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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 7 months ago

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When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt2

Warnings: Cursing, Mentionings of Death, Mentioning of Needles in a Medical sense

Pt1 Pt3 Hyungline (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

"Please leave your message after the tone."

Jisung sat on the couch, his leg shaking anxiously. Minho sat next to him and tried calming his friend, as Felix walked in with a cup of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of Han.

"I'm sure its just the silent treatment." Minho comments, leaning back into the couch. "See one time I told my wife she talked to much and so she had the audacity to stay silent the entire week...she would only talk to the cats." He said. "I'm sure it's probably the same thing."

Changbin walks into the room and joins in the conversation. "Yah! You got it all wrong! She's probably crying because of her hand and can't come to the phone."

Hyunjin pipes in, poking his head up from the couch where he was trying to take a nap. "Yeah! So that means you have to go apologize. Grovel Jisung. GROVEL!!!"

Jisung's leg is still shaking, and he starts to gnaw on his thumb nail. "Somethings not right..." He mumbles. "I can feel it...it's a different type of anxiety...something...something isn't right."

Chan comes into the room and his face is pale. "Jisung...come here for a moment?"

The boba eyed boy felt a pit drop to his stomach as he walked towards his hyung.

"What's the make and model of Y/N's car?" He asked quietly.

"It's...it's a foreign car...Lin...Lincoln...its...blue. Why? Why are you asking."

Chan licked his lips nervously. "Jisung...they could be wrong but a staff member said they had seen...there was...its..."

"What? They saw what!" Jisung's right hand found his other, and he started twisting his finger, picking at himself anxiously. "They saw what hyung?!"

The aussie boy's face was grim as he spoke. "There was a pretty bad accident near the hospital. The staff member had said they weren't sure but thought they saw Y/N's car. They were pretty certain since there aren't a ton of cars that look like her's..."

"Sh-she's not..." Jisung mumbled.

"I'm gonna go grab the car." Chan said quietly, walking past the rest of the members, who stared into the kitchen with confusion.

"Hyung...?" Jeongin called out quietly sounding like a lost kid as he watched his leader walk to the key dish. He looked back at Jisung who looked as if a little piece of him just broke off. He looked numb. Jeongin turned to the rest of the members who were all watching in concern as well.

Minho walked up to Chan and asked him something lowly, his posture straightening in shock when he heard the news. Minho looked at Jisung who was silently sliding on his shoes.

He motioned for the rest of the members to leave the room and he followed suit right after, too scared himself to look at his younger friend as he walked by; afraid he would see his heart break even further every second that passed.

"Hyung...what's going on?" Seungmin asked when Minho entered in the living room. He sighed and waited to answer until he heard Chan's car drive off.

(////////////////////)

The smell of the bleached floors and sterilized surfaces were the only thing keeping Jisung grounded in the present moment when him and Chris walked into the lobby of the hospital.

"Excuse me, is there a Y/N L/N here?" Jisung tried to block out the quakiness in Chan's voiced. He viewed you as family as much as everyone else in the group. And if Jisung gaslit himself into believing that Chan wasn't scared - then he could easily gaslight himself into believing that you were safe and sound. The receptionist looked through the system and shook his head.

"My apologies but I don't see a Y/N...L...L-L...L/N..." While struggled to pronounce your name; Jisung felt his mind go down all the worst possible scenarios.

What if Y/N is at the morgue. What if on impact she- what if she...

"Excuse me but do you have an unidentified foreigner?" Chan asks. "From a car accident."

The receptionist immediately perked up in understanding. "Yes! There was a lady she was pulled from a blue foreign car! They were trying to find her point of contact. She was brought to that win-"

He was interrupted by a small group of nurses and a doctor running down the hallway and a scream down the hall.

"She's flatlining!" Jisung couldn't even comprehend his feet moving as he followed the team of medical professionals down the hall- even though Chris called out for him to wait.

He pushed his way through the crowd of people into the room and couldn't even hear the monitor give one long continuous over the thumping of his heart as numerous nurses and doctors tried to revive the lonely patient on the bed. You had left to give him distance. Something he had asked for.

It was his fault. His fault entirely.

He couldn't breathe and as one doctor announced time of death another turned to see the chubby cheeked boy stumbling back and falling onto his floor from shock. The doctor rushing over to tend to him as he started to black out.

No...No. She's not. She can't be. God, no. Please. Please. It's my fault. I asked her to leave. She can't be gone. I asked her to leave. I only meant a minute, not for the rest of my life. Please...please.

I'm sorry Y/N. I'm sorry.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

FELIX|

"I shouldn't have yelled at her." Felix mumbled to himself as he turned into the dorm days later. 3 days to be exact.

He had felt frustrated after work due to arguing with Hyunjin over something he couldn't even pinpoint now. And it was even more stupid because Hyunjin didn't even remember, and they agreed to amount it to the stress they were facing with some rumors and controversy started up by toxic netizens as they reached closer and closer to their comeback day.

They had to play so much damage control that all Felix could do - and any of the members really - was think about how to keep things in control until the higher ups could completely clear everything before things got out of hand.

"Yeesh!" He groaned banging his head against the headrest in front of him, the driver shooting a concerned look in the rearview mirror before parking the car and unlocking the doors.

Felix nodded his head in thanks and walked inside immediately going to his room with his belongings, ignoring the "welcome home"'s and "your back's from the other members.

He closed his door, and poured out the contents of his shopping bags.

He had gotten the replacements he needed for his gaming setup.

And head also gotten you a ton of gifts.

He placed out five different plushies, one white teddy bear with a black and gold bow, a baby chicken plushie, a toddler sized stuff lamb that was also rather coquette, and plushy of a smiling taco and lastly one of a green and blue boba.

Which one would she like best...all of them maybe?

He then started sorting out all your favorite treats, some self-care products you liked a lot, the collector's edition of your favorite book and movies series, a gift card to your favorite coffee shop, a couple of notebooks and other little miscellaneous items you liked. He had also been able to persuade your bias from another group to give him a rare pc of them since he had heard you mention it before.

Should I just give them all to her?

He groaned again as Seungmin walked in looking for him.

"Passing a kidney stone or something hyung?" He asked as he closed the door behind him.

"No...just trying to figure out how to apologize after I insulted my girlfriend's intelligence and mental development, yelled at her, cursed at her, mocked her, and dismissed her genuine care and concern for me in under thirty minutes of me walking into her home." Seungmin's eyes widened and he looked to see keyboards new keyboard sitting neatly in an amazon box.

"Over a game? Damn, I didn't know the stereotypes were accurate." He said, arranging some of Felix's gifts into the basket he had gotten to transport them to you.

"I'm sure Y/N-ie is feeling rather hurt though...but you've been acting off ever since you left her house earlier this week. And usually you're a sensitive overthinker when it comes to her. I would have assumed you'd have been at her door crying within the hour after it happened."

Felix sighed. Why do you think I had a puffy face at practice the next day?" He mumbled. "I went back a couple hours later because I was mean Min...she...I haven't seen Y/N look so scared before. I was scared. That maybe it had made her see me differently. So I waited a couple hours to make sure everyone was calm but when I went in she wasn't there... she wasn't there."

Felix sat down on the bed and played with the end of the ribbon on one of the plushies.

"To be honest...I found a bunch of rags in the trash. I could have sworn she had bought them last time we went shopping which wasn't too long ago...but they were frayed and almost to the point they were just a loose thread. I mean...she took varnish off the table Seungmin..."

His voice began to wobble.

"I got so frustrated that I yelled at her. And she had never heard me like that before so it scared her into manic frenzy?" He let all the tears he had been holding back stream down his face. "I horrible Seungmin. How could I do anything like that to someone I love?"

T?he puppy like boy wrapped his arms around his usually bubbly hyung and sighed. It only made Felix cry harder because he knew that physical affection wasn't something he normally got from Seungmin.

"It'll be okay. Y/N loves you. You'll be forgiven. This is the first time. The first major fight is always hard. You just have to recognize it won't be the last. And you have to figure out how to pull through."

Felix nodded as Seungmin pulled away. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, we're brothers." He said, patting Felix on the head twice.

"And it is my brotherly duty to tell you that Chan- Hyung asked for you to do the dishes, but that I'll do them so you can go see Y/N in exchange for you cleaning the bathrooms for me later."

He had a devious smirk on his lips and Felix didn't even hesitate to take that offer.

He'd take any offer, make any deal, in order to lead him to making things right with you.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

It was getting to the point that Stays were noticing it.

Seungmin didn't have that life in him that he usually did on stage and the fans easily surmised it to be because him and you were fighting.

It was a simply thing to deduce really when no one spotted you at the concert - but you were still the only other account Seungmin followed minus those of his members and the band as a whole.

And with the way you and Seungmin's chemistry was almost palpable, the fans were more than assured that you guys hadn't broken broken up do to his mood being low but not rock bottom.

Well...they were almost assured. But it seemed to be growing less and less by the day due to you not being sighted anywhere.

Due to you wanting to be petty, and hurt Seungmin, even just the tiniest bit.

Which completley backfired.

Seungmin was onstage and the atmosphere was electric. He silently applauded his members and the crew since the sixth show was an absolute success. But the minute the blaring music, the bright lights and the scream of fans died down as Chan spoke to the audience he couldn't hold it back anymore.

The thoughts that had been flooding his mind in the quiet hours of the night had surfaced and he couldn't help but break down right then and there.

Changbin walked over, simply thinking Seungmin was crying from the overwhelming sense of love and joy he felt for his fans- but immediately identified it as something else when his younger friend squatted down, pulling his arms straight out in front of him and ducking his head as he cried.

He immediately bent down with Seungmin and he looked up as he cried desperately.

"H-Hyung p-please don't let her leave me alone...I'm lonely without her...Please...I don't wanna be alone..." Changbin shielded the boy from the prying eyes of fans, and Hyunjin catching the drift came over as well, while the other members did things to keep the audience from wondering why Seungmin was wailing with a brokenness many of them were fortunate enough to not understand.

You on the other hand were rotting away on your bed.

You had been replaying the interaction you had with Seungmin over and over.

You felt like being petty and purchased a ticket to a group Seungmin was well aware of you stanning long before Stray Kids.

The same group which contained a member you biased long before you even set eyes on Seungmin.

A member which made Seungmin somewhat self-concious. While you always called him beautiful, and gorgeous, and intimate names that held the same deep feeling as you held for him; he couldn't help but watch you giggle over a guy that wasn't necessarily what you would consider beautiful - but was evidently dripping in sex appeal.

It had always worried him that you didn't find him desirable in that way, but just romantically. Even if you assured him countless times that it would only ever be him that you were interested in, and he fully believed you he couldn't just shake that seed that had planted itself there.

The concert was on the day of their last destination. And you felt like it would be the perfect jab at him for dismissing your complete adoration for you to a "burden".

But the more you sat at home thinking about it the more you realized you never wanted to hurt Seungmin purposefully.

That even if he hurt you a thousand times over you would still run back to him because he was both the pain and cure.

And deep down you knew he loved you just as much - if not more - than you loved him.

He loved you enough to risk his entire career to ask you out, when you hadn't known each other very long and there was a high chance of you saying no.

But you could never say no to Seungmin.

You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes to stop the tears you had in your eyes but it did nothing but rub the eyeliner you had on into your eyes causing a painful irritation.

"Shit," You mumbled grabbing your phone to use the cameras as a mirror. But as you were picking you nail scratched your eye. "Fuck! Ahhhhh!" You whined feeling another rush of tears coming.

You tried seeing if your eye was okay when you got a notification on instagram.

It was soon followed by a bunch more and a bunch of message requests.

You clicked to see what the post was and nearly felt your heart sink as you watched your boyfriend breaking down on stage.

You had never seen him so distraught; nor did you know him as one to cry much.

You immediately sat up in bed, ignoring the pain from earlier and watching the screen intently.

I hurt him. You thought to yourself.

I hurt him. I got back at him...didn't I want this? For him to feel what I felt that night?

You looked through the countless messages, all asking if you and Seungmin had broken up.

Some stays even pleading with you to not hurt their precious idol.

But it was much too late for that.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

"Hyung can you drive faster?"

Jeongin anxiously bounced his leg up and down in the back seat.

He had been crippled with anxiety for the past six days as he had waited to return from filming their boys trip.

Especially after Changbin had informed him that you had been put in the hospital.

Although no matter how hard he begged the staff that had accompanied them for filming refused to let him leave due to the "importance of this specific filming venture".

He had called you over 100 times by now he was sure of it. Each of his calls deflected.

He had called the ITZY girls on numerous different occasions as well to see if you were doing okay, if they could tell him what was wrong.

But each time the conversation was cut short due to a strange reason, without much detail given other than-

"Y/N is fine."

"We haven't been able to visit since our staff won't let us rearrange the schedule. But she's fine."

"She's fine, just resting."

Fine. What the hell is fine supposed to mean? They sounded guarded; as if they knew something and just refused to tell me.

The minute Jeongin started seeing lots of foot and automotive traffic he felt his heart quicken.

"Hyung just drop me off at Y/N's house first."

"Shouldn't you go change? And maybe by a few gufts as an apology? You were an ass." Changbin comments as he scrolls through Amazon looking at different protein powders.

"I just want to see her." Jeongin said gripping onto the head rest that was behind Hyunjin's head.

Chan mumbled in the back, stirring from his sleep. "Just drop Innie off...it'll help soother his anxiety." He said turning back towards the window and putting his head against it for a couple more minutes to nap.

Hyunjin typed your address into the GPS, and redirected his route to head over to your place.

Jeongin settled back into his seat, his knee still jumping up and down until Chris put his hand on it squeezing it gently to get the maknae to stop.

"It's okay..." He murmured sleepily. "She's okay...just be there for her...I bet its hard." His cheek pressed against the window and he started to doze off again.

The hidden meaning of Chan's words was something that Jeongin wasn't able to interpret, but it just made him want to see you more.

To get down on his knees and beg you to forgive him for being so careless.

So heartless and insensitive.

You had reaached out to him for help, and maybe if he would have helped you in the moment - instead of tearing you down then everything would have been okay right now.

He could only imagine you laying sick in your bed. Cold and lonely.

He wanted to run to you, comfort you and be able to hold you as you cried into his arms.

He wanted to be the boyfriend he usually was, the one you could easily embrace. The type of boyfriend who would go to the ends of the Earth to protect you; or to find someone who hurt you.

He wanted to be enough.

But in order to do that he had to apologize first.

So as he stood at your door, tyoing in your passcode (your guys anniversary), he ran through all the things he would do to apologize.

Do I apologize before I hug her? Or do I hug her first...she might be crying since she's so sick maybe I should-

When he opened the door, he was not expecting to see you lounging on the couch with a bowl of assorted candy in your lap as you watched a 24 minute long compilation of Gojo edits.

You looked at Jeongin with wide eyes, an airhead mid bite in your mouth.

If it were any other cirucumstance Jeongin would have laughed at the oddity of the situation.

But instead his chin started to tremble and he began to cry.

You instantly rushed over to him, because no matter how petty you wanted to be you couldn't stand seeing the adorable man you loved so much cry.

"Innie- why..."

"I thought- I thought you were..." He couldn't even finish his sentence for the next few minutes as he just sat in your foyer crying.

You rubbed his back, even though you still felt a little annoyed by his antics of the previous week. And that he had interrupted your you time.

Which reminded you of something.

"I'll be right back Innie." You said as you headed towards your bathroom.

But with the amount of anxiety Jeongin had dealt with for the past week he couldn't stop himself from following you moments after.

You didn't notice that he had, so you proceeeded to do as you had been doing ever since you got home from the hospital.

With the click of a button, a small needle pricked your middle finger, and ruby red blood pooled from the small space.

Then a much lengthier needle pierced its way through the insulin bottle you had kept in your medicine cabinet and you pulled up the length of your shorts up to inject the liquid into the fattier part of your leg.

You winced in slight pain, still trying to get used to this new change in pace; in lifestyle.

When you took the needle out, putting it in the makeshift biohazard bin you had made, all the other needles clearly visible, you heard a soft little sniff.

You turned around to see Jeongin, staring at you, his brows furrowed and twitching slightly as he watched you with concern, the slightest hint of betrayal, disappointment and pain in his face.

"Jagiya?"

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@sleeping143 @artist2181 @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jaythegay26 @gay-littlemushroomlover @armystay89 @sara6767776 @wildtokay

@kyrennetwork @stay-tiny-things

@piscesrising01 @0325tiny @hannamoon143

@chimchxmni

@ka0ila

@jazziwritesthings

@skzstannie

#skz angst #stray kids reactions #skz stay #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz seungmin #skz felix #skz han #han jisung #kim seungmin #lee felix #yang jeongin #jeongin angst #seungmin angst #felix angst #han angst

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Explicitly Yours | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: When Bob met you, he fell for you hard and fast. He thought you might be his perfect match, the one that would make his days feel full instead of lonely. He never would have dreamed you had a secret. But secrets are known to be revealed at the most inconvenient of times, and Bob's surprised hesitation could cost him the thing he wants most.

Warnings: Smut, oral, fluff, angst, misogyny, language, mentions of adult film industry

Length: 11k words (what have I done?)

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Former Pornstar!Female Reader

This was written for International Bob Floyd Fucks Month hosted by @attapullman. Check my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

Bob was fresh off of a long deployment when he returned to work at North Island on Monday morning to find he would begin training as part of a new taskforce. He was tired and antsy, still overstimulated from being around so many people on the aircraft carrier, but he was also realizing how lonely he was.

He'd arrived back to a sterile, empty, dusty apartment, slept for two days, and now he was back to work. He couldn't even have a cat or a houseplant. He really would like to have a cat or a houseplant. Mostly he thought about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend. A sweet one who would wait for him to return home so his apartment didn't feel so sad. One who didn't mind that sometimes he preferred it to be quiet. One who would let him dote on her a little bit when he was home.

When he was told to report to Classroom Six in his uniform instead of the tarmac in his flight suit, Bob knew it was going to be a long day. That idea only grew as soon as he walked in and was accosted by his friends. "You're back!" Natasha screeched, streaking across the room like a brunette cannonball and slamming into his arms. "It's not even fair that we weren't deployed together. I missed you!"

"Missed you too, Nat. Thanks for all the emails."

Then he felt Bradley, Jake and Javy all jostling him around until his glasses were crooked on his face. That's probably why he did a double take when he saw you. There was no way you were that beautiful. His glasses must need to be adjusted on his face. But he was wrong. You looked the same after he pushed his wire frames back into place.

He swallowed hard and whispered, "Who's that?"

The guys all looked at him with matching smirks, and Javy told him your name. "Civilian. She's Warlock's new assistant. Got reassigned from a different department last week."

"She's real cute," Jake added. "And she looks so familiar."

"Why does she look so familiar?" Bradley asked, and Bob realized that the whole group was staring at you where you were conversing quietly with Warlock. "We've been trying to figure it out for a week."

You didn't look familiar to Bob. You just looked pretty with bright eyes and a friendly smile, both of which were trained on him now. Of course you were looking his way now, because everyone had mussed up his hair and wrinkled his uniform. He didn't mind so much that you caught him staring, because you were the kind of woman who must get that a lot.

"Lieutenant Floyd," Admiral Bates said as he stood, and Bob saluted his superior officer immediately. "Welcome back."

"Sir," Bob replied, doing his best not to let his gaze drift back to you. "Thank you."

Then Warlock called the room to order, and Bob ended up sitting in the front row, directly across from you. Barely six feet away. You were so pretty, it wasn't even funny. The curve of your face and your neck and the way you moved were mesmerizing. Smooth and fluid. Confident. Beautiful. You kept Warlock on task and seemed to have all the pertinent information about the class memorized. But all of it was lost on Bob, because he was way too distracted.

By lunchtime, he had sweat through his undershirt, and he was sure his uniform shirt wasn't looking much better. The way you turned to look directly at him with a slightly guarded expression when you stood made him blush. It must be obvious to you that Bob couldn't keep his eyes off your face.

"Hi," you greeted. "Lieutenant Floyd."

Bob swallowed hard before something that sounded vaguely like Hello came out of his mouth.

Your smile was tinged with a little sadness as you stuck out your hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting the last team member. Welcome back from deployment, Lieutenant."

And then you were walking away, but Bob was still sweating.

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

For the next four days, Bob got there early to ensure he had that same front row seat. He had a full blown crush. Heart pounding, palms damp, unable to focus on anything other than his crush on you. When he wasn't at work looking right at you, he was daydreaming about you. When he wasn't daydreaming about you, he was asleep and having actual dreams where you were his girlfriend. In one of them, you gave him a back massage, and he woke up with an erection.

He could barely even look at you for the nauseous feeling that took up residence just below his pounding heart, but he couldn't look anywhere else. He'd never been like this before. Sure, he'd been attracted to many women in the past, but this was something else entirely.

"But why is she so familiar looking?" Jake asked Bradley at lunch. "You sure you didn't fuck her?"

"Oh, I think I'd remember fucking someone that looked like that," Bradley replied with a chuckle. "Wait... did you fuck her?"

"I don't think so?" Jake replied, looking a little panicked. "She's not the one I went home with on my birthday, is she? Because you know I can't remember that night. And if I fucked her and can't remember it, then I deserve to be executed."

They both erupted into laughter with Javy, and Bob felt deflated. One of the three of them was definitely going to ask you out sooner rather than later, and instead of getting an occasional guarded glance in his direction, Bob would have nothing.

That night at the bar, he sat with his cup of peanuts and talked with Nat about work while everyone else played pool. "I guess we have another week or two of lectures ahead of us, but I can't wait to get back in the air."

"Yeah," Bob replied, glancing around the room in case the Hard Deck was your Friday night scene. It wasn't really his, but he came for his friends. And if he got to spend another week or two in the classroom, he wasn't going to complain; there would be no way for him to look at you when he was in the cockpit.

"Bob!" Javy called as if he'd been trying to get his attention for a few minutes. He was waving a pool cue. "Take over for me. I need to go shoot my shot."

As Bob stood, he watched Javy head off into the crowd toward a woman who looked like you. He did a double take, his heart leaping up into his throat as Bradley started to push him closer to the pool table. Javy saw you. He was going to ask you out. A feeling of devastation filled his lungs, but then the woman turned around, and it wasn't you. Her smile wasn't nearly as pretty, and she didn't have the same eyes.

Relieved, Bob sank the seven ball before running the table like he was some sort of pro. But he knew deep inside that he was going to have to ask you out himself or miss out on even having a chance with you.

Every day the following week, he tried to give himself a pep talk. He could do this. Even if you said no, it would be fine. It would be good practice for him. But he knew it would not be okay. He liked the sound of your voice and the way you moved, and he thought about you in every room of his apartment doing a wide variety of things. Some of them made him blush.

He couldn't tell if it would be worse to never even try or to have to live with himself after you looked at him and said you weren't interested. At least if he kept things quiet, the guys couldn't find a way to make fun of him. And although they all liked to talk about you at lunch, to his knowledge, none of them had asked you on a date. Maybe they were as intimidated as him.

On Wednesday, you dropped your pen, and Bob picked it up for you. He got a "Thanks, Lieutenant Floyd," in response along with a cautious smile. Then on Thursday, he helped you move the projector before class started, and you said, "Thanks. You're a lot stronger than I am." He felt like he floated to his seat after that.

On Friday, disaster struck. You were organizing your stack of notes at the end of the day when Bob stood. But then Bradley was there, leaning on the table in front of you after everyone had been dismissed. "Hey, so the guys and I were wondering if you ever made it out to the Hard Deck on Friday nights? I'd love to buy you a drink."

Bob nearly collapsed back into his seat as he watched your eyes searching Bradley's face like you were trying to tell if he was lying. "No, actually. I play Dungeons & Dragons most Friday nights."

A strangled sound escaped Bob. "You play D&D?" he asked before he could think better of it.

"Yeah," you replied easily, giving him a little smile. "Been into it for years."

"Me too," he added, and you set down everything you'd been holding.

"It must be hard to be part of a campaign when you deploy on occasion?" you asked, and Bob was convinced he wouldn't notice if a freight train was about to hit him.

He nodded and took a step closer, watching you stand up. "It can be, yeah. But I've been in the same campaign for a few years, so I'd like to think I'm an integral enough part of it that everyone else doesn't mind waiting for me."

You laughed. It was so pretty. "I'm sure they don't mind one bit, Lieutenant Floyd."

"You can call me Bob," he blurted out, eyes going wide as you licked your lips and grinned.

"Okay. Bob."

He could do this. He was already part way there, he thought. Just a little further. "Maybe you and I could get coffee this weekend and talk about our characters?"

When he was met with silence and your softly parted lips, he wanted to disappear. But your expression was trained on his face, and even though you still seemed a little hesitant, you asked, "Like a date? Because I'm free on Sunday."

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

You were laughing so hard, you had to set your coffee cup down next to your scone, and Bob was basking in the sound of it. "No, Bob! That's why I made my character a Rogue! Because I could never be such a scoundrel in real life!" He just listened to your laughter taper off while he grinned in the middle of the crowded cafe where you only seemed to be focused on him.

"Well, that's why I made mine a Sorcerer. I don't know if you knew this about me, but I can't actually cast spells."

You started to laugh again. "Could have fooled me." But he must have been looking at you for too long, because you brought your hand up to your lips and asked, "Do I have crumbs on my face or something?"

"No, your face is perfect," he replied without considering his words, but your look of slightly embarrassed delight outweighed the tinge of mortification he felt.

You searched his eyes, seemingly always trying to gauge his sincerity. Then you surprised him when you said, "You're really sweet. It's refreshing."

Bob looked down at his hands, unsure how to respond but pleased nonetheless. "Will you let me take you to a movie? Or dinner? Or both?"

"Yes."

The following morning at work, you were as focused on Bob as he was on you. The sweaty palms and erratically beating heart were back, only exacerbated by your alluring gaze and the promise of a second date on Thursday night. You agreed to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and Bob was already excited.

"Why are you acting so strange?" Nat asked at lunchtime. "You're like both weirdly quiet and also talking so much?"

Bob laughed and said, "I went out on a date yesterday." And when he said it was with you, her eyes went wide. "We're going out again on Thursday."

"Bob!" she gasped, and now all of the guys were looking at him, and there was no way he would ever recover from this as Nat told them he got coffee with you.

"Welcome to the big leagues, buddy," Jake drawled, while Bradley glared at him. "Just wish I could figure out why she seems so familiar. Like it's just stuck in the back of my mind somehow. Like I know her."

"None of you know her as well as Bob does," Nat said with a laugh that made him smile. Before you and he parted ways at the coffee shop, you'd squeezed his hand in your smaller one, and it was already one of the sexiest moments of his life.

"Fuck you, Bob," Bradley grumbled.

But it didn't matter. Bob really liked you and the fact that you talked about your Dungeons & Dragons character for a full hour. And your pretty face and your laugh. And the way you seemed interested in what he had to say. You were checking off all of the boxes for him. Smart, funny, kind of nerdy, interesting. He wondered how many dates he should take you on before asking you to be his girlfriend.

On Wednesday, as soon as Warlock dismissed everyone, you handed Bob a folded up note.

I can't wait for dinner tomorrow night. Here's my number.

He waited until he was home and sitting on his couch before he texted you. Less than a minute later, you responded. And that's how he spent the rest of his night. He didn't even eat until after nine, too wrapped up in what you had to say. Those intrusive thoughts and daydreams and real dreams about you in his apartment were starting to seem like they could be a reality. That's what he wanted. He could already picture you on the couch, wrapped up in the afghan his mom made, watching a movie with him. Or in his kitchen, helping him make dinner.

He fell asleep on the couch in his uniform, too absorbed in this conversation to even go to bed properly. But that was fine, because suddenly it was Thursday, and not only would he see you all day at work, he'd get to eat with you and learn more about you.

Once again, Bob slid into that front row seat, and you had to work at keeping the smile from your face all morning. When you did look his way, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure he'd pass out if you kissed him, and suddenly that was the only thing he could think about. Warlock talked about aggressive maneuvering, and Bob thought about your lips. Warlock talked about safety protocols, and Bob thought about your lips touching his.

It would be a miracle if he made it through dinner, but he had to try. You stood and started walking out of the classroom at the end of the day, but you turned back and said, "I'll meet you there at 7:30."

Bob offered to pick you up, but you said you'd drive yourself, and now he had more than two hours to kill. He took a long shower and fixed his hair before dressing in the outfit that Nat had pre-approved for him. He made sure his glasses were straight and that he had his credit card. The only other thing he could do was hope the conversation would come as easily for him this time, as it had over coffee.

He shouldn't have been worried about that. What he should have been worried about was the way his heart stopped when you walked through the front doors of the restaurant and directly for him, wearing a pretty blue dress with your face all made up like he was someone to impress.

"Hi, Bob," you whispered. Then you kissed his cheek at the same time that he started to turn his head, and his lips nudged yours. He stood there shocked as you slipped your hand into his, and you started to tug him toward the waiting table when his name was called.

His ears didn't stop burning the whole night. His brain kept circling back to the idea of another kiss. An intentional one. A kiss after a second date was not something he'd ever attempted before, but he was going to do it tonight. Based on the way you were looking at him, he had to.

"Do you want more wine?" you asked, holding up the bottle.

"Yes, please," he replied, because that would definitely help his cause.

You smiled as you poured him some. "You have lovely manners." When you set the bottle down, you added, "And really pretty eyes."

Bob counted to three and then said, "I know we didn't even eat dessert yet, but I really like you. And tomorrow is your D&D night, but maybe you'll let me take you to a movie on Saturday?"

After dinner, in the parking lot next to your car, Bob kissed you. Intentionally. The first tilt of his head was hesitant, and when his lips met yours, he started to get nervous and pull away. But you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you chased him for another kiss. "Which movie are we seeing?" you asked as you rubbed your nose gently along his.

"You can pick," he replied before kissing you again. "I just want to be around you." And then his hands found the small of your back and you inched yourself closer until your chest was touching his and your knee was bumping his leg.

You were smiling when he finally pulled his face away from yours. "I'll text you my address and the movie I want to see."

Bob smiled, too. "And then I'll pick you up, and we can go to the theater."

This was probably the best week of his life. He watched you pull out of the parking lot, and you waved to him through your window after you blew him a kiss. He went home and thought about what he might be able to cook for date number four. Perhaps you'd want to do the movie on Saturday and then have dinner at his place on Sunday? He'd figure it out. Either way, he was excited for more.

"A third date?" Nat asked on Friday when everyone was taking a break in the classroom. "Damn, Bob."

He eyed you where you stood talking quietly with Warlock, and you glanced his way, a soft smile on your lips. "I really like her. She's different. In a good way. And she makes me feel comfortable."

Nat rubbed his back in slow circles. "Make sure you put your arm around her during the movie. She might be expecting it. But if she doesn't snuggle against you, then you should remove it."

He nodded and swallowed. "Right. I can do that. Is it too soon to invite her over to my apartment for dinner?"

"I don't think so," she replied softly. "And maybe you should buy some condoms."

Bob's cheeks immediately flushed, but he didn't mind too much, since it was just Nat. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"She seems sweet. Just tell her what you're feeling when the time comes."

Now everything was making Bob a little nervous as he drove through your neighborhood on Saturday night. He passed modern beachfront house after modern beachfront house, and then his GPS told him he had arrived. He saw your car in the driveway, but the house was gorgeous and must be worth a ton of money. Maybe you had a roommate?

He parked his old truck and headed up the sidewalk with butterflies in his stomach and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You opened the door before he even knocked, and then you were in his arms and invading his senses. "Are those for me?" you asked, kissing his cheek and poking the flowers.

"Yes," he whispered, silently begging you to let him hold you for a few more seconds while he caught his breath and got himself under control. You turned him on in every way, and he'd never encountered this before.

Your soft voice next to his ear as you chuckled and said, "Thanks, Bob," was not helping. You led him inside, and your house was incredible. There were no signs of a roommate, but there was a view of the ocean from the windows along the back of the house. He watched you bend in your little dress to find a vase for the flowers, and he felt completely overwhelmed.

"Ready to go?" you asked, reaching for his hand a minute later. Your eyes were eager and sincere as you gazed up at him. Your fingers were laced with his, and Bob realized if he wanted to get to the next step with you, he needed to get through tonight.

"Yes." He kissed your lips softly, and you leaned against his arm as he walked you out to his truck.

You spent the drive to the movie theater telling him all about your Friday night playing Dungeons & Dragons, and of course Bob felt more relaxed. He bought the tickets, and you got the popcorn, and when he put his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled against him, so he kept it there. By the end of the movie, the empty popcorn bucket was on the floor, and you had your palm resting on his thigh.

"Did you like it?" you asked softly while the end credits scrolled.

"Yes, I liked it," he promised, accepting another of your kisses.

"It's still early. Want to grab a drink somewhere?"

Bob really only knew one place, because he spent an awful lot of his free time there. "Should we hit up the Hard Deck? And then I can take you home and hopefully get another goodnight kiss?"

You had one eyebrow raised as you considered him. "Even after the third date? You're not going to try to make a move?"

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks as he muttered, "Not yet." And then your lips were all over his like he'd answered your questions correctly, even though he felt like his thoughts on the matter were actually probably wrong according to most people.

Eventually the two of you made your way to the bar, but visiting the Hard Deck was a mistake that he didn't see coming. You were tucked perfectly against his side as Bob walked across the parking lot and listened to you tell him how much you liked working for Admiral Bates. Then you ordered two vodka sodas, and Bob had to pluck your credit card from your hand to keep you from paying for them.

"Hey!" you complained, but he just smiled.

"I'll give it back later." He was rewarded with another kiss on the cheek, this one very close to his lips.

"Well, look who's here," Jake drawled obnoxiously over the music from the jukebox and the noise from the crowd. "Bob and his friend."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, but you kept one hand linked with his as the drinks were set down. "Should we say hi to your friends?" you asked, and Bob nodded even though he really wanted to just find a small table on the other side of the room. But Nat looked excited, and the other guys looked annoyed, so Bob thought a short detour might be fun.

"Hey," Bob greeted everyone as you sipped your drink.

"How was the movie?" Nat asked, elbowing Bradley in the side before he could say anything.

"Pretty good," you replied. "You know, for one of those Academy Award bait films."

Bob laughed and looked at you. "I liked it a lot, actually." Or maybe he just liked sitting with his arm around you for two hours at a time, but he wasn't going to say that in front of everyone else.

Javy tapped a pool cue on the ground and asked, "Do you like to see a lot of movies?"

You nodded with a bit of an apprehensive look on your face that had Bob just about ready to pull you over to the table that another couple was vacating. "Yeah... I like films," you replied softly.

And then Jake's jaw dropped open and he slapped the edge of the pool table. "Oh my god!" His green eyes were wide as he looked you up and down from head to toe with a smirk that made Bob want to stand in front of you. "That's why you look so familiar! You're Roxy Luxxe."

"Oh, fuck," Javy said as he dropped the pool cue on Nat's foot, and Bradley choked on his beer.

But Bob just stood there and watched your posture stiffen and the look of apprehension on your face grow. "Who?" he asked softly, but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

"She's a porn star, Bob!" Jake said a little too loudly as he hooted. "A very memorable one, too. Played up different movie genres. Everyone I Did Last Summer. Sisterhood of the Traveling Sluts. Laid in Manhattan. Some real classics!"

"I retired," you said firmly, holding eye contact with Jake even though your voice sounded strained. "I left the industry five years ago."

"Guys," Nat said with a warning tone as she looked at Bob who was frozen in place, his head swarming with wild thoughts. An adult film star? You? But you worked at Top Gun and played D&D and liked scones. You went on three dates with Bob of all people.

Now Nat was physically moving Javy, Bradley and Jake back toward the game of pool, snapping her fingers at them as they continued to ogle you in your pretty dress. "So..." you whispered, turning toward Bob, looking anywhere but at his face. "That was... yeah..."

He had no idea what to say right now, and the longer he went without saying anything, the worse he felt inside. You used to have a job making adult films? Bob couldn't even handle watching those without blushing and stuttering. You must have had sex with dozens and dozens of different men and probably women too, and Bob suddenly realized he could go home and watch them for himself if he really wanted.

"Right," you said, finally looking at him as your eyes started to fill with tears. "Well... no hard feelings, Bob. I'll see you at work on Monday." Then you set your drink down, covered your mouth with one hand and made a beeline for the door.

Bob looked at the drink in his hand, and then at the one you set down. He left his on the table next to yours and followed you out to the parking lot. He looked around, calling your name and checking to see if you were by his truck, but you didn't respond. You were gone.

Roxy Luxxe. That name was made up, and he didn't think it suited you as well as your real name. That one was perfect, and he liked it. He liked you. He could drive back to your house, but if you didn't want to talk to him, then what was the point? He'd already embarrassed himself by clamming up. But even worse, he thought he might have embarrassed you.

"Damn it," he muttered, angry at Jake and all of them for making you feel small, and angry at himself, too. He got in his truck and drove himself home.

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

Well. You got three perfect dates before it all blew up in your face. Three amazing dates with Bob who was going to look at you like you were no longer worthy of his time now. Sure, you would have told him eventually. After another date or two, you would have brought it up in such a way that perhaps could have been a little bit more flattering or at least slightly tasteful. But of course you should have been expecting this. It wasn't the first time. Getting older only did so much for your face, and it didn't matter how much you changed your hair and makeup: Once Roxy Luxxe, always Roxy Luxxe.

You really thought none of them recognized you. It was almost refreshing that Bob had never heard of your alter ego. He probably never saw a single video of you having sex with Sam Slick or Dickie Divine. He didn't know exactly what your tits looked like, because you'd never taken your shirt off for him in person. He didn't know how you sounded when you faked an orgasm. As you ran down the block and got an Uber, you could hear Bob calling for you.

You weren't ashamed or embarrassed. You were not. This was your life, and you made every decision along the way for yourself. Nobody else. You put yourself through school. You bought the house of your dreams. You had an amazing job at Top Gun now for fuck's sake. But Bob was the first guy you met in a long time who made you think you could have a relationship with someone who wouldn't judge you for your past.

You walked from your Uber into your house and kicked your shoes across the entryway. More tears were filling your eyes, but you didn't want to cry again. Not over this. "But he was sweet," you whispered to your reflection in the hall mirror. His friends were kind of assholes, but he wasn't. Even if he didn't want to be with you now, which was understandable, those three dates were something else. Dungeons & Dragons discussions and coffee and pasta.

You sighed wistfully at the flowers in your kitchen. Maybe a few more years and you'd look even less like Roxy Luxxe. That might make things easier to navigate. You made yourself a cup of tea and grabbed some crackers and sat out on your back deck where the moonlight reflected off of the ocean. The way Bob had wrapped his arm around you during the movie made it easy to imagine him here with you, keeping you warm. Instead you grabbed a blanket and snuggled in as you thought about how he would have been an excellent boyfriend.

"You win some, you lose some," you told the night sky. If he was bothered by your past which you had designed so you could have a future, then he wasn't the one for you. You fell asleep outside in your dress, and the rising sun eventually woke you up. When you stretched and stood, the chilly air sent you running inside and toward your shower.

The memories of last night were hanging out in the periphery of your mind. Going to work tomorrow was going to be awful. If you didn't like Admiral Bates so much, you'd request to work under someone else. But then again, why should you have to go to work feeling bad? Yeah, it was going to sting to see Bob, but it was still your job, and you deserved to be happy.

You showered and took your time until all of your skin felt fresh and new, and then you threw on some oversized sweats after you moisturized. After breakfast, you could see if one of your friends from D&D was free to hang out. You were finally just about to check your phone to see if Bob had attempted to reach you when you heard a knock at your door.

Bob's truck was parked in your driveway just behind your car. You could see it through the front window. According to your phone, he tried to call you twice, and he'd send you a handful of texts. But now he was here and knocking again. It was obvious you were home, so you wrenched your front door open and stood before him with your chin held high.

"What do you need?" you asked, already feeling weak at the sight of his pretty blue eyes and his glasses.

"Hi," he said softly, just staring at you. He looked exhausted, like maybe he hadn't slept. Then he fumbled around in his jeans pocket and pulled out your credit card. "This is yours."

You plucked it from his hand and started to close the door. "Thanks for returning it. I'll see you at work."

Then he said your name. Your real name. "Wait. Please?"

You pressed your lips together. "What do you want, Bob?"

The soft rise and fall of his solid chest held your attention while he started stuttering. "L-Look. I'm really sorry about last night."

You nodded. "Me too." It wasn't like you wanted to know, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "I take it you went home and looked up my videos?"

His eyes went wide as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I didn't."

You actually believed him, but you felt like making yourself hurt anyway. "Your friends have all seen me naked. Watched me getting fucked."

He seemed surprisingly calm as he half shrugged and kind of nodded. "So what?"

As you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, you said, "I'm not ashamed of anything I've ever done, okay? And I would have told you about it after another date or two... before we slept together." When he remained silent you added, "I started out in the adult film industry when I was eighteen. I quit when I was twenty five. I just turned thirty last month, and I guess I was silly for thinking enough time had passed. But last night was a prime example of why I haven't even tried to date anyone. Ever, really."

Bob was gaping at you now. "Not ever? But you're... you're so..."

"I know," you said, cutting him off before he could finish. "I'm hot enough to do porn, but nobody wants to date me."

You started to close the door again, but he scrambled. "N-No, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say you're flawless. A-And I shouldn't have let you leave the bar like that last night."

Your fingers loosened on the door, and soon it was drifting away from you, opening wider for Bob as he stood there with an eager expression. God, you just really liked him. And he seemed like he was being sincere. "What would you have done differently last night?" you whispered.

He started to reach for you before tucking his fingers in his jeans pocket. "I would have taken your hand in mine as soon as I saw tears in your eyes." You bit your lips as he added, "And I would have told you that I like you so much. And if you wanted to leave, then I would have driven you home right away and walked you to your door."

He liked you so much. If there was a chance that Bob could be the kind of guy who still liked you with your past as Roxy Luxxe but also wasn't just trying to get in your pants and meet her for himself, then you wanted to give him a shot. "What would you have done after you walked me to my door?"

He was breathing deeper like he was nervous, and you wanted to touch him. "I would have asked you for that goodnight kiss that I'd been hoping for all day."

You were rushing for his arms, clearly surprising him in the process, but he held onto you as you gave him just the softest kiss. "I would have let you have it." Bob's hands found their way to the most respectful spot on your back, and you kissed him a little deeper.

As soon as you broke the kiss, his fingers flexed against your back, and he said, "I want to go on another date with you. A bunch more. But I want you to be sure about me. I don't really care about Roxy Luxxe. I'm sure she was lovely, but I like you." You laughed. You couldn't help it. And he smiled as he asked, "Maybe you can think about it today and let me know at work tomorrow?"

"Okay."

He nodded and let out the breath he was holding. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your back felt cold where his hands used to be as you watched him walk back to his truck. He waved to you as he pulled out of your driveway, and you waved back with a different feeling in your heart than you had twenty minutes ago.

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

Bob was disappointed to find he would be in the air on Monday. When he arrived on base, he changed into his flight suit instead of his khaki uniform, wondering what that would mean when it came to seeing you. He'd slept poorly, wondering what your answer would be, hoping you'd say yes to another date.

"Hey, Bob," Jake drawled as Bob zipped up his flight suit. "How was your night with Roxy Luxxe?" He had a devilish smirk on his face, and Bob's skin was crawling. All of the other guys were looking at him now, and he knew his face was beet red.

"I guess she was as good as she looks on film if she rendered you speechless," Jake added with a laugh.

"Whoa, no," Javy said, shaking his head at Jake before looking at Bob. "Cut it out, man."

Bob counted to five, took a deep breath and then raised his forearm, and at least Jake had the decency to look panicked. Bradley stepped into the fray as Bob used his arm on Jake's chest to push him back against the lockers. Sure, Jake was more muscular, but Bob was no slouch, and he had a couple inches on him. "Don't call her that again. Don't even talk about her. While you're at it, don't look at her either."

Jake raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly, and Bob released him, walking right out of the locker room and making a quick detour to the classroom. But you weren't there. He ran his hands through his hair before he headed outside to find Nat.

"Hey, there you are," she said gently. "You okay? After the bar and everything?"

"I'm fine," he replied, still looking around. "Have you seen her?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pointing behind Bob, and he whirled around in time to see you walk out of the tower with Warlock and Cyclone. You looked as pretty as you always did, and Bob found himself wanting you the same way today as he had last week. All of the daydreams about making breakfast together after holding you in his arms all night were still there. So were the thoughts about you snuggled up, laughing on his couch. But now he could also imagine taking walks on the beach where you lived.

Your gaze met his, and he watched you excuse yourself from the admirals before heading his way. Nat squeezed his bicep, and muttered good luck before making herself scarce, and then Bob was standing there with you a respectable three feet in front of him.

"Lieutenant Floyd."

He smiled softly. "Good morning."

"So..." you began, looking down at his boots and pressing your lips together. "I'm free on Wednesday night. Or pretty much all day Saturday." Your eyes trailed up his body until you were nervously examining his face. "What did you have in mind for our fourth date?"

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd been so apprehensive, afraid you were going to tell him to beat it, he hadn't bothered to come up with an actual date idea. "Cooking dinner at my place?" he blurted out.

You nodded like that sounded good to you. "Wednesday night then?"

He couldn't remember if he already had plans, but if he did, he'd cancel them immediately. "Yes. Wednesday. The day after tomorrow. Wednesday."

Your soft laughter filled him up as you turned and started to walk away, giving him just one word. "Wednesday."

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

You showed up to Bob's place with just a bottle of wine. He promised to take care of the rest. An hour later, a completely homemade pizza with fresh mozzarella and herbs was baking in the oven, and you had your arms draped around his neck. His lips tasted like the pinot noir the two of you had started drinking while you made the pizza, and his body felt strong and sure. As of right now, you thought you'd made the right choice by coming here.

"I really like you," he whispered for the third time this evening, and you believed him. You liked yourself. Why shouldn't he?

"I like you, too, Bob." You reached up and adjusted his glasses before letting your fingers trail back through his hair. As his hands slid slowly down to your hips, it was easy to imagine how he might be in bed. Authentic. Meticulous. Earnest. Just like he was at work. The thought thrilled you to no end, but you were also afraid of the way you'd feel afterwards if you rushed it just to get the first one out of your system. So you let him hold you like you were important.

The timer buzzed, and Bob laughed as you jumped further into his arms. You buried your face against his neck. "It's not funny." But you were laughing, too, and his lips met your hair. "Okay, it's kind of funny."

His stomach was growling, so you slowly pulled yourself free of his arms so he could put on his oven mitts. "Looks good," he remarked, but your gaze was fixed on him. "What do you think, Honey?"

Bob's eyes went wide as he set the tray down, like he couldn't believe what he'd said. Your heart was absolutely thundering in your chest. "Looks good," you whispered in agreement. You hadn't looked at it. You were sure it was fine. You'd eat anything anyway. But he called you Honey, and you didn't mind it one bit.

You shared the pizza side by side on his couch along with the rest of the bottle of wine, and Bob listened to you tell him about your friends you meet up with on Fridays. And then he told you about his deployment as he finished the last few drops of wine.

"I never really talk about this with anyone but Nat. This is nice," he said softly.

"Is it lonely?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as he set down his glass and looked at you.

You didn't want to rush him, because you could tell what he was going to say was important. And it was. His voice was a little rough as he looked at you and said, "Somehow it's lonelier when I come home. It's worse than being on an aircraft carrier in that I can't really have anything for myself here. There's nothing waiting for me. And a lot of the time, I feel like it would be too much to ask someone to do that. To wait for me. It would be a lot for someone to accept."

When you crawled onto his lap, he didn't stop you. And when you tilted his face up to make him look at you, his cheeks flushed pink, but his hands found your hips again. "I understand exactly how you feel."

Then you kissed him, and you didn't stop for probably hours or maybe days. It felt that good. When you ended up beneath his warm body, you were so happy he came to your house on Sunday morning with your credit card. "Bob," you whimpered, and that seemed to bring him back from wherever his head was while he kissed his way down your neck and along your chest. His hair was a mess from your fingers, and his lips were a little puffy from the kisses, and you were pretty sure he wouldn't let you down again even if his friends were idiots.

You'd broken the spell, but he didn't seem to mind as he stood and pulled you to your feet. "It's getting late. We have work in the morning. Let me walk you to your car?"

At this rate, you were afraid you'd let him do anything he wanted, because he held your hand the whole way there. And he kissed you just right and told you he'd love to spend part of Saturday with you.

"Come over," you told him, and he promised he would.

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

It was chilly as Bob watched the sunset over the ocean from your back deck, but his body was warm from the combination of having you and your fleece blanket wrapped around him. You fit perfectly in his arms. Frankly, you seemed to fit pretty perfectly in his life. He wouldn't mind spending all of his Saturdays like this, listening to your gaming recap from the night before while you occasionally kissed the side of his neck. Your fingers were laced with his, and when you asked if he wanted to share a bottle of wine you got when you were in Napa Valley, he responded with a different question.

"Is there any chance you'd want to be my girlfriend?" You shivered in his arms, so he wrapped you up a little tighter. "I can't stop thinking about you being the one waiting for me to get home from a deployment."

You didn't speak right away which made him apprehensive. He'd somehow been the one to push things too fast. This was something he'd never managed to do before. You tightened your grip on his hand as you said, "Bob... people are going to recognize me. It's going to happen sometimes, no matter what I try to do about it, and I-"

He cut you off with a kiss. "I don't care about that, Honey." Then more kisses. The bottle of wine in your kitchen was left forgotten as you carefully slipped one leg over Bob's lap and sat straddling him. You kept the blanket wrapped snug around both of you, your body nestled against his as your foreheads met. "I just really like you."

The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Everything was pink and purple and dusky and dreamy as your cheek nudged his glasses making him smile. "If you think you can handle being my boyfriend, then I'm not going to try to stop you."

Heart pounding, he asked, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes." Your kisses were slow and soft, and Bob kept chasing the smile on your lips, because he couldn't get enough. With his eyes closed, all he could hear was the ocean below and the soft sounds you made. All he could feel was your body everywhere. You smelled familiar. You tasted good.

As you ran your fingers through his hair, your other hand trailed down to his shoulder, along his bicep and then across his chest. When Bob dared to let his hands dip from your waist to your hips and butt, you scooted a little bit closer. He realized when your fingers skimmed his abs that he had an erection.

Embarrassed, he tried to break the kiss and move his hands, but as soon as he started to move, you pulled away first. In the dying light, he could see your wide eyes and the alluring rise and fall of your chest. Part of your lace bra strap was showing, and your nipples were obviously hard. His cock throbbed in his jeans as you asked, "Do you want to stop?"

He knew you could read the desire on his face. When he started to shake his head, you rubbed yourself against his jeans where he was hard for you. "No," he grunted, head tipping back as he panted. "I don't want to stop."

"Good," you whispered next to his ear, lips barely grazing him. "Neither do I." You took his hands in both of yours and brought them back up to your body, encouraging him to touch every curve.

He gasped your name as he watched you slowly rolling your hips against him, seemingly in no hurry as you bit your lip. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you didn't stop him, and he tossed it aside. Your body looked magical in the twilight, and as he reached for your bra clasp, realization hit him.

You were used to a certain caliber of partner for these kinds of activities. Standards he probably couldn't meet. "You're hesitating again," you whispered, voice breaking a little bit on the last word. "If you don't think you want to do this with me, I completely understand, Bob."

It was getting difficult to read your expression in the darkness, but when you stopped touching him and pulled your arms to your sides, he started to panic. "It's not that," he promised. "But you've been with... p-professionals. Guys who know what they're... doing." He ran his hands through his own hair. "And I'm not the most experienced. I've only had two partners."

"Oh, Bob," you moaned, and his cock ached at the sound. He wanted you. His whole body was screaming for it, and then he watched as you unhooked your own bra and let it slide down your arms and fall from your fingers. Your body was flawless, back arched, every curve designed to make him crazy. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine as you leaned in closer and kissed him. "You'll be so much better."

Your bare skin was everywhere as the blanket slipped from around you. Bob's hands splayed across your back to keep you warm, but the supple feel of you had him thrusting against your core as he gingerly ran his thumb along the side of your breast. "So much better!" you whispered before pulling his bottom lip between yours.

He was still a little nervous, throbbing against you in his pants like a teenager as he cupped your breast in his rough palm. When you trailed your lips down his neck, he said, "I just want to be good enough for you."

Bob was thankful it was dark and you couldn't see him blushing as you nipped his earlobe and giggled. "Bob. You're better, because you're real. And you're turning me on, because we're not faking anything." You moved your right hand down between your bodies and squeezed his cock through his jeans as you sucked on his neck. "There's nothing fake about this."

He was gasping as he reached for your hand. "Honey." He couldn't take too much more teasing, or at this rate, he'd finish before his pants were off. "Can we go inside?"

You were off his lap and reaching for him with both hands, pulling him to his feet and closer to you. "My bedroom sound good?"

"Yes."

It was honestly difficult to walk. You led him through the sliding glass door and inside where the soft lighting somehow made your topless body look even more stunning. You brought him down the short hallway to your room, walking backwards and looking up at him with a smirk as you unzipped his jeans. He made another unintelligible noise as he watched the way your breasts swayed and bounced with each movement.

Your bedside lamp provided the only light, and Bob was still looking around, trying to get his bearings, when you pulled his shirt and undershirt off. "Oh," you gasped, running your palms up his flat stomach to his slightly broader chest. "God." He couldn't fathom that you liked what you saw and felt enough to leave you panting his name, but you definitely were. Then your hand was down the front of his unzipped jeans, and he grinned as you tried your best to wrap your hand around his length, your eyes growing wide. "Bob."

And now he wasn't really nervous, because this actually felt really easy and good with you. You were giving him all the queues that you wanted more. You were kissing him as you stumbled to the bed. You were trying your best to get your hand around his cock, but you couldn't. He picked you up and hauled you up to the pillows, and you squealed. All he could see was your beautiful smile as you kissed him over and over, only pulling away to run your nose along his cheek and whisper his name.

He watched you shimmy out of your yoga pants and underwear and push them aside, and it was no wonder you were able to make a career out of using your body the way you did. But if most of that was just acting, then he wasn't going to let you down now. He watched as your head tipped back, and you pressed yourself up against his hands when he gently squeezed your breasts. Mesmerized by all of this, he let his hands drift down over your ribs and along your sides until he was met by your hips.

Bob worked his hands slowly back up your body and down again, pausing to press his lips to your breasts as you arched for him again. You felt soft, and you were sensitive, running your bare foot up and down his leg as you whimpered. When he squeezed your hips again, he let his gaze fall below your belly button.

His voice was soft and deep as he asked, "Is it okay if I taste you, Honey?"

You instantly spread your legs a little wider, grabbed him by his hair, and said, "Please."

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

Bob's hands were huge, with thick veins and graceful, calloused fingers. All he was doing was touching you and kissing you, and you were very fucking worked up. This was already a treat, just being with a guy who wasn't grabbing at you and trying to shove his cock in your mouth. But it was more than that. It was the soft tone he used when he said your name and the way he was looking at you.

Gentle but strong. That was how you'd describe your newly minted boyfriend. You smiled at him as he stroked his fingers down your sides. You hadn't had a boyfriend in years, and Bob was so sweet and handsome, it was absolutely outrageous.

"Is it okay if I taste you?"

All of that and he wanted to go down on you? "Please." Your voice was needy, and your body was so ready for him. You eased your thighs further apart so he could see all of you, and you let your fingers tangle in his soft hair. You were so excited, and when the wire rim of his glasses brushed the inside of your thigh, you shivered with pleasure.

Then his lips met your pussy, and you almost went through the fucking ceiling. Those big hands were at your waist, holding you in place on the bed as he licked up along your slit, slowly tasting every inch before he hummed softly. You wanted to watch, but you could barely lift your head off of the pillow as he licked up again and again before kissing your clit.

When you managed to prop yourself up on one elbow, you got a great view of his big cock hanging out of his unzipped jeans when he lifted his head away from your body. "Does it feel good?" he asked, and you laughed. He pulled away from you further, concern on his face as you started to reach for him.

Your nails scraped along the day's worth of stubble on his cheek as you sat up and kissed him, tasting yourself. You licked at his lips and chin, cleaning up the wetness before you whispered. "It feels better than good."

A few seconds later, you were on your back again, legs over his shoulders as he ate your pussy with fervor. All of your nerve endings were singing his praises. He had you spread with his rough thumbs, and when he looked up at you, even his nose was wet. Your hands were fisted at your sides while you gently rolled your hips against his mouth and whined at the perfect feel of him. "Shit. Fuck," you gasped. He sucked on you with just the right amount of pressure, and your toes were literally starting to curl. "Bob!"

All you got in response was another hum of pleasure that made you squeal followed by some seriously lewd, wet sounds. His broad shoulders pushed against the backs of your thighs, and you felt him teasing at your opening with the tip of one finger. Tongue circling your clit, he glanced up at you over his crooked glasses. His cheeks were pink, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as you reached for his hair again. "I want you to fuck me."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding his head like he hadn't brought you close with his mouth. He looked a little dazed and pussy drunk, and you thought you could fall in love with that expression on his handsome face.

"Come here," you whispered, kneeling so you could kiss him. "You taste like me," you added, licking his cheek and chin. "And I love it."

"Honey," he growled, and when you looked down, you could tell he was aching. You pushed him onto his butt and helped him the rest of the way out of his jeans and snug briefs, his thick cock bouncing for you. Then you looked at him there in just his socks and glasses, and your entire body clenched with a need you'd never known before.

You took his cock in both hands, leaned down and kissed away all of his precum while every muscle in his abs and both legs tensed up. "Holy shit," he gasped. When you tugged on his shoulders, he moved with you, covering your body with his own. His weight and warmth against your bare skin felt essential to your happiness, and when you kissed him, he said, "And you taste like me."

His cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you ran your tongue along his lips. You couldn't get enough. He shifted his body slightly, and his cock came to rest on your slick clit, making you moan into his mouth. You arched away from him, moving your hips back and forth a few inches at a time, using his body to bring yourself pleasure as you clung to his arms. "God, Bob. You haven't even been inside me yet, and I'm a mess."

The veins in his neck and forehead were more prominent as he panted, a bead of his sweat rolling down to the tip of his nose. You licked it away as you shifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. He was thick, and even though you were soaking wet now, you had to use one hand to help guide him. You shook your head from side to side, your body taking him slowly. He buried his forehead to your neck, and the bite of his glasses against your collar bone kept you grounded.

"Honey," he moaned, clutching at your hips as he finally, finally bottomed out. You were completely full, already clenching around him softly and enjoying the rough feel of his trimmed hairs against your clit. He thrusted a few times like he couldn't help himself, and you kissed his forehead. "Am I hurting you?"

His neck was a little slick against your fingertips. You'd been fucked too rough or without enough lubrication to the point of it being painful several times before, but this was the exact opposite. "Bob, you feel incredible." He lifted his head and kissed your lips, rewarding you with another thrust. Your legs tangled with his as you pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him harder.

His lips found their way to your neck and breasts, and his thrusts started coming quicker, but every smooth movement left you gripping at him, your body begging for more as you whimpered and whined. He murmured your name against your skin, sucking on your nipples until you were seeing stars. And each thrust filled you somehow better than the last. And every movement left you grinding your clit up for more.

You were going to come. You were going to come so hard. You could feel it. The buildup was delicious. Lips and stubble and glasses on your breasts. Hands on your hips. Bob everywhere.

"I'm not wearing a condom. Honey," he panted. "I'm not wearing a condom."

"It's okay," you whined loudly, suddenly gasping and clawing at his shoulders for leverage. "You can come wherever you want."

He chose inside you. And you came, hard and long and loud, hands on his face while you kissed him. You knew he was going to be so much better. You called it from the start. From when he surprised you by asking you out for coffee. He was immediately better than anything else you anticipated for yourself, and even when he fumbled, he recovered. You ran your lips along his cheek and back to his ear and whispered, "You're so much better than faking it."

He rolled both of you onto your sides, facing each other while he was still deep inside you. "Please don't ever do that. Fake it," he said, voice deep and raspy as he ran his rough palm along your cheek. "I want to know I'm good enough for my girlfriend."

You smiled and tucked your head under his chin, and he wrapped his arm around you. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and his words were soft and gentle. When he climbed out of bed, he asked where he could find a washcloth, and he came back with it a minute later, ready to help you get cleaned up. He even held your robe out for you and waited while you used the bathroom, but you did that quickly, finding you wanted to be right next to him as much as possible.

Bob looked delicious in his briefs and undershirt, and you wrapped your arms around his waist as you asked, "Do you want to go back out under the blanket? With the bottle of wine? We could look at the stars. Listen to the ocean before bed."

He kissed your forehead. "As long as I'm with you."

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

Six months later...

After eight weeks away, Bob was excited to get home. He really hoped this was the start of his deployments feeling lonelier than the time between them did. Especially since he was going home to you and the house where he moved all of his stuff as soon as you asked him to live with you. He couldn't wait to hold you all night and hear all about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and ask how you'd been enjoying work.

As soon as the aircraft carrier started docking in San Diego, he was at one of the lower railings along with the other aviators, and he spotted you immediately. You were bouncing around at the front of the crowd shouting his name and waving like a lunatic, and he had missed you so much. "Hey, Honey!" he shouted, and you just jumped higher.

"Damn, Floyd. That's your girl?" asked one of the guys he'd flown with.

"Yeah," he replied, never taking his eyes off you. "That's my girl."

Six and a half minutes later, he was practically running down the long ramp with his duffle on one shoulder to the spot where you were waiting for him.

"Bob!" you screeched as he scooped you up in your tiny dress and kissed you until you were as breathless as he was. "I missed you. I love you so much, and I missed you."

"I want to go home, Honey," he said, kissing you again. "Take me home."

"Gladly," you gushed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward his own truck. "I have big plans for your big cock," you announced to everyone around you, and Bob felt his cheeks warm up. "Well, and the rest of you, too. We can make a pizza together and eat out on the deck."

"Anything you want," he promised, tossing his bag in the truck bed and pushing you against the door. "And I love you, too."

You only let him kiss you for a few seconds, before you were pushing him away. "I know you do. Let's go home." You held his hand on the short ride, and when he pulled in the driveway, you yanked him right out and led him inside the house.

This felt incredible, knowing you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, running hand in hand to the bedroom. Then you stopped short and turned to face him as he bumped into you with a laugh. "You know how you're kind of your alter ego right now when you're in your uniform? Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, but your lips curled into a smile as you backed away.

"Well... I thought you might like to meet my alter ego?" you asked softly, easing that little dress up to your hips and along your torso before pulling it over your head. You were standing there in the tiniest black thong and bra set known to mankind. "Do you want to meet Roxy Luxxe?"

Bob just nodded and reached down to palm himself through his khaki pants as he gaped at you and grunted, "Uh huh." If Roxy was just a playful extension of his girlfriend, then yes, he wanted to meet her.

You bit your lip and coaxed him toward the bed, running your hands down your body to your hips where you played with your underwear. "Good. Because she wants to meet you, too. And she wants you to know she's only going to be available exclusively for Bob Floyd's enjoyment."

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

Thanks for reading this long one-shot! I wanted Bob to get to fuck a former pornstar, because nobody deserves such a treat the way Bob does! But then I got attached to them and had to make it special. Bob and the artist formerly known as Roxy Luxxe are adorable together. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for your help!

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pinkypromisepascal · 6 months ago

Text

Handiwork - Jim Hopper x fem!reader

summary: Hopper shows up with a nasty cut so you lend a helping a hand and patch him up.

content: MDNI ofc, friends to lovers, subby!Hop, Hop has a hand kink, just minor descriptions of the cut, handjob, cum eating (oops), no physical description of reader except for pretty hands and jewelry

author's note: I had so many people look at this, thank you so much @strang3lov3 @umnitsa @endlessthxxghts @ievutebebe for looking at this and helping me work this out! Also I know the moodboard and title say fem!reader but technically this can be seen as gn!reader too, fem!reader's just my default mode.

word count: 2.6k ao3 link: here

You got home from work four hours ago, ready to bask in the comfort of your small home in Hawkins. Despite the beautiful sunny weather outside, you find yourself more comfortable on your couch with a big cup of your favorite tea and a new book you've been dying to read.

You haven't moved an inch in the last hour, too engrossed in the book's plot. A sharp knock at your door pulls you out of your thoughts. You have no clue who it is, but you don't wanna be rude and ignore the person, so you get up with a tired sigh and open the door, only to find Jim Hopper looking down at you, pressing a bloodied tissue to his head.

"Hop, hi, I-... wow, what happened?"

Jim looks at you, his blue eyes kind and warm as always when he's with you. "Might have gotten into a little brawl at the bar," he admits sheepishly with a little eye roll.

You step aside and let him in. "For good reason at least?"

He shrugs, "Just had to handle a drunk guy and you know... some glass broke." You take a look at him, peeling the tissue away just enough to look at the cut going diagonally from his left eyebrow. "Thought you might come in handy, I'm out of gauze," he says dryly, "And I really don't need a hospital bill right now."

Fair enough, you think.

He wordlessly follows you to the bathroom and just lets his eyes follow you as you gather the supplies you'll need. He notices the ring on your index finger, the one he got you for your birthday a few months back. He'd never admit to it, but he's always been a little fascinated by your hands. And that fascination has gotten stronger over the last months. He never really thought about hands that much, what they might say about people, but he's watched yours take care of El's scraped knee, watched them pet stray cats, seen those fingers wrap around a bottle of beer at his place. When he looks at his own hands, he just thinks of them as burly, callused.

But yours? They’re soft, gentle, even in the most mundane of tasks.

He snaps out of his thoughts when you clear your throat and turn around again, putting stuff on the vanity behind him. You cock your head and chuckle, "Need you to get a little more on my level, big guy." It takes a second for him to get the hint, but then he puts the bloodied tissue aside and sits down on the toilet lid, legs spread so you can step between them. You nod approvingly and can't hide a little smirk at the height difference between you two. Neither can he.

You grab a small towel and hold it under running water for a second before gently dabbing at the cut, cleaning the dried blood. He hums and closes his eyes. "Sorry," you mumble, your other hand tilting his head a little to get a better look at the cut. He feels the rings on his skin and suppresses a noise in his throat. The corner of his mouth twitches, "No, 's the cold that feels nice." "Enjoy the cold, only gets worse from here," you quip and snort when his eyes snap open. "Just some antiseptic and a few stitches, you can handle it. You're in good hands with me." "Hm, never doubted that," he retorts and closes his eyes again.

You pat the wound dry with another and then reach for the antiseptic, putting some of it onto a sterile gauze compress and then gently holding and dabbing it against the wound. He hums again and clears his throat in discomfort. "Ah come on, you've had worse," you tease softly. He smirks again and nudges your leg with his, "Shut up." "You shut up."

He feels a shiver down his spine when you carefully touch the area around the cut, checking for swelling or signs of infection. He slowly takes a deep breath, careful so you don't notice his tension. He feels the blood rushing through his body, his thoughts running a mile a minute. “You’re always so gentle with your hands,” he mutters softly, and you thank him bashfully. You mumble something, asking if he’s still good. When he opens his eyes, he catches your gaze, your eyes still warm despite the cold white light of your bathroom.

"Hope I'm not ruining your evening plans with this," he suddenly says. You put the compress aside and scoff, "Please, we both know I don't have plans. You're basically my highlight of the day." He cocks his eyebrow, immediately squinting as he feels the pain from the currently bad side of his face, "Oh really?" You smile proudly at him, "Mhm."

His heart skips a beat. If only you knew the effect you're having on him right now. He hasn't always felt for you like this, recently things have just been feeling different. He feels more at ease with himself. He's trying to allow himself a little more fun again, a little more peace. And in all the years he's known you, he can't remember when your presence hasn't brightened his day. You've always been the highlight of his day.

He smiles at you, and you realize your hand is still on his cheek like before. You pull away and take a deep breath, "Okay, so... stitching's gonna be a bitch." Hop just shrugs, "Someone told me I've had worse, so I think I can handle it." You laugh and nudge his belly with the back of your hand, "Can't be in too much pain if y'keep making bad jokes." The shiver runs from his spine between his legs. Jesus Christ.

He's drifting off again, gone in his thoughts about you, about your hands, your hands on him while you're so close to him, so focused on your task. He's sure you can hear how wild his heart is thumping in his chest, or feel the fluttering of his pulse in his neck where your hand is resting again, keeping his head in place and occasionally tilting it towards the light. And he hopes you don't look down. Anything but that. He's dying to move, to let his hands feel yours, feel them on his body, eagerly exploring him.

You say something, but he doesn't hear what, he's too far gone, imagining what it would be like to feel those heavenly hands wrapped around his co— A snap in front of his face brings him back yet again.

"Sorry, what?" You tut, "What's got you so distracted today? Did you hit your head during that fight? I was asking if you feel any pain." He suppresses a groan, then swallows and only replies with "No." Somehow the pain only makes him crazier for you. "Good, then you're all done," you say with a smile and start putting the supplies back.

Jim tries to shake off his thoughts without making his head throb too much and gets up, now leaning with his lower back against the vanity, right next to you. "How many times can I come here 'fore you start charging me?" You chuckle to yourself at first, and his heart skips a beat again. As you look at him, you only now notice his busted lip and grab the still damp towel to wipe the dried blood off, standing between his legs, then wipe your thumb along the spot. "You're free to show up here anytime, big guy," you smile, and he's sure you don't mean to sound so sultry. Maybe it's his mind playing tricks on him. Still, there's no more denying the near painful strain in his jeans now. He's hoping you don't feel it, almost embarrassed about it. Any move to adjust himself will just draw your attention to it.

"Much appreciated," he replies smugly as you look at him. Everything about you is just—

"You seem awfully tense, you okay? Feeling dizzy or something?" He cocks his head slightly and bites the inside of his cheek, crossing his arms in front of his big chest. "Little headache," he lies.

You smirk at him, "Hm, little headache or maybe something else bothering you?"

Before he can ask what you mean, he feels your hand press against the outline of his cock, making him draw in a breath.

Jackpot.

You can almost see his thoughts racing behind his gorgeous eyes. You close your hand around him, just a bit, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He's uncrossed his arms, his hands gripping the vanity's edge as he stares you down. Your eyebrow cocks up, challenging, daring him.

Your heart's beating in your throat, and you can feel his body heat. Part of you doesn't know if what you're doing is wrong, if you should talk about what's happening or just stop right here and never speak of it again. This is definitely crossing a line and you don't know how things will be after. Yet another part is screaming at you to keep going, and you think he feels the same.

"You need me to take a look at this, too?" You ask, your voice suddenly quiet, a new undertone to it that Hop hasn't heard from you yet. You're getting cocky. He risks a quick look down to where your hand is, smooth against the raging boner that's been straining his pants for at least fifteen minutes now, the ring he gifted you staring back at him. Oh, fuck. He clasps his big hand over yours and looks into your eyes again. God, yes. There's a glimmer in your eyes that almost undoes him then and there. "Don't look at me like that," he mutters.

His mind is racing, blood rushing through his body. He bites back a groan when you move your hand beneath his, your fingertips reaching his belt buckle. "What's wrong with how I look at you?"

He ignores your question, you're just teasing him right now, enjoying how he's losing himself. "You're what's distracting me. You and your damn hands." "My hands?"

He nods slowly and swallows. His body is screaming for some friction, some relief to the craziness that is this situation. You move your hand again and he lets it go, never breaking eye contact. You unbuckle his belt, popping the button of his jeans open. “You don’t have to–,” he starts, but you tut him. "What is it about my hands?" You ask innocently as you shove your fingertips behind the waistband of his boxers, slowly dragging them and his pants down just enough to wrap your hand around him. He breathes out with a hum as you oh so slowly drag your hand along his length, eyes fluttering close.

"This okay?"

He huffs out a laugh, not daring to look at you right now, his grip on the vanity tightening, "Yeah. More'n okay." "Now tell me what's so interesting about my hands that it's got you rock hard like this, Hopper," you say, and he can hear the damn smile in your voice. Your thumb wipes over the tip before you drag your hand down again, picking up the pace just a bit. He shakes his head and opens his eyes again to look at you. Oh, you're enjoying this a lot. His jaw tightens as he tries to find the right words. "Shut up," he grunts. "Aw, come on," you insist with a cheeky smile, "Just wanna know what goes on in that dirty Chief of Police mind of yours. What more is there when just my hands got you like this, hm?" You tighten your grip for a moment, and his belly tightens, keeping him from making a sound.

You murmur sweet nothings, encouraging him to indulge in his thoughts. His gaze drops down to your hand stroking him. “Your rings, fuck–” He loses his words as you twist your wrist just the right way, his knuckles turning white as he’s gripping the edge with all his power. “Oh, do you want me to take them off? Are they uncomfor–?” “No,” he replies, hips slightly moving towards your touch, a low groan rumbling in his chest, “Keep’em on.” “You like how they feel?” You ask. He takes another deep breath, focusing on just letting your hand work him. “Like how they look on you. ‘Specially that one,” he rumbles and you know which one he’s talking about. You bite the inside of your lip, but the smile still spreads as you look at him. “Hm, wonder why,” you muse, picking up your speed, urging him closer to the edge. He clears his throat hastily, “Don’t play stupid, you fucking know why.”

You stroke him faster, noticing his breath faltering a bit. One of his arms slings around your waist, pulling you closer to him to lean his forehead against yours, cussing under his breath. His hooded gaze bores into yours with such a carnal need and longing, almost making you lose momentum. Your free hand drifts up his torso, toying with the top button of his shirt and slowly popping it open, letting your fingertips lightly dance over his warm skin. Jim’s hips buck into your hand again and his eyes flutter close, he’s drawing in a sharp breath. “Tease,” he growls, followed by a short, breathless laugh. You chuckle softly, “What’s the matter, big guy?” He looks at you again, a light sparkle in his eyes, “Matter’s that I– hm, won’t be able t’stop myself ‘f you keep this up.”

“Then don’t.”

He scans your face for any signs of hesitation and just finds that maddening smile of yours again. His legs and belly tighten. His other hand cups your face and smashes your lips together for a heated, bruising kiss. His mustache scratches against your skin and you whimper at feeling him nip your bottom lip. Your body freezes momentarily, and you’re only brought back to reality by Jim’s hand wrapping around yours, tightening your grip around him even more, and moving your hand with his. “Just like that,” he hushes into your mouth and with a few more quick strokes the tension in his body finally snaps. He’s kissing you again, muffling his broken moan, tongue swiping over your lip.

You keep your fingers wrapped just below his tip, changing the grip in small pulses. Your thumb swipes over the sensitive head, making him shudder through his release, his warmth coating your hand and shirt. Your other hand is resting above his racing heart, beating so fast you’re worried he’s gonna be dizzy. He slowly tears his lips from yours, his thumb wiping softly over your cheek.

His eyes flick down for a second and his face flushes. “Sorry ‘bout the mess. Usually have better manners than that.” You look down and snort, tugging at your shirt, “Ah, this old thing’s seen worse.“ You smile as you bring your glistening fingers up, “As for these…”

Jim watches breathlessly as your tongue darts out to lick over each digit, releasing each with a wet pop. “You‘re enjoying yourself a lot right now,“ he notes with a smirk, smoothly tucking himself away. An innocent shrug is the only answer he gets. He rolls his eyes in feigned annoyance and clicks his tongue.

You grab his face to pull him in for another kiss. He can taste himself on your lips, feeling the blood rush through his body again, his fingertips tingling with eagerness to touch you. His hands drop to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping beneath, shoving the fabric up your torso. You raise your arms, letting him go all the way till he tosses your shirt aside, lips immediately locking together again. You chuckle.

“Not done with you yet,” he hums with a content sigh, “Time for payback.” “Careful with that, big guy, you’re still hurt.” He pecks your lips and smirks, “Thought we’d agreed I’ve had worse?”

I'm a slut for feedback so don't hold back and tell me how you liked this! Like, comment, reblog, slide in my asks, whatever you prefer! Thank you for reading, I hope you're eager for more.

#jim hopper x reader #pinkysfics #jim hopper x fem!reader #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper smut #stranger things fanfic

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lilbardrhi · 1 month ago

Text

"Broken", Not Stupid - 8: Home?

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult

Author's Note: The words are flowing~ today! And a bit softer part this time lol

"13." I hear Simon call to me gently. When I feel his hand on my shoulder I open my eyes slowly. "We're here."

Groggily, having fallen asleep for the rest of the drive, I sit up and look out the car windows. It's... a house. It's not huge, but it does have a fenced in front yard. Probably the back too, by the looks of the fence seemingly wrapping around the house.

Home.

The world settles into my mind again, but it feels... foreign. Almost as if it's a lost concept to me.

"Alright?" he asks for the second time since he's picked me up.

I nod slightly and unbuckle my seatbelt. He quickly exits the car, rounding it, and opens the door for me again. Instead of taking his offered hand I get myself out of the car. My independence is important to me and I refuse to continue being taken care of tonight.

Even if he is, technically, my alpha.

My alpha!

The omega inside me squeals at the thought of having an alpha and I shake my head to clear the excitement as I follow him up the front steps.

As soon as the door opens, I get the faint smell of cinnamon and cedar - him. It should be stronger, considering this is his house, but I pay no mind to it. I'm sure the constant sterile air flow from Salvation's facilities for the past however many years has done something to my sense of smell. Couldn't smell him until we hugged. Gotta be something from Salvation.

There's plenty from Salvation I'm dragging with me, I'm sure.

Once inside, Simon seems on edge, but he gives me a quick tour. He points out the living room to the left, kitchen to the right, bedrooms and bathroom down the hall in front of us. He adds that there's a sunroom on the back side of the house, that the door at the end of the hall leads to it.

"I also have-"

Something warm and soft rubs against my ankle and I look down to see...

"-a cat. Sorry. She's not typically so social. Espeically at first."

I wave dismissively at him and lean down to let her sniff my fingers.

"Black cat seems... very you," I comment as I gently run my hand over the cat's head. She nudges up into my hand while purring.

"Her name is Selene," Simon informs me after a moment of silence. "Named her after a moon goddess because, well... she showed up on full and new moons every month for," he pauses, thinking, "about three months. I started leaving food out for her on the third visit and she became a permanent fixture in my life after that. She let herself in one day while I was on my way out," he chuckles at the memory.

"You're very beautiful. Simon must take good care of you," I coo at Selene. She meows loudly at me in response and I smile.

"She's probably cussing me out because I've been gone or busy around the house all day," he mumbles.

"Oh, you poor baby... did Dad abandon you all day?" I frown at Selene and she meows in an almost sad way while shoving her head against my wrist.

Simon takes the time I'm spending with Selene to close the door and lock it. Then he moves down the hall and opens a door to the right. While he does... whatever he's doing, I lay on the floor with Selene and she takes the chance to curl up close to my chest. From the corner of my eye I see him leave the room he'd entered and make his way back to us.

"I see you two made very fast friends." There's a hint of a smile in his voice, but he still has the surgical mask on so I'm not sure if he is smilng.

"Not gonna lie, if she stays here, I'm going to fall asleep right here," I chuckle and slowly run my hand over her back.

Selene purs louder and I smile at her.

"I wasn't allowed to have cats," I say softly. "Dogs were the only animal allowed..."

I trail off as I think back to my life before Salvation. Simpler, yet somehow still so complicated.

"Come on," Simon says to me. "I won't let you sleep on the floor. Especially in front of the door. I got a bunch of blankets and pillows out for you to choose from real quick. Tomorrow you can take your time with selections and truly make your nest yours."

The omega in my head springs to life but I move slowly, so as not to upset Selene too badly.

"Can she stay with me tonight?" I request after picking out a couple blankets and pillows. Selene is already curled up on a pillow I chose specifically for her, should she be able to stay in the room.

"I don't think either of us have a say in the matter. She's already made herself at home," he chuckles quietly and reaches out to sratch Selene's head gently.

A whine builds in my throat at the show of affection but I swallow it. Damn, I need sleep. So I climb into my first-ever nest and snuggle near Selene, slowly stroking her fur to coax both of us to sleep.

Once my eyes fall closed, I hear Simon's boots shift on the carpet and the door close but not latch.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat

#rhi writes #bns

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heliosunny · 23 days ago

Text

YANDERE! YOMI X READER

He’s the worst villain, your brother’s sworn enemy, and yet, for some twisted reason, he’s taken a liking to you.

“Well, hello, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.” Yomi drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as he sat at the lavishly set table, his dinner laid out before him like a king’s feast. Across the room, you sat on the cold floor, wrists bound tightly behind your back. The icy sting of the chains biting into your skin was nothing compared to the hatred burning in your chest. You refused to respond, your eyes fixed on the ground despite his taunting gaze.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he sneered, the metallic clink of his knife and fork punctuating the silence as he sliced into the perfectly cooked meat on his plate. Normally, he would share meals with his band of misfits, but tonight, it was just the two of you.

“Being his sister must mean you’re used to situations like this, huh?” His voice was casual, almost conversational, as though he were discussing the weather. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement when your stomach betrayed you with a low, pitiful growl. “Aw… hungry? Want some?” he teased, gesturing at his plate with a smug grin.

You lifted your chin just enough to glare at him, defiance flickering in your weary eyes. Even though hunger clawed at your insides, you refused to give in. You wouldn’t break, not for him. Not even if it meant dying here.

“Suit yourself.” he said with a shrug, returning his attention to his meal. The rhythmic clinking of his silverware, the soft chewing sounds, the faint splash of wine pouring into his glass, it was all torture. Your resolve wavered as the smell of the food filled the air, cruelly reminding you that you hadn’t eaten in two days. The edges of your vision began to blur, and before you knew it, the world around you went dark.

When you woke up, the sterile smell of a medical room hit your nose. For a fleeting moment, you thought you had died and somehow reached heaven. But the cold, unyielding weight of a shackle around your ankle quickly shattered that illusion. You were still his prisoner.

The soft creak of the bed as you shifted must have woken him. From the corner of the room, Yomi emerged, his ever-present smirk in place. “Good morning, sleeping beauty” he said, his voice low and smooth, yet laced with mockery. “How are we feeling?”

You didn’t answer, turning your head away from him, hoping silence would somehow keep him at bay. But Yomi wasn’t the type to be ignored.

His tone hardened, his smile fading into something far more menacing. “You better start talking, Y/n, or I’ll have your best friend’s throat slit.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with shock and terror. “You…” you whispered, your voice trembling. The thought of Ainz, your one ray of hope, being dragged into this nightmare sent ice through your veins.

“Ah, there we go..” he said, satisfaction dripping from every word. “See? All it takes is a little persuasion.”

“You’re a monster,” you spat, your voice gaining strength despite the weakness in your body.

His smirk only deepened. “Monster? No, no, I prefer… necessary evil. Now,” he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine, “you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. Or else, your precious Ainz won’t be so precious anymore.”

“YOU'RE A MONSTER!” you spat again, this time louder, your voice trembling as anger and fear swirled within you. Despite your defiance, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding like a drum in your chest.

“Monster, opportunist, necessary evil… you can call me whatever you like, Y/n” Yomi said, his smirk curling into something darker, more possessive. “But I think deep down, you know what I am. I’m the man who owns you now. Your fate, your choices, your life... They're mine to play with.”

His words were like a poison sinking deep into your veins, each syllable wrapping tighter around you like chains. You wanted to scream, to fight, to claw your way out of this nightmare, but the truth was painfully clear. You were too weak, and he knew it.

“What do you want from me?” you finally choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. Even as you asked, you hated yourself for giving him the satisfaction of hearing your desperation.

“What do I want?” Yomi chuckled, leaning closer. The dim light cast shadows across his sharp features, making him seem more beast than man. “I want you to sit there and realize how little power you have. I want you to think of every way you can defy me and then realize I’ve already won. But most of all…” His hand shot out, gripping your chin and forcing your gaze to meet his. His touch was firm, almost gentle, but there was no mistaking the dominance behind it. “I want you to know that no matter how much you hate me, no matter how hard you fight, I’ll never let you go.”

Your breath hitched as you stared into his eyes. They were dark and unrelenting, as though they could see through every wall you tried to put up. You refused to cry, but the lump in your throat grew heavier with every passing second.

“And don’t think you can escape this” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “This room, this chain, this life, it’s all yours now, thanks to your dear brother. You can curse him for that if it helps.”

“You’re insane. He’ll come to save me.” you muttered, the words trembling on your lips.

Yomi smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Insane? Perhaps. But at least I have purpose. And you…” He released your chin, stepping back with a cold laugh. “You’re just a pawn.”

As he turned to leave, you felt the weight of his words settle over you like a suffocating blanket. You could hear the sound of the door locking behind him, sealing you inside the room. The chains around your ankle felt heavier than ever, a cruel reminder of your helplessness.

But even in the depths of despair, a spark of resistance remained. You might have been his prisoner now, but you would never let him break you. Not fully. Not yet.

-----------

I guess this is part 1. Too lazy to continue whatever is in my head~

#gokurakugai #yandere x reader #yomi gokurakugai #yandere x you #yandere

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itacats · 6 days ago

Text

Part 6 - Price’s Gift

FT: Price x Reader (Detective AU)

Warnings: Mentions of poisoning, neurotoxins, hospital settings, stalking, psychological manipulation, implied violence, and intense themes of betrayal and mistrust.

Word Count: ~ 2,300

SUM: A routine day at work spirals into chaos when a trusted friend and mentor becomes the prime suspect in a poisoning attempt. As you piece together clues amidst betrayal and danger, a sinister figure from your past emerges, pulling you into a deadly game of manipulation.

A/N: Plot twists, betrayals, and a deadly game of cat and mouse? Buckle up, folks! 💼🔍 This one’s packed with suspense and emotional rollercoasters, so grab a cozy spot and prepare to dive in!

Love Kills Masterlist

The day began like any other: the relentless buzz of fluorescent lights overhead, a stale cup of coffee forgotten on your desk, and the daunting pile of case files that seemed to grow instead of shrink. Hunger clawed at your stomach, a sharp reminder of the breakfast you’d skipped in favor of rushing to work.

By mid-afternoon, the gnawing emptiness became unbearable. That’s when a courier arrived, placing a neatly packed lunch on your desk. The scent of roasted chicken and herbs wafted from the box, making your stomach growl involuntarily.

“Delivery for you,” the courier said, his tone matter-of-fact as he placed a small card on top.

The handwriting was unmistakable:

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up. Enjoy! —Price.”

You smiled faintly, the first time in days. Price always had a way of showing up for you, even when you didn’t realize you needed it. You peeled back the packaging, allowing the comforting aroma of the food to wash over you.

You ate without much thought, your mind tangled in the mess of the case. Every bite tasted comforting at first, but then came a subtle bitterness, something acrid that lingered on your tongue. You paused, swallowing hard.

The room began to tilt, your surroundings blurring as nausea swept over you. Panic set in as your vision narrowed, edges darkening like an encroaching storm. Distant voices shouted, but the words dissolved into static.

Your knees buckled. The cold, hard floor rushed up to meet you, and the world spiraled into black.

When you came to, the sterile brightness of an ICU room greeted you. The sharp scent of antiseptic stung your nose, and the rhythmic beeping of monitors punctuated the silence. A dull, burning ache flared in your chest as you tried to sit up, forcing you to sink back against the pillow with a frustrated groan.

The door creaked open, and Detective Morgan stepped inside, his face set in a grim expression. His presence was familiar, almost comforting, though the look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. Morgan wasn’t just a colleague; he’d been one of your first mentors at the precinct alongside Price. Years ago, when you were a rookie stumbling through your first real cases, Morgan had been the one to pull you aside, guiding you through the chaos with a steady hand and a wealth of experience.

“Good, you’re awake,” Morgan said, pulling up a chair beside your bed. His tone was calm, but the tightness around his eyes betrayed his concern. “You gave us a hell of a scare.”

“What…what happened?” you rasped, your throat raw and dry.

He passed you a cup of water, waiting until you’d taken a few sips before answering. “You were poisoned. The lab confirmed it was a neurotoxin—fast-acting and dangerous. You’re lucky we got to you in time.”

The words hit you like a blow. Poisoned? You tried to piece together your last moments of consciousness, but everything felt foggy. “Poisoned by what?”

Morgan hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands—a tell you knew all too well. He wasn’t just your mentor; he was someone who had seen you through your worst and had learned to soften the blows when he could. But now, the weight of his hesitation made your chest tighten.

“The lunch you ate. We traced it back to the station—more specifically, to Detective Price.”

Your stomach dropped. “Price? No. That can’t be right. He—he wouldn’t—”

Morgan held up a hand, cutting you off gently. “I get it. You trust him. But right now, the evidence points in his direction. Until we sort this out, he’s off the case and under internal review.”

The air seemed to grow heavier with every word. Price, your partner—the person who had been by your side through everything—was being accused of trying to kill you?

“There’s more,” Morgan added, his tone darkening. “We found another name connected to the delivery order: Mark Reynolds. Do you know the guy?”

The room seemed to tilt, your vision swimming for a moment as the name sank in. Mark. A ghost from your past, someone you had worked so hard to leave behind.

Morgan’s voice softened, breaking through the storm in your mind. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we need to figure out what’s going on. Was Price set up? Is this Mark guy involved? Right now, it’s all speculation, but someone’s gunning for you.”

He leaned forward, his familiar presence grounding you for just a moment. “Look, I know you. You’re sharp, and you don’t miss a thing. But this is different. Someone’s playing a dangerous game, and you’re the target. Focus on getting better—we’ll handle the investigation.”

You nodded weakly, your mind racing. Morgan had always been someone you could count on, a steady presence in a storm. If anyone could get to the bottom of this, it was him.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you stared at the ceiling, the weight of his warning pressing down on you. Someone you trusted had betrayed you. Now, it was up to you to uncover the truth—before it was too late.

Days later, another knock on your hospital door startled you from your restless thoughts. You turned to see Morgan entering, his expression somber but resolved.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he said, stepping aside to let Price in.

Price looked haggard, the weight of suspicion clearly etched into his face. His tie was loosened, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. He wasted no time, his voice low and urgent.

“I didn’t send that lunch,” Price began, his words rushing out. “You have to believe me.”

You straightened, the accusation from days ago still fresh in your mind. “Price, it had your handwriting. And with everything going on—”

“It wasn’t me,” he interrupted, his tone sharp but imploring. “I’ve been set up, and I think I know who’s behind it.”

Morgan lingered in the corner, his arms crossed as he observed the exchange. “Price came to me with some information. I thought you should hear him out,” he said evenly.

Your chest tightened. “Who? Mark?”

Price nodded grimly. “Yes, but it’s more complicated than that. I’ve been combing through your notes—the ones you thought were hidden at home.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You went through my things?”

“I had to,” Price admitted, his frustration evident. “And it’s a damn good thing I did. There’s a pattern—a connection between the killer’s messages and Mark. This wasn’t just an attack on you. It was about silencing you.”

Morgan leaned against the wall, adding quietly, “What he’s saying holds weight. The evidence lines up.”

“But there’s something else you need to know,” Price took a deep breath. “Mark. Liam. The killer. They’re the same person.”

The revelation hit you like a physical blow, though deep down, a part of you had always suspected.

“Mark and Liam were always so… similar,” you murmured, your voice trembling as the memories began to resurface. “The way they talked, their habits, even their tempers. I thought I was imagining it—projecting my fears from one onto the other.”

Price pulled a folder from under his arm and laid it on the table beside your bed. “You weren’t imagining anything. Look at this.”

He flipped through photographs, records, and handwritten notes. The evidence was damning. Mark and Liam had never existed in the same place at the same time. Their timelines fit together seamlessly, like puzzle pieces deliberately arranged.

“He played both roles,” Price said, his voice tight with anger. “Two identities, crafted to manipulate and control you. And now, he’s escalated.”

Morgan interjected, his tone steady but grave. “This is bigger than just you or Price. He’s been working in the shadows for years, and now he’s making it personal.”

Your mind reeled as the truth sank in. Mark’s charm and possessiveness, Liam’s intensity and volatility—it had all been one man. The man who had sent you flowers and threats. The man who had watched you from the shadows.

And now, he was closer than ever.

“We need to take him down,” you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.

Morgan stood by the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “We will,” he said, his voice calm but resolute. “But he’s careful. He’s been ahead of us this entire time. If he knows we’re onto him, he’ll vanish.”

Your hands balled into fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. “So what do we do? Just sit here and wait for him to make the next move?”

Morgan shook his head. “No. We gather everything we can to box him in. We force him to make a mistake—but on our terms. He’s playing the long game, and we need to outlast him. This isn’t just about catching him; it’s about catching him right.”

The days that followed stretched endlessly, each one heavier than the last. Confined to the hospital room and with little else to focus on, you poured over every shred of evidence, every memory of your interactions with Mark—or Liam. The knowledge that he was out there, watching and planning, left you feeling both enraged and vulnerable.

Morgan entered your room late one evening, a folder in hand. He set it on the bedside table and pulled out a grainy surveillance photo. It showed a man—Mark or Liam—slipping an envelope under the windshield wiper of your car. His hood was drawn low, obscuring most of his face, but the curve of his jaw and the tilt of his head were unmistakable.

“He’s taunting you,” Morgan said, his tone grim. “But look at this. It’s sloppy. He’s not as controlled as he used to be. He can’t control himself around you the way he did the others.”

You stared at the photo, your pulse quickening. “Why now? He’s been so calculated until this point.”

Morgan shrugged, his brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe the pressure’s getting to him. Or maybe…” He trailed off, his expression darkening.

“Maybe he wants me to know he’s losing control, like he’s building up to one horrific finale.” you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

Morgan nodded. “It’s possible. Whatever the case, we’re going to use it. Sloppy or not, this gives us a crack in his armor. We’ll hit him where it hurts.”

But the next move was his, not yours.

That night, you stirred awake in the dim hospital room, disoriented. The steady beep of the heart monitor was a familiar, almost comforting rhythm, but something felt off. The air seemed heavier, and then you heard it—a faint creak as your door eased open.

Your pulse quickened, and you strained to see through the darkness. A shadow slipped into the room, silent but deliberate. The figure lingered near the door before stepping closer, illuminated by a thin sliver of moonlight cutting through the blinds.

“Hello, darling,” a voice murmured, low and familiar.

Your stomach dropped as Mark—or Liam—stepped into view. His expression was eerily calm, a faint smile playing on his lips. His tailored jacket seemed out of place against the sterile hospital backdrop, but he wore it like armor.

“I told you I’d always take care of you,” he said, his tone almost tender as he approached the side of your bed. “But you just couldn’t follow along, could you?”

The scent of his cologne—woodsy and sharp—made your skin crawl. Your hand crept toward the call button, but before you could press it, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. His fingers were cold and unyielding, the pressure almost numbing.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. His eyes locked onto yours, the warmth in his tone belying the menace underneath. “I didn’t come here to hurt you. Not yet.”

Adrenaline surged through you, but his grip held you firmly in place. “Mark, or Liam, or whoever the hell you are,” you spat, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound defiant. “You’re going to slip. You’re out of control with yourself. They’ll catch you.”

His smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze hardened, his pupils narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey. He laughed then, soft and guttural, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“You still think you’re the hunter in this game?” he said, his tone laced with mockery. “No, my love. You’re the prey. You always have been.”

He leaned in, his face inches from yours. The warmth of his breath on your skin was suffocating. “But don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice almost gentle. “I’ll make sure this ends the way it’s meant to.”

With that, he released your wrist, and you pulled your hand back, cradling it instinctively. He straightened, smoothing the lapels of his jacket as if nothing had happened.

“Sleep tight,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as he turned and vanished into the shadows. The door clicked softly shut behind him, leaving you alone with the sound of your own ragged breathing.

The panic hit like a wave, your hands trembling as you fumbled for the call button. Minutes felt like hours until Price burst into the room, his eyes scanning the space for danger.

“He was here,” you choked out, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. “Mark—Liam—whatever his name is. He was here.”

Price stepped closer, his expression dark and controlled, though you could see the tension in his jaw. “What did he do? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your voice cracking. “No, but he’s tormenting me. He knows everything—my patterns, my fears, my weaknesses. He’s playing with me, Price.”

Price pulled up a chair, his presence grounding in the chaos. “Then we’ll turn this on him,” he said, his voice steady. “We’ll let him think he’s in control. But next time, we’ll be ready.”

The fear lingered, curling in your stomach like smoke. Mark—or Liam—wasn’t just a killer. He was the embodiment of every nightmare you’d tried to leave behind.

But as the first light of dawn filtered through the window, a steely resolve took root. He may have made the next move, but the endgame would be yours.

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pasaatimonarkin · 4 months ago

Text

A tradition

Han Jisung x reader

Some yummy fluff and a hint of Halloween for fun. Some mentions of a scary movie but nothing else worth warning about.

Having a writers block with No crying in the Busrlesque club so I scrambled up this.

Word count: 1,6k

Jisung's apartment smelled faintly of old books and the lingering scent of yesterday's takeout. It was a typical Friday evening in October, and the air outside was cool with the promise of an early winter. He had always been a bit of a hoarder, so the shelves were filled with books and DVDs that looked as if they hadn't moved in years. You, on the other hand, were more of a minimalist, but you found comfort in the chaos of his place. It was your safe haven when you needed a break from your pristine, almost sterile home.

The TV flickered to life, casting eerie shadows across the room. Jisung had chosen a horror movie, a classic from the 80s that you hadn't seen in ages. You both settled onto the couch, a bowl of popcorn in the middle.

"You okay with this one?" he asked, popping a kernel into his mouth, his eyes flicking over to gauge your reaction.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to sound more casual than you felt. You had always been the one to scream and hide during these movies, but tonight you were determined to keep your cool. After all, you didn't want to be the butt of his jokes again.

The movie began with the standard opening credits, the synthesizer music setting the tense atmosphere. You could feel the couch cushions sink as Jisung shifted closer, his arm brushing against yours. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not from the film. You stared at the screen, willing yourself to focus on the cheesy special effects rather than the warmth emanating from his body.

"You know, you could've picked a comedy," you quipped, trying to lighten the mood and keep the butterflies in your stomach from going haywire.

Jisung grinned. "Where's the fun in that?" His eyes sparkled with mischief, and you couldn't help but laugh, feeling a bit of the tension ease. "It's like a countdown to Halloween. This is just the appetizer. And besides this isn't even scary. Or perhaps for you it is, like literally everything "

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. Jisung had always had a flair for the dramatic. And he liked scary stuff and god how he loved Halloween. You on the other hand were a scaredy cat and Jisung knew it. He always had. But you liked watching movies with him, especially when it was something that you could hide behind, something that didn't require you to confront the feelings you had for him.

The opening scenes of the movie were more campy than scary. The actors were clearly overacting and the plot was predictable, but you found yourself getting into it. The popcorn was good and the company was great.

As the night progressed and the film grew darker, the air between you two grew heavier. You could feel it, thick and palpable. Each time a scream pierced through the TV speakers, you jumped a little closer to Jisung.

Without warning, Jisung's arm slipped around your shoulders. It was a casual, comforting gesture, one that friends often did. But the electricity of it sent your heart racing. You stiffened for a moment, unsure how to react. Your mind raced with thoughts of whether this was just a friendly move or if it meant something more.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear, "the boogeyman won't get to you while I'm here."

You managed a laugh, but it came out shakier than you intended. The warmth of his arm was comforting, but it also made your skin tingle in a way that had nothing to do with fear. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way your heart was thumping against your ribcage.

The movie's protagonist was now trapped in a dilapidated house with the killer on the loose. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the ease with which she navigated the shadows. You, on the other hand, felt like you were fumbling through a minefield of unspoken feelings.

As the movie hit its climax, the tension in the room spiked. You were practically in Jisung's lap, your heart pounding in time with the film's score. The silence stretched on, the only sounds being the frantic footsteps on screen and the occasional pop of popcorn.

The heroine of the film found a weapon, a knife gleaming in the moonlit kitchen. Jisung's arm tightened around you, and you glanced up at him. His eyes weren't on the screen; they were fixed on you.

"You're not scared, are you?" he teased, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"No," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. But the tremble in your voice betrayed you.

Jisung's smile grew into a grin. "Liar," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His arm didn't move, keeping you close.

"Why do you say that?" You tried to play it cool, but the tremble in your voice was unmistakable.

Jisung leaned in closer, his eyes shimmering with a playful mischief. "It's just the way your face scrunches up," he said, his voice low and teasing. "It's adorable."

You felt your cheeks flush. No one had ever called you adorable, not like that. You turned away, focusing back on the movie, but your heart was racing. The scene had shifted to the protagonist hiding in a closet, the killer's shadow looming just outside the door.

As the suspense built, the silence grew thicker. You could hear Jisung's soft breathing next to you. You were acutely aware of the proximity of your bodies, the warmth of his arm still around your shoulders. The anticipation in the film mirrored the anticipation in your chest.

"Do you think she's going to make it?" you whispered, hoping to distract yourself from the unspoken tension.

Jisung's eyes flicked back to the screen, his smile fading a bit. "Well, she's got the knife. That's a good sign."

The scene grew tense, the killer's shadow moving closer and closer to the closet door. You found yourself gripping the edge of the couch cushion, your knuckles turning white. Jisung's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly, whether in solidarity or to keep you from jumping again, you weren't sure.

Then it happened. The jumpscare that had been so expertly crafted. The killer burst through the closet door, the protagonist's scream echoing through the apartment. In a moment of pure instinct, you leaped into Jisung's lap, your arms wrapping around his neck in a vice grip. The popcorn bowl toppled over, raining salty kernels across the floor.

Jisung's laughter was immediate, deep and contagious. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his chest shaking with mirth. "You know I got you with that one," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn't help but laugh too, feeling your tension dissolve into a mix of embarrassment and relief. "Shut up," you mumbled into his shoulder, trying to hide your flushed face. His laughter subsided into quiet chuckles, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

Jisung gently reached for the remote and paused the movie. The killer on the screen froze mid-leap, the protagonist's terrified expression etched in time. You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and something else.

"Maybe this should be our thing. A scary movie night, every October. It's like a tradition, you know?" he murmured softly.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You were still clutching onto him, your heart hammering against his chest. Like you wanted to almost shit your pants in tradition.

Jisung leaned back, his eyes dancing with a mischievous glint. "Well, it's a good way to get you in my arms, isn't it?"

You pulled away slightly, your cheeks burning. "Jisung," you began, not quite knowing what to say. The air between you had shifted, the playful banter suddenly feeling loaded with unspoken meaning.

He met your gaze, his smile softening. "I mean it. We've been doing this for years. It's just us, scared and laughing together. It's… nice." His voice was sincere, his eyes searching yours for a response.

You took a deep breath, "Yeah," you agreed, your voice barely a murmur. "It is nice."

Jisung's expression grew more serious, his gaze intense. "But I want more than just nice," he said, his voice low and earnest. Your heart skipped a beat as his arms slid around you more securely, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

You swallowed hard, the words you'd rehearsed in your head a thousand times suddenly lost. The movie, the darkness, everything faded into the background as you stared into his eyes. You could see the question there, the hope, and the fear of rejection. The tension was no longer from the film but from the unspoken words hanging in the air.

With a tremble in your heart, you decided to make the leap. You leaned in, closing the gap between your lips. Time seemed to slow down as you felt the softness of his mouth, his surprise giving way to a gentle pressure as he responded. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you as the kiss grew deeper.

Breaking away, you both took a moment to breathe. Jisung's eyes searched yours, a hint of disbelief and excitement dancing in them. "Definitely starting a tradition," he murmured, his voice hoarse. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your neck.

You couldn't help but smile, your heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. "I'd like that," you said, your voice still shaky from the kiss. The confession was out, floating in the air like a whispered secret, and it felt like a weight had lifted from your shoulders.

#han jisung #stray kids jisung #han #skz jisung #skz han #stray kids han jisung #han jisung x reader #stray kids han #skz han jisung #stray kids #han jisung fanfic #han jisung imagines #han jisung fluff #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for vague posting about my ex after he got me an expensive but upsetting gift?

I (23 m) and my ex (22 m) have only been separated from our 2 year long relationship for a few months now. I was the one who broke things off and I wanted to stay friends, however, for reasons I feel are obvious, this was super difficult for him. We went a while without talking regularly, and he was often very upset with me and short, and would vague me online (very privately). It made me really upset to be treated that way but I didnt say anything since he was grieving and processing our breakup. About a month into our split, my service cat passed I was extremely distraught and upset, like this was my best friend and it was so sudden, I was unstable from grief, but he reached out with his condolences and I really appreciated it. We talked more and seemed to be reconnecting and I was super excited about it. I came over to him to help him fix his car, picked him up from the airport, etc. I had missed him so much and were finally hanging out again!! I had been grieving quietly for another month when, while I'm petsitting his cats for him, he tells me about a gift he left for me. I open it to a letter saying that basically he was having a hard time getting over our breakup and that he didnt know if hed ever be over it, but he was sorry for my recent loss. I unpackaged the gift to reveal one of those 3D felted cat portraits of my late best friend. It was too much for me to see him in 3D again and I started sobbing and freaking out immediately. I texted him thanking him for the gift, but saying it was too soon for me to have recieved it, but I didnt elaborate much on that for fear he'd be upset that his gift has hurt me. I didn't have many other people to personally reach out to about my grief. My friends all seriously disliked this guy for most of my relationship with him (he had done some really upsetting shit to me several times before he was medicated and they thought he was bad for me) and I didnt want to talk shit about him like theyd want to, I like this guy a lot... I also posted privately online that I had recieved a gift (not saying what it was, not saying who it was from) that I wasnt ready to get and that it was sending me into a grief spiral again. I didnt use his name because I worried people would comment to talk shit about him and he would see. Well a friend of mine made a comment saying that whoever gave it to me should have thought more about how I would feel to recieve it. I responded basically telling my friend that I wasnt upset about the gift giver, just the gift itself had caused me to relive some stuff I wasnt ready for. But my ex saw and reached out to me saying "oh so your friends think I'm a bad person? I can take the gift back then." Which I tried to argue that I really loved the gift and that I didnt think he was a bad person. I showed him that I had disagreed with my friend, and rhat I wasnt venting about a good thing he did for me, but rather the post was more about my grief for the loss of my pet. The argument basically ended with me saying that I felt I needed to be totally emotionally sterile for his comfort and wasnt allowed to feel my grief publicly, and him saying that I could feel grief but I shouldnt have vagued him because then people could freely comment and judge him since he was nameless in the post. I deleted my post and agreed with him that I probably shouldnt have made the post at all, I apologized and hoped we could move on, but he replied with "dont talk to me" and blocked me on the social media where I made the post. I ended up reaching out again a few days ago (a week from our fight) to apologize for having gone too far during our argument and suggesting we meet in person to talk. He told me that our argument had made him the most manic he had ever been and that he appreciated the option to talk it out in person but he was very angry that I would treat him like that after saying I wanted to maintain a friendship. I apologized again, saying I wish we could be nicer to each other and we havent talked since.

(I'm trying to keep this as neutral as possible, all my friends are on my side but I still feel like it might be because they just never liked him...)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #pet death cw

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scoutofmymind · 2 days ago

Text

Until the Lambs Become Lions — Chapter 2

Pairing: Luigi Mangione x Reader

"But wait, what about that guy who's always on your story?" Eden's inquiry comes sugar-glazed, her wine-stained lips and frosting-dusted fingers painting the picture of holiday abandon. "He’s so cute — I thought for sure-" The television captures her attention mid-thought, your response becoming irrelevant before it's even formed.

Chapter 2: Perpetual Standby

Winter in New York performs its annual siege, each venture outside a negotiation between necessity and survival.

The cold finds every gap in your armor, turning simple journeys into arctic expeditions; For months, your world had shrunk to the well-worn path between bed and classroom, but lately, your internal compass has acquired a new true north.

Luigi's apartment stands as an oasis compared to the institutional sterility of your dorm room. The space has become your evening sanctuary, a refuge from the fluorescent-lit confines of campus.

Your dorm, despite your roommate's valiant attempts at domestication with fairy lights and inspirational quotes, remains firmly in the realm of temporary housing — made more complicated by said roommate's current war against the entire male species.

"Just let me know if you have that boy over." The words float from behind a cloud of hairspray as she hoists her pink bag to her shoulder, her blonde hair catching the light like a commercial for youth and vitality. "I don't care, girl. Seriously." The familiar ritual of her pre-party preparation continues — the strategic application of perfume, the final mirror consultation, each gesture practiced to perfection. "I just , like —can't be around a man right now. They disgust me."

“Maybe you should try out girls,” you offered, and she looked even more defeated. “There’s always that option, you know.”

“Been there, done that.”

asexuality is cool, too.

The pilgrimage to Luigi's becomes part of your daily liturgy — five minutes at a steady pace, four if you're racing winter's early sunsets, or dodging between raindrops. The journey has become so familiar your feet could trace it blindfolded, marking time between lectures, labs, and the endless parade of PowerPoint presentations.

These visits multiply like code, natural and inevitable given how your academic orbits overlap.

Your shared intellectual territory — populated by the same theories, haunted by the same deadlines — the worn rug in his living room becomes your mutual study altar, where textbooks spread like playing cards and notes scatter like blankets of snow.

Silence settles between you like dust, broken only by the persistent hum of the 777 Hz frequency emanating from his coffee table speaker — Luigi's latest crusade in his ongoing mission to optimize your shared study sessions, his earnest belief in its focus-enhancing properties both endearing and amusing.

The semester dissolves into winter break, your paths diverging like train tracks — you toward Manhattan's familiar shadows, Luigi southbound to Maryland's waiting arms. His digital postcards arrive regularly: snapshots of the family dog , the infamous cat finally given form after starring in so many of his stories.

Your childhood home wraps around you like a time capsule, every corner holding echoes. You drift through its spaces wrapped in wool and memory, a melancholic specter haunting your own life.

Christmas without them feels like a cosmic practical joke, each twinkling light and carol a reminder of what's missing from the equation.

But even hermits have their tribes.

Your hometown friends siege your solitude with determined affection, the buzzer's insistent drone eventually drawing you down the stairs like a summoning spell.

They envelope you in embraces that carry the essence of vanilla and lavender, their arms full of wine bottles like offerings to a reclusive deity of which the corks surrender one by one as the Christmas parade marches eternally across the television screen, its manufactured cheer a backdrop to your makeshift family.

Grief evolves like seasons — this year's holiday mourning condensed to a few days of darkness, a marked improvement from last year's week-long descent, the previous year's month of anticipatory dread, and that first and second year's bottomless void that still exists in your memory as nothing but static and shadow.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" Sloane's question drifts up from her cross-legged position on the floor, her fingers orchestrating a miniature architectural feat with graham crackers and royal icing.

You contribute the occasional gumdrop to her creation, just enough participation to qualify as present.

"No." The shrug rolls off your shoulders like water. "Been busy, I guess. Nobody going to NYU is worth the STI." Laughter ripples through the room like wine spilling across a tablecloth, familiar and warm. "I know that much."

Which, you’re somehow thankful for.

Your connection with Luigi exists in a space beyond traditional definitions — a relationship that breathes in the gaps between labels, comfortable in its undefined state.

The moment dissolves as your friends surge to their feet, drawn by the siren song of holiday programming, their bodies swaying in tipsy celebration while abandoned gingerbread houses wait patiently for their architects to return.

You join, your body moving to the music while your attention splits like light through a prism.

Your phone glows softly against your wine-warmed cheeks, its screen a private window into a conversation happening miles away from this moment of tinsel and sugar dusted chaos.

How's it going?

His message hovers there, a paper lantern in the digital dark. The ellipsis of his typing appears and vanishes like a hesitant moth, before being drawn straight to the flame.

I miss you.

The three words sit there, deceptively simple, carrying more gravity than their eight letters should allow.

Around you, your friends continue their tipsy choreography, unaware that you're suddenly existing in two places at once — here in this room of laughter and spilled wine, and somewhere in the quiet ether between sent and received messages.

You navigate the chaos of the coffee table, a battlefield of sugar and scattered ribbons to retrieve what you hope is your wine glass.

Certainty feels optional at this point in the evening, so you drink anyway.

Missing someone shouldn't feel like solving a complex equation, you think. The mathematics of friendship should allow for simple addition: time spent plus words exchanged equals the right to acknowledge absence.

Your shared history is written in dried-out pens and ink-stained fingers, in study sessions that bled from dusk till dawn till dusk again. The evidence exists in countless moments where consciousness surrendered to exhaustion on his couch, only to be greeted by fresh coffee and thoughtfulness upon waking.

That blanket — the softest one that smelled like him always appearing like a spell cast while you slept. Those almond croissants from Mugged, arriving with clockwork reliability ever since you mentioned them being your favorite once in passing.

You've become an unwitting connoisseur of every bakery's interpretation within a ten-mile radius of campus, each flaky offering presented with Luigi’s particular brand of earnest enthusiasm.

He’d ask you to rate each of them.

The truth about your growing pastry fatigue remains locked behind your teeth, preserved by the warmth of knowing he holds this small detail about you like a treasure, this crumb of information deemed worthy of remembering.

It's going really well!!

The message leaves your fingers like a breath held too long, wine warming your palm and throat in equal measure.

I miss you too

You launch the words into the digital void before doubt can catch them, before your mind can dissect the anatomy of their meaning.

Truth doesn't always need analysis — it simply is.

Like how you know he would be here right now, cross-legged on your floor, creating abstract art with edible glitter on gingerbread walls. How he would reach for your wine glass without asking, that familiar gleam in his eye when he'd insist everything tastes better when stolen from your plate, your cup, your space.

How's it going there?

You return the question like a tennis serve, letting it float between Maryland and Manhattan, carrying the weight of genuine curiosity rather than mere social obligation.

You watch the typing bubble dance across your screen before locking your phone, letting his response hang suspended in digital limbo, hoping to avoid the girls' questions about your constant screen companion — that recurring character in your Instagram narrative.

You perform this delicate ballet of presence: swaying to music, trading laughter, lifting your glass in toasts while your attention orbits the device resting face-down on your couch.

His contact photo catches the light when you check again — a study in inverse gravity, him suspended upside down on his bed, The Extinction of Experience dangling from his fingers as he read.

You'd captured that moment from your vantage point on his bedroom floor, surrounded by the paper trail of your study tree, neither of you knowing it would become this small square identifier.

The messages accumulate, each one heavier than the last.

It's been ok, I guess

It's just odd seeing her like this. Feels weird celebrating a holiday

I wish I could fix it, you know?

I just want to fix it

I'm scared she won't see me graduate.

The words pierce through your wine haze like ice water, striking a chord that still reverberates from your own past — those endless hospital corridors, the symphony of medical machinery, the way death's whisper echoes differently when it speaks your parent's name.

Oh, Lu. I'm so sorry

Can we talk? Can I call??

Time dissolves into the rhythm of dancing and laughter, but his silence weighs anchor-heavy in your pocket.

Eventually, the slumber party gradually succumbs to gravity —bodies finding rest on couches, in guest rooms, beneath blankets like butterflies folding their wings.

"Gonna get to bed, girls." Your announcement meets the soft resistance of exhausted hums, a drowsy "Night, Matty" floating up from beneath a mountain of blankets.

You press goodnight kisses to foreheads like sealing envelopes, then take the stairs two at a time. The bathroom becomes your secret hideout, steam rising from running water as you perch on the tub's edge, phone trembling slightly against your ear.

The first call dissipates into digital silence. The second connects just before surrender, carrying with it a muffled sniff and a broken "Hey, bub."

"Hey." You wrestle your voice into something steady, something strong enough to carry both your wine-soaked concern and his grief. "I'm sorry if y'don't wanna talk-I-I guess I just needed to call." His answering hum dismisses your apology like smoke. "Wanted to check on you."

Luigi's inhale rattles like wind through bare branches— brittle, familiar. It's the sound of tears you recognize from five years ago, when you were the one trying to breathe around the weight of impending loss. "I'm okay, Teo," he whispers, the lie gentle as snowfall. "This is all part of the process, hm?"

You twist the faucet with practiced urgency, steam rising like prayers into the bathroom air.

The phone finds its precarious perch on speaker — a dangerous dance you've performed before, witnessed by the ghosts of devices past that met their end in similar wine-soaked, water-logged circumstances.

"It is." The water claims you inch by inch, your skin singing protest against its heat. "But that doesn't mean you've got to do it on your own." You edge the phone closer, as if narrowing the physical distance between speaker and ear could somehow bridge the miles between you.

"I know."

The silence that follows feels like an embrace, wrapping around you both through the digital distance. It's the kind of quiet Luigi needed most. "I just- I guess it's all sort of unbelievable, too, right?" His words reach for your shared history, for the parallel paths.

Your head bobs in agreement, a reflexive gesture lost to the miles between you.

"Forced to watch." Luigi's voice gives way to a groan as he shifts position, the sound carrying the weight of bone-deep exhaustion. The pain travels through him like electricity seeking ground, from toes to spine, a familiar current you've witnessed before.

The sound triggers recognition, concern creasing your brow.

Pain.

"S'your back hurting?" Water laps at your ears as you drape one leg over the tub's edge, bubbles fizzing like tiny stars against your skin. "Take one of those gummies I gave you — they seemed to help last time, didn't they?"

Plastic crinkles through the speaker — you can almost see him launching from his bed with the desperate grace of someone fighting their own body, fingers finding the last pocket of his backpack where you'd tucked the gummies away.

The memory surfaces like a photograph developing: him hovering over an open suitcase, pleading eyes and helpless hands.

'Please help me pack,' he'd begged, 'I'm like a goldfish when it comes to packing for trips, Matty.'

The soft sound of him working the peach-flavored gummy against his teeth carries through the connection, his smile somehow audible in the way he chews. "What would I do without you?" The question floats between you, genuine as a heartbeat.

What would I do without you?

The answer dissolves like sugar on your tongue, too complex to crystallize into words. These days, the spaces between your lives have grown so thin, so permeable.

"Forget that you have chronic pain, somehow." His answering snicker melts into your laughter, echoing off bathroom tiles. "And completely forget to pack fuckin' underwear."

AirPods?

Check — casual, confident.

Toothbrush?

Duh — almost offended at the suggestion he'd forget.

Underwear?

Ah, fuck — confusion, horror, and sheepish gratitude in rapid succession.

"Do you wonder what we'd be doing if we never met?" Luigi's laugh carries new light now, sunrise breaking through storm clouds.

Whether you're his distraction or his destination doesn't matter—you're here, and so is he.

"You'd probably have no gummies, and I'd still be taking a bath right now." You deliver it with theatrical sass, like he's perched on the bathroom counter instead of miles away.

He chirps, “I'd probably have a way worse grade, too."

Your laugh erupts, unfiltered and gaudy as costume jewelry.

To Luigi, it's a masterpiece in sound.

"So I guess your life would suck, and mine would be the exact same." The shared laughter spirals between you like DNA strands, eventually settling into soft exhales of amusements, your sides pinched and aching, your body completely exhausted from the all the crying, dancing, drinking, and laughing it had done — twists, turns, loops and pit stops.

"I know I said it earlier," Luigi shifts again, his groan softer now, a whisper of discomfort rather than a shout. "But I really do miss you—it's fucking embarrassing I feel the need to say it twice, but I don't really care."

You draw your knees closer, turning toward your phone like a flower seeking sun.

Behind closed lids, you paint him: winter-flushed cheeks, those unfair eyelashes casting shadows like ink strokes, and that smile — God, that smile — bright enough to blind, yet somehow always carrying traces of storms weathered alone. "Say it again." The whisper slips out like a secret, hanging in the steam-heavy air.

The silence that follows feels alive, punctuated only by Luigi's intake of breath. You know, without seeing, that his eyes are closed too, both of you building bridges across miles with nothing but memory and want.

"I miss you."

Three words, soft as a spring breeze, but heavy enough to sink straight through your chest — somehow, the third time felt more intense than the first.

You curl into yourself with a pleased hum, the bathwater lapping at your shoulders and the phone resting on the edge like a sentinel; in these moments, technology becomes magic — folding space and time until the miles between you collapse like pages of a weathered atlas.

Luigi!

The call cuts through your shared silence—his mother's voice carrying that particular mix of fragility and steel, like a sword that's been through too many battles.

"One second, Ma!" The response is automatic, instinctive as breathing. You hear the rustle of fabric, can picture him hopping on one foot, wrestling with sweatpants while keeping you close, phone wedged against his shoulder. "Doctor Luigi's assistance is required." The words aim for lightness, but you catch the undertone — that silent prayer that it's just another missing remote, another small crisis, not the other kind that leaves him sleepless and scared.

You nod once more, struck by all these little absences — his voice untethered from his physical presence, the empty space where his reach should be, the ghost of his laugh without its visual echo, the abandoned ritual of his hands stealing sips of your matcha and sampling your dinner. "Go on, then, doctor."

"I'll text you." His promise slides into the space between heartbeats.

Without hesistation, "I love you." Leaves your lips.

Three words that usually flutter past like birds in migration, casual and fleeting — but tonight they land differently. They settle with the weight of autumn leaves, each syllable carrying something new and fragile and inevitable.

Neither of you could pretend not to feel the shift, the way those familiar words suddenly held universes.

“I love you, too.”

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfic #req #posting here and ao3 :)

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windingintheworld · 4 months ago

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A OC fanfic. 1st chapter~♡ OC meets Kaito and is introduced to the academy!

Title: Sad Hello/Beautiful Goodbeye

First day♡

The end of another year means it’s time for a new adventure. The past few years haven’t done much to satisfy my craving for excitement. I’ve roamed the lively streets of London, explored the rich history of Germany, soaked up the vibrant culture of Brazil, and wandered through the ancient wonders of China, not to mention countless places in between. A hundred thousand miles across every time zone, and yet, here I am, still feeling a restless, empty, alone. At first, when the Institute asked for my help in capturing anomalies, I was exited. A witch working with them? That was unheard of, especially since we’re often seen as “volatile” and “unpredictable.” But as the months dragged on, the thrill faded, leaving me with the same old boredom.

“Next stop, Darkwick Academy, meow,” chirped a cheerful voice over the quirky metro intercom, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Next stop indeed,” I muttered to the empty cabin, my voice bouncing off the metallic walls. “Maybe Tokyo will have something fun in store?” As the train came to a smooth stop, the doors slid open quietly, letting in a rush of cool, fresh air that smelled like damp earth. Stepping into the early morning fog that drifted across the platform, I headed toward the chancellor’s office. With the sun just starting to peek over the horizon, it seemed my only company today would be a surprisingly large number of cats. Some were carrying parcels, others had letters, and one, I was pretty sure, had a small drill tucked under its paws. Already, this was way more interesting than the sterile vibe of the Institute HQ. Where I’ve been rotting the past six months.

As I walked down the brick-lined road, a playful grey cat with bright green eyes dashed up to my feet, weaving around my legs. “Meow, meow!” it called, its collar jingling as a little note flapped in the breeze. Curious, I bent down and grabbed the note from its collar.

Mary,

I hope this note finds you well! Please meet me in my office so we can get you settled. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your travels. Our friend here will show you the way.

I gave the kitty a scratch behind the ears, feeling a warm glow inside. “Lead the way, little buddy.”

“Meow!” it replied happily, darting off ahead of me.

And just like that, my first day at Darkwick Academy began.

By the time my meeting with Cornelius concluded, the sky bathed the academy in a warm orange hue, characteristic of my favorite early mornings. I navigated my way through clusters of students shuffling to their classes, occasionally catching an odd glance, but for the most part, I remained overlooked. Typically, my dark clothes and hair contributed to a background character vibe; however, my golden-rimmed green eyes often drew attention. I had never been one to crave the spotlight, unlike many of my sisters. The background suits me just fine.

As I focused on the rhythmic steps of my scuffed shoes, I made my way toward the old chapel Cornelius had mentioned. Counting the cracks in the brick-lined walkway, I was suddenly jolted to the side as a body collided with me. A blond boy’s face came inches away from my own, his wide green eyes staring down at me, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, nearly obscuring the freckles scattered across his face.

“OH MY GOD!” His loud exclamation startled me, prompting me to gently push him off. He scrambled to his feet clumsily, reminiscent of a fawn finding its legs. A small smile tugged at my lips. Though I could feel the disconnect between my feathers and my true feelings. It's safer to keep distance, goodbyes always come too soon. The boy was apologizing profusely, extending a hand toward me, which I accepted.

“I’m Kaito Fuji. I’m so, so sorry again. You aren’t hurt, are you?” He looked me over, and somehow, his cheeks seemed to redden even more. How cute.

“I’m quite alright, though I suggest you be a bit more careful in the future.” I glanced down at where his hand still held mine; his touch was pleasantly warm, not uncomfortable. Following my gaze, he quickly released my hand and held them up in a gesture of apology.

“Ah! Sorry again. Um,” he paused, clearly feeling awkward. “So, what’s your name? I don’t remember seeing you around before.” He offered a smile that mirrored the warm colors of the morning. I returned his smile, realizing that since I might be here for a while, it would be wise to play nice—at least to avoid potential enemies.

“Mary Baker. It’s nice to meet you, Kaito. You’re right; today is my first day at the academy. I hope we can get along well.” I put forth my best friendly smile. Kaito gasped slightly, and he seemed to tense up. Confused, I asked if everything was okay.

“Okay? Better than okay! How about I show you around? I’m free of classes right now anyway! We can even grab some lunch—my treat.” I nodded and we began walking together.

It seemed I had already made my first friend: Kaito Fuji.

Kaito led me to the dilapidated chapel, its squeaky floorboards groaning under our weight, while the boarded-up windows did little to enhance its charm. He insisted on going first, puffing up his chest and putting on a brave face that made me suppress a smirk. “It’s not so scary,” he declared, though I could see a flicker of nervousness in his wide eyes. “Just a little... character.” His cheeky grin was cute, but I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of amusement at his bravado.

As we climbed the stairs, I dropped my backpack at the top with a thud, the weight of it a reminder of my centuries of experience. “I’ll need to pick up some supplies soon,” I said, glancing at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah, you definitely don’t want to run out of snacks or anything,” he replied, his voice playful. “A girl with a hangry mood? That’s a recipe for disaster!” He flashed me a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling. Very cute. Little does he know as a witch I rarely need to eat, but my identity is something best kept secret. Witch’s aren’t trusted among the few that know of our existence. For good reason, I suppose. The observations I was put through by the Institute for the past six months show how little trust they have.

I rolled my eyes, the corners of my mouth twitching slightly. “How noble of you to worry about my mood, Kaito. But I assure you, I’ve survived much worse than a lack of snacks.”

We hurried out of the chapel, the irony of a witch living in such a spooky place not lost on me. Kaito continued to guide me around the campus, his excitement palpable as he showed me the main building, classrooms, and even the teachers’ lounge. “And here’s the cafeteria,” he announced dramatically, arms outstretched as if revealing a grand prize. “Where all the best gossip happens! But, um, I might have a little hiccup…” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushing slightly. “I forgot my wallet.”

I couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle. “And here I thought you were the brave hero of the day. It seems you’re just a boy who can’t keep track of his belongings.”

“Hey now, don’t go teasing me too much!” he protested, though the grin on his face betrayed his enjoyment of the banter. “You’re not going to let me starve, are you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get fed,” I teased, a smirk playing on my lips. “But only if you promise to keep that dimpled smile on your face. It’s quite charming, you know.” His face turned red.

“Ch-charming? Me?” he stuttered out and I couldn’t help but laugh.

We had a nice enough lunch, Kaito chitchatting animatedly about the different houses at Darkwick Academy. “So, there’s Frostheim, my house,” he began, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It’s full of mostly nepo babies—rich kids who think they own the place.”

“Sounds delightful,” I replied, rolling my eyes playfully.

“Then there’s Vagastrom,” he continued, a hint of disdain creeping into his tone. “We call them the ‘thugs.’ They’re tough, but honestly, I’d steer clear of them if I were you.”

“Noted,” I said, intrigued.

“Jabberwock is interesting, though. They run, like, an… anomaly safari,” Kaito explained, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “I’ll definitely be checking that out soon; it sounds like a blast.”

“Anomalies? Now that’s something I’d love to see,” I mused, my curiosity piqued.

“Hotarubi is another one,” he said, his voice brightening again. “It’s a house of artists. They’re all about creativity and expression.”

“And Sinostra?” I prompted, wanting to hear more.

“Ah, that’s the casino house,” he said, shuddering slightly. “And their vice captain, Romeo? Definitely someone to avoid. He’s a weird stalker,” Kaito grumbled, his expression reflecting genuine concern.

“And what about Mortkranken?” I asked, intrigued by the medical house.

Kaito shivered at the mention. “Ugh, don’t even get me started on the captain. Mad scientists are always a good time, right? Just don’t let them experiment on you.”

I chuckled, finding his reactions amusing. “And Obscuary? What’s the deal with them?”

“Honestly, I don’t know much about them,” he admitted, scratching his head. “You might want to investigate that one yourself. They’re a bit mysterious.”

“Sounds like I have my work cut out for me,” I said, a smirk playing on my lips. “Thanks for the intel, Kaito.”

Finally, we made our way to the convenience store, and I raised an eyebrow at the odd assortment on the shelves. The place had a strange mix of magazines and snacks, with far too many glossy covers for the amount of food. “Looks like they prioritize entertainment over actual meals,” Kaito remarked, picking up a magazine featuring a cat in oversized sunglasses. “What do you think? Should we get this for your ‘how to survive Darkwick Academy’ guide?” He held it up to his face, striking a silly pose that made me shake my head, both amused and exasperated.

As we wandered the aisles, I felt a mix of anticipation and amusement bubbling inside me. Maybe Darkwick Academy wouldn’t be so dull after all—especially with Kaito around.

#tdb #tokyo debunker fanfiction #tokyo debunker #fanfiction #fanfic wip #i welcome constructive criticism

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newhologram · 5 months ago

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Okay, baby’s first surgery. Had to be at the hospital at 5:30am. They did more pre-op labs and EKG just to be extra safe. Both arms’ veins aren’t in great shape so they didn’t even try the IV there. They couldn’t get my left hand but were able to get my right (ow!). Blood rushed out all over my hand, oops. Techs kept asking if I had kids, presumably because I was about to get sterilized. Every time I told them I have 4 cats, they laughed. They all took good care of me and my main nurse remembered me from my 3 day flare-up stay last year. The anesthesiologist asked about the fibromyalgia. He understood that it makes surgery a lot more painful (plus slower healing and can cause a flare) so he made sure to have the right drugs ready for me. He even asked if I have a pain doctor so I explained the whole ordeal I went through getting and losing mine, how I can’t get one that’ll give me the right meds. He shook his head and expressed frustration at how hard it is for patients to get adequate pain management. 100%, dude. Then I finally got to meet the surgeon. Been going to his OBGYN office for a few years but never got to interact with him. We went over the procedure and he warned me that there’s a chance the endometriosis might make it hard for him to even access my uterine tubes. I let him know about my past MRI findings (lesion on bladder, multiple on colon, kidneys backed up, enlarged pelvic lymph nodes, fatty liver) so he kept that in mind. When I woke up, it was instant shaking and crying. The pain was so bad it had my teeth chattering, the same kind of terrible cramping I get from the endo. Someone goofed and had already taken out my IV before I woke up so they had to put it back into my sore hand to give me a dose of hydromorphone. One wasn’t enough though, I couldn’t settle down, so they gave me another. Thankfully the pain’s been manageable since I got home, I’m mostly sore and tender at the incisions. So tiny! Other than that, my throat and mouth are raw from the breathing tube and I'm definitely feeling the gas pain referring to my shoulders. I was hoping to talk to the surgeon after to hear how it went but he was already gone💀Bruh. No info about whether there were any cysts or lesions. I have to wait 2 weeks for a follow up. I know we have to wait for pathology anyway but I wanted to hear what he saw in there. Hope I get to see pics at the follow up at least. :\ I was also sent home without antibiotics or painkillers, which I think must be a mistake? I was told at my consult a year ago I’d be given stuff. So gotta call them again tomorrow. Luckily I still have some bentyl so I took that as soon as I got home. They cleared me for cannabis and whatever else I need right away. Going to see about getting another vitamin IV infusion soon. My friend is going to stay with me during the day to help me out this first week but I’m still taking extended time off to focus on rest and healing. So far my body isn’t freaking out as bad as I thought it would but we’ll see. Relieved to officially be permanently sterilized. ❌🤰 Thanks for all the messages! I’ll keep everyone updated when I learn more.

#teku #new's first surgery

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nitazenes · 1 month ago

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praying for the heart stomper heels for christmas 😩

praying for the MH dolls i rly want

thats all i asked for for christmas haha but the heart stomper heels are pretty expensive, but I received my docs as a birthday gift ! maybe just maybe ill get the shoes, if not thats okay i will survive lmao

other than that all i want for christmas is to not be judged for being unable to afford many gifts

lets see

For my step mom I got soft decorative towels. a loofah and slippers and shower steamers.

For my aunt who is rly hard to buy gifts for i gave her a bunch of small gifts already, but i found a keychain that said "the best auntie ever, keep that shit up" and my aunt and I have always had a thing where when she gifts me something i tell her shes "the best auntie ever" so to find a keychain with that message, i hope she likes it lol. i also got her and electric heating pad for her feet bc her feet get cold and currently she has frankened a heating pad to go over her feet, so i just got her what she does, but in just one piece instead of her like using medical gauze to wrap it around her feet lol

For my mom I got her two brooches, she wears brooches for work so i got one that is a snake and and a doggy that looks like one of their dogs. I also got her slippers

For my step dad i got a tin of beatles themed guitar picks and a beatles t shirt : ) he's a big fan For my dad (whom i do not like): i got him Lemon Curd bc he loves it but never gets it, so i get it usually for christmas. he also never arrived to pick up his fathers day gift so hes getting a hat for christmas, he wears baseball hates all the time and his fav football team is the Denver Broncos so i got him a hat i dont think he has yet? but its like official merch for the broncos. I also got him this thing where he puts his dogs paw on it and it leaves an imprint of the paw : ) i was thinking about his dog a lot bc he has heart worms and is pretty sick.

arguably my best friend got the most because i collected things starting in September and sent everything for christmas. i think everything i got i him is vintage or antique. Highlights being a authentic WWII russian sterile syringe (hes a med student) and the coolest one was that i found this russian garrison hat with a shit ton of pins and brass. and patches. i think it is also wwii era but that was arguably the coolest gift bc he verified the medals and pins on the hat were real when usually you find reproductions of the pins it has. I also fought for an Esther Scroll earlier like last month.

For my partners i got them two heart shaped pillows, a bracelet for my gf and the boyf is getting somethin he wants in the mail but Canada is on a shipping strike so its going to arrive late.

i also made a ribbon toy for my cat : ) this drained my bank account and savings. i know christmas is not just about gifts but hopefully these small things still convey that i thought of them, and thats what counts.

#Musings #big yap about christmas gifts

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i-am-the-doctor · 1 year ago

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Red tides a rollin chapter 3 //TW: Surgery, mentions of violence

CHAPTER 3

The lab was peacefully quiet as the sun began to rise into the Louisiana skies, its heavenly rays leaking in through the windows and onto the various equipment and tables, giving the otherwise desolate and sterile laboratory a strangely warm, inviting aura, like a hug from one’s mother. The two scientists, still asleep in their warm cots, moved not one inch-- at least Jonathan did not, for as soon as the warm beams from the sun hit Fredrick’s face, he slowly began to wake up from his slumber, anticipating finding himself in his own comfy bed in his own home in New Arabi, hoping that the loss of his only child was nothing but a nightmare, but unfortunately, this was not the case, for as soon as Fredrick’s eyes fluttered open, he was met with the barely illuminated ceiling and walls of the Baton Rouge lab.

He stayed in his cot for a little while, still trying to gather his senses after his long sleep and trying to keep warm against the winter cold creeping in. He looked over to the other cot where Jonathan was still sleeping, curled up into a little ball, like how a house-cat would sit, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth while his blue glasses were folded and neatly placed beside his pillow. Fredrick couldn’t help but smile at the sight, as old childhood memories of sleepovers began to come back. He remembered how Jonathan would always come over to Fredrick’s house on the weekends, wearing a baggy white cotton sweater, with a big container of cheese balls and a grocery bag of video games for them to play. It was a time when they were just kids and didn’t have to worry about things like spikers or korsa or anything besides getting good grades in school and not getting in trouble- or at least getting caught. How he longed to experience those memories once again, but he knew that those days are long gone, and have been for years now. He’s 43 now, about to turn 44 on March 12, what good would it do to dwell on the past, especially when there is work to be done? Carefully and quietly, he got out of his cot, and stretched before scratching at his beard. He then remembered breakfast, such an important meal. What would they have, Fredrick thought to himself. Was there even anything there for them to eat? He then remembered that he and the rest of his former collegues had put together a ration closet in the event that there was an emergency that required them to stay inside, such as a bomb or a hurricane. He then tip-toed toward a door, vaguely remembering where the closet was, and slowly opened it to find that, sure enough, there it was, and all the rations looked practically untouched, still in their packages and cans.

“Good, at least we don’t have to run down to no stores or anything” He whispered to himself, pulling the rations out one by one to see what they had, the majority of it being soups like chicken noodle soup, loaded potato soup, clam chowder, and other canned goods like corn, carrots, canned peaches, while some rations were packaged, like classic military MREs, cheese crackers, chicken crackers, chicken ramen noodles, and there was also a 24-pack of bottled water and a 24-pack of Kimberly-Kola. He picked up a can of Kemper Brand chicken noodle soup, planning to eat it, when he remembered that the rations had been there since well around 2025. He wasn’t about to let him or his best friend get food poisoning, so to test it, he cracked open the can with a can-opener, and took a big sip out of the broth. It tasted perfectly fine, nothing that could be considered rotted or rancid in soup standards. At least we know its safe, he thought to himself as he took another bite. Within a moment, the flourescent lights came on and a shadow was looming from behind him, causing him to jump and swiftly turn around to see who- or what- was behind him.

It was only Jonathan, leaning against the threshold of the enterance into the room on his elbow, the light from the bulbs reflecting off of his thin round sapphire blue glasses as he tried his best to shake off his slumber. They said nothing for a couple of seconds, before Jonathan spoke.

“Mm.. morning, Fredrick..” He muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before noticing what fredrick had.

“Oh, Mornin’, Jonathan! I forgot all about us having this ration closet! We got all kinds of good stuff in here! Chicken noodle soup, Kimberly-Kola, Water, crackers, you name it- its all still good! We even got paper plates and bowls and silverware!” Fredrick beamed as he beckoned Jonathan to sit down for breakfast, to which jonathan did just that. He scanned his eyes over at the various cans and boxes and bottles, finally choosing to have the same thing Fredrick was having, Chicken noodle soup.

“Welp- heres to our first breakfast in the lab!” Fredrick toasted as he and jonathan clinked their cans together, drinking the broth and eating the chicken and noodles. For one since everything happened, Fredrick felt right at home eating one of his favorite foods with his most trustworthy friend. Plans for the initiation of the project could wait until afterwards, he thought to himself. They spent the next few minutes of their time chittering amongst themselves as they had their meal together. It wouldn’t be long until Fredrick noticed the clock- which he had put new batteries in and set the time straight, read 8:30 in the morning.

“8 o’clock already, eh Jonathan?” He muttered through sleep-filled vocal chords as he scraped the remainder of the chicken out of the can. Jonathan nodded, smiling as he finished up his can before throwing it into the garbage bin.

“Yeah, time sure flies when you’re asleep, huh?” Jonathan chortled, to which fredrick grinned. But then he finally recollected the project plan.

“Oh, Jonathan, we need to conduct our first experiment today.” “Oh, right.. Where will we get a subject again?” “The Carnagie Funeral home in New Gonzales. They’re the only funeral home in the southern part of Louisiana that’ll take spiker victims because the venom’s so powerful. You remember Simon Carnagie, I think he worked with us on Project Prometheus?” “Oh yeah, i remember him! Tall, green eyes, blonde?” “Yeah, you got him right! He used to research the spikers after they captured some strays before 2031. He ended up making a bunch of things out of the DNA and parts of the spiker- in fact, I think he was the one that invented Spiker Leather, and he found a way to distill the venom to make alcohol out of it!” “Yeah, i remember him perfectly now! He always seemed to like you a bit better then me, didn’t he?” “I bet that was just because his older brother, Phil, got his arm bl0wn off in the Slaughter of Baja, and i was the one who gave him his new cybernetic one. He always thanked me for it whenever he got the chance. I wonder how they’re doing now-- i haven’t seen those two in ages!”

“I guess theres only one way to find out… you still got the ice chest in the truck?” “I brought it back out after i put her in the cryo-chamber.” “Alright, well i think we got all we need, huh?” Jonathan asked as he stood up, stretching his arms and legs before helping Fredrick up. Fredrick nodded.

“Alright, so now, all we need to do is drive to see the Carnagie Brothers and ask them for some assistance.” “Got it.”

They then put their day-shirts and belts back on and walked outside of the lab, and within an instant, they were subjected to the bitter winter temperatures that winter-time Louisiana had to offer. Fredrick, who was a bit more resistant to the cold, did not mind. However, Jonathan was in pure agony, shivering like a leaf in a hurricane, his eyes rapidly darting every which way. Fredrick, noticing this, stopped in his tracks, and turned right around

“I’ll be back, i’m getting us some lab coats. It might warm you up.” “O-oh, d-don’t w-worry a-b-bout me-” Jonathan stuttered through chattering teeth, but Fredrick only shook his head and put his hand up.

“Don’t “I’ll be fine” me, Jonathan. You need to keep warm. We both need to keep warm.” He huffed before running back into the lab, grabbing some large paper-white lab coats, and running back out.

“Here, t-take it- i think they’re all the same size.” Fredrick grumbled as he put on one of the labcoats, to which Jonathan sheepishly followed, his face turning pink from either Fredrick’s kind gestures or the careless frigid winds. They then jumped back into Fredrick’s chevy, and pulled back onto the roads.

“You know where New Gonzales is, right Fredrick?” “Yeah, I’ve been there before once, and im fairly certain that its to the west of baton rouge, maybe a little more southward? Yeah, i know where to go.” “Thank god, because i sure don’t!” Jonathan chuckled as he looked out the window and onto the landscape, lush with life. Within the minute, they were back on the road again, this time heading towards New Gonzales, a newly sprung city that moved from Gonzales after a spiker venom water poisoning. When they finally arrived, they noticed the stores and businesses were lined up in uniform lines, lights danced across the tops of buildings alongside neon signs for bars, clubs, drug stores and around streetlights, and train tracks could be seen in the distance that were once used to carry korsa and other materials and goods, a reminder of better times.

“Wow… this place looks awesome, Huh Fredrick?” Jonathan guffawed as he looked out the window like a child going to a theme-park. Fredrick smiles and chuckled, looking at his surroundings before turning his eyes back on the road.

“Heh! Yeah, it sure is! We should go to one of these places here some time!” Fredrick chortled as he drove, eventually making it to the Carnagie Funeral Home, a fancy brown-brick building with an even classier sign that read:

Carnagie Funeral Home

New Gonzales, LA

Simon Carnagie, Owner

Phillip Carnagie, Co-Owner

504-555-4327

“Alright Jon, here we are..” Fredrick sighed as they both took off their seatbelts and made their way into the establishment.

The interior was magnificent, with brown wood panels gliding alongside the lower-half of the wall, while the upper half was coated in pearly white paint, with painted pictures of flowers and beautiful scenery and wall-lights adorning them, while the floor was covered by a dark-nude weaved carpet. Sitting at the desk was a woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a loose bun, the only parts of her one could see was her cherry pink blouse, a black camisole underneath, and a gold bangle that rested around her wrist, with a look upon her face that screamed “I really wish i weren’t here right now.”

“Hello, welcome to the Carnagie Funeral home..” The woman droned monotonously while glaring at the two gentleman with uninterest. “Would you like to set up an appointment?”

“Er, No ma’am, We’d like to see Mr. Carnagie, if possible.” Jonathan answered, putting one of his hands into his pocket nervously.

“Sir, You’ll have to set up an appointment if you wish to see Mr. Carnagie-” The bored woman began to say, but was quickly interrupted by the opening of the door behind her, and out from behind walked out a tall skinny man with sandy slicked-back blonde hair, with black thick-rimmed glasses standing in front of his pale-green eyes, tiny little freckles scattered across his cheeks like stars, with a grey suit that accentuated his skinny yet toned form in a modest, classy manner. As soon as he had stepped out, he noticed his former collegues, and his eyes light up.

“Fredrick?! Jonathan?!” His chipper voice rang as he walked over to them, making little grasping motions with his hands. The woman looked at the man with confusion.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Cindi, I Know these people!”

“Hey, Simon! How’s the business going?” Fredrick asked with a smile as he shook Simon’s hand. Simon grinned.

“Its all going well so far! How have you been?” he began to ask before stopping himself, a guilty look crossing his face “Ah, Sorry- that was a stupid question- i know what happened..” He muttered, being the one who drained Olivia of the Spiker venom before treating her.

“Hey, its fine, Simon. Thank you for asking anyway. Er- may we come into your office for a moment? Theres.. Something important we need to ask of you.. A favor, if you will.”

“Well of course! Come in, come in!” Simon chirped as he held the door open for the two gentlemen. As they entered, they noticed that the Carnagie Brother’s office looked different then the main lobby, as this room had dark grey walls with a dark blue weaved carpet, and a brown oval table with 4 chairs, one of them being occupied by a tall salt-and-peppered haired heavy-set man with blue eyes, wearing a dark blue button-up shirt with caramel brown overalls and work boots, holding a book with one cybernetic arm.

“Hey Phil! Remember Fredrick and Jonathan? They’re here to see us!”

The man jumped, red in the face and swiftly closed his book and looked over, covering the cover-art with his organic hand, but after seeing the two men, he relaxed.

“Oh…. Ey, How ya doing, Fred?” Phil laughed as he got out of his chair to give Fredrick and Jonathan a firm handshake before the gentlemen sat down. They talked for a couple of minutes, catching up with each other, until Simon finally asked:

“So Fredrick, what were you going to ask me?” He questioned with an interested, almost excited look on his freckle-scattered face.

“Ah, Yes.. Well… Me and Jonathan, we’re doing a project in our… well.. We-” He stuttered, trying to find the right words to describe what he was doing and what he needed, until Jonathan finished his sentence for him.

“Fredrick and I are attempting to bring back the dead with Cybernetics and robotics, and we figured that you may have some folk that.. Y’know, don’t have any family or anything, that we could use to run the first tests.” He spoke quickly, wiping off his glasses lens on his turtleneck before putting them back on his head. Simon paused for a bit, bewildered at the macabre string of words that came out of Jonathan’s mouth. Bringing back the dead? Playing God? What kind of experiments are these two gentlemen doing?, he thought to himself. Phil However, saw an opportunity to make some cash.

“How much y’all willing to pay for one of these folk?” Phil questioned, looking over at his younger brother.

“I suppose we’ll pay $700.” Fredrick gruffed, making sure his wallet was in his coat pocket. Phil nodded, and gestered to the two gentlemen to follow him out back into a morgue in a repurposed warehouse, where the dead were kept in drawers in freezing temperatures. The three men walked past these countless drawers until Phil stopped at one marked “133”, before opening it, revealing a pale man with slicked back black hair with a widow’s peak, a slim face and nose and closed eyes, with a hospital bag of belongings near his feet.

“This fella right here? We found him outside the alleyway about 3 days ago, looked like he had a heart attack, and no-one’s claimed him, so we went ahead and treated him with the anti-rotting solution, and we were probably either going to bury him in an unmarked grave or just cremate him until y’all came along. He also had some stuff on him, but it was all in some kind of Cryllic script, so he was probably a lost Russian or a Belarusian or some other eastern european.” “That's alright, it don’t matter to me if they’re Russian or American. Hell, they can be from the moon, for all I care!” Fredrick chuckled as Jonathan left to go get the ice-chest. After he came back, Fredrick gave the 700 dollars to Phil, and shook his hand.

“Fredrick, I don’t know what the hell you’re planning, but I hope you know what you’re doing.” Phil sighed as he helped Jonathan put the man into the ice-chest and handed the bag of belongings to Fredrick.

“Don’t worry, Phil. All it is is just a little augmentation and electricity. You know how I replaced your arm after it got it blown off?” “Uh, Yeah..?”

“Its exactly like that, but on a much larger scale..” Fredrick explained, looking up into his eyes with intent. Phil nodded, not wanting to know the rest of the details because frankly, he wouldn’t, and couldn’t understand at the same level Fredrick could- he was just one of the people he worked on back in the 2020’s. Besides, this could rake in more cash.

“Well, Fredrick, if thats what you want, I guess I can’t stop you. You have a good rest of your day, and be careful!” Fredrick nodded and grinned, and he and jonathan walked back to Fredrick’s truck from the back, placed the ice-chest in the back seat, and drove back to the lab.

After they had arrived back at the lab, Fredrick and Jonathan took a minute to just sit in the truck before they went in. they both sat in the front seats, the heater blowing on their face and feet, considering what they should do next.

“...So this is it, huh? Only one thing left to do before this whole project truly starts?” Jonathan pondered as he layed back in his seat, looking out the window and through the rocks. Fredrick nodded and sighed, but not out of sorrow or boredom, but out of worry. Even he knew that this had a 50/50 chance of working, and if it truly worked, if that body in the chest rose from the dead, if its consciousness gets thrown back into its body by machine and electricity, he would be the one responsible. I must remain positive, he thought to himself. I won’t know if it will work until I try Besides, this is a big leap for science!

“Yeah, Jonathan.. This is it… we’re so close, can you feel it? We’re going to be the first two men in the history of mankind to bring back the dead!”

“Heh, I sure can feel it!...”

“..Alright, Jon, Ya ready? Its time for some science!” They got out of the truck, and they both carried the chest inside, the chest being heavier now than it was when Olivia was inside.

“Dear god, how heavy is this sunuvab1tch?!” Jonathan groaned as he helped Fredrick carry it. Fredrick huffed and complained also.

“Hell, Jonathan. He’s gotta be like- what- 230 at most? Agh, i gotta start lifing more weights!” “Hah! Me too, Fredrick. Me too.”

When they finally made it inside the operation room, Fredrick and Jonathan Disrobed the man, leaving nothing but his black boxers. Afterwards, Fredrick went deeper into the laboratory to get a box of cybernetic parts, while Jonathan brought out the many machines, memory needles, memory scanners, and whatnot. He had just finished bringing out the last machine, and when he looked up, he found Fredrick standing there, his lab coat all buttoned up, wearing scarlett red rubber gloves, and red-tinted goggles that only looked red on the outside.

“Wow, Fredrick. You even got the Mad Scientist outfit going on! H-heh!”

Fredrick chuckled warmly at Jonathan’s jeering before walking over to the man. He scanned his eyes over him, noting the pale color of his skin, the utter lack of movement, the face not having a single expression whatsoever. But this would soon change. Those bones would soon wriggle from the grasp of death and move about once more, that jaw would soon be moving with every word and noise the man would make, that face of his would soon be contorting with expressions of glee, of sadness, of disgust, whatever he felt, his face would show.

“Are you ready, Jonathan…..?” Fredrick asked as he readied the two Memory Needles in hand, getting ready to stick them in the man’s skull.

“Ready when you are, Fredrick.”

Then, carefully yet swiftly, Fredrick Pierced the man’s skull and brain with the sticks, and he turned on the Baroque-Brand Memory Machine. Memories from the brain turned into .MRF Files quite quickly, and were quickly loaded up on the screen.

“Wow, i’m surprised none of these are corrupted, seeing as how Phil said they picked him up 3 days ago. But then again, they did use that Anti-decay formula, didn’t they?” “Thats what they said, at least… do you want to see what they all entail?” “Er.. not yet.. We have to focus on the sugery for now, now that theres holes in the body.” Fredrick huffed as he readied his scalpel…

Now that the man was open, all the organic parts were there for the scientists to see. Fredrick, a major in anatomy and cybernetics, knew exactly where each part should go, and which parts needed to be replaced.

First, he took out the heart, and in its place rested a new artificial heart, and he soon followed with replacing the rest of the organics. Lungs, Livers, Pancreases, Intestines, kidneys-- all were thrown out and replaced with their superiors, screwed in and welded on. The smell of it all would be enough to make the average man hurl, but these two scientists knew the scent very well from the days of Project Prometheus, when replacing limbs and organs was an everyday event akin to getting your morning coffee. Now, it was second nature, a simple formality one must get through.

Fredrick then replaced the man’s veins with fine tubing, and shot a mix of synthetic blood into the veins and heart that would soon pump it through the man’s body. After all was said and done, he stepped back to look upon his work, and the scientist smiled.

“Now, all we need to do is sew him up, and view his memories… at least that will be easy, huh, Jonathan?” Fredrick sighed as he began sewing up the Y-incision he had made in the man’s chest. Jonathan nodded, and looked through the files, many of them entailing Military operations, battles, and many of them being too violent and grisly to describe with human language, yet some were more “Normal” in today's standards, such as training soldiers, eating MRES, and other miscellaneous events.

“Hm. looks like he was a soldier, or a general.” Jonathan mumbled, while Fredrick looked through the bag of the man’s belongings, which included medals, a mini photo album, a satchel and wallet, and a pair of dogtags in a miniature plastic bag.

“Yeah, he was a general- i can see from the medals and the tags…. Wait…. Does he look familiar to you, Jonathan?” “Not really, i mean.. I mean he KINDA looks familiar, like i’ve seen him in the news or something, but i can’t recall seeing him in real life.”

“Well, alright then, that makes two of us- he looks kinda familiar to me too.. Say, load up that translator machine will ya? Im going to try and translate these tags!” Fredrick called out as he unpackaged the tags. Jonathan nodded and booted up the machine, and in big red text, it read: READY FOR TRANSLATION

Fredrick then set the tags town under the scanner, and as soon as he did, the red matrix glided over the tags, and after a minute of internalizing the information, the screen spat out: IVAN S. MALENKOV

Fredrick’s heart dropped. He knew the name very well, but not the face. In fact, No-one truly knew what the man looked like, at least, not exactly, as the only real depictions of him were quickly drawn sketches by soldiers. They only heard the stories. Stories of brutal k1llings, such as the Slaughter of Baja, soldier kidnappings, and other unspeakable atrocities. If you could think about it, chances are that Gen. Ivan Sergei Malankov has done it.

“Jonathan… Thats Ivan Malenkov.” “Ivan- WHO? You mean the Russian Devil?”

“Yes….” Fredrick shook as he looked back at the man, whose body was now filled with robotics just waiting for a jolt of electricity to course through the mainframe. Now all Fredrick could feel was uncertainty and indecision.. Should I get rid of him and get another subject, wasting all the time I’ve put into the surgery, or should I just jolt him up, and hope and pray that he doesn’t gut us, He thought to himself. But then, he had thought of a better idea.

“We need to get rid of some of these memories, or at least, block them from recall somehow” Fredrick mumbled as he walked back to the memory reader, desperately trying to remove, or at least block any memories. 10 minutes would pass by until Fredrick was certain that the malicious media was removed.

“Okay.. I think i have all of it removed, now all we have is the less horrible crap..” Fredrick sighed. “All we have to do now is strap him down, connect him to the electric shocker-” “Electric What-now?”

“Come on Jonathan, you know what i’m talking about! The generator with the jumper cables and the button i fashioned out of a heated blanket remote!” “Oh yeah- that thing! Where is it?” “Its right over here, i brought it out when I was getting ready.” Fredrick groaned as he lugged the homemade shocker over to the operation table before strapping the man’s arms and legs down. Finally, Fredrick took both ends of the two cables connected to the generator, and clamped them onto the man’s wrists, where imbedded in his skin were two small conductive metal discs around the size of a quarter on either arm that would shoot the electric currents through the wires tied to his bones and into the mainframe.

“You ready, Jon? I’m about to hit the switch!” Fredrick trembled as he backed away from the operation table, button in hand, worrying about whether or not he or Jonathan would get electrocuted instead of the subject. He quickly pushed these worries to the back of his mind, however. Now was not the time to be worrying, especially when a scientific breakthrough was imminent.

“Ready!” “One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi!”

As soon as Fredrick pressed the button, the sound of electricity shot through the air like the blast of a sh0tgun, and the lights overhead momentarily flickered before going back to normal. Fredrick, crouched beside Jonathan, waited a few moments before speaking.

“You alright, Jonathan?” “Y-Yeah, I’m Fine! D-Did it work?”

“T-thats what I gotta check.. Hold on..” Fredrick stuttered as he carefully approached the man, quiet as a bug crawling on a wall. He surveyed the gentlemen for a bit, noticing the slight slant downwards in his nose, the thinness of his lips, his thin face with slightly defined cheekbones. It was almost hard to believe that he was face to face with the man who had raised hell on earth in the Baja Peninsula 7 years ago. But this moment of serveillance was quickly interrupted by a quiet sound coming from him. A sound of air being gently sucked in, and gently blown out..

In… and out…

In… and out..

In... and out…

Fredrick, in a state of amazement, awe, and mystification, could not begin to register that the man, the General Ivan Malankov, was breathing once again. He stood there, eyes wide like saucers, his mouth hanging just slightly agape, his hands gently vibrating in either horror or stupification. Could I just be imagining this? Is this man truly breathing? Is he truly alive, he thought to himself.

“Fredrick..?” Fredrick did not say anything, and instead held one ear to the man’s chest, and sure enough, that cybernetic heart was now pumping blood..

Thuh-dump. Thuh-dump. Thuh-dump.

“He’s alive… He’s alive! HE’S BREATHING, HIS HEART IS BEATING! JONATHAN, WE DID IT! WE DID IT- WE ACTUALLY BROUGHT A MAN BACK TO LIFE!” Fredrick squealed with a smile from ear to ear, his face turning a bright, almost neon-pink from the rush of excitement. Jonathan rushed over to the man, and the first thing he noticed was that the man’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

“Y-You did that, Fredrick! That was all you! Y-YOU’RE A- A… I CAN’T EVEN GET THE WORDS OUT!” Jonathan squeaked, while Fredrick began pacing up and down and around the operation room in pure elation from his sucessful experiment.

“Whaddya say we unstrap him and wake him up?” Jonathan asked, a smile across his face.

“Ehh, we need to unstrap him, but I don’t think we should wake him up! Lets just let him wake up on his own.. Yeah, i think thats a good idea, what do you think, Jonathan?” “Yeah, now that I think about it, It would be pretty rude to just abruptly awake him after we brought him back.”

An hour of chittering and chattering would pass before the man would start to move. Jonathan, who decided to info-dump about his favorite 80’s bands, was interrupted by the motion of Fredrick pointing to the man, the other hand making a silencing motion.

“Jonathan.. Look!” He whispered before he took Jonathan’s hand and hid behind a table, afraid to accidentally frighten the newly revived man.

The man’s eyes slowly opened, showing grey cybernetical eyes with black sclera, constricting almost realistically under the bright lights above him. He looked around at his new surroundings as he slowly got up, curious as to where he was, for this was not his home. He looked down at his body and immediately noticed the palor of his skin and the stitched-up Y-Incision on his torso that trailed from his chest and collarbones down to his belly. He felt at the stitching, wincing from the pain that it caused him to just simply poke at it, but he did not care about the pain. He felt at his neck that was now reinforced with jointed metal, and finally, he spoke.

“Where the hell..?” he began to say, his voice reverbrating across the room in a dark, strangely inviting Russian accent. Jonathan, watching this, tried his best to make not a sound and stay in the shadows of the operation room, but unluckily for him, he felt a tickling sensation in his sinuses that kept getting worse and worse with each passing millisecond until…

Kuh-Chew!

“Hm?” the newly-revived man hummed as he looked over to the direction the sound came from. He then got up from the table, towering at almost 6 foot and 3 inches.

“Fredrick, what do we do?” Jonathan whispered, in fear of what the man would do if he was suddenly startled.

“Lets just gently come out….” Fredrick answered. And with that, they slowly rose from their hiding spot, holding their hands in the air to show that they meant no harm.

Ahem.

The man quickly turned around to face the two men, his face void of expression. He looked over at Jonathan, and took notice of his glasses, and looked over to Fredrick, noticing his pine green eyes and goatee. Then, after a minute or two of the man studying over the two scientists, he smiled and slowly nodded, his eyes glowing in the shadowy part of the room.

…

“Hello, Gentlemen.” he suavely greeted, showing his teeth in a smile.

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