that.” 

By the end of his little speech, neither of you were breathing at a steady rate. You both sucked in as much air as you could handle and then let it go again, minds catching up with the situation. For you, it was processing his words and what he wanted from you – for Mark, it was realizing just what he’d spouted and how utterly unconvincing he was.

It was another challenge to understand that you accepted. “I’m listening,” you said, simply, as if you couldn’t say anything else.

Mark spluttered, not thinking he’d get so far but being so far that he had to continue.

“I say we should take some food packs from storage, find an empty room, and have a proper lunch. We won’t talk about work or duties to be done, or anything else, and we’ll lock the door so nobody will interrupt us.” That last bit came from the depths of his soul, Mark grimacing as he spoke. “The colony will be there when we get back. And, if you think about it, getting some rest will help you make better decisions in the long run.”

“Okay.”

Okay. You’d said okay. You’d okayed it. You were going with his plan. Pride overwhelmed him against his mind’s efforts to keep up with his heart and stomach’s backflips. His body froze in response, giving you the concerning impression that you’d broken him with a single word. Lucky for you, he rebooted himself in a few seconds, though he was still unable to curb his enthusiasm.

“Yes. Yes! Alright, let’s go.”

Mark went to reach for your hand but quickly noticed that he was still holding it from when he’d dragged you with him. Instead, sheepishly, he smiled at you and started to walk towards the ship’s entrance, you chuckling to yourself in tow.

If you were going to take a break, you might as well be taking it with your favorite person. What did you have to lose?

“I’m hoping for cool fish.”

“Nope.”

Within half an hour, the both of you were settled on beanbags, eating soup out of Styrofoam bowls, and drinking the champagne you had left over from the salute at the start of the trip. To you, it was the height of luxury, especially now that you were out of your stuffy uniforms and into more casual clothes. The only ones you owned were your workout gear and nightwear, but you opted for the less sweaty version of a tank top and shorts. You didn’t think it was so bad, but Mark had spent the first ten minutes of the lunch break looking anywhere but you. It didn’t help when you went to get your helmet and jacket because he immediately jumped to push you back down into your seat. Not that you – or, though you were unaware, Mark – was complaining.

Still, you kept the outer layers of your uniform close by in case of an emergency, the chances of you being notified as minimal as they were with both your walkie-talkies having been switched off. It was you who pushed for them to be present, but the compromise made them pretty much useless.

Yet not even the potential of a natural disaster pulled you out of the relaxed state you had entered. Slipped down halfway into the beanbag, spread out as far as you could get, you felt calmer than you’d ever been before. Mark would say the same, had he not been seeing your face for the first time.

By the sun, moon, and stars, you were… downright gorgeous. He never liked relying on rumors, so he had taken the stories of you being handsome and/or beautiful to be one weird game of telephone. Now, though? He was regretting not asking to see your face sooner, but you were still in front of him, and he was going to relish the view for as long as he could, emergency be damned.

“First chance I get, I’m throwing you in an ocean,” you promised, taking a sip from your champagne flute.

“I’m taking you with me.”

“I want to see it. Maybe we’ll find a fifty-foot-long eel with three sets of teeth and mandibles on its face.” 

“You’ll find some cool rocks and suffocate before you could even see the thing.”

Dammit. Just like that, with one sentence, Mark smothered the banter you had going. His jaw clenched, your shoulders heightened, the mood was thrown out the window – poor choice of words, again. He had meant it to be playful, but certain recent events tainted the very concept of losing oxygen, of holding your breath for longer than a minute. Gallows humor had yet to set in, and, based on the glazed-over look in your eyes, he couldn’t help but think it never would.

But you were the one to break the silence. “So, what now?” you asked as you placed the flute gently on the floor, glass clinking even as it stood straight.

“Cap,” was the only mumbled answer you received, though it didn’t deter you.

“I know, it’s just…” you sighed, “we can’t not talk about it?”

“Why not?”

Your gaze shot to meet Mark’s eyes, ready and raring to argue, to question how he can deny it. The flame died the second you saw the look. The watery film that threatened tears dumped dirt over your fury. It made sense that he would want to leave it behind. You had the colony to think of now, instead of the death after death after death you’d both faced in the wormhole. You understood that want to ignore it all, but you couldn’t fall into the trap. You couldn’t face another night with it hanging over your head. The bags underneath those wet eyes of his told you he couldn’t either.

Shakily, you whispered, careful not to set him off, “Because it happened. And it was a serious moment in our lives that we can’t ignore. And- and what if it all goes wrong again and we need to prepare to deal with it?”

“Then we’ll do what we did last time.”

“Get stuck?”

“Get through it.” Distantly, you wondered why you were the one to make that first speech. You were the captain, sure, but Mark made you believe him with just one incomplete sentence. He made you trust him in three words, no matter how much your mind fought to tell you otherwise, your heart did indeed trust him. “I mean, we’ve come this far, how hard can it be?” A weak chuckle. “I’d wager getting Gunther to not shoot the first thing he saw when he got off the ship was a lot harder than what we did.”

You didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, talking about the crew, it made you feel… something else. An intangible well of guilt and shame. You could get through another wormhole, but everyone else? What if they got caught? What if they started to remember all the death and fire and pain? You wouldn’t be able to help them, not like last time. If they remembered, they’d be at the edge with you, staring over the side. How many of them could take it? The crew or the colonists themselves? You would have failed them all. You might not have killed them, but they’d be casualties, nonetheless.

“Hey.” Your head snapped up to see Mark at eye level with you, leaning over to bring a hand to your upper arm. “We’d get through it. I know we would.”

But you still looked forward, unblinking, and it only took a second for Mark to realise he was wrong. If he wanted to be scientific about it, he would have just called it trauma bonding – if he wanted to be emotional about it, which he didn’t but he was going to be, he would have thought that all your time together brought you closer, not only because of the danger you experienced, but the comradery. Seeing you in action, seeing you take care of everyone, seeing you be the captain you were meant to be; Mark was sure he understood you. That meant he could see that guilt and shame as clear as day in your eyes.

He let himself fall forward to flop down next to you in your beanbag. Even though he was slightly uncomfortable, pressed against the strangely stiff surface, he stayed right where he was. Nestled against your side. He couldn’t think of a better place to be.

“I don’t understand why you do this.”

“It’s one of my charming quirks.”

You still didn’t feel like laughing, not even at your own poor joke, so you dropped your gaze to Mark. “What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You pretend like you aren’t the captain.”

“Do I?” Plead the fifth or whatever it was people said, and you didn’t care about the irony of you being the one to deny now.

He narrowed his eyes, barely shifting closer but shifting closer regardless. You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah, you do,” he pushed as the hand that was on your arm circled around to the other shoulder. You resisted the voice in your mind that told you to bury your head in his neck, whether that was to avoid hearing him or to relish in his closeness that you never had the chance for.

You didn’t though, head remaining held high, so you were forced to listen when he continued, “You tried to get a smaller crew, you go in on the explorations yourself, you ignore the medics who try to help you.”

Another voice in the back of your mind perked up to rebuke it all, but you silenced it. What would be the point of lying? Mark knew you, you knew he knew you, there was no reason to fight it.

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know.” Your voice was small, smaller than you or Mark had ever heard it, but the admittance felt like it was enough to send a shockwave through the cabin. The jacket that showcased your title to everyone on the planet seemed to blaze in your mind. “Am I really their captain yet?”

“’Yet’?” Mark parroted you, and that was the go-ahead you needed to spill your thoughts.

“I missed the construction of the ship and the selection of the crew. The hour that I got onto the thing, everything went to shit, so many things went wrong. I- I don’t know if I deserve this, being the captain, when I didn’t spend any time with the people running the ship. Hell, even without the whole wormhole thing, we were going to be in cryo-sleep for the entire journey. I wasn’t needed.” The flood of words tumbled out with reckless abandon and then stopped like crashing into a wall like a bike going eighty. You didn’t think you would go through with it otherwise. Inner voices or a sense of decorum threatened to overtake you.

And yet, even though you got to the end of your rant, red-faced and breathless, you were knocked more off-balance by Mark’s question. “How many times did you die?”

“What?”

His eyes were trained on you. “How many times did you die?”

“I don’t remember, maybe thirty?”

“So, you died thirty times for yourself?”

Indignation sparked within your heart. “No, I did it for the ship,” you stated bluntly, “the crew and the colonists.” You weren’t certain what his point was, but if you had to use your authority-voice on him, you were going to.

“Repeat that for me.”

“I did it for…”

That was his point, then. Your shoulders relaxed, though you didn’t notice that you’d raised them, and your eyebrows unfurrowed. In return, Mark’s smile brightened, like he’d caught the canary. Caught you, more like. 

You stared deadpan down at him but brought a hand up to card through his hair. Without his beret, it was looser, more befitting of him as a person instead of the head engineer. The corners of his mouth perked up even more. “See, I don’t like it when you use my own tactics on me.”

His laugh reverberated through your own bones, especially when he dropped his head to your collarbone. It wasn’t awkward, in fact, you were soon chuckling along with him at his happiness more than your joke – it felt natural, but you were still aware that this was the closest you had ever been. Relaxed into the beanbag the two of you now shared, trying to avoid knocking over your flutes of champagne, practically cradling each other in your arms. If the wormhole had been like this, maybe you would have appreciated it more.

“Someone who doesn’t deserve to be captain would have left the ship to explode and taken an emergency pod back to the nearest planet.” His speech, like his trailing off giggles, shook your muscles as sparks of electricity. “They wouldn’t have died for them, and you did. You are their captain.”

Hesitation. You saw it as bright at the sun of your new home in the sky. You saw it rise in Mark’s eyes, you saw it crescendo, and you saw it dip into the horizon.

“You’re my captain.”

Whatever thought ran through his mind, it was gone by the time he pushed through the final inch between you, leaving barely a breath in the interim. You could feel the puffs of hot air bat against your jaw, nose and lips. The role he gave you meant more than the legislation, the rule, the empty title. Now, it was trust. Him in you, and you in him.

For a moment, you thought he might bridge the gap, but his mouth opened before anything could progress. That didn’t mean either of your minds had strayed from the idea. He whispered under his breath, as if it would escape the room had he spoken any louder, “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

“As in a date?”

“Yeah. A date.”

Mark could feel his heart beating faster. He could have denied it and represented it something like the scenario you were in now. There was a part of him that thought he should have; it shied away from the very possibility of rejection and cowered in the clasp of regulations and human resources. But he had already taken the leap, the words hovering in the air. It would be a proper date – with candles and music and something better to eat than soup in a Styrofoam bowl. You’d talk about whatever came to mind, plans for the future instead of the past, and you’d share a bottle of wine as you spoke. The flicker of flame would highlight you from below and he would see exactly what he was describing in your eyes. His future. If the night went well, you’d clear the table together, strangely domestic against the memories of the journey over, and then, with the candlelight still dancing on the table before the fire was snuffed out, he hoped to share a kiss together. He could almost feel it already.

While his imagination was a thing to behold, it could not take credit for that sensation, but while Mark was so lost in his prospects, he failed to notice that the future was coming to pass. Or some of it, anyway.

You weren’t sitting at a table, a glass of wine and wax dripping onto the table; you were closer than before, with your lips pressed against his and your eyes closed.

Mark was knocked breathless. The sensation was nothing he could have predicted; the pressure was soft, gentle, like a silk ribbon, but the texture exposed how you would bite the same places when you were worried. Worried? What reason did you have to be worried? You were the greatest captain he had ever heard of, let alone known. He wanted to tell you just that, but he was preoccupied, for obvious reasons, with pushing you down against the hill of the beanbag. Maybe he was bias – your groan reverberated through his skin – but he didn’t really have a choice – your fingertips skimmed across his hair – and he was sure that you were objectively the best anyway – your teeth grazed over his lips – so it didn’t really matter. He brought one of his own hands to hover over your jaw, barely making contact until a particular hum had him brushing his thumb across your cheek. You leaned into it, as if it were a military ration, and he supposed it must have felt like that. Roles like yours didn’t tend to come with company.

Inwardly, he pledged that he would never let you feel alone again.

Outwardly, in an ill-fated scuffle to reposition himself, a dull thunk and something spilling onto the floor caused the two of you to slowly, begrudgingly, part. A few puffs of air settled between you as you turned to see Mark’s semi-full glass that had fallen over.

With a laugh, you settled your head against Mark’s shoulder, both to stabilize yourself and spare him the embarrassment of a steadily reddening face.

“So, that date tomorrow?” Despite the last five minutes, Mark couldn’t help but be shaky in asking. Either that, or it was aftereffects of his heart going 210 instead of the normal 60 beats per minute.

“As long as,” you whispered before grabbing your own champagne for another sip, “we get to find a large body of water tomorrow.”

“That sounds a lot like an ocean, Cap.”

“Well, if you insist, we can find an ocean.”

With your final poke at his expense, enough to wave away the remaining fog of tension no matter the nature, you downed the last of your champagne and settled further into your beanbag. For once, you didn’t regret taking a break, and you were sure you would need another breather after the excavation the following day.

“It’s my project, it has my name signed on the documents.”

So far, the day had proven successful. Three more biomes were scouted out, one of them being a potentially perfect site for farming, and the first real town had been built. At the beginning, it had looked like one of those places built to test nuclear weapons – but then, just two hours ago, they had moved the first colonists into their houses. You had been there to greet them, shake their hands and pass them the keys, but you had to leave before they could get fully settled. Besides, that was Celci’s job. The whole transfer from cryo operation was under her jurisdiction.

However, now that the residents were all making beds and organizing cupboards, Mark had to deal with her. And by deal with her, he meant argue, because there wasn’t another way the situation could ever turn out.

Presently, the pair were standing outside a section of the colony, Mark’s section, with blueprints in hands and scowls on faces. A slap against the paper was followed by Celci’s gesture towards the energy source.

“That means you were the one who started to involve cryo-tech, and that means I need to have some input.”

Mark scoffed, even though he knew full well that she was, technically, just barely, if you looked at it a certain way, correct. Just the word cold was her full job description, but he assumed he would get away with it if she were busy with other things. How wrong he was. Ever the eye for detail, Celci had searched through all the project applications, filtering for anything below 30 degrees, and then promptly set up meetings with all the leads. She wasn’t aware that it was Mark heading this one until she walked up the concrete path. Mark wasn’t aware that it was Celci he was meeting with until he heard her groan.

Go figure, they had made no progress.

“You know, I would love to prove you wrong on this,” Mark hissed, “but, unlike you, I can’t spend all day arguing about this.”

Was it backhanded to boast about your date and use it to get away from an argument, which he totally wasn’t losing, in one sentence? Probably. Was he doing it anyway? Yes.

However, Celci wasn’t one to give up that easily. Mark barely got two steps backwards before she took one toward him in return. “No, you know I’m right, so you’re running away.”

“Actually, I have a date tonight.” The pride and amazement took over the scowl on his face. For a moment, he forgot he was talking to someone and that he wasn’t just staring into his mirror, trying to convince himself it wasn’t a dream while he picked out an outfit.

“Who with? Your Roomba?”

In any other situation, he would have leaned into the mockery, tried harder to think of a better comeback, but the truth worked well enough. With a grin, Mark corrected, “The Captain.”

A flurry of emotions danced over Celci’s face that Mark was so glad he was able to see. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her confused before, much less shocked, though there were plenty of times she looked at him with endless doubt. They rolled over and over like a broken projector before she finally landed on a stranger expression – bemusement.

“Finally.”

It was his turn to look confused.

She tutted and looked him dead in the eye. “You can’t think that nobody’s seen the love-sick puppy look you give them when they’re nearby.”

The splutter was hard to contain, despite it being very obviously undignified, but it was harder to get back on his feet. So many questions swirled around his mind, most of them trying to preserve whatever image he thought he presented, but he came up blank. It was, annoyingly, likely that she was once again right. But it wasn’t his fault, not when you were, well, you. Of course, he wouldn’t call it love-sick, though that didn’t stop it from being accurate. 

Mark’s lack of response was enough for Celci to know she’d caught him red-handed. Just typical. With the upper hand, she continued, “But I happen to know that your dinner isn’t until seven, so that gives us five hours for you to see reason.” He tried to protest, opening his mouth to ask how she actually found that information out, before she held up a hand. “Or, what, does it take that long to get your hair like that?”

Inwardly, Mark cursed her. He lost his way out of the conversation, and, in doing so, was welcomed by the colony’s rumor mill. What a prize. At least things weren’t spun out of proportion, but he would have preferred the date to be private at first. He could only hope that the crew had enough sense to leave them alone for the night.

Right now, however, he still had to prove to Celci that he didn’t need her supervision.

“I just don’t understand why you want to get involved with this!” he groaned.

“Because it’s a safety issue if I don’t.”

“It’s not gonna explode.”

“You’ll find a way.”

“I’m not doing anything outside of regulations, it—”

A crackle. Something like a fire burning. His heart rate piped up. Celci started to spin, but Mark was quick to grab at his belt. The walkie-talkie was stirring from its sleep in one of the pouches. He preferred the tech they’d designed for the mission, but he wouldn’t deny you your pieces of Earth. Plus, the stickers were always a bonus.

He drew Celci’s attention as he pressed the button down. Silently, he waved away her own smug grin – the one that told him he looked exactly like a love-sick puppy.

“Hey, Cap, everything alright?”

You never stuck with the whole over and out thing. It was the compromise given they had replaced it with a light to show when the other side’s button was pressed down. To Mark, it made more sense and improved efficiency. What was concerning, though, was that the light was on, red and blazing, but you weren’t talking.

He pressed it closer to his ear. 

Just breathing.

“Cap? Captain, are you okay?”

He was struggling to keep his smile.

Especially when your voice whispered through the machine, gravelly and choked, as if there were hands wrapped around your neck.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Captain.”

“I’m, uh—” You were broken apart by a cough, “—prob’ly gonna be late to dinner—” Another cough, “—tonight.”

It sounded like your lungs were being ripped at the tubes and emptied. Mark’s heart felt like it was shattering.

“Where are you?”

Radio silence. The shards cracked further and refracted the light into searing flames through his veins. Just as sharp, he brought his gaze up to Celci.

“Where is the Captain right now?”

“Didn’t make a copy of their schedule?”

It was meant to be banter, a little poke at their relationship, something to get a deadpan look and an eye roll.

Mark looked more scared than she had ever seen him.

“Third excavation site. North.”

And, at the final word, he was gone, sprinting down the concrete path. The wind carried him in subtle support while some of the crew watched the storm rush past them. They had no clue what was happening, but neither did Mark. He only knew that he had to get to you, no matter what. He had to be there for you.

The walkie felt like it was burning in his grip. An omen and a promise at the same time. He pulled it to his mouth, as though just hearing his voice clearer would let him understand everything. “Cap, Cap, come on, what happened?”

Nothing. Silence outside of his body, which itself sounded like a zoo set loose. It was the eeriness of a broken submarine. He could hear the crunching of the water against the sides as it threatened to ball the metal up with the ease of a wad of paper, but there was still a dismal quiet in the meantime.

“Captain!”

And he couldn’t do a damn thing to help.

Some of the pressure released when he heard your whisper, “Cave in.” It was decorated with crackles and pops, but he heard it crystal clear, every single one of your words its own speech. “Do-don’t come, Mark, don’t.”

His footsteps picked up impossibly faster to match his heart rate.

“I swear, I will,” you choked for a second before you were saved with a cough, “I will pull rank on you.”

“You can do that later. When you’re not crushed under rocks. You can do it at dinner.”

“Mark, I’m not…”

“Yes, you are!”

He swept round a corner. The danger signs for the excavation site came into view. Just a little longer. He didn’t know if you had a little longer. Your breathing was already ragged when you called, and it was getting worse. He knew he should have been pouring all of his energy into getting to you – for once, he admitted it would be better for him to shut up and focus – but he couldn’t handle the silence.

“Okay, okay, pull rank on me,” he pleaded, “just keep talking. Please.” You yielded to his request with a smile that he couldn’t see. “You named the colony yet?” His job. Technically, it was supposed to be the captain who named the colony, but you had given that duty to him. You’d argued that he was the one to choose the planet, so he should have been the one to name it. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. It was too early for delegation, you didn’t need to do it yet, and there would be no reason to later because you would be alive and well. You’d do your job and he’d do his. There would be no exchange because a role couldn’t be filled.

But the declaration was fueled by doubt even in his own mind. 

“No, I was waiting for you,” Mark answered.

“You should name it.”

“I’m waiting for you.”

Another cough, as if your own body was working to supply your point. “Can’t wait forever.”

“I won’t be.”

The lack of response stirred something horrible in his gut when he slid into the entrance to the rock site. He pushed past the gates and tape, snagged protective gear from its place hanging off the fence, and immediately rushed to the directors. They were shambling about with checklists in hand and smiles on faces. Mark wanted to laugh, cry, freeze still in his boots. Everything looked so optimistic. This was advancement for a colony of a size like this.

Days later, when the clock would strike midnight and Mark would lay in his bed with the sheets askew and pillows scattered, he wouldn’t remember what he said to the workers he spoke to. Whether he interacted with them, or they interacted with him, it didn’t matter. His words were lost to him in the haze of overwhelming urgency and underwhelming panic. Medics arrived and excavators were called over. He only knew that because a few of them went in with him to the mouth of the cave – if some kind of legal body was contacted, he wasn’t aware of it because they never showed in front of him, and they weren’t helping him find you.

One detail he did recognize though was the tug at the walkie from one of the directors that caused Mark to pull back like a feral cat. They seemingly decided not to risk it, and simply slipped another walkie in his belt. Of course, you’d given the rest of the crew those things, instead of the highly modernized tech that would have stopped this entire thing from happening in the first place – but he couldn’t be mad at you. It wouldn’t have been you otherwise. 

They backed off quickly when they were done, and he held the original close to his chest until he was well within the tomb- not tomb, cave. A normal cave.

He had to find you.

The team he entered with was small. You always liked close-knit things, he supposed that was why you went in by yourself. Something about comradery. You were too old-fashioned for your own good.

He would tell you that at dinner, give you a light smack on the wrist and a kiss on the cheek.

“Mark, are you still there?” Your voice through the walkie reminded him of where he was. Where you were. You sounded terrible, considerably worse than last you spoke, but that was to be expected. 

Focus.

“Of course. I’m not leaving.”

“Thank you."

His heart would have melted had he not been so hyped up on the rush of adrenaline and intangible fear.

“Can you describe what you can see?”

“Lotta rocks.” Your laugh turned into a gravelly groan. “I see a light.”

“Don’t go towards it.”

“I don’t have much choice.” Mark was blissfully unaware of your joke because he was also blissfully unaware that your legs had been mangled by rocks splitting apart your bones and muscles, pulverized like the aftermath of an old blender fed with sticks and banana. You were glad he was.

He was able to, instead, drop down off a ledge deeper into the cave, which was very quickly becoming more of a cavern. It had the distinct feeling of being trapped in an ant hill, with some spaces widening and then others trailing off into sharp points. Wherever you were, getting out would be a problem, too, but seeing a light meant that you were either incredibly deep or just by the surface. He was hoping for the latter.

The next drop down was not promising.

Neither was the walkie startling to life again with your voice. “You know,” you croaked, “when we were in the wormhole, I didn’t think it would end like this.”

“It’s not ending like this.”

You let the words sink into metal grating of the machine before you spoke again, “I thought I’d be shot in that noir place or stay frozen in a cryo-chamber for centuries, I didn’t think I’d just be, uh, crushed.”

The way you phrased it was so inelegant that Mark nearly snorted. However, the reality didn’t let it breach neo-daedism territory.

“Seems a bit boring, in comparison.” He couldn’t tell whether you were mumbling for comedic effect, or your lungs were giving up on you. Uncertainty impaled him like a spear through the chest.

Swallowing, he sighed. “But at least it’s not in the wormhole.”

“At least it’s not in the wormhole.”

It felt too much like a goodbye. A final salute to the ship that sailed off into the distance. Firing the arrow onto the raft. It shouldn’t have given him hope.

But it did; the cavern was bathed with the sunshine from a hole in the ceiling, and the light on the walkie was off.

It didn’t take long to spot you, upper half sticking out from the rubble of a dozen large boulders and even more smaller rocks dusting your back. Frantically, he rushed to your side, barely dodging standing on the discarded walkie a few feet in front of you. You held another to your cheek. Mark wished he had more time to tease you about keeping a whole communicator just for him, then you’d tease him about his own, and then you’d win the argument when he decided to just look at you all alive and active and not steadily dying in a cave. He did not have more time.

He hooked the walkie for the director out of his belt and called for assistance, giving a description of the route he took and then turning it off to pay attention to you.

Your grin was bright but shaky. “You come here often?” 

“Captain…”

“Sorry, bad timing.”

“No, perfect timing.” The chuckle that dripped out from his mouth was tainted by tears brimming in his eyes. He took your hand and tried to ignore how cold it already was. If he had come sooner, would you have more of a chance? Would you have survived? Oh, but you were going to survive anyway, you had to. You were the captain. You were his captain.

“Mark, don’t- don’t get yourself worked up.”

“Or what?”

“Oh, you know.”

He wanted to beg for you to continue the joke. His grip tightened as he brought your hand to his lips. He held it there, waiting, not breathing a single puff of air. The fear of disturbing the scene and being the little bit of wind that a rock needed to jut further into your back was buried deep in his bones.

“Please, just hold on.”

“Mark…”

No.

“Mark, I can’t.”

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sorry.”

Was he saying words?

“They’ll be fine.”

Just a little longer.

“Mark, look… look around, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

His mouth was moving, he was sure of it, but the crackle of the walkie filled his ears in place of his own words.

“You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.”

The warp-core. He had done it once before. What’s to say he couldn’t do it again?

“No.”

All that pain, all those deaths, he would do it again.

“Uh-uh. Not this time.”

He would do it for you.

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

If you would just let him, he could get you back. He didn’t understand why you were resisting. It would be so easy. You would get to live and lead the colony and be the captain that you always wanted to be.

But he couldn’t deny that it was a lot of woulds. And he couldn’t go through with it without your support. The tears in your eyes were not from pain but from fear, and not even for yourself. You were scared for him. Your head engineer.

“I’m not losing you—” Mark snapped back to the present, “—And, yeah, I know how ironic that is.”

It was ironic, wasn’t it? Not only this situation, but that the two of you, as a pair, had gone through so much together, only to get separated when things had finally calmed down. It was as though you had grown so used to danger that you couldn’t survive without it. Domesticity was not for you, nor was it for Mark. In this lifetime, you would never get a break. And that was one of the two certainties he found.

“So, hey, just- just give me this. Please?”

The other certainty?

“I love you.”

Mark kneeled on the dusty ground of the cave with your hand in his. It was just as cold as the air around you, your breath visible as you sighed a single, “I-…” that trailed off before you could get anything out. The words died in your lungs as your eyes dropped shut.

Mark’s sobs echoed throughout your tomb.

[Did you know this started out as straight fluff? Also, I will forever be scared of the leviathan from Subnautica]

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story, Part 2

TW: Blood, implied past captivity and torture, stitches, wound description, angst, corrupt system, issues regarding figure (brief), bruises, angst, knife, touch starvation

Part 1

Guess who's back with a hella long piece. vacay from college for some time with semester 1 over, woo! enjoyyy 💙

“So how did you sleep?” the vigilante asked as she walked downstairs to find the villain sitting cross-legged on her couch. 

“Well,” he answered evenly, emotionlessness overtaking his tone as usual. It wasn't a complete lie; he'd slept better than he had in a long time, but his eyes had wrenched open a little after sunrise, even though he wasn't a morning person. He couldn't relax too much into this life, the knife he took shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants, but she didn't need to know that. 

“I'll make us breakfast,” she announced.

“I'll help you out,” he offered, even though he knew she could probably infer what his motives were. He still wasn't taking any chances anyway. 

She nodded curtly in response, leading him to the kitchen. And he'd almost wished someone had warned him about the whiplash of doing something so outlandishly casual with your enemy, as he watched her make a sandwich and soon enough followed suit, still hyper aware of the knives and the boiling water in the kettle. 

And of course, nothing was lost on Vigilante, even if she probably wasn’t half as nervous as he was, the half-frantic, wild animal wrapped in the poorly fitting garment of someone calm and collected. “Are you always this tense?” she questioned as she sat down at the table and he sat opposite from her.

“Just hungry,” he shot back smoothly, a seasoned liar. Sure, he technically was half-starved, trying to eat slowly just so he wouldn’t retch, but if that was the case, he would’ve relaxed when he ate.  

The vigilante said nothing as she took a bite of her sandwich, but her disbelieving eyebrow raise needed no further additions. 

The villain’s grip tightened on his mug as he worried his frayed bottom lip between his teeth,”What do you want? If you’re going to question every micro-gesture of mine, then why’d you bring me here?” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, probably from all the screaming he couldn’t muffle, not that he cared.

“I get it,” the vigilante said placatingly, even though it was clear she was somewhat irritated. She wasn’t a goddamn bleeding heart just oozing compassion and patience, not that he expected any different. “You’re afraid of getting hurt.” 

“I am not afraid of crap, Vigilante.” It came out softer than he’d intended, almost as though he was the one trying to calm the situation, a new trait of people-pleasing a new and heavily despised survival skill he’d recently acquired. 

The vigilante wanted to argue, but she also knew that from the day she’d walked into his cell and pulled him out, that she’d been walking on thin ice. That the man in front of her wasn’t his normal, unflappable self that could dish out a lot worse than whatever she dared to throw at him, so for the rest of this tense, awkward breakfast, they both remained quiet. 

It had taken them about two hours of trepidation spent in the opposite ends of the living room for Vigilante to break the silence. “So, about the plan,” she started.

“Yeah?” he asked, now turning to face her. 

“We can’t fight her by traditional means. We don’t have the time to amass an army big enough to rival my sister’s own. The main thing we need to do is find some way to desecrate that shining image of hers,” she explained. 

The villain let out a low hum as though he was contemplating something, but the slight shift in the nature of his gaze indicated he’s noticed something. “Knocking your sister off of her pedestal is surely going to gain you some traction,” he noted. 

“I don’t care much for the spotlight,” she countered. 

“I know. But you seem to care about making sure your sister doesn’t have everything. Still, that isn’t the issue anyway.”

And again, he was right. There is something so utterly sickening of being born in someone’s shadow, of having all your power from someone else’s name. Vigilante was only formidable in people’s eyes because it was required of Superhero’s sister. Again, she’d never claimed to be dramatically selfless.

Still, she took note of how the villain made no effort at eye contact, his eyes trained on the pattern of her wooden coffee table, but she refrained from commenting. “Right. The general idea is, if the adoring public find out what she does to the people in her custo-”

The villain, in his most daring act of the day, had let out a sardonic snort. “Oh, save it. I don’t think you realise that how people like me are treated doesn’t really irk anyone. Because that’s how the world works, it’s easier like that. I’m not the most notorious, but it’s safe to say I’m ‘famous’ enough,” he made air quotations with his fingers, “People usually want to know about the trial, when it comes to people they’ve heard of, but no one gave a damn. No one cared to know I never really got a trial in the first place. Because they were just relieved that the Big Bad Guy was off the streets. Locked up somewhere. It doesn’t matter that my record says I’m guilty of crap I’ve never done. Because technically, I’ve committed my fair share of my crimes, what’s more to the pile? Hell, if it keeps me locked away for all eternity, then why not?” 

This time, the villain’s gaze was steely, his teeth gnashed together and his tone harsh, and yet before she’d even commented, the villain was quick to force the muscles of his face to work on pulling it into a blank expression, his hand going to his pocket. 

Where, unbeknownst to Vigilante, the knife from yesterday was. .  .

It took her a moment to register his words and realise he was right. The likes of Villain wouldn’t garner the sympathy of the same people that cheered when they were locked up, at every suffocating press conference where her sister’s airy voice seemed to ring in her ears. 

But how else was she supposed to rouse some sort of public outcry against her sister? She needed the key, the concept, the idea, and from that she could form a plan. It was why she thought of asking the villain in the first place. 

“Then what should we do to get people to notice?” 

The villain’s pale hand made its way out of his pocket, his expression still nearly unreadable. “Your sister’s clever. She’s almost untraceable, and uncovering her shady past would be difficult. Or actually, more difficult than having her do something terrible now.” 

“So you’re saying we somehow force her to commit some sort of terrible crime?” 

“Force is the wrong word. It wouldn’t be a choice she wouldn’t make on her own accord. And that’s our selling point. No one needs to make her pull underhanded crap because she’ll take that choice anyway. And from then, whatever it is you want to reveal is actually going to have a basis.” 

The villain straightened his posture, pulling his now slightly loose fitting hoodie down so straighten a wrinkle only for it to come down with a strange difficulty, like it was stuck to his skin, the man letting out a soft hiss. 

“You alright?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he answered curtly, getting up. He knew exactly why his jacket had stuck to his form in the first place, and he really didn’t need Vigilante’s supposed concern. There’s a lot worse he’d seen in his life, in those three months alone than some old scratch reopening. Walking into his room, he shrugged his hoodie off in front of the mirror only to notice that the stupid scratch was in an area he could barely reach, deeper and uglier than he thought, blood running down it in crimson rivulets, exposed tissue that was barely healing showing too. He didn’t know where the gauze was, or how he’d even manage treating the wound. And somehow, his past vanity, or rather basic awareness of his appearance that he now called vanity hadn’t completely faded away considering he noticed bone and skin where muscle used to be and the ridiculous amount of bruises adorning his figure in various shades of dusty purples and browns; every sign of how his captors had turned him into a punching bag for all their sadistic cravings. 

“Villain?” 

Hell no. He didn’t want anyone in this room with him while he looked like this, frantic again and wishing he could rip his hair from its roots. He almost didn’t care that he was still bleeding and it hurt to shift even slightly, or that his wound felt warm to the touch and was probably infected. He sat there on the bed, gripping onto the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to the world around him. “Just,” he faltered. As much as the villain hated it, he couldn’t do crap right now without her help. He bit his lip again and exhaled slowly. “Come in.” 

She cursed softly when she looked at the wound, the scarlet already snaking down his lower back now. It didn’t take her long to come back with a whole lot of first aid equipment. “This’ll hurt,” she said slowly. 

All she got was a low grunt in response as she pressed antiseptic-soaked gauze to his back, and even though he barely let out a noise, didn’t move out of the way, his shoulders still tensed up under the pain. 

Involuntarily, she stroked a hand through his hair, a reflexive action even though the vigilante wasn’t particularly touchy, especially with her enemy turned ally of convenience. He turned to stare at her, looking nothing short of surprised, but not irritated or afraid. He turned around again as she stitched up his wound and tended to his other scratches, surprised how well he was holding out. The villain barely flinched through the process, but again the man had always been surprisingly enduring.

The villain seriously didn’t remember the last time anyone had tended to his injuries, even before getting captured. He’s sure someone did, during the times he couldn’t do it himself, but no one had ever run a hand through his hair when he’d tensed up or anything of the sort. He despised the fact that it hadn’t irritated him, instead he was left there dumbfounded, half-wishing she would do it again and half-grateful she refrained from it, from making him feel so bloody exposed like that. This entire ordeal, how strangely gentle the vigilante had been with him, how he slowly relaxed even though the idea of being this vulnerable, this close to one of his enemies terrified him.

The villain didn’t like to feel things that weren’t dry, controlled anger or smugness or absolutely nothing. So he didn’t, pretended he couldn’t until he believed it. 

Every lie dies in the end, no?

The vigilante had got up to hand him a new t-shirt that he slowly pulled on, minding his wounds but still refusing any help with it. “Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly. 

“Y-you thank people?” she asked, half out of genuine surprise and half to lighten the mood. 

The villain didn’t smile, but his lip twitched up ever so slightly with a half-smirk, “I’m a villain, but I’m not a complete tactless bastard.” 

“I guess you could say that, and you’re welcome. I’ll just go clean up. Put your jacket in the basket over there.” The vigilante looked down at her bloodstained hands, and the villain gave her a curt nod. 

He was lucky she hadn’t taken the jacket herself, or noticed the knife somehow, and he could still keep it. It felt even scummier after right now, when she could’ve just let him bleed out, or made it worse since she was this close to him. He didn’t even know what she would try the second he was no longer useful. 

Carefully, he lowered his form onto the bed, letting out a soft groan. This was the strangest stage of his life yet, he presumed. 

So many times, life is about choosing the worst option, the choice you’d swore to never make, about condemning yourself to being at the mercy of the unknown. People will scream at you to avoid the lion’s den, but sometimes it is the only shelter from a raging storm ready to destroy you into nothing. And yet, maybe there is wisdom in the most foolish decisions, and safety in the most dangerous risks. Because even if you’re riddled with deep wounds and scars, even those can heal under care, even in the most unexpected places.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[deltadex]

(Be prepared, this is a brain dump)

I can't stop thinking about the fact that the emotional turmoil is going to be through the roof next season, especially for Vi and Caitlyn. During their struggle to de-escalate the war they've found themselves in, the mini-battles taking place in the back of their minds will be just as alive.

It only hit me now how much Caitlyn has been through in such a short time. She survived two explosions, witnessed many of her work colleagues die (which I assume is the first time she has experienced death), was taken hostage twice (first by Ekko then Jinx), and had her life threatened several times (e.g. held at gunpoint). I imagine it's still to hit her too...

And then there's the chance her mother won't survive the attack on the council, which will leave her devastated, if not in denial. The fact that it's caused by Vi's sister only makes this more complex and difficult to accept. The same person Caitlyn let Vi go after on the bridge, the same person she didn't want to sell out to the council, and the same person she chose not to incapacitate at the tea party. I don't think Caitlyn is going to become driven by revenge and try to kill Jinx, but I can definitely see her lose her cool.

Meeting Vi and getting to see the Undercity somehow became both a blessing and a curse, and I think it's possible she'll act upon the frustration caused by the circumstances they find themselves in. Thinking about this now it doesn't seem so unrealistic that we will see a Caitvi interaction "we'll probably hate" (e.g. Caitlyn lashing out at Vi. Nevertheless, I think she'll realise pretty soon afterwards that Vi isn't to blame for the mess their in).

Next season is where Caitlyn's character arc is really going to gain traction and I'm excited (and frankly scared) to see "a different side of her".

Vi also has her own struggles leading into season 2. She'll still be reeling from seeing her sister choose to walk away from her. The hope of "getting Powder back", the only thing on her mind for the past seven years, was shattered in an instant. On top of all this there's the huge possibility of Warwick (AKA Vander) being thrown into the mix. Finding out Vander is alive will rock Vi to her core and add to the barrage of emotions she won't have the time to feel.

(Sidenote: There's so much chaos going on already with the war and now there's possibly gonna be a blood-thirsty werewolf-man on the loose too? What a curveball! )

Besides Caitlyn and Vi's individual struggles, there's also the unresolved tension between them after the "Oil and water" scene. They don't quite know where they stand with each other, and I'm really curious to see how soon they'll address it.

Then there's the fact that Caitlyn probably overheard everything at Jinx's tea party before she was wheeled in, and just thought: "You were right Vi. I don't know anything about you." Up to this point she knew very little about Vi's past, and she still doesn't have the full picture.

Caitlyn is inquisitive, sometimes to a fault (e.g. "How do you not know if your sister is alive or dead?" "What, you don't have parents?"), and I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted some answers after everything she just heard. And even if Vi would rather forget about the past and avoid talking about it, Warwick is going to arrive and open up those old wounds. When she recognizes him, she's going to be distressed and Caitlyn's going to want to know why. This could lead to some heated conversations, especially if Vi is reluctant to share and Caitlyn is insistent on asking questions.

At this point, everything is happening at such a fast pace that they won't have the opportunity to have the heart-to-hearts (and mental breakdowns) they so desperately need. In some ways, their internal struggles are just as difficult to address as their external ones, and once they're able to reinstill peace in their world, they'll have no choice but to face them (you could only hope Arcane will be kind to us and have them crying in each other's arms by the end of the season)

There's this simple, great quote from Helen LaKelly Hunt: "Conflict is growth trying to happen", which is a really positive way to see Caitlyn and Vi's situation. I'm optimistic that if they overcome these challenges, they will not only grow as individuals, but will end up with a relationship that's stronger than they ever imagined.

Anyway, thanks for reading my brain dump ❤

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello, I was wondering if I could request a BOZ headcanon. Featuring, Seraphim, Heron, Apollo, and Hermes.

It's based off a scene from Naruto that during a mission to find a special bug. he accidentally came across Hinata dancing/practicing her new technique on a nearby pond under the moonlight. Which made it look like the water was following her every move and swirled around her.

So I was thinking that something similar could happen to the boys but they came across a water or River nymph S/O elegantly dancing, with the boys becoming smitten as they watch. Then the boys accidentally break their unintentional cover by slipping into the water.

Thank you for your request!! I’m glad the BoZ boys are getting more traction 🌊💦💧

You practiced this routine countless times, but only now did it warrant attention. You did not expect to catch the eye of such other beings

Apollo

The sun god had his dalliances with nymphs before, but you were an exception! Such grace and you looked ethereal with your routine. He’s so distracted that when he loses his footing and crashes in the pond, cue the dialed up attempts at playing it off cool, while also miserably failing at that. It catches him off guard that you laugh, but you’re so charming he’s trying to compose himself

Heron

He knew of the gods and the other spirits that occupied the areas, but seeing one up close is a whole other experience. Thinking he’s stealthy but falling short (literally), you hear a commotion and see the demigod fumbling to dry himself off with a blush on his face

Hermes

Not as outlandish as his brothers but still admirable of all things beautiful. Watching you made his heart flutter, and he was drawn. No denying the infatuation he feels towards you, but he’ll deny he was spying once he’s caught, less you should run off before he gets a chance to talk to you

Seraphim

He feels as if he’s intruding on something private and intimate. And unintentionally or not, he makes himself known. So imagine your surprise at this hulking demon trying and failing at hiding how he was not so subtly eyeing you.

[moonlight-tmd]

This is a bit of an out there idea, but for the warframe bee au let’s say Shockwave had a bit of a thing for the big yellow bot. He was an avid customer of Brasshorn not only for his mastery of his craft, but his fair business etiquette. He was the only one he trusted with maintenance and modifications of his cannon. Shockwave had chosen not to pursue him since he assumed Brass’s aversion to joining a side would also mean a disinterest in dating someone of either side. However, his assumption was proven wrong as he watched Blitzwing swoop in and not only steal the big bots spark, but conjunxing him as well.

Shockwave’s jealousy and frustration at his own inaction, made him avoid the workshop, choosing to cope by burying himself in work. When the triple changer program started and he saw Blitzwing among the test subjects, it had been tempting to sabotage the procedure and kill him, but even with his cold bloodedness, the thought of hurting Brass though a shattered bond made him feel sick. So instead he made sure Blitz survived no matter what.

Then the colony attack occurs, Brass is MIA, Blitzwing goes AWOL and Shockwaves drive to take down the autobots tenfolds. He volunteers for the undercover mission and creates a persona with the help of Blackaracnia.

When he entered Autobot boot camp, he noticed one particular bot among the cadets. His optics were a familiar shade of yellow instead of the trademark autobot blue and he was constantly stretching and scratching his armor as if he was uncomfortable in his own frame. Although, the most striking part about him, was the tracker collar secured around his neck. (Think the collar on tfa mirror vers bee) His suspicion grew worse as he watched Sentinels treatment of newly dubbed Bumblebee and mentions of a “decepticon rehabilitation program”. Eventually, he managed to get Bee alone and questioned him. Bee was under the impression that Longarm was just a curious autobots at that time, and explained that he was a neutral, and he’s here because that autobots see warframe and a decepticon as one in the same. He answered each of Longarms questions as truthfully as he could despite the holes in his memory. And Longarm managed to piece together that Bumblebee is Brasshorn.

Longarm knows he should tell Bee who he is, who Blitzwing is, who he is and report Bees existence to Megatron asap. However, that possessive and selfish desire to keep Bee all to himself, sunk its teeth deep into his spark and took hold. He had a chance here to be with his long time crush, even if it meant disobeying his lord.

He did tell Bee that he was a decepticon spy by the name Shockwave, but he left out their previous history together. They became fast friends and covered for each other often, with Longarm disabling his tracker to go mess around and Bee providing him with an alibi and upgrades to his signal emitter. Shockwave even tried copying some of the “moves” Blitzwing used before he started dating Bee. Even if he knew he couldn’t spark bond with Bee without revealing his lies. When Bulkhead joined their friend group, he felt slightly threatened, but he realized he was too trusting and naive to be of any danger.

Sentinel finally got feed up with Bees rebellion and kicked him out, declared him a failure. Longarm had hoped that after graduation, he’d be able to use his position to keep Bee with by his side. However, the council were adamant about keeping “the decepticon threat” off of Cybertron and so he had to settle with phone calls.

🌘 (I lost traction half way through sorry) 🌒

Aaaah that was so cool! I never thought about it.

Tho i will say that Shockwave was tempted to kill Blitzwing because he was dating Brasshorn(Bee). The only reason he chose not to is because Brass would not stop until he got answers about where his Sparkmate went and would shut everything on his end towards Megatron and Decepticon Legions- that meant he wouldn't even look at Shockwave if he showed up and started courting him. So he left Blitzwing alone and by some miracle he was the only one that survived. Then he found out about the Triple Changer Blitzwing conjunxing Brasshorn and was crushed.

Then Brass goes MIA and Shockwave goes to infiltrate boot camp and wouldn't you know, there he was; 1/4th of his original size but the similarities between the frames were aligned almost perfectly.

He pulled the now-Bee to the side and asked him about the colony and told him he was a Decepticon Spy. Bee gave him vague answers about himself- yes he was a warframe but he never was a Decepticon. And so they began workign together in a way. Overtime Bee began giving more answers to Longarm as well as Bulkhead who joined in on their circle. He was a neutral-forced-to-be-autobot too.

Although, Longarm did help him with the escape plans, he was also the one that busted him when he tried to run away. Bee never knew why they were always catching him- Longarm secretly slipped notes to the Officers so they'll find Bee and keep him here, where he was near Longarm.

A jealous Spark is one of few that can be considered evil- especially if one choses to essentially keep the one they love in a cage. Shockwave's selfishness made him want to try and win the already-bonded Spark to his side.

Bee noticed Longarm/Shockwave was acting weird towards him but he never thought it was in a flirty way- he was too busy mourning the loss of contact with his Conjunx Blitzwing.

I have no idea where to take this. I mean, either way it would be a bad ending(wow, that's a first) for Shockwave.

Either a quiet one where Longarm goes to Earth with the Elite Guard and finds Bee and he tells him that he and Blitzwing reunited. Shockwave keeps quiet but the moment he is all alone he lashes out at everything. He hates Blitzwing's guts so much. He begins to hate Bee too. Maybe it goes so bad he asks Blackarachnia to delete Bee and Blitzwing from his memories so his Spark would have peace at last.

Or the loud one where Longarm/Shockwave gets tired of Bee's mourn-rants about his Conjunx and straight up tells him he was killed and won't come for him. Bee doesn't believe him, even more so when Longarm confesses his love for him. That he would be there for Bee no matter what, that he would treat Bee way better than Blitzwing, that they would be happy together without worrying about anything.

Bee rejects him, he still feels the bond inside him telling him that eveyrything Shockwave says is a lie. Bee considered telling on Longarm to the Officers but considering the confession was short before he got kicked to the repair crew, he didn't get a chance to.

Their relations were strained to say the least, Shockwave didn't call, and Bee was left with the haunting confession of one-sided love. Then he gets to Earth and Blitzwing finds him. Then Longarm comes as well, only to find Blitzwing with intends to kill him. Bee has told Blitzwing on one of their catch-up talks about Longarm/Shockwave trying to win him over, that made the giant 'con furious. He didn't tell Megatron because Bee didn't want to ruin Shock's life more but that didn't mean Blitz had to tolerate him.

So Longarm is stuck with only a friendship from Bee and a pretty much damaged work-relationship with Blitzwing.

Then Bee gets reforget by the Allspark and i don't know where to take this. But it'll always end with BlitzBee and a loner-aft Shockwave.

This AU was not meant for anything but BlitzBee i think. You'd have to rewrite the whole thing from the beginning if you want something else to happen- other than that, i don't know how to help you.

Hope that answer satisfies you.

[cosmics-beings]

Hi! I'm a fan of your works! And I've been following your The Unquiet Grave story! It's beautiful and tragic! And I was wondering if his (ex) trinemates knew what happened to him? If they do how do they react?

(I'm sorry I'm just curious 😅)

Thank you so much! I'm so happy you like it - that story is so close to my heart. I'm actually discontinuing the fic! I'll explain that at the end.

That said, I guess I can tell you the ending , or at least skywarp and thundercarcker’s part!

So they did know, and Thundercracker actually did want to find Starscream again before he took his life. TC really wanted to mend their relationship, but Skywarp didn’t let him. Starscream had treated them both pretty badly. In the prequel, No Rest for the Dead, around that time Starscream did try to rekindle his relationship with them. He was extremely apologetic and sympathetic, but he also understood they didn’t have to make up with him. And he allowed Skywarp to cut off ties with him.

Thundercracker however, really wanted to speak to him.

He clearly never got the chance.

Currently, they feel guilty. Skywarp feels awful. He knows that he didn’t owe Starscream any forgiveness or acceptance but part of him wishes he spoke to him. A huge part. Because skywarp also wasn’t the best person, but he got another chance. And he starts to hate himself for not giving Starscream another one. Part of that is because he sees himself so much in Starscream, and realizes that if he was just a bit more fucked up, then he would’ve been like Starscream and that scares him. But that doesn’t make turning his back on him easier.

He can’t even bring himself to ever actually see Starscream’s body/tomb. Because as you know in the pic, Starscream’s body is on display in the garden and that really messes with Skywarp.

Thundercracker feels like shit, and it actually ruins his relationship with Skywarp. Of course, Thundercracker is grown and is the master of his own actions. But he does partially blame Skywarp for ruining any chance he had at seeing Starscream again.

They’d get into arguments about it, they’d yell and fight if Thundercracker ever mentioned wanting to see Starscream. Thundercracker had done a lot of healing himself, and while in the past he’d been hurt by Starscream, he still wanted to mend their relationship. Especially given Starscream had reached out to him countless times.

But now he can’t. There were so many times he could’ve but he can’t. And that infuriates him, and it’s hard for him to be around Skywarp or Seekers in general.

He visits Starscream’s grave every so often to speak to him. I almost wrote a chapter where he and Megatron bumped into each other, and that would’ve been an interesting conversation. To be fair, now that I’m done with Unquiet Grave I could write a short focusing on the Trine and the days leading up to Starscream’s death, and how they have to deal with that. 

So like i said earlier, i'm discontinuing Unquiet Grave, just because it doesn't seem to be getting traction anymore? I know that there's this big thing to not write for traction and stuff, but it can be disheartening when people are like begging for an update and asking me to add more and then when I update it i don't get as much interaction or traction. We fic writers take a lot of time and effort out of our day to write and that stuff is discouraging.

However, i may write a story - a part of that series- that focuses on the trine and how they react to Starscream's death.

[cursedomain]

Take It, Princess.

The night just begun; it was only 10 pm. The workday was far over, all that's left is the secrets in the night. You wouldn't have expected such turns in such an amount of time. Your boyfriend came home only 3 hours ago and within that time, you have now found yourself tied to a bed rail with only your underwear on.

What a turn isn't it? Your mind clouded with so many thoughts you couldn't decide what to do. You couldn't fight the feeling he gave you, but this was new. Never did you expect to be tied to a bed with such lust filled eyes. You turned your head shyly as he came out of the bathroom.

"I see you've been waiting for me, princess." His voice deep, almost a whisper. You couldn't meet his eyes. He was so different than the usual soft and kind attitude. Suguru's black hair fell on his face. You knew this was the look he had after a long day.

How did you get in this position? It would be going back by three hours and challenging him. You loved teasing him and trying to dominate a man who was truly the dominate one. Teasing him has never caused such a riposte.

You sighed. "I had no choice, did I?" Being cheeky was all you could do. Being tied up wasn't easy, but you could fight with words. You gained a chuckle in response to your comment.

"Such a witty remark, for someone whose tied up your pride seems not to be hurt. Let's fix that, shall we?" Your breath hitched. What happened to your gentle kind boyfriend? Oh, he was gone. Tonight, was a night with his alter ego. His cold eyes, filled with lust and a different feeling to them, one you have yet to even meet.

"Seems the cat caught your tongue, neither of us work tomorrow giving me the way to teach you a few lessons before the sun rises." He leaned against the door of the bathroom. His shirt unbuttoned, his toned abs just asking to be touched. Your mind raced, the lust filling your eyes was evident. This feeling, this deep level of lust was something you never felt. He approached you slowly, his sharp jaw line wasn't tense which relaxed you a bit, just enough to bite back a bit more.

"I doubt. You seem a bit too hurt by my comment earlier. Tying me up lets you have an advantage to this. Untie me and let's see who really is in charge hm?" You bit back. This was all you could do in hopes he unties you, but your conscious was cursing you out. For some reason your body language showed no interest in being untied whatso ever.

Sadly, he noticed. "It seems your mouth is doing a lot of talking when your body is not on the same page. You should think before speaking, but no need for that now. It's best your mouth gets on the same page, dear. " He smirked a devilish smirk which set your core on fire. What was next, you didn't think you could handle it.

"I hope you can take it, princess." His voice said in your ear, with the sound of a tantalizing coated whisper. You knew there was no chance of getting untied soon, as well a chance to fight back. You were in for it now.

*not proofread sorry for mistakes* ;-; might write the actual night soon if I feel this gets enough traction, even so I could do it just for fun :))