#I agree with the story beats but the framing was off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edenesth · 2 months

Text

TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [2]

Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 7.7k

Trigger Warnings: forced prostitution, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, attempted sexual assault

Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"So, that's what happened... My lord, I realise it might seem shameless of me to have declined the bonus before and now ask for it, but I must save her!" Wooyoung pleaded, recounting everything from the beginning: from the moment he bumped into you on the street—alright, he might have left out the part where he was infatuated like a schoolboy and moping around like a fool—to discovering the truth about your situation, and the recent visit he had paid you.

Before the general could offer reassurance, another voice interrupted from the entrance of the study, beating him to it, "Hwa, we have to help him! The poor thing must be scared out of her mind!"

All three men turned their heads to find Lady Park standing there, her eyes wide with worry as she entered the room. Seonghwa didn't hesitate to rush to his wife's side before wrapping an arm securely around her smaller frame, "What are you doing here, my love? It's late, you should be resting."

The private investigator felt his breath catch as he beheld his former dream girl. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss her. She looked even more beautiful than before, if that were possible, seemingly glowing. Perhaps that was the effect of receiving the general's affection. He had to calm his foolish heart and maintain his composure as he rose from his seat to bow respectfully to her, watching as she offered him a warm smile in response.

"I couldn't sleep when Jongho told me Wooyoung was here. I got worried and had to come see if everything was alright," the lady said, addressing her husband as she pouted at him, "Please tell me you're going to agree to his request..."

Seonghwa chuckled, gently nuzzling his nose against her head before planting a tender peck there, "I was going to agree, but you came in just in time to cut me off," He turned to face the younger man, who looked at them with a mix of admiration and gratitude, "Don't worry, Wooyoung. We'll provide all the assistance you need. If you'd like, I can send Jongho along with you on this mission."

The assistant felt his cheeks flush at the unexpected offer. He couldn't fathom sneaking into a place like a brothel, even for such an important cause. Fortunately, the investigator declined with a shake of his head, sensing his friend's apprehension, "No, sir. That won't be necessary, your financial assistance is all I require for now. This is something I must accomplish on my own."

Lady Park nodded, speaking on behalf of her husband, "Alright, but if you require anything—anything at all—please don't hesitate to ask. We'll do everything in our power to support you."

"Thank you, my lady. I'll keep that in mind; I really appreciate it," Wooyoung replied with a deep bow. If his current situation hadn't been so urgent, he might have remarked on how unusually attentive the general was to her. Seonghwa was always by her side, but there was something different in the carefulness of the way he handled her.

"If that's all, we'll be turning in for the night," the newly married man announced as he guided his wife out of the room.

The investigator nodded quickly, "Of course. I've kept you both up long enough; please don't let me stop you."

"Come, my love. You need rest."

Before leaving the room completely, the lady turned back to Wooyoung again, her expression earnest, "Promise me you'll get her out of there," the younger man nodded firmly, "I promise, my lady."

As Lady Park's words lingered in the air, Wooyoung sensed the depth of her plea. He discerned the subtle pain reflected in her eyes, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. The general's wife seemed to grasp the anguish of being trapped in a relentless nightmare all too well, to be abandoned by one's own father.

His resolve to save you had already been firm, but now, fueled by the lady's empathy, his determination surged even stronger. It wasn't just about a silly crush anymore; it became a quest to right a grave injustice and bring solace to a soul in torment.

After the couple retired to their private quarters, Wooyoung stayed behind to devise a more comprehensive plan with the ever-meticulous Jongho, who had once been his greatest asset when they were gathering evidence against the former Minister Jang. With precision, the assistant outlined all his suggestions in a neatly drafted plan, folding the parchment into a perfect rectangle before handing it to the investigator.

"Here, decide which ones suit your situation the best. Just let me know how much you require, and I'll take care of all your transactions. You should probably head to the dressmaker's shop for your disguise as soon as possible if you wish to set those plans into motion the following night."

"Thanks, Jongho. You're a real one."

"Yeah, yeah. Just go."

In no time, Wooyoung arrived at the entrance of Hongjoong's shop, cautiously stepping inside while marvelling at the colourful hanboks on display. He braced himself for a possible lecture from the older man, knowing that he was already swamped with orders, not just from Lady Park, but from noblewomen all over town. And here the investigator was, about to place an urgent special order that needed to be fulfilled before the next nightfall.

His steps halted abruptly upon hearing the familiar, annoyed sound of a throat clearing from the back of the shop, "Jung Wooyoung, you'd better have a good explanation for welcoming yourself into my shop at such an early hour," came the gruff voice.

"H-hyung, listen... I know the last thing you want is to see my face first thing in the morning, but—"

"Damn right, I don't. So, get straight to the point. There better be a valid reason for your presence, or I'll see to it that you're banned from entering my shop for good."

Arms crossed over his chest, Hongjoong listened with a raised brow as the younger man swiftly retold the tale he'd shared with the general just hours earlier. Rather than reacting as seriously as expected, the dressmaker merely grinned teasingly, "Ahh, I see you've finally moved on from your little crush on Lady Park, huh? I hate to admit this, but I guess I am feeling slightly proud of you."

Wooyoung couldn't hide his unamused expression as he pursed his lips in disbelief, "Really? That's the only thing you can think of saying after everything I just told you?"

With a scoff, the older man snatched the parchment out of the investigator's hands, "Yes, and? Don't get sassy with me now. Show me the design you need done immediately, or you can figure out how to go about this on your own."

"Okay, okay, sheesh. Here's a sketch of the design I've seen on the male servants in the brothel. Fortunately, it's not too complicated, so it should be easy for you," the younger man said, handing over the sketch as he watched Hongjoong inspect it seriously, "Got it. This should be done in a few hours. You owe me a meal after this, Jung."

The investigator saluted playfully, "Yes, sir."

Noticing the exhaustion evident in Wooyoung's eyes, the older man softened, "You haven't slept a wink, have you? You look like you're about to keel over. Go take a nap in the back; there's a bed. I'll wake you when it's ready. We can't afford for you to pass out on the job. Poor Miss Han won't stand a chance if that happens."

Though he joked, the younger man sensed the concern behind his words. He nodded gratefully, "Thanks, hyung."

Once his head hit the pillow, he slipped into a deep sleep, just as Hongjoong had predicted. Since leaving you the previous night, his mind had been consumed with endless thoughts, meticulously crafting an elaborate plan to rescue you. He examined every detail, acutely aware that even the smallest mistake could jeopardise the entire operation. Failure was not an option, especially when it concerned you. He had made a promise to get you out, and he was resolute in keeping it. But for now, he would succumb to his exhaustion, if only for a brief respite.

I'll be there soon, Miss Han.

He awoke hours later, his sleep haunted by dreams of your frightened face pleading for him to save you. The dressmaker stood at the edge of the bed, gently shaking him awake, holding out the disguise, "How's this? Is it close enough to the real thing?"

With a groggy rub of his eyes, Wooyoung pulled himself up to sit. He blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, then turned his attention to the replica of the servant uniform laid out before him. As he examined it, his eyes widened at how closely it resembled the actual outfit.

"It's perfect, hyung," he declared, nodding in approval, "They'll never suspect a thing."

"This way, Mr. Jung. She's ready for you."

Today felt different from the first day. The emotions swirling inside you were no longer tinged with dread or overwhelming fear.

Instead, anticipation coursed through you as you sat straight on the king-sized bed in the same room. Biting your lip, you waited eagerly to see him again. Since he last bid you goodbye, your thoughts had been consumed by him. The sincerity in his eyes lingered in your mind, nearly bringing tears to your own. It was hard to believe that someone cared for you so deeply, especially considering your own father's indifference. Despite this, part of you still had doubts, wondering if you would ever see him again.

Yet, here he was, keeping his promise.

"Hi, Miss Han," he greeted, almost shyly, as he waved awkwardly by the entrance. After closing the door behind him, he made his way to the table in the centre of the room, setting down the duffel bag he'd been carrying on his shoulder.

You smiled meekly, approaching him, "Hello, Mr. Jung. It's good to see you again."

His smile faltered slightly at your words. He sensed the surprise in your tone as if you hadn't expected him to return, and it hurt him to think you might not trust him fully. With determination, he nodded and reassured you, "Of course, I promised to get you out of here. You'll be seeing a lot more of me from now on."

Your eyes widened in wonder as he unfurled his bag, revealing a set that looked like an exact replica of the uniform worn by the male servants in the Mansion of Midnight, "Woah, where did you get that?" you asked, curious and astonished.

With an enthusiastic beam, he replied, "It's all part of my job. I often need to wear disguises. With this, I'll be able to move around the establishment without any issues. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Blushing furiously, you turned away immediately as he hastily moved to undress and change into the servant outfit.

Your cheeks burned as you struggled to recover from catching a glimpse of his bare back. He seemed so calm, as if undressing was the most natural thing in the world. But for you, it was a different story. Being a virgin through and through, you hadn't been near any men other than your father all your life. Even then, he wasn't home most of the time.

To be in a room alone with a man like this, and for him to get changed so casually before you, was enough to fluster you. You had barely spoken to any boys up close before this, let alone in a situation like this. The unexpected moment left you feeling both intrigued and embarrassed, unsure of how to act or what to say next.

Before you could further overthink it, Wooyoung proudly announced, "Alright, I'm done!" Startled, you turned to see him looking just like one of the many servants in the brothel, though perhaps a bit too handsome to blend in seamlessly. Nonetheless, you hoped no one would pay too much attention to him.

Stuffing his own clothes back into the bag on the table, he assured you, "You stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Today, I'll work on figuring out the full layout of the entire place and create a detailed map before I start investigating their operations."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and gratitude, "Don't worry, I'll be right here. Be safe out there, Mr. Jung."

With a final smile directed at you, he sneaked out the same way he entered once he was sure the coast was clear, leaving you alone in the room, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and anxiety.

After the investigator departed, you sank back onto the bed, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood over you. You scolded yourself mentally for being such a child, recognising that now was not the time for such distractions. Contemplating the situation, you understood why he seemed so unaffected. His focus was solely on his mission, leaving little room for trivial concerns like your reaction.

Feeling foolish for allowing yourself to be so affected, you resolved to move past it. What truly mattered was for his plan to succeed, and for you to finally gain freedom from this place. And to do so, you braced yourself for more moments like that.

As hours passed with you sitting alone, worrying about whether or not his disguise remained undetected, you heard footsteps approaching from outside. Your heart leapt with hope, anticipating his return, only for it to plummet when you recognised the feminine silhouette through the paper walls.

It wasn't just any female; it was Iseul.

Oh god, what is she doing here?

Her intentions became clear as she called out to Wooyoung in a seductive tone, "Mr. Jung, are you truly enjoying yourself in there? Your silence speaks volumes. I had my doubts, and now they're confirmed. A man who is enjoying himself wouldn't be able to keep his voice down; I'd know that. I told you she wouldn't be able to satisfy you. It's not too late to change your mind, you know? I'll treat you much better, trust me."

In a panic, you decided to speak up, hoping to persuade her to leave you alone, "I-Iseul unnie, everything is fine! Please don't worry about Mr. Jung. I'm sure you have plenty of clients waiting for you."

She scoffed dismissively, "Oh, please, stay out of this, rookie. I wasn't speaking to you. You'd better keep quiet if you know what's good for you. I'll leave only when he tells me to. What say you, Mr. Jung?" Your anxiety escalated as you felt her suspicions intensify with each passing moment of the private investigator's silence. This could all end if she so much as pushed the door open. Who knew what consequences awaited you and Wooyoung if you were found out?

"Mr. Jung...? Why isn't he responding? What have you done to him, Han?! If he doesn't answer by the count of three, I'm coming in, do you understand?"

As Iseul's threat escalated, Wooyoung suddenly appeared through the room window right on time, catching you off guard. Aware of the risk of being seen in his disguise while with you, he swiftly shed the servant outfit, leaving himself shirtless.

With the door starting to creak open, panic surged within you. Acting on instinct, you quickly tugged open the outer layer of your hanbok and pulled Wooyoung onto the bed with you. Without a second thought, you pressed your lips firmly against his, the only action that seemed to make sense in the heat of the moment.

Almost spontaneously, he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer and kissing you back with fervour, doing everything in his power to make the act appear convincing to the senior courtesan.

"M-Mr. Jung...?" she croaked, her eyes widening in disbelief at the unexpectedly intimate sight before her.

Breaking away from the kiss, he turned to her with a feigned look of annoyance, protectively using his body to shield your partially undressed form, "Excuse me, but what exactly do you think you're doing in here? My silence should have been clear enough that I'm not interested in you or your services. What's so difficult to understand? Also, I'd show Miss Han more respect if I were you. If you don't leave us at once, I'll file a major complaint against you. I'm sure that wouldn't help your reputation now, would it?"

With clenched fists, Iseul stormed out of the room, her pride wounded beyond repair, "I'll get you back for this. Just you wait, Han."

Once she was gone, the two of you jumped apart, red-faced as you scrambled to put your clothes back on. Clearing your throats, you tried to push aside the awkwardness and ignore the rapid beating of your hearts. The investigator reached into his bag, retrieving a fresh parchment. He distracted himself by immediately sketching the layout of the place while it was still fresh in his mind.

Throughout the evening, he remained focused on refining the map, and you stayed close, ensuring he had everything he needed: snacks, tea, a blanket in case it got chilly—anything to make yourself useful and assist him in his task. At the same time, you both fought to recover from the fact that you'd just shared your first kiss with one another so aggressively, constantly reminding yourselves that it was all for the mission to get you out and held no deeper significance.

As you escorted the investigator to the door at the end of his session, you pondered addressing the obvious elephant in the room. It became apparent that you both felt equally bothered by it when you simultaneously began to apologise.

"Look, I'm sorry for kissing you—"

"I apologise for touching you like that—"

You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat and rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, "I suppose there might be more of that in the future if we want to succeed. Perhaps it would be wise for us to establish now that any intimate encounters we have from this point onward will be solely for the sake of the mission and nothing more."

But what if I want more than that?

Despite conflicting thoughts, Wooyoung smiled and nodded in agreement, reminding himself that exploring his attraction to you was not the priority at the moment.

The following week, the investigator faithfully honoured his daily promise, buying up all your time and effectively warding off any other potential clients. By this point, everyone in the brothel recognised you as Mr. Jung's girl. The other girls looked on with envy, marvelling at your ability to captivate the attention of such a young, handsome patron. His generosity and apparent protectiveness, as evidenced by his exclusive attention to you, sparked admiration and jealousy among them. It was as if he feared anyone else laying claim to you.

As the days went by, you grew closer, bonding over your shared time together. You developed an admiration for his profession, understanding the meticulous planning and inherent risks involved in his work. Witnessing his passion for what he did stirred emotions within you, though you struggled to define them. Was it gratitude, the joy of friendship, or something more?

Yet, amid the newfound closeness, a nagging uncertainty lingered in the back of your mind. What would happen to your relationship once he succeeded in freeing you? Would you still remain friends, or would circumstances pull you apart? The mere thought of never seeing him again left you with a pang of sadness, leaving you to ponder the depths of your feelings and the unknown future ahead.

You were startled from your thoughts as Wooyoung once again slipped in through the room window, following his routine from the past week. This time, however, he finally met your gaze with hopeful eyes. Changing out of his servant's disguise and settling back at the table, he began, "Good news, Miss Han. After digging through shady operations for so long, I finally unearthed something big. This wouldn't just be enough to secure your freedom but could also lead to the Mansion of Midnight's downfall."

"Really? What is it?" you asked, eyes wide.

He nodded, gesturing to the chair beside him, "You might want to take a seat first."

Just when you believed you had reached the limit of your trauma, another wave crashed over you. Through him, you learned the extent of the horrors perpetrated by the establishment. He cleared his throat, "I was right. Their operations are nowhere near clean. Other than forced prostitution, they're also exploiting minors, conducting illegal side businesses involving drugging clients to prolong their stay and coercing victims into settling debts, even if it meant sacrificing their own daughters... just like you."

"How despicable..." you murmured, sinking back in your seat as the weight of the revelation settled over you.

Wooyoung reached out, gently clasping your hand on the table, "It'll be alright. I promise I'll put an end to this once and for all."

Concern etched your features as you covered his hand with yours, "But Mr. Jung, what if the authorities are on their side? They must have some powerful allies to operate for so long. What if things don't go as planned? It's too risky. What if they retaliate when they find out you've uncovered so much? Who knows what they'll do to you?"

His grin widened as he rubbed a comforting thumb over your skin, "Are you concerned about me now, my lady?"

You frowned, gripping his hand tighter, "You know better than to call me that, I'm no lady."

At some point, you had grown accustomed to his mildly annoying antics as a result of the time spent together. He eventually felt comfortable enough to reveal his true self, showcasing a playful side that oddly made your heart flutter around him even more. Amidst the constant anxiety of your situation, his optimism provided a refreshing contrast. Slowly, he had become your source of solace, the only one you could rely on in this turbulent environment.

Leaning closer teasingly, he smirked, "You are to me, and that's all that matters. But that's beside the point. It's good to know you finally care enough to worry about me too."

Pushing him away gently, you clucked your tongue, "And what if I am? You... you're all I have, Jung Wooyoung," you admitted, feeling a surge of emotion as you contemplated the potential consequences of his plan failing.

Sensing you were on the verge of tears, he turned to face you properly, his heart skipping a beat at the softness in your voice when you said his name. But he didn't let it show; if you only knew what your words had done to him and his poor heart. A selfish part of him wished to be that for you forever. To be the only one you'd depend on, the only one you'd go to when you needed a shoulder to cry on, the only one you'd share all your sorrows and happiness with.

Gently grasping your shoulders, he turned you to face him, "Hey, hey, look at me. You may be right. They might have some corrupt official backing them. But don't forget who I have on my side. I have General Park, His Majesty's most trusted warrior. Who do you think holds more power here, hm?"

He couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through him as he watched the adorable expression on your face, seeing the realisation dawn upon you as you absorbed his words. It was clear that you had momentarily forgotten about the powerful allies he possessed. This newfound confidence filled you with hope, making the idea of escaping from this place seem less like an impossible dream.

"Tomorrow is the day we're freeing you and bringing this place down. Are you ready to get out of here, my lady?" he asked, his voice filled with determination.

Returning his smile, you nodded eagerly, "I sure am, Mr. Jung."

But when tomorrow finally arrived, all your hopes and dreams came crashing down as you received the news that your usual appointment with Wooyoung had been replaced. Instead, your time had been reserved by one of the scariest clients known for his brutal force. This client, known as the Mad Dog, was infamous for leaving courtesans bruised, scarred, and unable to walk for days.

Should've known it was all going too well.

The brothel madam looked down at you with feigned pity as you trembled in fear. The staff busied themselves, fixing your hair and makeup, preparing you in an even more revealing hanbok than the usual ones you wore when meeting with the investigator.

"I'm sorry, my dear," the madam cooed rather sarcastically, "I'm not sure how the Mad Dog found out about you, especially considering how new you are. But you know what he's like; he always gets what he wants. He offered to pay twice the normal price, and who are we to say no to him? Just endure this for today. I'm sure sweet Mr. Jung will be gentle with you later on."

Without offering her a response, you fought to contain the panicked tears threatening to spill as the madam left after ensuring you stayed put. Just as the staff completed the final touches on your appearance, a smug figure materialised at the room's entrance. Looking up, you saw Iseul standing there, a smirk playing on her lips as she observed your distress.

"Congratulations, rookie," she sneered, "It's quite an accomplishment to catch the Mad Dog's eye. You've been doing so well lately, securing such a loyal client early in your career. I had to put in a good word for you." Your eyes widened in horror as you realised she had been the one to orchestrate this.

"You're welcome, Miss Han. Enjoy yourself tonight. I promise I'll take good care of Mr. Jung for you in the meantime," she added with a grin, biting her lip before slipping out the way she came.

No, please. This cannot be happening.

Seated once more on the edge of the familiar bed, tonight was different. Emotions flooded through you—fear so intense it threatened to overwhelm, and a desperate urge to jump off the building. The open window seemed to beckon, tempting you with its freedom to the afterlife. Yet, a part of you held out hope for a miracle, yearning for Wooyoung to appear through that very window and rescue you from this nightmare.

Just as you contemplated reaching for the window, your heart seized at the sound of heavy footsteps—unlike the investigator's usual light tread—approaching the room. Paralysed with fear, you could only sit and watch as the intimidating man strode in. Closing the door firmly behind him, he nodded approvingly, "I suppose I can see the appeal. You're quite the beauty, aren't you?"

His nickname, "Mad Dog," seemed fitting as you observed his nearly crazed eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as he scanned you from head to toe, making you feel exposed and violated just by his gaze alone. With his middle-aged appearance and burly build, coupled with a receding hairline and furrowed brow, he resembled a creature straight out of your worst nightmares. The mere thought of him near you turned your stomach. How could anyone possibly willingly allow him to touch them?

With a sleazy lick of his lips, he wasted no time closing the distance between you. Panic surged through you as you realised you couldn't do this. Your eyes darted to the exit, and you made a desperate dash for it, but he was faster. He let out a guttural laugh as he ensnared you in his beefy arms, "No, let me go! I refuse!" you screamed, struggling against his grasp.

"I don't think that's up to you, doll. I've paid a hefty amount for you, this better be worth it," he growled, throwing you onto the bed and tearing open the outer layer of your hanbok as if it were paper. Tears streamed down your face as you cried, "Stay away from me!" You scrambled backwards, trying to put some distance between you, only to find yourself cornered against the headboard.

"Help! Somebody, please, help me!"

"Shout all you want, sweetheart. No one's coming to save you."

Wooyoung's blood boiled as he absorbed the brothel madam's words, "What do you mean she's with another client? I've had her reserved all week. Is this how you conduct business? It seems you're not honouring my requests very well."

She let out a teasing laugh, playfully slapping him on the arm with her decorative fan, "Oh, Mr. Jung, don't be so upset. She's not with just any ordinary client; it's a valued patron we can't afford to turn away. He's paid double your usual rate. You'll have her all to yourself again by tomorrow. In the meantime, we've selected our finest girls to compensate for today. Take your pick. And just for you, we'll even offer a discount," she said, gesturing to the lineup of courtesans batting their eyelashes seductively at him.

Ignoring the courtesans, he pressed further, "And who is this client you're speaking of? I can pay triple the amount if that's what it takes for me to have Miss Han."

The other girls exchanged jealous huffs, wondering what made you so special for the investigator to be this possessive. Iseul's grin widened as she intervened, "It's the infamous Mad Dog, Mr. Jung. I'm sure you've heard of him. Unfortunately, money won't sway his desires. He's not someone we can afford to offend. Now, how about I show you a good time today? Who knows, you might find yourself forgetting all about her after this."

His heart lurched in his chest at the revelation. After meticulously gathering information about the big clients in the Mansion of Midnight, he knew the Mad Dog was the most notorious of them all. The mere thought of that abomination laying his rough hands on you filled him with a murderous rage like never before. He had promised to keep you safe and could not allow this to happen to you.

He would never forgive himself.

With only you in mind, nothing else mattered as he pushed the brothel madam aside and stormed up the stairs to your usual room, "No, wait! Mr. Jung! You cannot do this!" they called out to him, trying to stop him, but he shoved anyone in his way aside.

His blood ran cold when he heard your familiar voice crying miserably for help. Kicking the door open, he saw red and nearly went feral at the sight before him: your outer layer of hanbok torn to shreds, the skirt of your inner layer pushed up to your thighs, and the man's head buried in your neck, seemingly trying to leave his mark, trapping your arms above your head as you struggled helplessly against him.

"Get your filthy hands off her, you bastard!" Wooyoung growled, his fury fueling a surge of strength as he pulled the Mad Dog off your delicate frame, landing a punch on his cheek hard enough to send him crashing to the ground with a groan.

As he watched you immediately curl up, shaking like a leaf, his heart broke. Hastily, he draped a blanket over you, shielding you from further exposure. Meeting your tear-filled gaze, you pleaded pitifully, "Please, take me away from here."

Pressing a kiss onto your forehead, he locked eyes with you, "I promise I will. I'm here now, you're safe with me."

Relief flooded through you as his presence reassured you that he wasn't just a figment of your imagination. For a moment, you had feared he wouldn't arrive in time to save you. You knew he would come, but the thought of him being a moment too late haunted you. If he had been, you feared losing the last shred of your innocence, making you forever tainted and unworthy in his eyes. It was then that you realised your feelings for him were undeniable. It was so much more than just gratitude or the joy of friendship.

You wanted more than to be a charity case.

You wanted him.

Wanted to be with Jung Wooyoung.

"You'll regret that, boy. Do you even know who you're dealing with? You're that loyal little customer of hers, aren't you?" the monster threatened as he struggled to push himself off the ground.

The investigator held you close as you whimpered, trying to comfort you while glaring at the Mad Dog, "I am, and you'll regret messing with my woman," he asserted. Clinging to him, your heart pounded in your chest for different reasons: for his words, desperately hoping he meant them, and for fear of his safety from the man's potential wrath.

"Stop this at once, Mr. Jung! If you persist, we'll have no option but to blacklist you from our establishment," the brothel madam warned, her eyes widening in disbelief at the scene before her.

Wooyoung's smirk widened, "I'd like to see you try. I didn't want to do this the hard way, but you've given me no choice."

The Mad Dog chuckled, "And what exactly do you plan to do, kid?"

"You'll find out." With a sharp whistle aimed out the open window, a group of what appeared to be royal guards swiftly entered through the main entrance, causing everyone to freeze as they tried to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

"Is this the woman you mentioned, Investigator Jung?" the head guard inquired, pointing to the brothel madam.

"Yes, that's her," Wooyoung confirmed.

The woman froze in panic, "Wh-what is the meaning of this?"

"You, as the owner of the Mansion of Midnight, are under arrest for forced prostitution, exploiting minors, drugging patrons, and coercing victims into settling debts through illegal means," the head guard stated monotonously.

She resisted as the guards secured her arms in a tight grip, preventing her from escaping, "No, that's not true! There is an official who can vouch for the legitimacy of my business."

"If you're referring to the local magistrate who took your bribes and covered up your illegal activities, I regret to inform you that he's already in custody, awaiting trial. He didn't protect you during his interrogation," the head guard responded before instructing his comrades, "Guards, search the premises and arrest all accomplices."

"Yes, sir!" came the unified reply.

She sagged hopelessly in the grasp of the guards behind her as the rest dispersed to halt all operations and apprehend the other culprits, "H-how...?" she stammered.

Wooyoung fixed her with a stern gaze, "It appears you've truly forgotten what I do for a living and the powerful allies I have. Perhaps you should have thought twice before accepting me as a client. That was the first misstep leading to your downfall."

As the guards dragged the brothel madam out, leaving the Mad Dog panicking in his spot, he realised he had underestimated the young man before him. He hadn't known this was the famous Investigator Jung all along. Suddenly, he regretted the threats and taunts he had hurled just moments ago.

He wasn't the only one in a state of anxiety; Iseul stood wide-eyed, shaking, and attempting to sneak away unnoticed. However, the investigator's keen eye caught her every move. With a nod in their direction, a few guards swiftly stepped forward to capture them before they could flee.

"This one's guilty of sexual assault and violence against countless women, and this one has encouraged his actions," Wooyoung declared firmly, "Perhaps they could both use a good lesson in the torture chambers. I'm sure General Park would approve."

Both Iseul and the Mad Dog pleaded for forgiveness as they were dragged out of the room, their cries fading into the distance.

Thank god, it's finally over...

Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions you just experienced, the sudden relief was enough to render you unconscious, lying limp in Wooyoung's arms. With an exhausted sigh, he cradled your head against his neck, planting a gentle kiss on your temple and whispering, "Rest now, my lady. I won't let anyone harm you again."

As you regained consciousness, you blinked and rubbed your eyes until the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus. Panic surged through you as you shot up from the bed, causing the comforter around you to slip down and reveal the high-quality sleepwear you were dressed in. In an instant, someone entered the room from the doorway. Pulling the comforter up to your chest as a shield, you cowered in fear, "Wh-where am I and who are you?" you stammered.

The elderly woman smiled warmly down at you, "Hello, Miss Han. I hope you've had a good rest. My name is Eunsook, and I'm the head maid of General Park's estate."

Your jaw dropped as you tried to process her words, "G-General Park...? As in the strongest general in all of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior?"

The head maid chuckled and nodded, "Yes, the one and only."

"Was it Mr. Jung who brought me here?" you croaked, to which she replied, "Indeed, Investigator Jung brought you here as soon as the situation at the Mansion of Midnight had been taken care of. Would you like to see him, my dear?"

"I... I'm sure he has more important matters to attend to than to see me. He promised to free me, and he's done that... There's no more reason for him to see me," you murmured, lowering your head. As much as you longed for him, you knew better. You didn't deserve him. Even though you were now free, you still came from a humble background and had nothing to offer him.

Your head snapped up when you heard the familiar sound of tongue clucking, and you were surprised to see Wooyoung there, shaking his head disapprovingly. It turns out he had been hiding by the entrance the whole time. However, the cheeky grin on his lips betrayed his feigned disappointment. It was clear he didn't have the heart to actually lecture you; he was prepared for this. Somehow, he knew your lack of confidence would potentially get in the way of you expressing your true feelings.

"Really? After everything I've done for you, you don't think there's a reason for us to see each other anymore?" he said teasingly, "So you have no plans to repay me, hm?"

Eunsook couldn't help but giggle into her fist at your flustered expression, clearly caught off guard by the investigator's sudden appearance. The elderly woman bowed slightly, "I should probably go check on Lady Park. I'll be leaving you two alone to talk."

With a grateful nod in her direction, he approached you and settled onto the bed, facing you directly, "Tell me, do you truly believe there's no need to repay me for all the effort I invested in rescuing you?"

Avoiding his piercing gaze, you gulped, "So, what is it that you want then? As I've said, I don't have much to offer other than—"

He gently reached for your hand resting on your lap, interrupting your words. His touch was reassuring as he stroked the back of your palm as if it were second nature, "It would be great if you could start by allowing me to court you, my lady."

You gasped, meeting his eyes immediately, "What? You cannot possibly mean that, you deserve someone so much better—"

Shaking his head, he squeezed your hand gently, "That's not what I want to hear. I want to know what you want, my lady. Do you want to be with me? If not, I can leave you be, if that's what you truly wish. Your happiness is all that matters to me."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you didn't realise tears were streaming down your cheeks until he lifted a hand to wipe them, "Tell me... what is it that you want?"

Emotions swirled within you as you felt your heart fluttering at his caring and respectful demeanour. His considerate words and actions were something you had never experienced in your life. The affection you felt for him in that moment threatened to burst from your chest.

The soft and sincere look in his eyes only deepened your emotions, causing tears to flow harder. Summoning all your courage, you dared to squeeze his hand back. What kind of fool would you be to push him away now? You couldn't bear to let him down, nor were you selfless enough to let him go.

Drawing closer to him, you chose to let your actions speak and pressed your lips softly against his, warmth enveloping your body as you felt him kissing you back with equal tenderness. He cupped your wet cheek gently, his touch offering a sense of comfort and security.

Pulling back slowly, you whispered against his lips, "You... I want you, Jung Wooyoung."

"Then it's me you shall have."

And that marked the first day of him courting you. As days turned into weeks, you settled into a new routine at the general's estate. Lady Park's kindness knew no bounds, and she graciously allowed you to stay there, knowing you had nowhere else to turn. Certainly not to that decrepit place with your despicable father.

Amidst this new life, you found solace in the companionship of the mistress. She taught you the art of embroidery, a skill that not only passed the time but also allowed you to contribute in some small way to the household. When you weren't with her, you spent your time with the investigator as you got to know each other better.

Then came the news—the Mansion of Midnight had been officially shut down. It was a relief to hear that justice had been served, and the perpetrators were facing the consequences of their actions. The girls who had been trapped there were finally free, receiving the care and support they deserved from the government.

Life seemed to be looking up in every way, but there was one thing that weighed heavily on your mind—Wooyoung's plans to introduce you to his parents.

"You worry too much, they're going to love you," were the last words from Lady Park and Eunsook before sending you off. The journey to his family estate passed in a blur, and before you knew it, you found yourself seated in the living hall of the estate. It was smaller than the general's, given that they were an average family.

Wooyoung reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, "Relax, love. Everything will be okay," he reassured you. But despite the assurances from everyone, a part of you still feared how his family would perceive you.

As his parents finally greeted you, your heart raced with nervous anticipation. Throughout the meeting, it was evident that you were finding it difficult to be yourself, tiptoeing around cautiously despite the elderly couple's friendly demeanour. Deep down, you imagined all sorts of possibilities, fearing their kindness might be a facade meant to separate you both once you left.

Sensing your nerves and doubts, his mother gently set down her teacup and offered you a warm and motherly smile, "Miss Han, I hope my son hasn't been bothering you too much with his antics. I know he can be a handful, but we can see he's serious about you. When the time comes for him to propose, I hope you'll consider giving him a chance." His father chuckled and nodded in agreement as you stared at them in shock.

Reaching out to pat your hand, she continued, "We understand your concerns, but we want you to know that your past doesn't matter to us. Our priority is our son's happiness, and if that means being with you, then we're more than happy with it."

The remainder of the day unfolded smoothly as you dined with Wooyoung's parents before he escorted you back to the general's estate that evening. Lingering by the entrance, he seemed reluctant to part ways just yet. Your intertwined hands swung back and forth as he playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you, "I told you everything would be fine, didn't I? Would it hurt to believe me?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "How can I when all you do is trick me over and over for fun? Do you even love me?"

Feigning offence, he dramatically gasped, placing a hand over his heart, "Excuse me, I'll have you know that while I may joke about many things, my love for you is genuine."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he embraced you, pulling you close, "Stop teasing and say it back already," he urged.

Just as you were on the verge of relenting, a loud clearing of the throat startled you both. Seonghwa stood by the gates, arms crossed over his chest, looking unamused, "Must you two do this right in front of my house?"

His cool demeanour vanished as soon as his wife appeared beside him, giving him a playful smack on the back of his head, "Leave them alone, you idiot!" she chided, before dragging him back into the estate, calling out, "Please continue!"

Laughter filled the air between you as you watched the couple go. After the moment passed, Wooyoung bit his lip, "There's a festival in town tomorrow, and I know you've been eager to go. Shall I pick you up at the same time tomorrow?"

Nodding shyly, you replied, "Yes, same time. I'll see you, Woo."

"See you, love." With a final peck on your lips, he pulled away. Before his hand could fully slip away, you held on, "Wait, I love you too."

With a cheeky grin, he teased, "I know."

"Ugh, you ruined the moment," you said with a playful sigh. Turning to leave, you couldn't help but smile as he whined behind you. Laughing, you added, "Go home, Woo. Don't be late tomorrow." He may be a fool, but he's the fool who saved your life. He's your fool, and you couldn't wait to have more moments like this with him.

Y'all, I'm sorry if this seemed rushed or anything. I sincerely hope this meets expectations! It's not easy trying to fit everything in a two-shot, but I really didn't want to drag it any longer than it has to be because I'm aware I have 6 more spinoffs to complete HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/5): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @chngbnwf @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143

#edenesth #the way to his heart #take me away #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #historical au #joseon era #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #ateez fic

452 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 7 months

Text

Long Day (modern!Aemond x Reader)

summary: Balancing life has been increasingly stressful. Aemond helps you relax.

warnings: mostly fluff! kissing, grinding, teasing

word count: 1.8k

note: we're at the point in the semester where some fluff is desperately needed. quick little fluffy story, hope you enjoy!

When you enter your dimly lit apartment, classical music is playing from the record player Helaena gifted you for your birthday last year. You’re arriving home much later than usual as seems to be the theme for the past couple of weeks. It nearly broke your heart to text Aemond again earlier, telling him you had to stay late at work.

Aemond is seated in his usual spot on the couch, a book in front of him, round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—your favorite pair of his; the round ones with the brown frames. A cream-colored cable-knit sweater covers his torso, a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lower half.

Vhagar sits in the space between his legs, curled up and purring softly. She’s always most content around Aemond, though she’s grown accustomed to your presence since you moved in together. She lazily opens a green eye, and Aemond turns his head at the sound of the door closing. He smiles at you, before returning to his book.

“Hello, love,” he softly greets, turning a page.

“Hey,” you answer with a sigh, unable to hide the exhaustion from the day.

Aemond looks up from his book again, closing it with one hand. He knows you so well, if your voice is even a little off he catches it. You hang up your raincoat and place your shoes on the neighboring rack. It’s been raining nonstop for the past week; the weather matches your mood.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” you tell him, walking toward the living room. You deposit your bag on the armchair before sitting next to him on the couch, “Just a long day, that’s all.”

Aemond hums, placing his hands under Vhagar who meows unhappily as he gently places her on the floor. She shakes, tall puffing in annoyance and glares at you, knowing you must be the reason for her disturbance. She trots away, her tummy pouch swinging as she disappears down the hall.

“C’mere,” Aemond beckons and you scoot closer, leaning into him.

He places an arm around your shoulders pulling you closer as you tuck your knees under you up on the couch. Leaning into his chest you breathe in the scent of his cologne. You can’t help but feel tears well in your eyes as his hand strokes a path down your arm and you unconsciously snuggle closer to him, sniffling slightly.

“What happened?” Aemond asks again, his voice soft and low.

“Nothing,” you insist, “I mean, nothing happened I’m just…stressed that’s all.”

Aemond is quiet for a moment, continuing his smooth strokes on your arm. You can hear the steady beat of his heart through the sweater he wears, the sound comforting.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really,” you admit.

“Okay,” he agrees.

You stay beside him for a few moments in comfortable silence before he speaks again.

“Tell you what,” he murmurs, “How about you unwind, take a nice shower, and get all comfortable and I’ll make you something to eat.”

You glance up at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Grilled cheese?” you ask hopefully.

“With soup?” he asks, and you eagerly nod causing him to chuckle, “Coming right up.”

Reluctantly you pull yourself away from him, but the promise of a home-cooked comfort meal is enough encouragement to get unready. You take your time in the shower, Vhagar sitting outside the glass doors and licking the condensation that forms from the steam. Showing yourself some love you use every single product you own; scrubbing, lathering, and deep conditioning yourself into a state of euphoria.

You wrap your fluffiest towel around yourself and take the extra time to dry your hair before throwing it into a claw clip. Scooping Vhagar with you, you walk down the hall to your bedroom, depositing her on the bed. She used to resist when you tried to carry her, but now she’s as limp as a ragdoll and brushes herself against you in appreciation before curling up between the pillows.

Aemond’s shirts are the comfiest to wear, they engulf you like nothing else. It’s a bit chilly tonight, and you instead choose a large sweater of his. You tease him about it, calling it his ‘old man sweater’ due to the pattern. That, paired with your favorite silk sleep shorts, and you’re in a much better mood. Heading back toward the kitchen, your stomach rumbles at the scent of chicken soup.

Aemond stands at the stove, mixing his concoction. He’s lit a few candles and turned on the fairy lights that hang around the ceiling giving your apartment a warm glow.

“Sit,” he orders, giving you a small smirk.

Happily you pad over to the couch, throwing the blanket over your bare legs. Aemond is over not a minute later, placing two steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup on the coffee table, and then returning with two grilled cheeses. Eagerly scooting forward, you grab the sandwich and take a bite. You barely suppress a moan, along with your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Seven hells,” you mutter, taking another bite; the cheese pulling into long strings of gooey perfection.

Aemond chuckles, “Is it good?”

“I’m in love with you,” you tell him, sighing contentedly.

“You know, if that was the first time hearing you say that, I’d be insulted,” he teases.

“Why?” you ask, “Wasn’t it your chef skills that won me over in the first place?”

“You’re very funny,” he says, smirking slightly.

You sit with Aemond, feet thrown across his lap as you eat dinner together. Aemond chooses one of your favorite films to put on in the background as you chat about his day and enjoy your soup. Aemond finishes first, he always eats rather quickly and begins massaging your calves trying to release some of the remaining tension in your limbs.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” he says, broaching the topic once more as his hand slides down to your foot.

You let out a small groan of appreciation as his fingers move lower to dig into the arch of your foot.

“It was just a lot today,” you admit, “I just feel like I’m burning out. It’s just a lot to balance with everything going on…”

“I know love, you’re almost there,” Aemond encourages, “It won’t be like this much longer, and you’re doing such a good job.”

His praise warms you like a fire, the sincere look in his blue eyes making your heart sing.

You pull your legs from his grip and shuffle forward, bringing your lips to his, kissing him sweetly before burying your face against him as you did earlier. He pulls you close, arm wrapped around you and tracing lazy circles on your thigh underneath the blanket. You rest against him, listening to his heartbeat as the movie drones on. Soon, lulled by the sound of his heart, your eyelids become heavy and you slip into sleep.

It feels like you’ve been sleeping a long time. When you open your eyes you’re still in the living room, the clock displays the time is 2 a.m. Aemond sits, awake still, trapped underneath you. He’d settled for his Kindle this time and held it in one hand, turning the page with the tap of his finger.

“Aemond,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep as you push yourself into a seated position, “You should’ve woken me.”

“It’s alright,” he insists, placing his kindle down on the table beside him, “How’d you sleep?”

“Very well,” you admit, sitting back on your haunches, “Gods. It’s late.”

Aemond hums in agreement, watching you stretch your arms above your head, revealing a sliver of your stomach. He reaches out, unable to help himself, placing a hand on your hip. You drop your arms, smiling at him lovingly.

“Do you feel better?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” you answer, scooting closer, “I happen to have the best boyfriend.”

“Oh, do you?” he asks, tugging you closer by your thigh.

You spread your legs, letting him drag you across his lap until you’re straddling his waist. Leaning forward, you nuzzle against his neck, placing soft kisses along his throat as you wrap your arms around him. Aemond releases a soft groan, his hands palming the swell of your ass and you wiggle against him, getting as close as possible.

One of his hands snakes underneath your sweater, his large palm pressing into the small of your back. A shiver rolls down your spine and you swivel your hips against him.

“Baby…” he murmurs, turning his face toward you and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“What?” you murmur, nipping the pale skin of his throat. Aemond’s hand runs up and down your back, the other gripping your thigh. You can feel him growing harder beneath you; the increasing pressure between your legs growing with every shift of your hips against his.

“I should put you to bed,” he groans as you press your lips against the cool metal of his chain, “Fuck issa rina dōna (my sweet girl).”

You smile, dragging your lips to meet his in a slow, sensual kiss. Once Aemond starts slipping into High Valyrian, you know you’ve got him where you want him. His lips are soft and warm against your own as you continue to kiss him at an unhurried pace, simply enjoying being close to him.

You sigh as his lips move down, tracing the curve of your jaw and finding a home below your ear, kissing the sensitive spot there as you drag your nails across his scalp.

“Tell me what you need, gevie,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Need you, Aem,” you tell him, “Please, just need you.”

“Shhh I know, I know,” he gently coos, “I’ll take care of you issa jorrāelagon (my love).”

You and Aemond stay up much longer than anticipated, finally retiring to your shared bedroom as the first beams of sunlight begin to trickle through your windows. When you wake you’re snuggled against Aemond, the blankets cradling you both in a warm cocoon.

“I’ve called out for you,” Aemond tells you as you’re pressed against his chest, “You’re going to spend the whole day in bed.”

“Aemond,” you giggle, “I can’t possibly be that lazy-”

“Oh yes you can,” he insists, arms tightening around you, “I’ve called out as well. So you’ve nothing to worry about.” He places a kiss on your head before hovering on top of you.

“Now,” he says, head dipping to kiss your collarbone, “Let’s quiet that beautiful brain of yours, shall we?”

“Oh?” you breathe as he continues to kiss up your neck, “And how do you plan to do that?”

Aemond hums against you, and you can feel his grin.

“Well, we’ve got all day to find out, haven’t we?”

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 🖤

like this story? check out more of my work here!

524 notes · View notes

anthurak · 7 months

Text

One detail in Mammon’s Musical Special that I found rather interesting upon rewatch is the fact that Fizzarolli doesn’t seem to be subjected to or threatened with direct sexual exploitation or coercion by Mammon.

And I find that pretty curious because we generally kind of expect or otherwise assume that sort of thing in these kinds of stories, right? That this super manipulative, abusive boss who’s exploiting his prized performer also personally lusts after them and is privately coercing them into performing sexual acts. Particularly when we consider the whole ‘Sex Robots’ angle and the fact that we’re seeing/will-see exactly this with Valentino and Angel Dust in Hazbin Hotel.

But with Mammon we just flat out don’t see this whatsoever. He never makes any sort of advances on Fizzarolli or makes any kind of direct comment on his attractiveness, even in their private conversations. In fact, I get the sense that Mammon doesn’t even CARE personally about sexual gratification all that much.

The way he off-handedly brings up the ‘sex-robot’ idea in the flashback really gave me the vibe of “I don’t exactly GET this whole ‘sex’ thing myself, but if people will buy it, awesome!” The way he talks about Fizzarolli’s sex appeal and the robots makes it seem like Mammon views sex purely as a commodity he can profit off of, rather than anything he’s personally interested in.

And I find all that pretty interesting because the episode makes clear that Mammon not directly sexually exploiting Fizzarolli DOESN’T make what he’s doing any less creepy, manipulative and abusive. Mammon still comes off as a giant skeevy scumbag because while he may not care about sex personally, it's clear that he’s still happy to cater directly to the ‘sick degenerates’ (as he outright calls them himself) among Fizzarolli’s fans simply because he realized that he could make a LOT of money off them. While being completely uncaring about how uncomfortable Fizzarolli is with this arrangement.

If anything, I think this all may have made it even harder for Fizz to recognize and admit to himself how badly Mammon was treating him. We see in the episode that it seems like the indirectness lets Fizzarolli more easily rationalize away just how uncomfortable it makes him, what with the whole ‘they’re just toys’ comment. It’s not like he’s the one all the creepy obsessive fans are paying to have sex with, it’s just hundreds of robots made specifically to look exactly like him.

It all conveys the cynical, uncaring, exploitative nature of how Mammon really views Fizzarolli, and of course helps to frame Mammon as a stand-in for any number of exploitative entertainment corporations. The kind of morally bankrupt mentality that might not personally agree with some truly awful people, but will happily cater to them if it will generate profit.

Finally in an amusing twist, it also means that even as bad as Mammon is, he’s somehow still beat in the complete and utter scumbag department by Valentino XD

#helluva boss #helluva boss analysis #hazbin hotel #helluva mammon #fizzarolli #helluva fizzarolli

287 notes · View notes

officialaemondtargaryen · 3 months

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone [part 1]

Summary: A collection of small moments that lead to falling in love with your roommate. This is a Modern Day!AU.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Author's Note: I've been writing two horribly depressing stories simultaneously for a while now and I needed a break from the angst. I hope that you all enjoy this.

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, pining, fluff, possible angst, and possible sexual content. Plus, me attempting to be a comedian.

Playlist here!

She said, "he's kind of messy in every aspect of his life, but he's fun to be around!" Then, she very positively followed that up with, "I think you two would really get along!"

You met Helaena in college, and to be honest, you really didn't know her that well. She was a friend of a friend who had been in a few of the same classes as you, went to the same bars, and had a similar taste in art and music. She'd like every selfie, or ask to borrow a book you posted about, but you had never really hung out alone together.

So when your phone started ringing on a Friday night, after you were already three margaritas deep and swimming in queso dip at your cousin's birthday party, and it was Helaena Targaryen's name flashing across the screen, you were admittedly concerned; though, you'd always known her to be a pretty sincere person, so you took her word for it when she said that you should let her older brother move into the empty, second bedroom of your apartment. It might have been the tequila, or the fact that you were just that desperate, but you immediately agreed to her proposition without question.

You had been trying to rent the room out for months when it became impossible to afford the luxury of living alone, but every person that was interested happened to fall through for one reason or another. You had even offered a discounted rate (as the bedroom was smaller than yours and there was only one bathroom and it was a Jack-and-Jill), but you still couldn't find a good fit.

Enter Aegon Targaryen.

Suddenly, a guy whom you could only describe as 'that has to be Helaena's brother', was knocking on your door a week later. There was beat up Wrangler sitting on the curb behind him filled to the roof with cardboard boxes, and a tiny U-Haul hitched to the bumper with what little bit of furniture he had. He looked at you, blinked a few times and said, "I'm Aegon." You introduced yourself and he nodded; there were no pleasantries, no hand shakes or smiles. He just walked into your apartment, looked around, and then started moving his things in.

It was mid-July, so obviously there were better things you could be doing with your time than helping a complete stranger move his things into your home during a drought and a heat wave. Yet, you slid on your sandals and got to work after you had started to feel bad that you were sitting pretty in the air conditioning while your new roommate struggled in the humidity.

It didn't take long until the only thing left was his mattress. You weren't even sure how he got that monstrosity stuffed into the tiny trailer in the first place. It was ridiculously bulky and much heavier than it needed to be, but he swore that it was the most comfortable mattress you'd ever lay on in your life- a fact that you would just have to take his word for. You struggled, a lot, but put on a brave face as Aegon did most of the heavy lifting in the back and you navigated up front.

As you were coming up the porch steps with your sunglasses sliding off of your face as you dripped with sweat, and your arms tired from hours of heavy lifting (saving the heaviest for last, which was a terrible idea), you ended up missing the stoop completely and landing on your ankle awkwardly. You played it off until you had gotten the mattress onto his bed frame, and then silently cried about it in your now shared bathroom; quietly cursing the economy for forcing this situation upon you. Later that night as you were sitting on the couch, with your swollen ankle elevated on a couple of throw pillows, your new roommate tosses a bag of frozen peas in your lap and continues into his room with a bowl of cereal for dinner.

"Thanks," you called after him but only heard the sound of his bedroom door closing in reply.

Over the next few weeks you observed quite a bit about Aegon Targaryen. You knew which spoon was his favorite, how he preferred his tea, that he washed his hair with tea tree shampoo, and enjoyed mint chocolate chip ice cream. He cut the crust off of his sandwiches when he ate them at home, but when he packed his lunch he left them on. He could drink an entire box of wine by himself, but he typically stopped after two glasses, and he always asked if you wanted him to pour you one. He talked to his siblings a lot, but never his parents, and he really enjoyed watching dog videos on his phone while sitting on the couch as you tried to watch your show.

And when he laughed, he belly laughed, and you couldn't help but smile softly to yourself when he did.

Despite how taciturn he may have been, he was still good company, even if you were just sitting on opposite ends of the sofa doing your own thing. He always thanked you when you would leave leftovers in the fridge with a sticky note that had his name on it, and you started making sure that you made enough for two. When he came home late on the weekends, he tried his absolute hardest to do so quietly, but with those hardwood floors, it was almost impossible. He'd wake you up every single time, but you would never say anything. It was hardly an inconvenience after the many nights you'd fall asleep to the sound of him softly strumming his guitar in the next room.

And yet, you just couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Because it had to, right? Surely this would be a nightmare; God finally sending a punishment for your sins and giving him the face of a literal angel for shits and giggles. You weren't entirely convinced he wasn't Karma-In-Disguise, as the only other option was just too good to be true.

One morning you woke to find Aegon in the kitchen, standing at the counter, making himself a cup of tea. He had already brewed a pot of coffee for you and there was a box of assorted pastries sitting on the table, one of which he was holding between his teeth as he poured a splash of milk into his cup. He turned to you, leaning against the counter and took a bite out of his scone.

"What's this?" You quirked an eyebrow as you studied the scene.

"A 'thank you', I s'pose," he shrugged, voice deep with residual exhaustion. He scratched at the short stubble on his chin, almost nervously, "It's been like a month since I moved in here, and, to be honest, I wasn't really expecting you to let me stay longer than a week."

You laughed softly and took a few steps deeper into the kitchen, taking note of how comfortable the space was with his presence in it. You couldn't ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him in this light; the way the soft, morning sun bounced off of his blonde hair like a halo. He stayed right where he was as you moved around him; his tired, blue eyes following as you grabbed your favorite mug and a spoon from the drawer.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to want to stay," you mentioned as you stood next to him and added two scoops of sugar to your cup. Your eyes flickered up to meet his stare, which was so blue you might as well have been looking up at the sky itself. "We're basically strangers."

"I wouldn't say that," he shrugged, lips curling into a small smirk, and you had to stop looking at him before you spilled coffee all over yourself.

"Oh? What are we then?" You asked, feeling your cheeks warming slightly as you averted your gaze.

"Not strangers," you could hear the smirk in his tone; his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he took another bite of his pastry and pushed himself off the counter. "Besides," he added, taking a few steps towards the living room before glancing back at you. "A stranger wouldn't know your favorite bakery."

You laughed softly through your nose, realizing that your new roommate had just admitted to eavesdropping on your late-night FaceTime conversations with your best friend. Though, you were sure it was only because he didn't have a choice in the matter; the walls were paper-thin, after all. But, you remembered telling her just the day before yesterday how badly you were craving a chocolate croissant, but getting one was difficult because they were always sold out.

There were four chocolate croissants in that box.

"Fuck," you sighed.

#I know this isn't what y'all wanted but it's what ya got #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #hotd #house of the dragon #modern aegon #modern!aegon targaryen #helaena targaryen

151 notes · View notes

nothingenoughao3 · 1 month

Text

Why we wanna transition to Mad Scientist (or, revulsion and queerness in horror)

(Hi, @ash-eats-film! This is the thing I mentioned!)

Horror has a few baseline emotions it tries to inflict on the audience. This has been written about for decades, most famously by Stephen King, but the baseline elements most writers agree on are as follows.

Dread: Anxiety over what is about to happen

Terror: The fear of what is occurring right this second

Revulsion: Being forced to interact directly with what's happening right now

Black comedy: Being tricked into laughing at either the terror or the revulsion

Horror: The trauma response to what just happened

A great example of this can be seen in The Evil Dead II (YT link that doesn't include the full context, but does have the, uh, money shot). There's the dread of realizing there's something in the root cellar; the terror of when the Deadite pops up in the trapdoor; the combined revulsion and black comedy of Ash jumping on the Deadite's skull/the door, popping out its eyeball which shoots into Bobby Joe's mouth, and then the horror of what just went down rolling over Ash and his current companions.

Often, revulsion and black comedy go hand in hand. That's because they're tension relievers. The revolting thing becomes ridiculous, and you laugh at how ridiculous it is. This lets you settle down in the midst of the gore and death, just slightly, just enough to get through it... so the horror can fully set in for you, too, once it's over.

You also, often, question your own stability if you laugh in the middle of a gross-out horror scene: "Am I sick? Is there something wrong with me for laughing at X?" This is even worse if the villain starts laughing--now you're questioning whether you're IDing with the monster. Are you okay? Is something wrong with you?

Revulsion is often framed as the slutty member of the good, proper, morally-upright brigade of horror. We have a name for folks who seek out gross-out horror--they're gore-hounds, a term that is virtually always pejorative when applied to other people. We call certain types of horror "torture porn" or "gore porn", as though it is inherently sleazy and sexual to rely on this specific emotional reaction. (Note that we don't have "black comedy-porn", or "dread hounds", even though a dread hound sounds really fucking cool.)

Not to go off on a huge tangent, but I think the issue with media that overly relies on revulsion is that it's unbalanced, not that it's bad. A movie that's nothing but dread never has any emotional payoff. A movie that's nothing but terror never lets the audience relax back into their seats and, paradoxically, will become boring (imagine two hours of jumpscares).

So forth and so on: all aspects of horror rely on each other to survive. That includes scenes that make you go "Awww, sick" while nervously cackling.

Here's the thing: in previous generations, revulsion was similarly understood to be an essential part of horror, but what led to a revolted reaction was very different.

Lovecraft (boo this man! BOOOOO) understood the power of revulsion, which was the source of a lot of his strangest and most vivid descriptions. It was also the source of some of his most bigoted ideas working into his stories. The undercurrent of "non-WASPs are evil because they are repulsive" is as pervasive in his work as "the universe is incomprehensibly vast". You kind of can't get around that.

But there's another thing Lovecraft did to generate revulsion. He wrote a number of stories where an unhealthy focus on corpses, graveyards, graverobbing, and the like is, indirectly or directly, associated with sexual perversion.

How many, you may ask? Off the top of my head, there's "The Loved Dead", "In the Vault", "The Disinterment", "Pickman's Model", The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, "The Hound" and "Herbert West: Re-Animator". All of these tales share certain themes, which don't repeat beat-for-beat in each tale but do overlap:

Male character becomes obsessed with dead bodies--whether that's stealing them, having sex with them, desecrating them, or resurrecting them.

He is comfortable around death and the dead to a degree that is unusual, sometimes explicitly stating that he prefers the smells/sights of death to those of life.

Terms like "fiendish", "hellish", "abnormal" and "perverse" are used to describe him; his gaze towards dead bodies or to experiments may be framed as "leering" or "speculative".

He is frequently a twink; often described as being frail, if not noticeably beautiful; he may recall being mocked for being "bookish" or "weak" as a child.

He is superficially charming in a way that gets him by in polite society, but not long-term nor in-depth.

He often ensnares an otherwise "normal" man to share his obsessions, effectively recruiting him as an assistant... until the "normal" guy realizes he's about to go on the chopping block (or, in at least one story, already was on the chopping block).

Their crimes involve a lot of sneaking around late at night, locked doors, whispering so they don't get caught (or they'll be killed), secretiveness, glee at getting away with it, and frequently, sharing the same living space.

The Unrepentant Evil Dude is often killed at the end of his tale in a way that implies vigilante/mob justice is at hand.

The other may be allowed to live if he's very sorry and frames the whole story as being the fault of the other guy, or he may die too while affirming his horrible demise as just, even if it terrifies him.

(One could make an argument that Wilbur Whateley fits into some of these tropes. It's me I'm one)

If this all sounds very gay, Lovecraft probably would have agreed. He had as dim a view of homosexuality as he did on most other things that were Outside The Norm. In other words, we were supposed to see Richard Upton Pickman with his ghouls and think, "Ah, yes, this is a metaphor for queerness", only we were supposed to be revolted by that revelation.

This same attempt at revulsion can be easily read into Victor Frankenstein, and probably more Mad Scientists than I can name offhand (but feel free to in reblogs). Frankenstein's "crimes against nature" were connected to dead bodies as well, and likewise involved a lot of sneaking around, locked doors, and worry about what would happen were he caught with this naked man-thing he's keeping in his dorm. His crime, as with his parody character Herbert West, is creating life outside the bounds of heterosexual cisgender sex. This was meant to revolt readers' sensibilities as much as the whole cutting-up-corpses-and-stitching-them-back-together thing would.

This is why, if we're being honest, "Re-Animator" and "Bride of Re-Animator" are not necessarily gay… they're homophobic. This might be controversial, but stick with me.

I feel like Gordon and Yuzna were tapping into that old-fashioned Revulsion Handbook, including from the source material, which thematically linked Herbert West with queerness. (I'm using "queer" a lot here, but I would personally include trans-friendly readings under that rubric; I'm using "queer" in the analytical sense and not solely in the identity sense.) This means that, ironically, a lot of what we could point to as queer subtext is actually homophobic text.

This is reinforced by the novelization of the first film, written by a homophobe who got Trumpist brainworms later in life. He wanted to make West repulsive to the reader, and therefore, he tried to make West more gay. And IT WORKED.

To be clear, I'm not accusing anybody, other than the novelist, of being a homophobe. There's a difference between possessing internalized bigoted beliefs which express themselves in writing, versus utilizing tropes originating in bigotry because That's What's Done Around Here. (I can understand why others might not perceive a meaningful difference.) Like the Cuzco lizards, this queerness-as-villainy is definitely a stupid thing ported in from the source material.

I do think that this is why everybody but Our Queen Barbara Crampton seems embarrassed or nonplussed by all the transfags pestering them about fellatio tapes. It's because they don't get why this thing appeals so much to us. It shouldn't. If anything, they should be canceled for having yet another queer-coded villain, along with a number of other plot choices of questionable taste (I'm looking at you, The Head Scene, and I don't like what I see).

Only, uh, it didn't work out that way long-term, did it?

I thank Cronenberg and venereal horror for this, in part. Brutally queer despite not being explicitly gay, venereal horror is what happens when the characters should be revolted, but aren't.

This kind of thing is horrifying for crossing the line twice: first by being disgusting, then by having characters respond as though it is exciting, or sexually stimulating, or if nothing else, normal. They are perverse. They leer at the dead and the subjects of their experiments. And the disgusting monsters at the center of these narratives are celebrated. Their twisted sexualities are explored with the same brave frankness other filmmakers give to milquetoast cishet missionary nonsense. Their political views are given life and air, and usually, they're right. Their deaths, if they come at all, are framed as tragedies brought on by society's sick rejection of the flesh their brave experimentation.

Cronenberg's the dude who unironically thinks that Shivers (trigger warning for literally everything) has a happy ending. My man David's got subscriptions where others have issues.

Venereal horror has given us a new metaframework for looking at the repulsive, the monstrous, and the problematic and responding to it… differently.

Now here's another thing: Lovecraft likewise provided a structure for embracing the grotesque and the queer.

Pickman, the Decadent artist, paints photorealistic, enormous portraits of ghouls. Literal flesh-eaters. He is fascinated by them, comfortable with them. "Model" heavily implies that Pickman is a ghoul changeling--switched at birth with a human child. This leans into Lovecraft's ideas about heritability being a major source of horror, of course, and seems run of the mill until you get to The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.

In there, Pickman appears again, but this time as a ghoul. He has cast off his human social shackles and joined the beings he loves, beings who understand him and support him. Kadath is notable in that the ghouls are actually... like... reliable, loyal, and morally good? Carter's opinion pretty much is, "They do eat human corpses and they smell awful, but they're all very nice and want to help me on my quest, so maybe they're not so bad (if not as good as the cat army)".

This feels like Lovecraft acknowledging that his entire approach of linking queerness, death, and revulsion is fundamentally flawed. Once you become familiar with the repulsive, it becomes not-really-that-repulsive-at-all. You can find beauty in it, and amusement, and love. Pickman embracing his ghoulish nature isn't all that different from Seth Brundle's overall lack of revulsion at his body's transformation. And it's not that different from what a lot of transmasculine folks go through, either.

It's not that transmascs, trans men, and/or transfags don't see what West does as crimes against nature. It's that we're all very fucking tired of being accused of crimes against nature. We're tired of not being able to look at socmed without finding accusations that we're disgusting perverts who sneak around behind closed doors to corrupt innocent, promising people to be our lackeys and partners in crime.

Hell, I refer to my wife as "my partner in crime" not because it's a cute way of acknowledging how well and how much we work together both in life and creativity. It's also because we could have been arrested for our relationship when we got together.

We were illegal.

There was a lot of sneaking around and whispering and trying not to get caught and "what if they call the cops on us if we're clocked". Can I tell my friends about this? Will they reject me or rat me out? Where am I safe? Nowhere. Best to lock the door and then check it again to be sure. Best to be very quiet.

Best to act like a graverobber trying to get their grisly wares back home before good, decent, Christian folk see them.

So when I hear "Blasphemy? Before what God?!", I read it as (whether he's ace or aro, gay or achillean, trans man or transmasc or genderfucked) a queer slogan of defiance, instead of a defense of graverobbing, corpse desecration, and non-consensual resurrection.

We're told we and our bodies are repulsive, so being told that Herbert is also repulsive makes him more relatable. Instead of wondering what the hell's wrong with him for shooting up reagent, we all theorize that it's actually T or has similar effects--because we're all told that T is a toxin that will horribly change and disfigure our bodies. He dresses in a three-piece suit for school, and instead of reading him as a stiff and overly-formal little freak, we assume he's layering up because he hasn't found a hoodie he likes yet.

He cackles at his horrific creations, and instead of saying "What a fucking freak (anguished)", we say "What a fucking freak (affectionate)" and laugh along with him. Who among us hasn't taken apart our Barbies and tried to combine their parts with the Kens? What is a doll, or a human, but a collection of parts to be rearranged? Haven't we also been told we're freaks for rearranging our own parts?

We've already been told by society at large that we are Herbert West. We're just embracing it, in the proud tradition of venereal horror fans who are not revolted when they ought to be, and I think that's delightful.

#fandom meta #reanimator #re animator 1985 #bride of reanimator 1991 #bride of re animator #herbert west #headcanon #transmasculine #body horror #venereal horror #cronenbergian #writing trope #i live for analysis #lovecraft #this has been rattling around in my head for ages and probably isn't going to cover everything or be correct but here we all are anyway #hope y'all like it

117 notes · View notes

smolwritingchick · 3 months

Text

Smol Brainstorm/Oneshot: Just Let Me Get It Out Of My System

Words: 4,000+

Author's Note: Ok Ok do you remember when Jungkook rapped Ddaeng? When he did this and I saw it years ago this idea sparked in my head. This has some smut in it so if you're not into smut then just ignore it. I actually really liked this and hope to put it in the story when I get to that point after tweaking it once again. So here, let this hold ya!

This would take place well after JenKook are established in pleasuring each other. Both of them are confident in bed and know each other's bodies well by this point. I feel like Jennie would be a switch and once in a while act bratty at times in bed. I kind of get brat tamer vibes from this scenario. Kinda?? In this, she definitely wanted to be in control this time around but Jungkook had other plans when she drove him crazy, lol.

--------

Nah...this was not OK. Nowhere near OK.

How dare he? Does he not understand how this was making her feel?

There Jen stood on stage watching along with the rest of the members as Jungkook rapped a part of Ddaeng. Aggressively might she add. He rapped so well. Jungkook always gave it 1000%. But his appearance was beginning to distract her while she attempted to put how sexy he looked in the back of her mind.

She failed instantly.

Usually, she would not act this way about him on stage but tonight it was just something about him that was making her feel some type of way. A type of way that made her feel a familiar ache between her legs.

‘What he so loud for?’ she thought, mesmerized as she watched him.

Was it his hair? How fluffy it appeared and framed his handsome features?

She loved that he was growing it out. It gave her extra excuses to run her fingers through it. Long hair suited him well and it seemed like he wasn’t going to be cutting it, anytime soon. If not the hair, was it his voice? He sounded sexy when rapping.

‘Not the time or place, sis,’ she scolded herself, attempting to push the dirty thoughts away.

Okay, but what about his outfit? Because damn, he was looking good.

Actually, screw it. It was all of the above and again, it was not OK.

Miss Bangtan went on to turn her attention to the crowd, hyping them up with the rest of the members because of how her body was getting worked up. She needed to keep it professional and put these aroused thoughts in the back of her mind.

One thing is for sure, she was going to get this man alone, tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts. Nobody was going to ruin her impromptu dick appointment.

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

After the show, the members were safely dropped off at the hotel, coming off from the excitement of the fifth muster. They chatted amongst themselves about the show and what they wanted to eat.

“All right, Korean BBQ it is. Make sure you’re ready in 20.” Namjoon confirmed what they were eating for a late dinner.

“We’ll meet at the lobby,” Yoongi added as they all agreed.

On the floor where their rooms were, Jennie walked behind the guys and Jungkook walked beside her. All those dirty thoughts she had about him this evening came back as she impatiently waited for an opportunity to get him alone. Once the guys were distracted with their own conversations as they walked down the hall, Jennie firmly grabbed Jungkook's hand and began to lead him in a different direction. The direction of her room as they left the rest behind, who were oblivious of their absence.

“Babe?” Jungkook asked softly.

If only he knew how hard it was to not jump his bones right there...

When she didn't answer him, he raised an eyebrow and watched her curiously as she led him to the door of her room. The room she had all to herself after beating the members in rock, paper, scissors. Once she opened it, she let him go in first and quickly followed in. It was a master suite and Jungkook understood why the members were profoundly upset when Jennie won the game. The room was huge with a dining table, king sized bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen area.

After tossing his bag on the couch, he turned around to see Jennie tossing her room key and bag on the floor.

“What—” before he could finish his sentence, her lips crashed against his, hurriedly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, smooching him for dear life as she held him close. Before he knew it, her tongue had eased its way to brush up against his. The heated gesture prompted him to kiss back, placing his hands on her hips. Whatever had gotten into her, he wasn't complaining.

Pulling away to breathe, her hands roamed over to his jacket, yanking it off. She then proceeded to walk him back to where the bedroom was.

Wasting no time, she lightly shoved him on the king-sized bed. She watched as his back hit the soft sheets while the sounds of his soft panting filled her ears. He looked taken aback by her behavior and prompted himself up on his elbows.

She glanced at his lap. It looked enticing with his legs spread out. Just waiting for her to take a seat. After removing his black bucket hat and tossing it aside, he watched as she stripped down to her underwear. With hungry eyes, he stared at her exposed skin, feeling his jeans getting tighter.

They're supposed to meet everyone in the lobby in less than 20 minutes, right? Well, everyone was going to have to wait.

No longer wondering what was happening, he sat up and reached out for her.

"Get over here," he demanded in a low voice, pulling her to him by the hand.

With him on the edge of the bed, she straddled him, placing her knees on each side of him. She closed the gap, kissing him again, hands roaming down his chest. She felt that a few buttons were unbuttoned from his shirt. Feeling impatient, she ripped open his shirt and the loud pop of buttons filled their ears. The buttons flew all over the floor and she quickly peeled the shirt off, tossing it away.

Cupping his face, she went in for a deep kiss, while his hands slowly roamed down her body. The sensations between her legs became prominent once she began grinding into him. The action caused Jungkook to groan softly into the kiss, gripping her hips tighter.

"Baby..." he breathed out against her lips once she moved again.

If she kept this up, he wasn't going to be able to control what he was going to do to her. Whatever her intentions were, her being in charge of this was on thin ice.

Not when she teased him like this.

The Golden Maknae definitely planned to take over soon. But for now, he allowed her to have her fun and let her believe that she would dominate tonight. Jennie moved at a slow pace, driving him crazy. The more she moved, the more she felt him hardening. Just what she wanted.

Everything she was doing with him felt good as her need for him grew. She needed him badly and already felt ready for him as her panties were soaked. They hardly did anything yet he had this effect on her. Pulling back, her lips traveled down to his neck while his breathing became more audible. He let out a few curses as she lightly nipped and sucked on his neck until she found his sweet spot.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips when he moved his hips harder against hers. It seemed like he wanted this as much as she did, meeting his lustful gaze.

“You rapping tonight was too sexy,” she spoke up. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to get you alone? How much I’ve been wanting to ride you?”

That made him widen his eyes. Sure she topped before but he had never seen her in this state of mind after a show. He made her like this because of the way he rapped, tonight?

“Just...just let me get this out of my system and then we can meet with the guys, all right?" she proposed, with urgency in her voice. "Right now, I need you. And I need you to fuck me. Can you do that for me?”

All she wanted was a quickie. She wanted to get railed and then get ready to go out to eat.

Processing her words, Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle and slowly lick his lips. His doe eyes darkened as he suggestively raised an eyebrow. She squirmed at the sight of the tempting smirk on his features.

He leaned over to her ear, making her shiver. "You need me that bad, huh? I can do that for you."

That's all she needed to hear as she softly bit her bottom lip and pushed him back down on the bed. He watched as she went to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

"Follow my lead," she answered and she pulled his pants and boxers down.

'I'll follow your lead for now. But we're both going to know who is leading tonight when I'm done letting you have your fun,' he thought to himself as very physical ideas popped into his head.

She heard him mention that he had condoms somewhere in his bag, but she shook her head and took out one from her bra, handing it to him.

"Came prepared," she said proudly as he proceeded to put it on his length.

She was so ready to sit on him but before they could proceed, they heard her phone ringing from her pants. Annoyance briefly flashed on Jennie's face as she had a feeling who was calling.

"Answer it," Jungkook stated.

"Answer it? Are you going to stay quiet when I talk?"

"Maybe," he grinned mischievously as he sat up, getting close to her face.

"Kookie..." she warned, earning a light chuckle from him.

She reached over to her jeans while he held her so she wouldn't fall over. Back safely on his lap with her phone in her hands, she looked at the called ID. Surprisingly it was Namjoon and not Jin who called.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"Nini, you almost ready? We're downstairs waiting," his deep voice filled her ears.

"Um...go without us, we'll catch up, Namjoon," she replied while he immediately understood.

He laughed at her statement. "Okay. Don't be too long,"

"Give me the phone," she heard Jin in the background. It sounded like he snatched the phone from him as he began to ask questions. "Where in the world are you? Are you almost ready?! We're waiting!"

Before she could answer, Jungkook took the opportunity to trail light kisses around her neck, making her eyes flutter.

"Are you there, Jennie? Hello? Are you seriously ignoring World Wide Handsome Jin?"

She cleared her throat, pulling away while giving Jungkook a warning glance. He was going to get it for being this playful in a situation like this.

"...yes...I'm still here, Jin," she put an emphasis on his name as a signal to Jungkook. But he didn't care and persisted in kissing and nipping at her neck.

This little shit...

Jennie fought back the moan that threatened to escape. One wrong sound and it was over. Jungkook didn't seem to mind. He always loved a challenge and the thrill of getting caught these days.

“We're all waiting in the lobby. I want my BBQ, so hurry it up, will you?" Jin exclaimed.

Struggling not to make any sounds from what her man was doing, she stammered, “So-rry. Be down in-a-few!”

“You sound weird. Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

She should have just hung up right then and there because Jungkook began to laugh.

“Hey! Why is that troublemaker laughing? Jungkook is with you? What are you two doing?!" the oldest member demanded.

"Let's give her another five minutes. If not then she'll just meet us there. You know how she likes to take forever getting ready for things," Namjoon grabbed the phone back, trying to ease the situation for the young lovers.

She heard him end the call as she shook her head and tossed her phone on the bed.

"I can't stand you for doing that,"' she playfully scolded Jungkook.

"It's fun messing with him," he responded and pulled her in for another heated kiss.

She pushed him back down to continue where they had stopped.

"We don't need much foreplay, I'm already ready for you," she admitted, biting her bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, I can feel it. All this from me rapping? I'll make sure to do it again,” he looked pleased to be the one to get her like this.

"You might have to," she said before letting out a sharp gasp when she slowly sat down on his length.

She let out a curse and used his chest for support. When he felt her sit down, he let out a breathy moan and threw his head back. She felt so good around him. Something he'll never get enough of.

"Go slow for me," he directed. "I want to see you enjoy yourself,"

He knew how much she wanted to go fast to get a quick release. The whole point was to have a quickie but he wanted to take it slow first. Regardless, he was going to make it worth it.

His statement made her feel flushed. Over the past few years, his confidence in their intimacy has grown with patience and communication. And he had always made her feel sexy. This time was no exception.

At a slow pace, she moved up and down, closing her eyes in bliss. It had been a while since she topped and she almost forgot how good it felt as soft moans fell from her lips. Jungkook watched in delight as her face scrunched up in pleasure, enjoying the view. After a while, she had found a steady rhythm, bouncing on him, sensually. He was captivated by her. A gorgeous view all to himself. His warm hands roamed around her body as he gazed intently into her eyes.

"That's it...keep going. You look beautiful like this," he admired her.

His hands wandered around her chest. The yellow set she had on complimented her dark skin and he contemplated ripping it off and flipping her over. Finally joining in, he gripped her hips to guide her. As he lifted his hips up, he guided her down to meet his. The movement caused her to whimper his name loudly and he slightly increased the pace.

"You always take me so well,” he praised.

His words made her involuntarily clench around him and he let out a loud moan, slowing down his movements. The way he sounded made her squirm. It was so sexy, she wanted to hear it again. Jungkook, however, was about to snap and gave her a dark, sensuous gaze.

"Jennie...if you do that again, you're going to be in trouble," he warned with a growl.

Did he just...growl underneath her? That sounded even hotter.

"Am I?" she asked innocently.

"Try me,"

She was amused to see him like this. He was the one who messed with her first when she was on the phone, so why not have a little payback?

Jen had no clue what she was in for because Jungkook was always unpredictable in and out of the bedroom. But she took a chance and chose to be hard-headed as she clenched around him again.

Jungkook growled out a loud curse and swiftly sat up, taking her by surprise. Having enough, he gripped her hips and guided her up and down at a faster pace. Snapping his strong hips up against hers, he made her cry out louder than she ever had tonight. She dug her nails into his back and held onto him for dear life. He wasn't kidding when he said she would be in trouble. She was becoming undone by each deep thrust as desperate whimpers escaped her along with his heavy breaths.

"Are you close?" he asked, picking up the pace as he loved how she responded to him.

"Fuck...J-J..." she whined.

She felt herself getting close, feeling an overwhelming amount of pleasure.

"Does it feel too good? You don't want me to stop, do you?" he teased.

She couldn't speak as she shook her head.

"Use your words, baby girl," he demanded.

"N-no, don't st-op-ah!"

Feeling her high approaching, the ecstasy of his thrusts began to make her squirm. It felt so good. So good. But she felt like she wasn't going to be able to withstand it any longer. Jungkook felt her writhe and try to get out of his grip while he proceeded to make her into a moaning mess with his hips.

"Mm-mm," he shook his head and enveloped his arms around her waist firmly. "Remember what you asked for. Isn't this what you wanted?"

He wanted to put her pleasure first and she was going to take it.

"You're not getting off of me until you're fully satisfied," he said as she clung onto him again, scratching his back.

It boosted his pride to see and hear her like this. He knew he was doing his job right, giving her what she wanted.

"You can do it," he encouraged as he felt that she was going to release any moment. "You can handle it. Just let go, baby. Let go for me,"

That was all she needed to hear as she cried out his name, release washing over her. Jennie's body trembled fiercely from how strong her high was because of him. Jungkook's release followed as a low moan escaped him, slowing down his movements. While he stopped thrusting, breathing heavily against her neck, he noticed her body was still shuddering. All because of him and it was a spectacle he wanted to see more often if he could do what he just did again.

"Good girl..." he praised as he felt her shakes come to an end.

Once their breathing slowed down, she let a low chuckle, murmuring, "Shit..."

She had to take a moment to recollect herself. Fucked up was an understatement but she was well pleased. She never had such an intensified release like this. No matter how much she scratched and pulled his hair, he wouldn't let up and got her to this state. Moving away from his neck, she went in to kiss him, taking in the moment. Gosh, she loved him.

Taking a look at her, Jungkook regarded her cheeks looking wet. Had she been crying? The pleasure felt so good she had shed some tears.

"You okay?" he asked tenderly, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“Mm-hm. I feel great thanks to you. I just hope I can walk," she lightly joked.

"I'll carry you if you can't," he grinned.

"How will we explain that to the guys?"

"You hit your leg on the table of your suite," he suggested, making her chuckle.

"What about you? Are you okay?” she brushed his hair back that was sticking to his forehead.

“I am now that you’re feeling good. Remind me to rap more often to get you like this,"

She got off of him and felt that her legs were a bit wobbly but she managed to walk. Glancing at the floor, she noticed the buttons of his shirt scattered around.

“Oh no,” she said, embarrassed, "I did it again! I should really stop doing that so I won't have to keep buying you shirts to replace the ones I rip,"

She had a bad track record of ripping some of his shirts when they got too passionate.

“Don’t worry about it," Jungkook smiled in reassurance after he threw away the condom. "I love it when you do it. Let's shower,"

"All right. And we need to think of an alibi. I'm thinking this time we can be late because we were shopping for snacks at a store. I'll buy extra snacks for Jin. You know once he sees them, he forgets about everything else,"

He grinned at the idea. "Believable. I'll get the shower ready,"

After gathering the outfit she was going to wear, Jennie went to meet Jungkook in the bathroom and noticed some of the scratches she made on his back.

"Oh gosh, your back," she pointed out, feeling a little bad.

"Hm?" he turned and checked out his back in the bathroom mirror.

A few visible scratches from their physical activity. Nothing bad at all. In fact, he liked them.

"It's a sign I did a good job," he said, feeling cocky. "I mean you were shaking because of me,"

He watched as she playfully rolled her eyes while her cheeks burned up at the thought. He was not going to forget making her tremble tonight. No way. Not the way her body reacted to him. She was not going to hear the end of it.

“How’s the water?” she asked, looking at the shower that was running.

Her shower playlist from her speaker played in the background as she awaited his response.

“Nice and ready for us,” he gestured for her to go in first after she stripped out of her bra and panties.

But when she stepped in and felt the water hit her, she yelped and jumped out.

“Jungkook! What the hell!? It’s freezing cold!”

The Golden Maknae laughed loudly at how startled she was and blocked her ongoing punches. She was so easy to mess with.

“Annoying~! Cut it out!" she laughed and changed the water setting so it could heat up.

When they got in, Jungkook continued his playful behavior.

"Oh my gosh, would you move?" she complained as he purposely blocked her way so she couldn't reach her body wash.

"What? I'm not doing anything," he replied innocently. "Oh, you're reaching for this?" he grabbed the body wash.

"Yes, give it," she reached out for it but he lifted his arm up high.

"A kiss first," he negotiated.

She gave him another glare as he puckered his lips. Closing the gap, she gave him the lip lock he wanted. When they pulled away, he smiled victoriously and handed her the body wash. They helped wash each other as the hot water relaxed their bodies. The shower was enjoyable and they danced and sang 'Done For Me' by Charlie Puth and Kehlani.

Feeling him poke her butt for the third time of their shower, she retaliated by smacking his. Her hit caused him to yelp while she giggled at his reaction. Following Jungkook rinsing off, he almost slipped which made her laugh wholeheartedly.

“Not funny!"

“That’s what you get for putting cold water on me," she stuck her tongue out at him.

After getting out of the shower and getting situated, Jennie checked her phone to see a message from Namjoon not too long ago. It was to inform her that they went on to the restaurant. At least they wouldn't be super late.

She put on a white tank top, jeans, and her Nike brand sneakers she had released. She noticed that Jungkook had coordinated with her, wearing his white shirt, Timberlands, and jeans. She placed his large black hoodie on herself, so she could stay warm if the store's air conditioning was too cool for her skin.

"And before we forget. Concealer," she remembered.

Jungkook took a seat on the toilet and watched as she placed her dark colored concealer and his on the bathroom counter. Approaching him, she went to take care of concealing his neck first so they could hide their passionate marks.

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

When they made it to the store, they grabbed a cart and explored the aisles.

"Okay...those chips Jin likes have to be somewhere," Jennie murmured while Jungkook pushed the cart. "Ah-ha!"

She placed two bags in the cart. "Oh, and these. Tae eats these cookies. I tried them and it's pretty good. Have you?"

"Yeah, but I've been wanting to eat your cookies, again. Can you bake soon? I can help if you want," he asked.

She smiled at the idea, "Yeah, let's do that. Might as well buy some cookie mix while we're in here,"

Fooling around, Jennie sat inside the cart, careful not to crush the snacks. She enjoyed riding in the cart while Jungkook pushed it through each aisle. Before they went to check out their items, he took out his phone to take a selfie. He held the camera up high and stood in front of the cart. He had a silly expression on his face while Jennie posed excitedly with all the snacks, holding up a few bags of chips and candy. After clicking away, he stood beside her to check out the pictures. They laughed at how silly they looked and she encouraged him to post it on Twitter.

He tweeted the photo with the caption, 'Snacks! Nom Nom Nom! #JK'

Tweets under JenKook's selfie came through at a rapid rate, with ARMY gushing over the couple.

‘Omg they’re so cute'

'You two look perfect together'

'awwwwww'

'wtf this is so cute'

'golden duo at it again'

'they look so happy'

'Jennie is in the cart hahaha'

'omg another JenKook post! Finally! We were starving!'

'This is typical JenKook energy lol'

The members, who were already seated at the restaurant and on their phones, saw the post. They began to tweet out their reactions, making ARMY laugh at their banter.

‘Are you telling me you kids have been snack shopping this entire time while we're waiting for you to eat? #Suga'

'Kekekeke. #V'

'Share! #JM'

'YOU'VE BEEN AT THE STORE ALL THIS TIME!? #Jin'

‘Hurry up so we can eat! #Jin'

‘LOL! We’re on our way, sheesh #Jen’

#smol brainstorm #smol oneshot #jungkook smut #jungkook x black oc #jungkook scenarios #bts 8th member #jungkook x oc

98 notes · View notes

siredtosturniolos · 3 months

Text

YOU

paring: chris sturniolo x reader

part 1 of ???

summary: your best friend madi set you up on a blind date with one of her closest friends. you go and have a decent time, but ultimately decide there’s no second date. chris doesn’t like that, and resorts to extreme measures to get YOU.

warnings: stalking, dumb!reader, mentions of drinking/going to a bar idk

authors note: guys i hope you guys like this as much as i do LMAO i just love joe goldberg (this is gonna be so long help) (also i love jake webber sm so he’s in this for a bit!) (everyone is a couple years older in this, the triplets are famous but it’s never brought up) (hopefully there’s not many mistakes i’ve read it too many times LMAO)

word count: 3,936

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

the last few weeks you can’t help but notice the unsettling sensation of always feeling like you have somebody’s eyes on you. walking around your house with the curtains open became such a hassle, always drawing them shut when chills would rake down your spine. you were constantly checking that your front door was locked, unable to shake the feeling of a presence that you don’t know about being with you.

you were getting more and more paranoid, traveling to and from work constantly having to look behind you, hearing things that aren’t there such as footsteps. slowly overtime you notice some of your belongings missing. such as your favorite lingerie set, your childhood blanket, and even t-shirts and shorts that you wouldn’t otherwise miss, until you were looking for them.

you finally confessed to madi what’s been happening, resulting in her and laura coming over. they helped you change your locks and make sure all of the windows on the ground floor of your two-story town house fully locked and weren’t able to open from the outside.

you were terrified to say the least.

you did your best to shake the feeling as you got ready for a date. you had met him at a bar just down the street, as you refused to let madi set you up with another friend after you had met chris. you had a good time with him, but he just seems slightly off in a way that you couldn’t place. it was like he knew you before he ever met you, and it kind of freaked you out.

at the time you just shrugged it off and assumed madi was hyping you up and telling him lots of things about you, but when you asked her about it a few days after the date, she said she hadn’t told him much other than your name and age.

chris kept texting and calling you, trying to make plans or inviting himself to your house, you decided to just block him. madi had reached out shortly after saying that chris was trying to get a hold of you. you had explained to her what was going on, feeling bad as you know madi would beat herself up over this.

madi was shocked and said that she would let chris know to leave you alone.

your heels clicked against the floor as you made your way around your apartment, doublechecking your back door was locked, you even put your trashcan in in front of it so if somebody did get in, it would be knocked over. you make your way out of your place once you feel everything is secure, locking and dead-bolting the door, you trudged down the steps.

before you know it you’re at the bar you met jake at, and quickly find your way to the bar, where the two of you agreed to meet.

you instantly spot his tall frame, grinning to yourself as you approach him. “jake.” you greet politely, sitting down on the stool next to him.

he greets you back enthusiastically, “you look great.” he smirks down at you, letting his eyes scan your body. you were wearing a black long sleeve dress, with black heels. you wanted to keep it basic as you were just meeting up in a bar to get to know each other over some drinks.

your cheeks flush, “thank you, you do too.” you shyly compliment him back. the two of you order your drinks, and begin chatting, finding that you both have lots of things in common.

at some point through the night, you found yourself scooting closer and closer to jake. your knees now pressing against one another. jake brought his hand down to your knee and began rubbing it. he leans towards you as the bartender took away your now empty glasses, a warm buzz setting over your body.

“do you want to get out of here?” he quietly asks you, tugging one of his snake bite piercings into his mouth.

you bite your lip in anticipation, “my place or yours?” you seductively ask, making jake spring to his feet and instantly help you off the stool you had been sitting on all night.

the two of you quickly make your way back to your place, as it was closer than jake’s, his hands wandering your body as you pull out your keys. you look up to your door and freeze. shock courses through your body at the sight, it had been slightly left open.

“oh shit,” jake mumbles, turning to look down at you, “forget to lock up before you left?” he asked questionably, shuffling to the side slightly so he could enter first.

“no, i swear i had it locked. i even remembered to deadbolt it.” you nervously reply, no idea as to what could be lurking inside your home. you definitely didn’t want to tell jake you more than likely have a stalker, considering this was your first date with him.

“i’ll go check it out.” jake offers. he pushes the door open slightly, making it creek eerily, sending goosebumps across your arms.

“are you crazy? i’m not staying out here by myself. i’ll go with you.” you insist, taking a step to follow him.

he turns his head to look at you over his shoulder, “fine, but just stay behind me.” you nod in agreement, lightly trailing behind him up your stairs.

the two of you slowly make your way into your town house and you quickly flick on the lights. you both observe the floor plan for any signs of movement.

when you see there’s nobody down here, you and jake look at each other before looking up the stairs that were right by the front door.

jake makes a move towards the stairs and you stop him, “shouldn’t we take a weapon or something?” you ask incredulously, making him freeze in his spot. maybe this guy doesn’t have the best common sense, but at least he’s hot.

“yeah, we probably should.” jake replies, as he slowly and quietly makes his way towards your kitchen. you grab the baseball bat behind your front door, thanking the gods above that it’s still there. jake shuffles about in your kitchen for a moment before he comes back with a knife.

taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you follow behind jake as he leads the way up the stairs. you had two bedrooms and a bathroom up there.

your hallway light was on, so you had the advantage of being able to slightly see into the rooms. jake quickly enters one room and flicks on the light, holding the knife out from his chest, twisting his head back-and-forth looking for any signs of life. once you both deem the room as clear, you move onto the bathroom located right next-door.

you’re shocked when the light turns on, the shower curtain is open, and all of your shower products scattered on the floor.

“that wasn’t like that when i left.” you mumbled to jake, chills shooting down your spine.

someone had definitely been in here.

the only place left to check was your bedroom, and you were terrified as the thought of someone being in there someone waiting for you. what if you didn’t bring jake home with you tonight?

jake makes his move quick, turning on the light and stepping into the room. you’re right behind him, frantically searching to see if anything was missing or out of place.

your eyes land on your bed and a gasp escapes your lips. there’s flowers all over your bed, and a black velvet box sitting on one of your pillows. jake checks under your bed and in your closet before lowering his weapon setting it on your dresser

“this is freaky.” jake comments, rounding the bed and grabbing the black box. you move to stand next to him as he peels the box open, revealing a beautiful necklace. it was a pink diamond heart, with a ring around it to make it look like a planet on a silver chain.

“that looks familiar.” you murmured to jake, racking your brain to figure out where you had seen something like that before.

before you could place it, your front door slammed shut making the two of you jump in fear. jake raced down the stairs to see a man running away from your apartment, dressed in all black with his hood up.

“what the fuck?” jake yelled, while opening the door and stepping outside. it was no use as the figure had turned the corner and was out of sight.

“should we call the cops?” you ask jake, trembling slightly as you realize that more than likely, that man been in your house while you were still still looking for him.

jake turns to face you, “go pack a bag and you can stay with me or I can take you somewhere safe. it’s up to you about the cops, but by the time they get here he’ll be long gone.”

you nod wordlessly, and make your way back upstairs quickly changing into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. slipping on your white nike’s you pack your bag. immediately once you’re done, you start texting madi saying that you needed to stay over.

“tonight was fun.” you joke softly to jake, as he drives towards madi’s home.

jake looks over you briefly, grinning, “i did have a good time but that ending was not what i expected.” he replied you, making you nod in agreement.

jake pulled into madi’s driveway, madi instantly running to the car.

“are you okay? is everything okay?” she hurriedly asks, helping you open the door and taking your bag for you.

“if you somehow want a second date, you have my number.” you tell jake as you shut the door. you wave at him, offering him a smile before you and madi make it inside of her house.

you noticed there’s several pairs of shoes by her front door when you kick off your own, you looked at her questionably, to find her already looking at you apologetically.

“who’s here?” you ask as the two of you made your way towards her living room.

“i’m sorry i didn’t you would be coming over but the triplets are here.” madi replies, just as you both enter the living room to find nick, matt, and chris sitting on her couch.

all three of them to look at you and madi, and you can’t help but feel incredibly awkward. you glance towards the tv, to see a movie paused about half way through.

great, i just interrupted their movie night, you think to yourself.

“hey.” nick greets you casually offering you a smile. you grin back at him in acknowledgment before taking a seat next to madi on the loveseat. nick had always been chill, occasionally crashing sleepovers at madi’s house. you didn’t mind, he was pretty fun to be around.

you had only met matt a few times, not really able to give an opinion on the man. he seemed very closed off, like he wanted people to work if they wanted to get to know him. you admired that about him, as you tend to have word vomit and end up oversharing frequently.

“okay, what the hell happened?” madi demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

biting your lip softly, glancing to the triplets, who are still focused on you. they were madi’s closest friends, there’s no harm in them hearing the story too.

“i was taking my date back to my place and when we get there, my front door is open but we ended up not finding anyone. they messed with my shower, and they put flowers all over my bed and gave me a necklace.” you explained briefly, shortening the story. you left out the part of seeing a guy running away from your apartment, you’d wait to tell her that when you were alone.

“what the fuck.” madi comments, raising her eyebrows in shock.

“damn, you have a full on stalker.” matt commented, making your eyes shoot to his. he had an apologetic look on his face.

“yeah, this isn’t even the first time they have been in my house though.” you reply, leaning back into the cushion behind you.

“what?” nick gasped, turning to fully face you. you decide to overshare, telling them all of the times you had noticed someone entering your home without you knowing. even when you were there yourself.

chris was rather quiet, his eyes darting from you to madi, to his brothers. he was nervously fidgeting with the blanket on his lap, subtlety tucking his necklace underneath his shirt.

you suddenly decide to let madi and the triplets know the full story, “i know it was crazy. we were in my room when we heard my front door slam, but by the time we got down there, we could just see the person leaving.” you tell them, not missing how chris’ eyes grow in size, a worried expression etching onto his face.

“that’s actually so scary. what are you going to do?” madi asked, resting her hand on your arm attempting to comfort you.

you shrugged, “i think i’m gonna go to the police station and see if they’re any help in the morning. i just know that i can’t stay there tonight.”

“i’m so sorry you’re going through this.” chris suddenly speaks up. you meet his eyes, and he genuinely looks apologetic for you.

“nothing i can’t handle i suppose.” you offer him a small smile.

you zone out for the next hour, overthinking every possible scenario of what could’ve happened tonight. the movie everyone else was watching when you got here ended, making madi announce she was going to bed.

“you sure you’re good to sleep down here?” madi asked you, as you offered to stay on the loveseat since chris was getting the couch and matt was getting the spare room.

nick was going to sleep in madi’s room with her and you didn’t want to mess up their plans any more than you already had.

“yeah, i’ll be fine. i’ve done it before.” you assure her with a shrug, before she handed you the pillow and blanket she had went and gotten for you.

“okay,” she sighs, “you know where i’m at if you need me.” with that, she turned on her heel and made her way to her bedroom where nick was waiting for her.

“do you fall asleep with the tv on?” chris asked, making you turn towards him. he had the remote in his hand, slightly leaning upwards to look at you from a few feet away.

“i do you,” quietly reply, “but if you don’t, i can survive one night without it.”

chris immediately shakes his head, “i fall asleep with the tv on too don’t worry.” he offers you a smile before loading up a random movie you had never seen before.

the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, leaving you to your thoughts. you can’t help but think about the date you and chris shared a few months ago, was it as bad as you really thought it was or were you just overthinking?

being around chris tonight made you realize he might just have a strong personality. he’s been rather low-key tonight and that’s something you’re deeply attracted to.

“hey chris?” you quietly ask, unsure if he’s sleeping or not. you turn your head to the right to look at the couch just in time to see chris fully sit up to look at you.

“what’s up?” he asked, bringing his knees to his chest as he looks at you.

“i’m sorry for how things went between us.” you quietly apologize, doing your best to meet his eyes in the dark room.

he offers a small smile, “it’s okay, i think i just came on a little too strong because i was so excited to even have a chance with you.”

your cheeks flush at his confession, “how was your date with jake tonight?” he asked, making you frown as you realize you hadn’t thought of him once since arriving.

you pause, slowly turning to look back at chris, “how’d you know i went on a date with jake?” you ask, knowing you hadn’t brought up his name when retelling the story an hour ago.

chris freezes, “i think madi mentioned it when you texted her earlier.” he replies after a beat of silence, leaving you on edge but letting it go anyways.

“it was fine.” you finally speak, answering his first question, while shrugging your shoulders. “he’s not really boyfriend material.”

chris’s eyebrows raise at your reply, “so what was the point of going out with him?” he questions, a puzzled expression set on his face.

your cheeks burn, even hotter, “think about it, chris. what else is there to do when you don’t want to date someone?” you sheepishly reply as you watch the realization wash over his face.

“oh, so you wanted to fuck?” he asked a small smirk appearing on his lips. bashfully you nodded, surprised that you’re keeping yourself together with this conversation. chris bites his lip as he looks at you, and you can barely see his eyes glance down at your lips before he briefly closes them.

“if you ever want to give me another chance, i’m here.” chris comments before he lays back down so now his back is facing you.

your heartbeat jumps at his words, and his low tone of voice. your thighs clench together, your brain fighting over which dirty scenario to think about first.

you get lost in your thoughts, and before you know it you had fallen asleep. you wake up pretty early as you never sleep well when you’re not in your bed. you sit up after you see chris is still sound asleep, this time facing you. you can’t help but think how cute he looks while he’s asleep.

his head is resting on the pillow, and his arms are tightly wrapped underneath. his lips are slightly parted, and his hair flopped perfectly over his forehead. it was longer than when you went out with him, and you can’t help but like it more.

you catch yourself staring and you quickly look away before you shuffle your feet to go to the bathroom. you do your business, brushing your teeth and changing your clothes.

grabbing your bag and you set it by the front door, returning to the living room to leave madi a note.

going to the police station, i’ll call you when i get home. love you.

you quickly scribble that onto a napkin, leaving it at the center of the table before you make your exit of madi’s house and walk to the police station. it was only a 20 minute walk, and you can feel your blood pressure rise as you enter the building, instantly meeting eyes with a woman behind a desk.

“what can i do for you, hon?” she asked offering you a wide smile. your nerves slightly washed away at her friendly expression, as you leaned against the counter.

“i have to report a break-in from my possible stalker, that I know nothing about.” you inform her, watching the smile slip from her face. instantly she’s on her feet searching through folders before handing you a sheet of paper and a pen.

“fill this out for me and we will get to the bottom of this for you.” she offers a sad smile, sitting back down you walked to one of the waiting chairs, and instantly fill out the papers.

your address, your name, and any incident revolving any sort of suspicious activity. you fill it out faster than expected, as she was shocked to see you back on your feet in front of her.

she glances over the paper curiously, “okay, i’ll see if we have any officers able to do an inspection.” the woman speaks, taking the paper with her, you watched as she disappeared around the corner.

10 minutes later, you’re in the back of a cop car getting driven to your house. you were silent for the ride as the cop instructed you to stay in the car until he does a sweep through.

once he comes outside, you instantly step out of the car, “i took some photos, but there’s not much we can do at the moment, unfortunately. you’ll have to keep reporting any incident’s, preferably as soon as they occur, so there’s a higher chance of finding evidence or whoever is doing this to you.” he explains, making your heart drop.

there’s nothing they can do for you.

he has a little plastic baggie in his hand containing some of the flowers and the velvet box that held the necklace.

“thank you for taking the time to come out here.” you reply, as you make your way inside.

you text madi, letting her know what the cops said, as you sit on your couch in silence. you lean back against your couch as tears brim your waterline, feeling completely hopeless.

you were surprised when you suddenly woke up, not even realizing you had dozed off amidst your crying. you push the blanket that was resting on your chest off, feeling overheated, before you freeze.

you weren’t using a blanket before you fell asleep. chills ran down your spine as you quickly glanced around the room. your eyes settle on the kitchen table, a vase of flowers now sitting in the middle.

you cautiously get up, checking your surroundings as you slowly walk towards the flowers. there was a white envelope resting in the middle of the bouquet. your hand instantly grips your phone from your pocket, wanting to call the police but something stops you.

you don’t know how long ago he was in here, what’s the point in calling?

you carefully pick up the envelope, barely touching the edges as you don’t want your finger prints on it. you lift the flap, shaking it slightly for the folded up piece of paper to fall onto your table.

you take a deep breath before you unfold the paper, your jaw dropping at the amount of writing.

baby, don’t be scared. i’m just trying to show you how much i love you with the gifts. i was really disappointed when i saw the cop leaving with your necklace. did you not like it? you looked so pretty when you were sleeping, your tear strained cheeks and your pouty lips looked so kissable. i controlled myself, you’re going to be awake for our first kiss. you’ll be begging for it. now, the real reason i gave you these flowers. they’re a reminder for you, and anyone else, that you are MINE. i don’t want to see you with jake again. you wouldn’t want him to get hurt, would you baby? i’ll be seeing you soon my love.

your jaw is on the floor by the time you’re done reading it, instantly pulling out your phone to call jake. you’re searching for what seems like forever, not able to find his contact in your messages. you search jake, and are shocked to see no contacts come up.

goosebumps cover your arms as you realize, he had gotten on your phone and deleted jake’s contact. the only way you could get in touch with him. your breathing quickens, as you feel a rush of panic wash over you.

before you could move, a warm cloth is placed over your mouth, and a body pressed against your back. instantly you’re fighting to get away from them, but the arm that had slipped around your waist, tugging you into their body tightly, prevented you from getting away.

“shh baby, just relax.” a deep voice whispers in your ear, as you begin to feel light headed. your eyes slowly start to droop shut, despite your desperate attempt to keep them open. the man slowly removes the cloth from your nose, letting you suck in a deep breath before you fall limp.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo #jake webber #youtube #writers on tumblr

94 notes · View notes

aealzx · 4 days

Text

“So… Leo sent me to give you guys the scoop, huh.” April’s comment came from the doorway where she had taken temporary residence, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed much like Raphael had been shortly before. The comparison caused Don to smile internally, but he thankfully remembered to keep it off his face this time.

Don thought about joining April in making light of the situation, but eventually settled against it. “He said you and Mikey were the only ones able to talk about it.”

April hadn’t been expecting any of their hosts to take them seriously on the matter, so the response caught her off guard for a moment. But she fell into the mood easily, and dropped her arms to slouch over to the table Lil Mikey was on, scooting up next to him. “Well… he’s not wrong,” she agreed, not looking all that excited to be discussing the matter. “Everyone already knows the bulk of what happened, so it’s not like we really have to talk to understand…. Sometimes I wonder if that makes it worse though. We never had to figure out how to put what we felt into words.”

As Raphael pulled up another stool to sit on, Don prodded April to continue, being able to understand her concerns. “...Can you tell me what happened? What Leon’s flashbacks are over. All the injuries.”

The spunk April usually had was hard to muster up. And after a moment of trying she ended up giving in with a huff. “Sure. I guess,” she relented before drawing a breath to give the long story. “About six months ago New York - our New York- got invaded by three aliens from another dimension called the Krang. They used to be from space, but ended up sealed in something called the Prison Dimension by mystic warriors some hundreds or thousands of years ago. And then the Foot clan from our dimension found the key and let them out. As far as the city knows some mysterious heroes just showed up and blew up their mother ship before disappearing. But… well, it’s a different story for those heroes.” The look April gave Lil Mikey was full of fondness, pride, as well as heartache and concern even as Lil Mikey gave her a brief toothy smile in return.

“...Judging by all the fresh scars almost all of you have, I’m guessing no one got out of that uninjured,” Don commented, showing that he was following well and understood it hadn’t been one of those lighthearted children’s stories for them. “...Yeah. Casey, Splints and I took care of Lady Brainface on the ground. But the boys had to deal with their leader in the sky. And this was after they took Raph hostage and mind controlled him. That’s what got his eye all messed up, from ripping the parasite out I hear,” April continued, gesturing at her own right eye when talking about Raph’s eye. “We couldn’t really beat them, y’know? So we had this plan to just send them back to the Prison Dimension by Donnie piloting their spaceship back through the portal, and then everyone escaping before we closed it. Except…” She had to pause, swallowing around the lump that had formed in her throat. “Except the stupid freak of nature wouldn’t stay put, so Leo got the stupid idea to hold him back in the Prison Dimension himself and have Casey close the portal on both of them. If Mikey hadn’t have… If…. Well, let’s just say Mikey is the reason Leo’s still with us.”

So that was it. This group of teenagers had fought against something they shouldn’t have had to, and had barely survived through a clever plan that almost involved self sacrifice. No wonder they were all so affected.

“Well, I just brought him home. It’s thanks to Barry and Dad and Mom that we’re all okay now,” Lil Mikey chimed in, giving his best attempt at a smile while swinging his feet slightly.

Three people. Don noted the name of three people helping them, and also the omittance of Leon being mentioned as part of the team of medics. “...How bad was the damage? What injuries did everyone have?” Don was almost reluctant to ask, especially after Lil Mikey’s smile fell so quickly.

“... A lot,” Lil Mikey admitted, looking to the ground. “Of the four of us I was the best. Just some throat bruising from being choked, and then all these burns that ended up scarring from opening the portal to save Leo. The others… my brothers kept protecting me.” The last line was almost a whisper as Lil Mikey blinked a tear from his eye and quickly raised a hand to brush it from his cheek.

“All of the scars you see on Leo and Raph are from it. Leo was bedridden for a while. Cracked shell, broken ribs, broken knee, cracked eye bones, and a bunch of bruises and smaller fractures all over the place. Raph ended up with that gash on his shoulder and missing a piece of his shell from protecting Leo before he got caught. And then it also ended up dislocated later, and his eye took forever to get the infection out of. And then Donnie…,” April paused, giving a slight huff and shake of her head. “The Krang ship required biological integration or something like that to pilot. So Donnie ended up in a coma for six days, along with wounds wherever the ship was connected to him. Then also both his arms got broken, and some minor internal bleeding. Mikey says those last two were from him protecting him from the Krang leader punching them off the ship.”

By the time April finished explaining Raphael was resting his head in his hands, and Don was staring down at his own hands. There were a lot of events in their own lives that they could use to easily relate to what April and Lil Mikey had told them. They had made it through their own troubles, Raphael could still remember being stuck to a bed when his ribs were broken. And their own brother Mikey had ended up with chronic leg and ankle injuries ever since both his legs had been broken in the same event. Heck, even Leo had ended up in a coma for a time, but it hadn’t been for six days. There were so many similarities, but for some reason it was hard to accept that all of this had happened at once to this group of teenagers.

“... Mikey,” Raphael spoke up finally, not yet looking up.

“Y’yeah?” Lil Mikey asked, startled about being addressed now.

“....Is it alright if I hug you?” Raphael then asked, feeling a little embarrassed now that the words were in the open, but not willing to take them back in the slightest.

It helped that after a moment of stunned silence Lil Mikey sputtered a soft laugh. “Sure you can. Hugs are great,” he accepted, raising his hand.

It was enough for Raphael to finally pull his head away from his hands, standing up to walk over and scoop Lil Mikey off the table and into a bear hug. It earned another surprised laugh from Lil Mikey, but he ended up just giving a content hum. Hugs always made him feel a little better.

“...You didn’t do this because you felt you had to, yeah? It wasn’t because someone made you do it. No super soldier requirement duty kind of bullcrap, right?” Raphael suddenly asked, remembering a few days before when Lil Mikey had mentioned that someone had created him and his brothers to be super soldiers.

“Huh?” Lil Mikey voiced, momentarily confused. “No, of course not. We did it because we wanted to help people, and because we were the best ones for it. Sure we got hurt, but if regular humans tried to deal with them, or the yokai, I think there would have been a lot more deaths. It’s … Yeah, it’s scary, and I’m still scared sometimes. But I’m still glad we could help everyone.”

They did it to help. They were all of some kind of protective type of personalities it seemed. And after a moment’s thought about how they interacted with each other that became even more obvious. The way Leon shielded Lil Mikey when he thought Raphael might hurt them in retaliation for holding a blade to his throat. The way Donnie’s first move had been to order them to help Lil Mikey and then create a shield around them. The way Lil Mikey refused to let them see Donnie’s back until they told him he might be injured, and even after being so critical of the way they handled him. And the way Raph ignored his brokenleg for the sake of hiding Donnie underneath himself when Donnie had been distressed over Casey’s antics.

It took some time for Raphael to respond, just holding Lil Mikey in a protective hold of his own, before he drew a deep breath and slowly released it. “...Let’s get you back to your brothers… Both of you,” he suggested, including April in the group of siblings since it was obvious now that she had an almost life long connection with them beyond just friends.

“I’ll bring the supplies out to the living room to take care of changing the bandages on Lil Raph’s leg. Then we can bring you guys to an actual bedroom to sleep for the night. Hopefully it’ll be more comfortable than being stuck in the infirmary for more time than you’d probably like,” Don spoke up now, adding support to the suggestion. These kids had probably seen enough of infirmaries for a while, and being back in one probably wasn’t helping them feel comfortable enough to fully relax.

April ended up watching Raphael start to leave with Lil Mikey with slightly wide eyes, and slightly turned back to Don, delaying her own departure. “I thought I would have to say a lot more,” she admitted, having expected a way longer conversation than that.

The comment earned a brief smile from Don, understanding her thoughts after they were said. “We can fill in the blanks well enough. It’s actually worse to keep asking questions before the affected person is ready to talk about it. I just wanted enough to have an idea on what I, what we, need to be careful about so we don’t end up causing more harm than good,” he explained, moving to follow her from the room since he’d already gathered all the items he needed to tend to Raph.

“Huh,” April grunted, still semi surprised that that was all they needed, but also still grateful for it. It only took her a few steps before she voiced a new thought that came to her mind. “How much shit have you guys gotten into?”

The question caught Don slightly off guard, but only because of the phrasing, and he ended up huffing a short laugh. “A lot,” he responded with a slanted grin.

____________________

This one was easier to get soon 'cause it was mostly just retelling stuff that already happened X'D

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #long post #writing #fanfic #cross dimension kidnapping #rise + 2003 crossover

92 notes · View notes

soldiersareyourprotectors · 16 days

Text

The night draped itself over the city like a heavy cloak, its darkness swallowing the streets in a sea of shadows. Marine Corporal James Garrison wandered aimlessly, his heart heavy with the weight of a recent breakup. His footsteps echoed against the pavement, each one a solitary beat in the symphony of his solitude.

Desperate for solace, James found himself drawn to the flickering lights of a nearby bar. The neon sign beckoned him with promises of oblivion, and he entered, seeking refuge from the storm raging within.

The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and desperation. James took a seat at the worn wooden counter, his uniform a stark contrast to the casual attire of the other patrons. He ordered a whiskey, its amber hue reflecting the turmoil in his soul.

As the liquid burned its way down his throat, James's thoughts turned to his ex-girlfriend, her memory a bitter reminder of love lost. He drowned his sorrows in drink after drink, hoping to numb the ache that gnawed at his heart.

But the alcohol provided little comfort, and James found himself sinking deeper into despair. It was then that he felt a presence beside him, a warm voice cutting through the haze of his thoughts.

"You look like you could use some company," the stranger said, his voice gentle yet confident. James glanced up, his eyes meeting those of a young man with twinkling eyes and a disarming smile.

For a moment, James hesitated, his walls of self-preservation still intact. But something in the stranger's demeanor spoke to him, offering a glimmer of connection in the darkness.

"I could use a distraction," James admitted, his voice rough with emotion. The stranger nodded, sliding onto the stool beside him with an ease that spoke of practiced charm.

They talked and laughed, the stranger's presence a welcome respite from James's inner turmoil. He learned that the young man's name was Alex, and that he was a regular at the bar, his easygoing nature a stark contrast to James's rigid military demeanor.

As the night wore on, James found himself opening up to Alex in a way he hadn't with anyone else. He spoke of his time in the Marines, of the struggles he faced both on the battlefield and off. And with each word, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of camaraderie he hadn't felt in years.

With the barriers of restraint crumbling between them, James and Alex shared stories and secrets, their laughter mingling with the music that filled the air. And as the hour grew late, James found himself agreeing to accompany Alex back to his apartment, the promise of further companionship too enticing to resist.

They stumbled out into the night, their steps unsteady but determined. James's mind was clouded with alcohol and desire, his thoughts consumed by the prospect of finally finding solace in the arms of another.

Inside Alex's apartment, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. They moved together with a desperate urgency, their bodies drawn to one another like magnets in the darkness.

As they kissed, James felt a fire ignite within him, burning away the numbness that had clouded his senses for so long. He traced his fingers along Alex's smooth skin, marveling at the warmth and softness beneath his touch.

But as the passion between them reached its peak, Alex pulled away, his eyes dark with hunger. "Can I try something?" he whispered, his voice a seductive purr in the silence.

James, lost in a haze of desire and confusion, could only nod in response. He was powerless to resist the pull of Alex's gaze, his own desires overshadowed by the need for connection and intimacy.

With a smirk, Alex began to undress James, his movements slow and deliberate.

Piece by piece, the uniform that had once been a symbol of James's strength and authority fell away, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in the darkness.

As Alex donned James's uniform, the fabric hung loosely on his slender frame, the excess material billowing around him like sails on a ship. But as their lips met in a passionate embrace, a strange and powerful energy surged between them, igniting a transformation unlike anything James had ever witnessed.

With each kiss, Alex seemed to draw strength from James, his form shifting and morphing with every touch. Muscles bulged beneath the fabric, filling out the uniform until it stretched taut against his newfound power. The once-slender figure now stood before James, transformed into an imposing mirror image of the Marine himself.

As the kiss ended, James felt a cold chill settle over him, his own strength draining away like water through cupped hands. He staggered back, his limbs heavy and weak, as he realized the extent of what had just transpired.

Before him stood Alex, now bearing his likeness in both body and soul. He watched in horror as the stranger smirked, the once-familiar features now twisted with triumph.

"Thanks for the upgrade, Marine," Alex said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down James's spine. "Looks like I'll be taking over from here."

James tried to protest, to fight against the overwhelming sense of defeat that threatened to consume him. But his body refused to obey, weakened by the draining kiss and the loss of his essence.

With a cruel smile, Alex approached him, his hands tracing a path along James's weakened form. James struggled feebly, his attempts at resistance no match for the newfound strength of his doppelganger.

In a haze of lust and confusion, James found himself succumbing to Alex's touch, his body betraying him in the most intimate of ways. They were both consumed by desire, lost in a whirlwind of passion and longing.

And then, in a moment of perfidy, Alex's true intentions were revealed. With a swift motion, he bound James's wrists with rope, his movements deft and calculated.

James struggled against his bonds, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the trap he had fallen into. But it was too late. He was at Alex's mercy, helpless to resist as the stranger enacted his twisted plan.

As the ropes bound James's wrists, securing him in place, he could feel the grip of despair tightening around his heart. He watched in dismay as Alex reveled in the sensation of the uniform hugging his newly acquired muscles, a smirk of satisfaction playing on his lips.

The once proud uniform, a symbol of honor and duty, had become a twisted mockery in Alex's hands, a vessel for his newfound power and desire.

With a cruel glint in his eye, Alex leaned in close, his breath hot against James's ear.

"You see, James," he murmured, his voice dripping with malice,

"this uniform suits me far better than it ever did you. And I plan to make the most of it."

James's blood ran cold as he realized the depth of Alex's depravity. He was not content with merely taking on James's appearance; he sought to usurp every aspect of his life, to mold it into something twisted and grotesque.

"And you, James," Alex added, his voice dripping with anticipation, "you can't even begin to imagine how much I'm looking forward to being in bed with your friend Mike. Feeling our muscular bodies grinding against each other, our desires intertwining until there's no telling where one of us ends and the other begins."

James's mind raced as he considered the implications of Alex's words. Mike, his fellow Marine and closest confidant, was now in danger of falling prey to Alex's manipulations. He shuddered at the thought of what else Alex might know, of the secrets he could use to his advantage.

A wave of revulsion washed over James as he realized the true extent of Alex's depravity. He was not content with merely dominating James alone; he sought to corrupt and destroy everything James held dear, to leave him utterly and completely alone in his misery.

As the darkness closed in around him, James could only watch helplessly as Alex disappeared into the night, leaving him alone and defeated in his own skin. And in that moment, he knew that his nightmare was far from over.

#body swap #male body swap #muscular men #male transformation #stolen life #stolen clothes #stolen body

124 notes · View notes

sigyns-drafts · 6 months

Text

A kiss under the evening sun 🌾☀️

Sif!Reader x Ror Thor

➩ You and Thor after a long day at Valhalla's court finally are let free! You suggest a picnic to Thor, because you know he loves food and nothing more then to spend the rest of his day with you. But he wonders how you'd be able to set one up so quickly?

➩ Reader type: Female reader.

⚠: Just wholesome romantic fluff!

A/N: Hope you enjoy it, it's my first little story after all!! <3

After a lengthy meeting in the majestic court of Valhalla, Thor and Y/n emerged, the weight of their responsibilities momentarily lifted.

The couple stepped into the golden glow of the late afternoon, holding each other's hands tightly. The air was filled with a strange warmth and sense of excitement.

Y/n, with her long hair flowing in the celestial breeze, turned to Thor with a mischievous smile.

"How about we escape the formality for a while and enjoy a peaceful picnic in the fields?"

Y/n suggested, lovingly lifting the hand she had held Thor's hand with, to cup his strong face.

Thor, ever the warrior with a heart that longed for simple joys, agreed enthusiastically in his own way, his unchanging face remains the same.

Though for y/n he would crack a small grin, even blush at the touch of the goddess he loved and admired so much.

"A picnic sounds..splendid! But how do you plan to organise it on such short notice?" he asks, his yellow eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Y/n chuckled to herself, the golden jewellery she wore around her wrists clicking softly against the keys she kept hanging off her side.

"Fear not, my dear Thunderer. For I have orchestrated many tea parties and picnics, I know a thing or two about creating delightful gatherings."

"Heh, If you say so y/n..i believe you~"

Thor grunts happily, his grin still remaining. Y/n really did bring joy and more of a purpose to his life.

Later when they strolled through the celestial fields, a place they had originally met a long time ago.

Y/n brought out a basket filled with fruits, nectar from the divine flowers, and an assortment of heavenly treats.

All things she knew Thor would enjoy after such a long day!

A blanket appeared beneath y/n's fingertips, woven with threads from the golden looms of Asgard.

Y/n smiles proudly as she watches Thor's eyes widen in surprise.

"When were you able to do this love..?"

Thor asks once more, rather confused that he hadn't seen this side of her abilities. Y/n just winks at Thor, ever so gleeful to have taken Thor by surprise.

She knew how unpredictable she could be, but that's what made her so interesting and for Thor to keep his attention on her.

"Looks like you'll have to pay more attention to me now, huh~?"

Under the radiant sun of Asgard, Thor and y/n found the perfect spot with a gorgeous view of the golden fields surrounding them.

They sat down together on top of the gold woven blanket and with y/n's magical touch, she adorned the surroundings with long crops that seemed to dance around them. Pulling the godly couple closer.

The mighty god of thunder watched in awe as y/n effortlessly transformed the space into a haven of tranquillity.

Thor felt his cheeks flush red like his long locks, his heart beat raising and a familiar warmth build up inside his muscular body.

"By my father's beard, you truly are a marvel, y/n" Thor exclaimed, admiration gleaming in his piercing yellow eyes.

Y/n grinned, her basket at her side as she settled onto the blanket. "A god's skills extend beyond the battlefield, my dear. Now, let us relish in what I've packed us."

Y/n was going to reach into the basket to pull out the fruits and snacks, but before she was able to put them on the golden blanket, Thor's tall and muscular frame leaned over y/n's smaller body.

Thor reached out, his fingers gently tracing the side of Y/n's face. A mixture of vulnerability and passion played across his strong features.

Y/n couldn't help but soften in response to Thor's touch. Without uttering a word, Thor leaned in, their warm soft lips meeting in a kiss.

It was a merging of two souls bound by destiny. The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the embrace, surrounded by the rustling crops and the fading light of day.

The kiss lingered, a testament to the depth of their connection. When they finally pulled away, a silent understanding passed between them.

No words were needed to express the complex emotions that had woven themselves into the fabric of that shared moment. As they stood together in the field of crops, bathed in the dying sunlight.

"I love you so much Y/N..now let us feast~♡"

#writing #reader x character #reader x canon #fluff #romantic #romantic fluff #fem reader #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv thor #ror thor #thor x reader #ror thor x reader #thor x sif

77 notes · View notes

inactivewattpadauthor · 1 month

Text

Kabal x Reader: Usual Visit

~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Pleasure doing business with ya as always, Flash." The red eyed Aussie grins wickedly at Kabal after handing him today's cut. The fast man smirks beneath the mask, counting through his pay like a child in triumph after doing such simple allowance.

Simple tasks such as terrorizing and killing a few people for Kano due to late fees they never paid back. How unfortunate for them, but to Kabal - and definitely Kano - a job is a job.

"Don't spend it all on hooks and hookers." Kano joked before dismissing Kabal off.

"Right," Kabal scoffed with amusement. "I have better things to spend it on." Without giving Kano the chance to pretend to be interested enough to ask, Kabal dashed off in his usual abnormal speed. Far outside the clan, he runs to a big house on a hill. Thank the gods, no cars were outside, and he's willing to bet there isn't one inside the garage.

Carefully, he walks around the house to the back and knocks on a specific window.

...

You peered at the window, putting down your brush and walking to see who it was. Pushing the blinds away, you smile happily to see your masked friend. Opening the window with a little struggle, you greet him. "Kabal!" You lean over to kiss his cheek affectionately. If only you see the goofy, flustered smirk beneath his mask.

"Hey, Y/n! Doing well today?" He asks charmingly.

"Fine as usual. I don't take my medication until about an hour, so I'm not drowsy yet." You shrug with an aloof hint. But you didn't want to bring down the mood. "What did you do today? Beat any bad guys?!" Your eyes sparkled, hoping he has a cool story on how great of a hero he is.

"Ehh, just a few." Kabal says, tilting his hand side to side. "No one too powerful, but I still got a good amount of money from it." The boasting continues. You were slightly disappointed, not because there wasn't much of a story today, but-

"I thought heroes don't get paid." You murmur with furrowed brows. You folded your arms on the window frame and rested your chin, looking at him, downed.

"Well, yeah- but I need to eat too, you know?"

"I guess." You agree with the easy excuse, much to his relief.

"I've actually forgot something for you! I'll be back in not even three seconds." Kabal promises. You lifted your head up and raised an eyebrow at him. It feels like a dare.

"Really? One-"

A gust of wind flew through your hair as Kabal rushes off, your heart skipping a beat or two before he suddenly appears back with a small bouquet of flowers. He makes sure to rip the price tag off before you notice. "Sorry, a few of the petals came off on the way back." He hands his gift to you.

The flowers were still pretty nevertheless. They brought a warm smile to your face, the joy radiating from you to Kabal. "They're beautiful! Thanks!"

"No problem. Is there something else I can do for you?"

Setting your gift gently aside, you thought for a moment. "Well, father doesn't let me order food online. For awhile, I've been wanting to try that bakery from down-" You weren't given the chance to finish your sentence before he rushes off again.

Briefly he returns with a fancy bag for you. Inside was a fancy plastic box of macarons - and you knew those were pricy - along with fresh strawberries, covered in chocolate. One of your favorite treats that made you disregard sadness. "Ohh, thank you so much, Kabal. I'll go get my-"

"No need, princess." Kabal 'humbly' raises his hand. "It's my treat to treat you."

You softly coo at him before you hear the garage open. Readjusting your gown you stood up, alerted. "My dad's back. You should probably go now." You warn him. He nods and steps back.

"I'll visit you again soon, okay?"

"Okay." You smile once more. "Thank you for stopping by."

Kabal takes off before he gets caught. As for you, you hid the flowers somewhere. Before you hid your treats, you took one out to eat it before hiding it.

What an admirable hero Kabal is. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mk headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #mk kabal #kabal #kabal x reader #goddesswritings

35 notes · View notes

hughesmedicine · 11 months

Text

bowling night | m. estapa

mark estapa x !duke reader

it was hard to find good couple bowling pics👎

on marks post imagine the guy has his hair color since ^^

markestapa posted to his story

caption: date with my girl💙 @ynduke

yourusername

liked by markestapa, dylanduke25 and others.

ynduke could say date night was pretty successful, thank you for the night out my love I love you❤️(and thank you for the best birthday ever<3)

tagged markestapa

load more comments…

markestapa happy birthday babe I love you and always welcome for the nights out💙 now time to drink(responsibly)!

ynduke thank you!! (totally responsible) so race you to the bar??

markestapa you’re so on!

dylanduke25 date: a social or romantic appointment or engagement.

ynduke please don’t do that here

dylanduke25 okay rude you should appreciate my definitions since I’m educating you!

ynduke but I’m already educated on a date??

dylanduke25 tomato tomahto

ynduke I hate you.

nolan_moyle okay but where was my invite??

ynduke please you should’ve came! we could have whooped marks ass together then I would have beat you!

nolanmoyle why are you so cocky??

ynduke I blame my brothers.

tyler__duke5 should be blaming alyssa that’s her field.

dylanduke25 ^

alyssa_duke being cocky is not my field that’s 100% you three!

nolan_moyle have to agree with her boys and girl, you three together are cocky central.

ynduke you’re uninvited.

nolan_moyle no I’m sorry I take it back!

ynduke too late.

rutgermcgroarty happy birthday y/n and duker!!

ynduke thank you rut!

dylanduke25 thanks man!

markestapa

liked by ynduke, dylanduke25, edwards73 and others.

markestapa when she’s better at bowling than you>>

happy birthday sweet girl I’m glad today was the best day for you but the nights not finished enjoy your party tonight! We celebrate for as long as you want. Thank you for being the best thing to come into my life since going to umich, couldn’t have asked for a better second year with you❤️

tagged ynduke

load more comments..

ynduke I’m sobbing you can’t just do this to me. I love you so much and I cant wait for more years with you<3

nolan_moyle someone else should pull a duker this time

dylanduke25 do it cap

nolan_moyle okay give me a sec

nolan_moyle bowling the game of tenpin bowling as a sport or recreation

dylanduke25 okay not bad but wasn’t gonna do the definition

nolanmoyle that’s concerning?

dylanduke25 here’s how to play bowling.

1: Understand the bowling lane. before you begin to bowl, you have to understand the function of the bowling lane. A bowling lane is 60 feet (18.3 m) long from the foul line, the line closest to the bowler, to the head pin, the pin closest to the bowler. There are gutters on either side of the bowling lane. If a ball veers off the lane, it goes into the gutters and is out of play. The approach area is 15 feet (4.6 m) long and ends at the foul line. The bowler cannot overstep the foul line during their approach or their shot won't count. If a ball goes into the gutters and then bounces out and hits the pins, it won't count.

2:Understand the bowling pins. Ten pins are arranged at the end of the bowling lane at the beginning of every frame. They are arranged in a triangle formation, with the point of the triangle facing the bowler. There is one pin in the first row, which is the head pin, two pins in the second row, three in the third, and four in the fourth. The locations of the pins are assigned numbers 1-10. The pins in the back row have the numbers 7-10, the pins in the row above the back row are numbered 4-6, the pins in the second row are numbered 2-3, and the head pin is pin 1. All pins will earn the bowler one point if they are hit. The numbers are based on location, not value.

3: Learn the lingo. Before you can call yourself a true bowler, you should be aware of a few different bowling terms. Knowing these terms will also make it much easier for you to understand the rules. Here they are. A strike is when you knock down all the pins with the ball on your first try. A spare is when you knock down all the pins on your second try. A split is when the first ball of a frame knocks down the headpin (the pin closest to you) but leaves two or more pins that are non-adjacent. It's tough to hit a spare in this situation, especially if you have a 7-10 split, which is the hardest split to hit. A turkey is three strikes in a row. If any pins remain after the bowler's turn, it's called an "open frame."

4: Understand how a game of bowling works.One bowling game consists of 10 frames. Each frame is equal to one turn for the bowler. The bowler's objective is to knock down as many pins as possible in a frame, ideally all of them. A bowler can roll the ball twice in each frame, provided that they do not hit a strike. A bowler gets an extra turn on the tenth frame if they knock down all the pins on the first turn.

5: Learn the scoring. If a bowler has an open frame, then they simply get credit for the number of pins they knocked down. If a bowler knocked down 6 pins after two turns, they simply get two turns. However, if a bowler hits a spare or a strike, the rules get slightly more complicated. If a bowler hits a spare, then they should place a slash mark on their score sheet. After their next turn, they will receive 10 points plus the number of pins they knock down with that turn. So if they knock down 3 pins after their first turn, then they will get 13 points before their second turn. If they then knock down 2 pins in their second turn, they get a total of 15 points for that round. If a bowler hits a strike, they should record an X on their scoresheet. The strike will earn the bowler ten points plus the number of pins knocked down on the player's next two turns in the following round. The most a bowler can score in one game is 300 points. This represents 12 strikes in a row, or 120 pins that were knocked down in 12 frames. A perfect game has 12 strikes and not ten, because if the bowler gets a strike on the last frame, then they can take two more turns. If those two turns are also strikes, they will have 300 points. If a player rolls a spare in the last frame, then they can take one more turn.

ynduke I’m just at a loss of words.

aylssa_duke you putting all your time into this is impressive.

nolan_moyle this made me love you even more

markestapa okay but you going and getting all this information from a website just for a comment is pretty crazy😭 I applaud you man

dylanduke25 please I didn’t have to look it up knew this all by heart

ynduke okay yeah that’s concerning.

tyler__duke5 A+ bro thanks for teaching me about bowling!

adamfantilli thanks duker now I can go teach Gavin how to bowl correctly thanks!

g.brindley4 I know how to bowl correctly wtf??

adamfantilli you don’t, remember the ceiling mishap?

g.brindley4 oh yeah

fan1 so duker commenting all about bowling is so concerning, need to know if he took a bowling class😭

ynduke oh he did! Took it for two years.

tyler__duke5 it was hell, he wouldn’t shut up about it.

lhughes_06 I got to hear all of it so you guys are lucky.

dylanduke25 you said you liked me talking about bowling so that’s your fault lukey!

lhughes_06 don’t call me that.

ynduke everyone should call you lukey now

lhughes_06 god please don’t

edwards.73 lukey on the back of his devils jersey, I would buy one also happy birthday y/n I love you!

ynduke about to text Jack to ask for Lindys number! and thank you son I love you too!!

lhughes_06 mark quick take her phone away

ynduke got it pal-mark

markestapa got his phone and it has lindys number in it thanks bye!

lhughes_06 im on my way.

woah okay I’m actually shocked I finish this and it’s long sorry 😭 all the bowling stuff is from wiki so creds to there! Expect some more insta fics throughout out the day till I work🖤 also yes I know insta comments can’t be that long but who cares lmao👎

#mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa x duke reader #luke hughes #dylan duke #umich boys #nolan moyle #adam fantilli #gavin brindley #jack hughes #tyler duke #aylssa duke #ethan edwards #rutger mcgroarty

187 notes · View notes

delopsia · 6 months

Text

Void | Bob x Rhett x Reader

✦°．• Void Masterpost Word Count: 8,400 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Villain/Dark!AU, prophetic visions, verbal altercations & mentions of physical altercations, a dash of magic, edging, unprotected sex, comfort, themes of betrayal, heavy usage of Outer Range's hole and the ore that comes with it. Brief Summary: You are the monsters they created, and they must suffer the consequences. But first, there are more important things that must be taken care of in the bedroom.

"Because it was your fucking job!"

"It was no one's job to be an experiment!" Robert's voice bellows over top of Maverick's. A reverberating noise that crawls up the walls and dances around your ears. An echo you'd be able to shake if not for the ice that has formed in your bones. Joints frozen with something akin to fear. Equally cold but...calmer.

At peace, even.

Chestnut shoes click across the tile, each foot perfectly timed, walking to an inaudible beat so smoothly that Bob's shoulders hardly bounce with his step. "I signed up to protect my country," his index finger jamming toward his chest. Once. "Phoenix signed up to protect her country." Twice.

So many people in this room, and yet Maverick is the only one speaking. His white-knuckled fist shakes as he raises his voice once more. Barking like a dog in a fight. "Phoenix agreed to fly the mission!"

Smoke smolders in the corner of your eye. Lurking up in the rafters. But all you can look between the open switchblade clutched in Bob's palm and his audience.

This isn't how this was supposed to go.

"She didn't agree to die." The walls shiver. You know this story. Yet this feels like the first time you've heard Bob utter it. "I didn't agree to lose four years of my life!"

No, no, no, this wasn't the plan.

As unfamiliar as you are with Bob's old coworkers—no, friends, you're almost certain that the one who reaches for Maverick's arm is Rooster. The only man you recall having a mustache. Certainly, the only one who has any grounds to stop him, but Maverick isn't hearing it. Shrugging Rooster's unwanted hand away, "We tried to help you, but—"

"You had me charged with desertion!" Bob's voice booms.

Time nearly stops.

Milliseconds ticking impossibly slow as that delicate blade flies out of his hand. Intricately carved steel dancing, catching in the light of the crystal chandelier as it twists across the room. A perfect dance that never loses her momentum, darting across a path with such precision that you wonder if it was practiced.

Until it strikes home in a picture frame.

Right between the eyes of a recently deceased Admiral.

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, the plaque reads. You don't recognize that name.

The room explodes into movement before you can reach your next thought. Maverick surging across the room. The screech of his voice masked by the yelling of nameless faces that bolt behind him. A leader of a charge. His outstretched fist vying to snap those delicate glasses in two.

Plumes of black smoke descend from above. Swift. Sweeping through the crowd with an ear-splitting howl. Gold twinkles in the air like pixie dust.

It solidifies. A vaguely human shape that strikes Maverick from behind. His muscles going taut. Falling into a full-body spasm as he falls. Face slamming flat against the tile. Blood pouring from his nose. Boots squeal as his companions skitter to a halt.

Smoke fades into fog. That vague shape now an undeniable form. Solid knee digging into the fragile space between Maverick's shoulder blades, the other, cowboy boot-clad foot firm against the ground.

"Easy, Rhett," you don't like that eerily calm tone in Bob's words.

By the looks of it, Rhett's not too fond of being called off so easily. His brows furrowed as he steps to his feet, spurs chiming as he finds his place on Bob's right side where his vision is the worst. The result of an out-of-date glasses prescription that can no longer fully correct that astigmatism of his.

"What is that?" Someone's stuttering, his feet tangling as he backs up. Blindly bumping into the shoulders of his colleagues in his effort to get away.

Rhett's head tilts, his dark eyes meeting yours, deep blue still clouded with the ore flooding his body. But he doesn't say a word. Silent as the wind on an eerily calm night.

It is not a word or a shout that shatters the silence. Nor is it the thundering of feet racing down the corridor, Naval security responding to a distress call.

No, it isn't that at all.

It's a sharp intake of air. Boots clomping against the floor as Robert stumbles backward. Heels of his palms clanking against his glasses. Groaning low in his throat as he doubles over, a guttural noise that is too loud to be in this room full of his opponent. His enemy. Streaks of black raise from his forearms, veins bulging with it.

Your shoes are ungluing from the floor. Knees cracking as you cross the room, out from your idle resting place by the door, fighting against better judgment as you shove between the bodies of nameless pilots and backseaters. Your outstretched arms reach for those shuddering shoulders. Not here. Not here. Not here.

But your hands are going through Bob's frame. Your body as opaque as water. A flickering presence that can hardly be seen by the naked eye. Why now? Why here? Of all times for your body to start slipping out of this timeline, why does it have to be when Bob's eyes are flooding with that telltale black? Frantic baby blue irises dart across your translucent face, helpless. Until they too have been taken over by darkness.

"Stay with me," Rhett's hands appear on your shoulders. A vague contact that grows as his hands darken, gold flickering through the air once more.

But that can wait. You're not going to slip out of this timeline that quickly. It's Bob who he should be focusing his efforts on. "You don't need to—"

"'s gonna be worse if you slip outta here entirely," Rhett's palms firmly squeeze your shoulders; has already gathered up every molecule of you from where it's been meandering between the folds of reality. "He'll come out of it."

Bob's shivering body bumps against yours, moving blindly, "hallway."

"What?" Your voice blending with Rhett's. Two voices, one question.

Bob's shivering mouth can hardly form another word, his weight settling against you, and the strain it puts on your knees has you fearing that you're the only thing holding him upright. "Hallway," he breathes, voice hardly audible, "the hallway. There's, there's, in the hallway—"

"Rhett!" That voice. You don't recognize it.

But Rhett does. Shoulders stiffening. Spinning on his heels so quickly that they squeak against the floor. The very first to lay eyes on the stocky frame stomping through those double doors, his face so red it could burst.

Royal Abbott.

"Rhett!" He barks once more. His clenched fist bears that same inky darkness that is spreading across Rhett's skin. And here, you'd thought he was the only member of his family born with this ability.

"Don't move," Rhett's voice is low. A borderline growl.

And he needn't say more because the room explodes into a plume of black smoke. Dancing out from his sides, swirling and twirling around your bodies, wrapping you and Bob in a misty blanket that swallows you up entirely. Plunged into a glittering darkness that puts the night sky to shame.

"We still haven't..." No, no, no, why is your voice dying in your throat? "The documents—Bobby."

His clammy cheek squishes against your temple, flimsy arms draping around your icy frame. "This isn't going to work," he mutters, words that only you can hear, "this isn't...not with Royal."

"What do you mean?" Your voice breaks, "We can't give up on this now!"

But it's far too late for a debate. Bob's fingers rise to his lips, a low whistle washing over the silence. A calm tone that doesn't match the frenzy it sends Rhett into. Across the room within the second. Darkness spreads everywhere he touches. Through the air. Across the walls. Voices yelp and shout as a dull hum grows into an ear-splitting whine—the distorted sound of a weathered gate being opened.

The floor beneath your feet is no more. But you don't feel the fall. It's as if the world ceases to exist, leaving you and Bob to float within a dark nothingness. Your legs tangle as you draw each other in, arms wrapping around torsos and heads burying into crooks of necks, desperately clinging to each other out of fear of drifting apart.

Gold flickers. A dusting of a presence that curls around your back, cold nose bumping into the back of your neck.

"Rhett?" You whisper, and despite feeling the rumble of your voice in your throat, you cannot hear your own words. Lost to the void.

The arms that coil around you are familiar, strong, and bearing scars you've traced more times than you can count. Hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused fingertips tracing letters into the sensitive skin of your belly.

I'm here.

Despite this vast nothingness, you've never felt less alone. Safely wrapped up in the arms of the only men your weary heart can trust, the only place where the world cannot flash its sharp teeth at you.

Your feet settle upon solid ground, soft carpet squishing beneath your shoes. Home once more. Where a nest of blankets sits in the corner of the couch, pictures in frames hang proudly on the wall, and an electric candle flickers next to the television.

Precisely as you left it.

"You didn't need to call me off," Rhett says, in a muttering fashion that sounds more like a rumble than anything else. "I could have handled it."

"And what if you couldn't?" Bobby's sharp voice echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Repeating over and over until it dies into crippling silence. A cruel sort of thing that is somehow louder than the words themselves.

His weight shifts from foot to foot. Rapidly blinking. "I'm sorry, I...." his bottom lip shivers, mouth opening and closing, fighting for words that do not exist. "I can't...I can't risk..."

But his knees give out before he can finish his sentence. Dropping so quickly that you hardly have time to dive for him. Weary arms catching his waist, too weak to do anything but slow his fall. Rhett's appearing on the other side, his face long since softened. Eyelashes fluttering a million miles a second.

Black bulges from the vein on Bob's forehead, your only indication of what has once again taken over his psyche. Jaw locked so tight it shakes. Sucking in air through his teeth. Falling into a full-bodied shiver.

You don't understand. How is it happening again? "Rhett—"

"I know," he's already got his hands on either side of Bob's head. Flecks of black emerge onto his skin, drawn from the mineral trapped in the very fibers of Robby's brain. Unruly and running rampant, forcing visions behind his eyelids and threatening to take over his very being.

You know that it's been growing. That the increase of this...this thing, whatever it is, has been eating away at him. A sort of eternal hell whose violent attacks keep his muscles tight and his eyes wide open for days on end. But you didn't realize that it's been this bad. Rhett's only removed some last Tuesday, and here he is again, two weeks earlier than usual.

Bob slackens. Free of whatever invisible strings have been pulling on him, and when his eyes open, they're themselves again. Not black with the time mineral, or a muddied mixture of it, just the baby blue that is as soft as he is.

"I can't lose you," he chokes, tone suddenly frail as he looks between you and Rhett, "Either of you." His shivering arms curl around the backs of your necks, drawing you both in.

And it's easy. Sitting here on your living room floor, burying your head in the crook of Bobby's neck, your arms tight around him. Rhett's wrapping around you two like a blanket, long curls of his hair tickling your cheek. A big pile of shivering flesh and bone that defies the will of fate herself. Souls from separate timelines, trespassing in the name of a four-letter word.

You could stay here forever. Pressing endless kisses to their cheeks, like you are now. Feeling the softness of Bob's skin and the coarseness that is Rhett's out-of-hand stubble.

"How did he find you?" Bob's speaking again, albeit not very loudly. A whisper punctuated by the reciprocal smooch on the tip of your nose. "I thought you were the only one who could control the mineral?"

Rhett's quiet, his head shaking. "I don't..." pausing to accept his honorary nose kiss, face scrunching and all, "I don't know."

You don't like that answer. Not one bit.

But there isn't anything you can do about it. Not right this second, at least. For now, you've got a bigger problem on your hands, particularly named Robert Floyd.

"Think y' can get up for us?" Rhett's asking, his fingers carding through the short strands of hair atop Bob's head. Perfectly kept, as if he's still got a strict Naval standard to adhere to. It's as if he has yet to find his individuality, even after all this time.

Weak, he nods.

It's easy getting him down the hallway and into the bedroom, where the curtains are still open, showcasing that grandiose view of the valley below, distant, snowcapped mountains, and twinkling stars above. As wild as a place can possibly get when you live so far up on this lonely little mountain.

Far too isolated, but it's the only place that can ensure you'll know when someone is coming.

"Need t' try gettin' the rest of that shit outta your head," Rhett mutters as the two of you guide Bobby to the corner of the bed, where he can't possibly miss the mattress.

Your head cocks to the side, confused, "didn't you just take some?"

"I mean, gettin' it all out," he says it like it's easy, some simple walk in the park, despite having never walked that path before.

Eyes darting to Bob's fallen face, you reach to run your fingers against the curve of his cheek. Some thoughtless little motion that has him nuzzling into your palm, desperate for the warmth of it against his skin. Not enough to soothe the wrinkles on his forehead, from the way his eyebrows furrow with thought, but it's a start.

You know what he's worrying about.

And you wish you didn't.

"I don't..." his head shakes back and forth, refusing to look up at you and Rhett like your gazes will burn him alive, "how do I...if I lose the visions..." His tongue too flimsy to get the words off, all but flailing in his mouth.

"What d' ya mean?" Rhett's taking the words right out of your mouth.

Frustrated, Bobby's head shakes back and forth, unintentionally pushing your hand away. "What if something happens?" His voice cracks. Suddenly frantic. "And I can't—and I can't protect you?"

On its own, your voice finally bursts through, "We'll find a better way." And you don't have a clue what that better way is, but there has to be one out there, right?

That sudden burst of hope shatters the moment Bob's glassy eyes flash up at you. Windows into his soul that must silently communicate his thoughts with you because, by the time his uneasy mouth opens, you've already heard what he has to say. "The visions are the only way I can keep you both safe."

...but is it worth the expense of his life? Being slowly and painfully consumed by an out-of-control substance in the name of protection?

Rhett's big, wavering hands reach out, no longer stained with midnight ink, as he takes hold of Bobby's wrist, guiding it up until knuckles brush against his scratchy cheek. You can't tell who it soothes more. "It's eatin' you alive," there's a hint of fragileness to Rhett's tone, "Please...just let me try."

Now your hand is being taken hold of, squeezed up against Rhett's chest, just above his thumping heart, alive as ever. His stubble tickling as he cranes his neck down to kiss your fingers.

"Okay," Bob lets go of a breath, and it's as if the weight of the world lifts off your shoulders. His mouth opens again, but his tongue fails to produce another word. Distracted by the way he's warily holding his arms out, a welcoming invitation that you can never deny.

Hugging him feels awkward in all of the right ways. Your cheek squished against Rhett's shoulder, half bent over as you struggle to squirm onto the bed. Three pairs of legs flailing, but your arms refusing to unwind from Bobby to help.

Four years ago, you'd hopefully believed that practice would end the bumping knees, sharp elbows, and clumsy limbs that don't quite go where they were intended. Unpracticed and out of sync with the two bodies sharing the room with you. And you're almost ashamed to admit that, if anything, it's gotten worse.

Almost.

Because now there's a confidence to the way you press kisses to Bobby's sensitive neck, and you're unafraid to meet Rhett's darkened eyes as you do it. You're familiar with each other. Can tell that the hand disappearing beneath your shirt belongs to a cowboy and the knee between your thighs is attached to a former aviator on the run from the police.

You've heard the story more times than you'd like to admit, but it still feels strange. That this gentle soul could be sentenced to five years in prison, all because he and his pilot were sent to fly through a time hole that didn't spit them out until four years later. As if being given a false funeral and losing a massive chunk of his life wasn't enough.

"I can see those gears turning in your head," Rhett's suddenly right next to your ear. Sends you jumping and knocking your forehead into Bob's jaw.

"Rhett!" You squeal, but it's too late. He's already laughing. So is Bob, for that matter. All at your weary heart's expense.

Soft kisses press to your skin. The work of two pairs of lips trailing across your cheeks, Robby's working his way to your mouth, Rhett on his way to your sensitive neck, teeth scraping against delicate flesh like a warning. What that could be, you're not sure because you're silenced before you can even begin to speak.

And you're downright melting into this familiar touch, noses bumping together, moving blindly. Your hands are roaming up Bob's chest, curling around the back of his neck, clinging as you swing your leg over his waist. Straddling him is so much easier.

Dully, you're aware that Rhett has stopped; can feel the way his hungry eyes eat up every movement. The way Bob's hands grip your waist, how you sigh and tilt your head, inhaling the sweetness of cologne that still clings to him. Drowning in the small, surprised grunt when you nip his bottom lip.

Thin, bitten lips part, welcoming you like a sweetheart who's been waiting for you to come home from a long day at work. Smiling and leaning up into you, his soft tongue twisting with yours in some lazy, practiced dance that makes your head spin. Breaking away only to gasp for a breath, then meeting again.

To your right, someone whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," you coo. Can already feel the way a pair of big blue eyes are drilling into you, no longer happy with just watching. But knowing what you're going to find doesn't make the pang in your chest hurt any less; Rhett's hands rest innocently in his lap, bottom lip jutted out just a smidge, eager to lean in and steal your kisses away from Bobby. "Did you feel left out?"

He hums, too content with this newfound attention to speak. Scratchy chin bumping against yours with every peck, four, five, six times, until he's been called down to steal from Bob, too.

It's times like these when you wonder how they look so similar without being related. The scruff of Rhett's jaw is a mere distraction from their matching noses. Bob's eyelashes are thinner, and his cheeks bear a dusting of freckles that Rhett only carries a sprinkling of on his back, but God, the blue gazes peering up at you are identical.

Until Bob's hips buck up against your ass.

Your gasp echoes, eyelashes fluttering, "Bobby!"

"I'm sorry," he grins, sheepish, "couldn't help myself."

But your knees are already digging into the mattress, grinding yourself back against him in such a way that you can feel his length twitch in his slacks. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you catch yourself wondering how many more times you will get to experience this. Your time is limited, cut even shorter by the furious hearts of men and women you don't know, vying to find a justice that will ultimately tear you apart.

To have Robert jailed in the name of setting an example that you cannot flee from the law.

To charge Rhett for framing his brother for his murder; who cares if he survived the attack? He lived, didn't he?

To return your weary soul to a place where friends are your closest enemies. bold enough to lock you out and leave you in the cold as some sick prank, refusing to speak your name to cover their hides.

Betrayal is a hideous thing; it doesn't start small; no, it shatters you into a million tiny pieces and asks how you could ever be so angry for what it did to you. Because you survived, and the sight of your soul bloodied and broken has made their warped heart feel a twinge of guilt. It demands forgiveness when you have none to hand out. It makes you question if you're allowed to feel these horrible things, anger and hurt, and something you can't quite name.

But these hands that roam your paper-thin skin, the delicate ones stroking your hips, and the strong ones roaming your arm...they have never made you feel so horribly. They have every reason to; they've been hurt, too, but the only thing they have ever done, from the moment they found you on the street, is love you.

"So, how's this fixing to go?" Bob asks after a long while, his head tilting as he looks up at you like he's trying to eavesdrop on the thoughts in your head.

You'd almost forgotten the ongoing plan to pull the mineral from his head.

Rhett hums, gingerly squeezing your wrist, "jus' keep doin' what you're doin'."

You needn't be told twice, thighs shivering as you scoot yourself downward. Far enough to feel the heated bulge between your legs, where you crave him the most. Don't quite recall when the heat in your core had sparked to life, but oh, does it burn brighter at Bob's groan.

The corner of Rhett's lip rises, transfixed by this show you're putting on.

Bobby's hips jerk up, pressing painfully close but so unfortunately separated by these layers of clothing. Why do pants have to exist? All they do is get in the damn way.

The two of you must have the same thought because you reach for each other's waistband simultaneously. Your practiced fingertips slide across the smooth leather of his belt, unfastening it while he thumbs at your button, yanking on the zipper. Rhett's boots thunk against the floor as he kicks them off, suddenly spurred into action at the sight of you two pulling the offending garments down your legs, underwear and all.

From the moment you're able to, you're back in his lap. Can barely think about the way that Rhett pulls your shirt over your head, too distracted by the soft glide of skin against skin. The glide of his cock against your folds, heavy and throbbing with the same need that has made you dizzy in the head.

"Ain't you two just a sight," Rhett whispers beneath his breath, never once tearing his gaze away.

"You can always join," you tease, delicate fingers reaching out to tap the tip of his nose if only to see it scrunch.

All it takes is one glance before Bob figures him out. "That devil's got a trick up his sleeve."

"Damn right, I do," now that he's moving, you regret opening your mouth. Because nothing good ever comes out of Rhett Abbott sidling up behind you, heavy cock resting against the curve of your ass, as he presses kisses to your naked shoulder. Gingerly working his way up your neck to that soft spot behind your ear.

Two of his fingers nudge at your lips, wordlessly asking for entrance that you happily grant. Tongue slipping between them, wrapping around each knuckle, lightly sucking on them in the same fashion you do his sensitive cock head. You know he recognizes it because he twitches against you, breath catching in his throat.

Bob's hands smooth up your naked thighs, the callouses of his palms catching on the sensitive insides of them, rough in the gentlest of ways. Knows what he's doing almost as well as you do, how to make you shiver and whine around Rhett's thick fingers, all from such a simple touch. He's yet to daringly reach where you crave him most, innocently roaming your body like it's a work of art.

You almost hate Rhett for drawing his hand away from your mouth, leaving it open and far too empty. But it's hard to be upset when he dips between your legs, dripping fingers dragging through your folts, across your aching clit, until he can lazily circle your entrance. Still aching from how they had their way with you in this morning, pushed to a limit you didn't know you had.

It's hard to tell who gasps louder when two fingers dip inside, your breaths intertwining into one.

"So tight already," Rhett murmurs, his voice darker than the midnight mineral flowing through his veins, "thought your poor lil' pussy would still be gapin' from us."

Bold, Bob's hand roams between your quivering legs, meeting where Rhett's fingers laz thrust into you. And you're certainly not expecting Bobby to push his finger in, too, but there are suddenly three within you. Curling to stroke at a sensitive bundle of nerves that Rhett has intentionally been avoiding.

"Soaking, too," Robby's eyelashes flutter at the way you jolt, his cock jumping against his belly. Flushed at the tip, heavy in your hand when you reach for him. You may not be able to reach Rhett right now, but you can play this game, too.

Your soft palm running up his heated skin, thumb swiping over the single beat of precum that has collected at his tip, not enough to wet him, but it makes him glisten all the same. Not quite the borderline faucet that Rhett is, making a downright mess on the back of your thigh.

Bob's other hand disappears beneath the pillow, fishing out the poorly hidden bottle of lubricant that certainly should not be hiding there. If you could see Rhett's face, you just know you'd find guilt written all over it.

For once, though, his inability to put things where he found them has made things easier. Don't have to quit stroking Bob's throbbing length as he pours the clear fluid until he's satisfied with the glide. Laziness enables more laziness.

"Do y' need more?" Rhett's fingers twitch in you, and the corners of your vision sparkle with a painting of the galaxy. Always seems to spasm after using those mythical abilities, briefly losing control of the unnamed ore that his body manufactures on its own accord.

At least he didn't make you see into the future this time.

"I think I'm alright," your tongue tingles in your mouth, difficult to move.

Their fingers pull away simultaneously, leaving you way, way too empty. But again, you've got the perfect remedy for that. Scooting up Bob's soft thighs and guiding him to meet your dripping sex, cock head kissing your loosened entrance. Their hands interlock on your hips, holding you steady; in the odd freak event, you slip up and take him all at once.

It's never happened, but they act like it happens every time.

If it has something to do with those visions, you're thankful you haven't witnessed it.

Just like how thankful you are for the gentle pressure of Bob's cock, his thick tip slipping inside for the second time today. Just big enough to make you weaken at the stretch, a whimper catching in your throat. Dragging against that bundle of nerves as he slips past, indirectly massaging against it.

Rhett's sinful hand dips between your legs once more, two fingers bracketing Bob's cock, feeling where it disappears inside.

The rain pattering against the window is the only thing you can hear; the three of you stunned into silence as you sink lower and lower on Bob's lap. Fighting to relax around him, pushed closer and closer to the border of too much when your skin finally meets with his. Flush against each other. Nothing left to take.

A shaky breath slips past your lips, heart pounding heavy in your chest. So, so full.

"You're shakin', baby," Rhett's breath tickles your naked shoulder, "needin' Robby that bad, hm?" And maybe that's why you're having such a hard time controlling yourself, shivering palms settling on Bob's sturdy chest, fighting to lift your body.

Only manage to lift yourself an inch or two before you're sinking back down, and barely able to match that when you repeat it. Exhausted muscles further weakened by the drag of his cock along your walls, rubbing right where you crave him. So good, but you can't fucking move, face wrinkling as your knees sink into the mattress, rising the smallest bit, only to fall back down onto him.

Bob's fingers swirl against your weary hips, "Having trouble?"

All you can do is nod.

Those hands rise, smoothing over your back. Only takes the slightest bit of pressure for him to draw you down into his chest. Laying against him as he digs his feet into the bed, searching for leverage.

And then he finds it, and he's thrusting up into you long and slow, and you might forget how to breathe altogether. Cheek squishing against his flushed collarbone, your eyes rolling as he does it again. Can only imagine what kind of view Rhett's got. It must be quite something because he's gone virtually silent. Watching in silent awe.

Maybe you'd be able to ask if you weren't rendered speechless by the way Bob drives up into you. Blunt tip rubbing right past those quivering nerves, punctuated by the soft smack of skin on skin, gradually quickening. Your hands are fluttering. Grabbing at the sheets. His hair. A little bit of both.

"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby," you catch yourself babbling. Don't know when your lips started moving or how to shut yourself up. It's too early to be falling apart. It's, it's...

"There you go," he's whispering in return, "does that feel good?"

Outside, thunder rumbles, the bedside lamp flickering as the wind begins to howl around the corners of the house. But you can't be brought to worry about potential power outages and how you'd clean up in the dark because Rhett's hands are smoothing up your thighs. Drawing your attention back to the way your swollen cunt spasms around Bob's length, the kind of thing that makes you shiver from head to toe.

"Talk t' him, darlin'," Rhett croons, absolutely entranced, his rough palms roaming up the soft skin of your back.

You don't even know what to say. Scrambling for words that you've forgotten the meaning of. But your fists are clenching around handfuls of the comforter as you push back against him, meeting thrust after thrust. Harder. Faster now. Bouncing your body with every soft smack.

"Come on," Bob rasps, and you've leaned back just enough to see the redness that's formed on his cheeks. He's lost his glasses, lying discarded near the pillows. Unfocused blue eyes peering down at you, eager to drink you in. "Talk to us, baby."

"Feels," choking on your words, eyes scrunching shut. Come on, come on, it's right on the tip of your tongue. "Feels good—!"

"Yeah?" That tone. Rhett's up to something, and you're too weak to look back and find out what. "Y' like it when y' get Robby's fat cock in your lil' pussy?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your head is starting to spin, cunt clenching needlessly at his words. Can feel yourself grow wetter, downright dripping around the thick length driving up into you. And there's nothing you can do but pant for a breath you can never catch, taking every inch.

Bob grumbles this loud noise that vibrates out of his chest and into yours, "Rhett—"

"Would be a shame if he..." Before Rhett can finish speaking, Bob is gasping, stuttering to a sudden halt, "stopped."

"Quit," Bob's shuddering breath cuts him short, "Quit rubbing my balls like that."

But Rhett isn't stopping. You can feel his thumb bumping into your skin with every feather-light spiral, massaging in this frustrating sort of way that makes Bob jerk up into you. Unable to do a damn thing about this torment without hurting himself. His hot breath hitting your forehead, flushed cock still throbbing deep inside of you.

"Shit, Rhett, that..." he pants, breathless, "that...'m gonna cum if you keep..."

"A'ight," and just like that, Rhett stops.

But he's not done.

No, now he's curling an arm around you. Gingerly guiding you to sit on your haunches, your heavy head falling back against his shoulder, still full of cock. Split wide and putting on a hell of a show for Bob's darkened gaze. Especially when Rhett dips down, his fingers slipping between your folds in favor of sliding across your clit.

"Rhett," you don't know what else to see. Repeating their names like an incantation, the voicings of a weary heart desperate for a promise of forever. The one thing that the world doesn't want you to have. So unfortunate that you crave it like a fallen angel craves the warmth of the heavens.

But Rhett's hands are just as warm. Burning fingertips spiraling effortlessly around that swollen bud. Has you clenching down around Bob's cock, squeezing him up against the frenzied nerves along your walls, crying high in your throat.

"Just like that," Helplessly grabbing at his meaty wrist, squeezing until you can feel iron bone pressing back against you, "Rhett, just like...just..."

Your tongue is starting to go limp in your mouth, and somewhere between the haze settling in your senses, you catch the way Bob's eyes roll back into his head. All from the involuntary massage of your pussy, desperately chasing the way Rhett's rubbing you. Heat pools in your lower belly, sending your skin prickling.

You're...you're...

Head lolling back against Rhett's shoulder, your eyelashes flutter closed. Heart hammering against your chest, feels like the entire room has begun to spin. Can't think of anything but the soft nudge of Rhett's jaw against your forehead and his soft whisper of your name.

"Cum for us, baby," he breathes, fingers working a little faster, "come on."

And you do.

Oh, you do.

With a cry that you cannot hear, the ringing in your ears growing into an all-encompassing hum as your orgasm washes over you. Pussy squeezing around Bob's cock, chest heaving as you gasp for air, head spinning off of your shoulders and up into the clouds above. And it's warm, and it's perfect, and for just a second, you think you might be able to see a bright light in the distance of your blackened future.

But then you're coming back down all too quickly, returning to your senses just as your weary cheek comes to rest against Bob's sweaty chest. His cock slipping out of you, still painfully hard and begging for attention.

Attention that Rhett's all too eager to give him, scooting closer, collecting their flushed lengths into one oversized hand. Stroking loosely at first. Spreading remnants of leftover lube and your wetness onto himself until every motion is punctuated by a sickly squelch. Knuckles bumping into the curve of your ass, the only indication you have that he's still moving.

Bob's arms coil around you, fingers kneading into your weary flesh, has to occupy himself with something. Breath fanning out against the top of your head, swallowing down a grunt you hardly catch. It's not what he wanted, but oh, is he not complaining, bucking up into Rhett's warm hand, jostling you in the process.

"Awfully quiet down there," it's hard to tell if Rhett's remark is directed toward you or Bobby, maybe both.

Bob's trying his best to talk, his head shaking back and forth, unintentionally grants you an excellent view of the vein in his neck, flexing with the motion. "It's hard to talk when you're—fuck, when you're..." his speech stumbles into a whine, and you can feel the way his belly twitches beneath you, "God, your hand."

You can't help but lean up and press your lips to that thin skin, gingerly sucking on the vein. And so what if your free hand reaches up, two fingers pinching a pale pink nipple?

"Ah—" He damn near jumps, body bucking up into yours, "Hey!"

It's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Now that he's made one loud noise, he can't close his mouth again. A melody of breathy moans that could make anyone fall to their knees. Backed by Rhett's guttural groan, bucking up into his own hand, the meaty head of his cock bumping into you.

"I'm..." Bob's panting, "close."

Rhett stops. Not another word or warning spoken, as his big hands curl around your hips, pulling you up onto your knees, ass up for him. You already know what's coming, but you're hardly prepared for the aching stretch of his cock pressing into you. The glide smoother than before, still stretched and open for him.

"Again?" You squeak, voice punched out of you by the smack of his balls against your oversensitive clit. Not ready for another cock to fuck into you just yet, but he's already moving. Short, jerky thrusts punctuated by the exhausted wetness of your pussy, sent into a spasm of flutters around him.

Below you, Bob grumbles, "You don't have to tease me for this to work."

"I know it," you can hear Rhett's wild grin distorting the corners of his words, "but it's more fun this way, ain't it?"

His cockiness is short-lived. Karma, you suppose. Because he's leaning down, his body caging yours. Rutting into you a little quicker as he buries his face in your shoulder, muffling those soft grunts until he's stuttering to a halt, cumming in you with a garbled cry. And you're just lucid enough to feel the twitching of his cock, the heat that fills the deepest parts of you, pumping you full until he has nothing left to give.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Teasing, you tilt your head to look back at him. Wasn't quite anticipating him to be leaning in for a kiss, but the shallow peck is a welcomed gift.

Rhett's quiet until he draws out of you, leaning back on his haunches to get a look at the mess he's made of your cunt. His cum already beginning to leak out, threatening to stain the sheets again if you aren't careful.

"Look so pretty when you're full of us," he muses aloud, and before you can open your mouth again, he's nudging into you again.

Or is that...no, that's Bobby, who's sinking into you. A shiver wracking down his spine as Rhett guides him back inside the absolute mess they've made of you. Cum and sweat, and lube coming together to create this sickly noise that makes you shudder.

"Am I hurtin' you?" Bob's gasping, the edges of a Texas-born accent audible, and you genuinely don't know what you would do if he always spoke like that because it's enough to make you bite back a moan.

"I'm alright," reassuring both yourself and him at the same time.

That's all he needs. Jerking up into you without abandon, arms squeezing you tight to his chest, anchoring you to his overheated body. The softest sounds drifting from his lips, punctuating his every shallow thrust. But just as quickly as he started, he's tipping over the edge, stalling to a halt with a noise you can only describe as strangled. Filling you once more until you don't think you can possibly let them between your legs for a minimum of forty-eight hours.

You've hardly got the strength to lift yourself off of him, collapsing to his left. They're leaking out of you, coating your thighs in a sticky mess that you have no hope of cleaning on your own. Not in this century.

By the looks of it, Bob might be able to join you for a nice, hundred-year nap. His half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling, hardly reacting to the two fingers you're walking across his chest.

But he reacts when Rhett's rough hand wraps around his spent length—jolting, wailing, as Rhett's empty hand rises to press against his forehead. Wicked thumb massaging over that flushed, weeping cock head, right where Bobby is most sensitive. Sends him into a full-bodied tremor.

"Sen—sensitive!" Tears roll down his flushed cheeks, speech devolving into something incoherent.

The hand on his forehead darkens. Drawing some nameless black ore from the depths of Robert's overworked brain. Cruel, how such a thing can be such a gift to one man and a curse to another, destroying and building up innocent bodies without rhyme or reason.

It runs out. That steady stream of midnight fading away in wriggling splotches until it's no more. And it still might not mean the end of those visions. There's no way to tell if there's more hidden somewhere in his body, or worse, it may have begun to manufacture itself like it does in Rhett. Running rampant for eternity.

But right now, there's no more, and Rhett's letting go of his abused length, and you're both leaning in to press kisses to his clammy cheeks, and it's the closest thing one can get to perfection. Your exhausted mind can hardly find the energy to return to what happened earlier.

A discussion for tomorrow.

"Are you okay?" You whisper somewhere around when he stops shaking. Calm at last.

He hums. The best that you're going to get.

And he's quiet like that for some time. Virtually silent, reduced to grunts and offhanded chuckles when you decide it's time to clean yourselves up before things start to dry in places they should not. Three pairs of legs stumble down the hall and into the bathroom; Rhett's arms are full of clothes, you're fumbling with the hot water, and Bob's simply glued to your side.

"Pink or purple?" Rhett chirps, and you don't need to look to know that he's reached under the sink and picked up a handful of bath bombs. He'd use them all at once if you'd let him.

Without a word, Bob points to the pink. Conveniently, it's also the bomb with a toy capsule hidden inside. A mystery that will surely join the small shelf of collected surprises above the towel rack.

Somewhere between the fizzing of the bomb and a sneeze that nearly sends Rhett falling into the bath, Bob grabs both of your hands. Toying with your fingers as if amused by their shape and varying sizes. How Rhett's hands are massive even compared to Bob's, and how soft yours are.

"Do you think you got it all out?" He asks after a long while. Breaking whatever silence had fallen over the room.

"Felt like I bled y' dry," Rhett hums, his foot kicking against yours, vying to start another water fight, "but there ain't no tellin' this early."

That doesn't seem to be the answer Bob was looking for. Hell, it certainly isn't the answer you want to hear, either, but what can you do other than wait?

A clear capsule rises to the surface, bouncing with its excitement to be seen and opened. A small yellow duck with a misprinted eye that has left one half of its head coated in black.

"Looks like someone turned Rhett into a duck," Bobby chirps, twisting the adorably shaped hunk of plastic in his fingers. And now that he says it out loud, it does look like Rhett when he uses his abilities. Whatever they're meant to be called.

The duck travels into the bedroom, one way or another. You find it sitting on your pillow, staring back at you with its singular eye like it's been employed to keep an eye on your whereabouts while Bob fusses with the security system. Motion detectors and alarms galore, monitoring every room and entry point that could possibly exist.

They act like there will come a day when someone breaks in, and you hope it's a measure fueled by worry rather than a vision detailing the worst.

But tonight isn't that night. No, just one of tangled legs and kisses pressed against sore skin and muscle and mumblings about plans of getting back into the Naval base. Get ahold of those documents that narrowly slipped through your fingers earlier. Copy and replace them before anyone is the wiser, keeping the originals as evidence of what happened. The only truth that can possibly force them all to acknowledge what they did to Bobby and his old pilot, Phoenix.

You wish you'd gotten the chance to know her before the hole took her life. Bob's recount of her always makes her seem like such a lovely woman.

"We can do it for you too, you know," he says, and you know he's directing it toward Rhett, because the evidence of the crime against you has already been collected.

The security footage of so-called friends locking you out in the cold, some grand plan to get back at you for forgetting to reserve the first cabin. A little "Oops, it's annoying to be forgotten, isn't it?" that left you stranded in the worst blizzard the state had seen in decades. Wandering through a perpetual blanket of white until a hole opened up beneath your feet and swallowed you up.

To think that they tried to cover up what happened to you, in the same fashion Rhett's family did to him, by pretending it never happened. Everyone in the house had simply forgotten the past twelve hours. No, we don't know what happened to them, officer; they just disappeared!

"I know," Rhett's cold nose nudges your shoulder; you'd almost forgotten that he curled up behind you, "wanna enjoy Perry in prison, a lil' longer."

Your fingers reach to run through Bob's damp hair; need something to do."Are you still showing up in the cell to scare him?"

"Absolutely."

The air is silent.

And then the three of you devolve into a giggle.

The drone of the city is one that swallows you up before you've even stepped foot into it. Flashing lights, squealing horns, and clashing of voices. People. Individuals with their own stories, purposes, and meanings in this world, crossing paths for the briefest moment, on their way to a better destination.

You are surrounded by more people than you can count, yet you might as well be invisible. A ghost that can be stepped through, only visible to a select few.

Rhett's hand squeezes yours, and it's the most solid you've felt in weeks. Maybe it's the kind of curse that applies to more than one. The three of you seemingly frozen in time as the world bustles about, never stopping for a second because the world does not stop for just anyone.

But it will soon.

God, you hope it stops on a fucking dime. Sends everyone reeling, a sucker punch flying in somewhere from behind. Rattles everything they've ever considered about themselves, the people around them, the higher power above, the world itself. Because America tells you that the only things worth knowing are those which can be known.

America is wrong.

You are worth knowing.

And you want them to hurt like Rhett did when his brother picked up his fists and beat him into the ground because how dare anyone make a simple comment about moving on. To feel the complete and utter betrayal to wake up to your father throwing you into the unknown, uncaring of how you plead for your life. Promises that you won't tell anyone what happened.

You want them to lose like Bob did when he and Phoenix were deceived. Convinced to climb into the backseat of that F/A-18, not knowing they were about to be sent through a hole that wasn't just some silly illusion. To be struck by an unknown substance that kills their best friend and forces them to suffer violent visions.

Return home after five years to find that you have been given a false funeral, your possessions no longer remain, and the Navy is accusing you of desertion. Any other way would force them to explain what happened, and a ruined life is worth the price of secrecy.

You want them to know what it's like to be betrayed by those they trust the most. Left for dead and not be given the grace of having their names plastered in the paper. Reduced to just another faceless person. A tragedy for one day, forgotten on the next.

Your eyes dart to the small phone in Bob's hand. It doesn't hurt to look at it anymore—no more bubblings of memories or invisible nippings of frostbite at your skin. It's just a cheap phone meant to do its job, and that is all.

Rhett looks to Bob.

Bob looks to you.

You look back at them.

Together, you smile. There's no going back from this, and that's okay. You are the monsters they created, after all. Bob's finger taps the crudely designed button on the phone.

Every screen in the city lights up with the same video.

Oh, what could have been.

#void au #rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #oneshot #smut

82 notes · View notes