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chaoticklesblog · 10 months ago

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Maybe You Just Need More Convincing

Adam gets his everloving shit wrecked from some of the Hotel Staff in order to convince him sinners really can be redeemed. Charlie also recruits Lucifer to give them a hand, in more ways than one.

Warnings for foul language, some violence, suggestive humor (nothing extreme, just some totally in chatacter comments), my shitty grammar/punctuation, and lots of fluff/tickles. I hope you enjoy!! :3

It was no secret that Adam was heaven (and hell's) resident douchebag. He was stuck up, conceited, and completely self-centered. He had no real intentions of giving Hazbin Hotel a shot. He hadn't even shown up in person to the meeting in which was arranged originally between himself and Lucifer. And after Lucifer's daughter had stood in Lucifer's place at that meeting, well, Adam just couldn't take anything the princess of hell had to say seriously.

Charlie Morningstar was less than pleased to discover that the angels were going to be on a new six month extermination schedule. How was that even fair? It was so frustrating that Adam had flat out refused to listen to reason or even take Charlie's pitch of redemption even halfway seriously. He spent most of their allotted meeting time making sexist comments, talking about himself, interrupting anything Charlie had to say, and eating his pile of ribs in the most obnoxious and rude way possible.

Charlie had to think of a way to truly convince the head angel to call off the extermination and redeem those who were taking their path to redemption through the hotel seriously. But no song, no dramatic speech, no amount of begging or pleading could convince the dickhead that her Hotel would ever actually work.

"How could we actually convince heavens top angel to take our Hotel seriously?" Charlie had asked the staff and two meager residents in a meeting that was originally to be comprised of forgiveness role-playing and trust exercises. The change of routine was much welcomed by all, though they'd never explicitly tell Charlie that.

"We could just kill him?" Alastor suggested, his grin broadening and eyes darkening at the thought.

"That wouldn't be a good way to exemplify our goals or show redemption," Charlie paused. "We just need to figure out a weakness, you know, find something that we could use against him! Does anyone have any... less violent ideas?" She shoots Alastor a sympathetic smile.

"Vicious blackmail?" Angel suggests casually. He has the day off, and while he'd rather be scoring drugs or drinking at the bar with Husk's sole company, this discussion is far better than trust exercises.

"That's a less violent alternative," Charlie comments, "But still shady..."

"Listen toots, we aren't gonna convince Adam or anyone else to take us seriously if we don't play at least a little bit dirty," Angel tucks his upper set of arms behind his neck in a bored gesture.

"Angel has a point, Charlie. They wouldn't listen to reason, and the angels are notorious for not playing fair. I know you're trying to find a way that isn't violent or unconventional, but we might not have much of a choice. Especially if we want to defend our people," Vaggie steps closer to Charlie to embrace her briefly.

"Blackmail... nonviolent... unconventional... playing dirty..." Charlie thinks briefly about the options that fall under all these categories, and suddenly her face breaks out into a wide and evil grin. "I know exactly what we have to do! And I know just the person to call to ensure this plan will work. But I'm 99.9% positive, and it'll be foolproof!"

••••

"You want to what?" Lucifer's voice raises an octave. Unsure of what exactly this favor was his nearly estranged daughter had asked of him, he couldn't tell her no. But he hadn't known this was the specific favor in question until he arrived to the hotel. And Charlie had intentionally left out a few key details.

Had Lucifer known his precious daughter and hotel patronage had planned to exploit his ticklishness, he would've very well declined and spent the afternoon with his vast collection of rubber ducks.

"But that's only part of the favor. We also need you to arrange a meeting with Adam face to face. But first we need to know if this plan will work," Charlie's voice at the end was near pleading. Lucifer almost felt sorry for her, but what did this have to do with tickling him?

"I can arrange him to meet you all in person," Lucifer spoke slowly' "but what the hell does this have to do with tickling me?" His voice rose to a strangled octave, indicating that he was indeed ticklish.

"Mr. Morningstar, erm, your majesty, Charlie pointed out that you and Adam have similar angelic traits... so we figured that if you were... also inflicted the same weakness... We might actually have a shot at bringing that Adam prick down a few pegs," Vaggie nervously stepped forward to shake her girlfriends father's hand.

"I'd like to peg him," Angel murmered, earning a few looks of utter horror he quickly added "Adam, I meant Adam! Besides haven't you heard of hate fucking?" Angel grumbled defensively.

Lucifer turned back to Charlie.

"So you're asking me... if you can find various sensitive spots on my body... to use on Adam... in hopes of getting him to call of the next extermination?"

Charlie nodded enthusiastically and damnnit, Lucifer just couldn't say no to her.

"Okay, okay, okay... But a few things first... I'm only letting you do this as part of that favor. If anyone here ever tries to tickle me outside this one stand alone instance, consider yourselves to be absolutely wrecked. As ticklish as I am, I will ensure to pay you back in kind tenfold if any of you pull a stunt like this outside this small window of time. I'm only doing this because it would be nice to knock that dickhead down a few pegs."

His threat clung to the air a few moments. The king of hell was known to be ruthless, and he was a force to be reckoned with.

"Thanks dad!" Charlie reached over to hug him. Something the two hadn't done in such a long time but their embrace felt familiar. Normal even.

"A couple of other points..." Lucifer told the group, "an angels wings are the most sensitive, pretty much everywhere. Between the feathers, shoulder blades, wing pits, I mean, it's lethal... Lilith used to..."

Lucifer couldn't help but turn a blushy pink color at the mention of his former wife. He hadn't been properly tickled since... well, it had been quite some time. Lilith wasn't a stranger to tickling Lucifer to tears, but she was the only one to ever indulge in his weakness. He was never tickled by anyone other than Lilith. And cetainly not by this many people. Charlie had grown up with witnessing Lillith tickle him to pieces. Faint memories of her father squealing, shrieking, and downright begging Lilith not to tickle him while laughing helplessly. But Lilith had always been able to easily overpower her much smaller husband. But Charlie also knew how Lucifer could hold his own. She knew what a fierce tickle monster he could be in her own experiences and knew by watching her parents in her much younger days that Lucifer almost always sought revenge.

Lucifer kept reminding himself that this was necessary. He knew this was to help his people of hell, his daughter even, but being demon royalty and exposing his most innate physical weakness and allowing others to take advantage of it was downright terrifying. It had been bad then, but now? Lucifer let out an involuntary shudder.

"For Adam, specifically, I'm led to believe that he would have another weak point aside from his wings. But if his wings are anything like mine, then you shouldn't have much trouble!"

Lucifer tried his hardest to ignore the shit eating grins forming on the faces of both Angel Dust and Alastor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But he remembered his favor to Charlie, and all the memories of his past tickling experiences and thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"Please, do tell us of any other weak spots you think the angel will have, your royal higness!" Alastor chimes in, eager to have something to use against both Adam and Lucifer.

"God removed one of Adam's ribs to create his new wife. And being touched by that amount of power would absolutely cause that spot to be more sensitive... It's basically a given."

"So torture the guys wings and ribs, got it," Angel smirked.

"Torture Adam's wings and ribs," Lucifer clarified "you motherfuckers better go easy with me." Lucifer couldn't help but back away nervously from the group. Unfortunately for him, there was only so far he could back up before his back collided with the wall of the Hotel lobby adjacent to where Husk was sleeping at the bar. At least Nifffty and Husk weren't involved in this scheme.

"Anything else we need to know before we tickle you to death?" Charlie asked almost sympathetically as Vaggie, Angel, and Alastor closed in on the king of hell.

"Sixty seconds. Do NOT exceed sixty seconds." Four against one was definitely not a fair match.

Lucifer wasn't given time to think while the group circled around him. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

"Sixty seconds," Charlie clarified, "starting in 3..."

Why the fuck did he agree to this again?

"2..."

This really had better work on Adam. Otherwise Lucifer knew he'd be totally fucked around Alastor, Angel and Vaggie, who all seemed to take pure delight in discovering the king of hell was ridiculously ticklish. Why did Charlie have to tell them?

"1..."

Shit. And he was lost in helpless, screech filled laughter. Lucifer had curled into a ball as ten arms and countless tickling fingers dug into almost all his ticklish spots.

"WHAHAHAHAHHAHT THE FUHUHUHCK AHHAH STAHAP!" Lucifer pleaded, knowing it hadn't even been 10 seconds yet.

Alastor had taken the liberty in casting a temporary paralysis spell on Lucifer so he couldn't even protect his worst spots. He had taken this opportunity to also tickle the smaller demon's shoulder blades which shook helplessly as his six magnificent wings unfurled.

Angel and Vaggie started to explore his wings and Lucifer had severely underestimated just how much it would tickle.

"OohoHAHAhaA, IHIHIHT tiHIHihihCkles HAhahHa soHo mUhUHUHUCH AHAhaHa!" Lucifer squealed as Angel and Vaggie had tickled the soft skin beneath his feathers, Angel's extra set of hands had made quick work of his wing pits which caused his laughter to shoot up an octave.

"That's kind of the point, short king," Alastor teased as he had switched to taser his sides while Charlie had been scribbling at his ribs, grinning madly as her plan had seemed now that it could be executed without fail.

Lucifer was in absolute tickle hell. Literally. The sensation of Vaggie and Angel mercilessly tickling his wings, scritching the skin beneath his feathers, digging into the sensitive wing pits and occasionally poking and scratching at his shoulder blades combined with Alastor squeezing his sides and Charlie torturing his ribs had nearly caused Lucifer to break. He couldn't move to protect his tickle spots. And all he could do was laugh and shriek and hope the ticklish assault would end whenever the alloted minute was up.

"I didn't think you'd still be this ticklish!" Charlie cooed.

"OkAYHAHAHhahAH! SEhehee? IHAH- I TOHOAHAHHOLD YOUHOO AHAHhahah it WOHOULD WORK!" Lucifer cackled.

He never had four people tickle him at once before. It was the most ticklish he'd ever felt in his entire life. It wasn't fair to have all his tickle spots exploited at once!

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of cackling, the minute had passed and as promised, Charlie called off the experimental tickle attack. Alastor reversed the spell and Lucifer had crumpled to a giggling panting mess on the floor, overstimulated from all the tickles and trying to rub away the residual ghost tickles.

"So was that 60 seconds of getting your everloving shit rocked, short king?" Angel grins down at Lucifer.

"Seriously, fuck you guys," Lucifer giggles.

"Think this will actually work on Adam?" Vaggie turns to Charlie beaming as she helps her one day father-in-law off the floor.

"It has to!" Charlie says with pure confidence.

"Thanks, dad, for helping us prove our theory to be true. Adam won't stand a chance against us." Charlie hugs the still giggling Lucifer around the middle.

"I don't mind seeing that loser taken down, I'm... glad I could help, but seriously, that was awful," Lucifer says, hugging Charlie back.

"I'll arrange for Adam to arrive here tomorrow and then you can convince him to listen."

●●●●

Adam was irritated. Sure, the king of hell was able to order him to meet in person to discuss business matters, but that didn't mean he wanted to. If it were up to him, he would meet through holographic magic, but Lucifer had strictly forbidden it for this meeting only.

So here he was, at the hotel's doorstep, expecting to meet with Lucifer and returning to report back to heaven as soon as this mandated meeting was concluded.

What Adam wasn't expecting, however, was to be met with Alastor, opening the door positively beaming at him.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Why, you must be Adam, we've all been dying to meet you! Well, if it weren't for the fact that we are already dead!" Alastor chuckles at his own joke. "Do come in!"

"Who in the fuck are you?" Adam glares at Alastor, wary of the taller demon.

"Why, I'm Alastor, the infamous radio demon of hell and manager of this fine establishment! Allow me to show you around hell's only rehabilitation center for lost souls!" Alastor grabs Adam's wrist and drags him through the hotel lobby toward the bar.

"Allow Husker to pour you a drink, on the house!" Alastor grins at Adam's sheer befuddlement. He was out of his element here in unfamiliar territory. Husk pours an unmarked liquid into a glass and slides it toward Adam.

"...uh, thanks... but when am I supposed to meet with Lucifer?" Adam looks at the drink as if it were poisonous.

"Don't be a silly! We would never think to poison the one and only angel who had the power to permanently end the exterminations of hell's residents!" Alastor laughs as if he could read Adam's mind.

"And Lucifer will be here soon, but we have other eager candidates to speak with you before hand!" Alastor continues smirking as Adam slowly begins to drink from the glass.

That's when Adam turns and notices Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel behind him, a bit too close for comfort. And suddenly, Adam finds himself unable to move, thanks to Alastor's demonic power and curse of immobility.

"What the actual FUCK, Charlie?" Adam tries to writhe away but is unable to do so.

"Adam, thank you for joining us today! We thought it might take a team approach to convince you that our redemption center deserves a chance to save sinners from extermination," Charlie smiles.

"I already fuckin told you that hell is eternal damnation, I'm not changing my mind and I think that your hotel is a worthless waste of time!" Adam spits angrily.

"Maybe you just need more convincing..." Angel smiles, excited to be able to have one over on this pompous angel prick.

"I said Noho!" Adam let's out a startled Huff as Charlie prods his side near the bottom of his ribs.

"I don't think you're in a position to refuse our quite reasonable requests." Alastor chuckles.

"What are you all playing at?" Adam sneers, albeit nervously.

"Well, we can't harm you, obviously, but we found a rather unconventional method of torture to utilize to convince you to take us seriously," Charlie explains.

Torture? Adam now realized three things.

One: he was outnumbered.

Two: he was completely immobile and couldn't move from whatever power was keeping him trapped.

Three: The poke Charlie had administered to his side had been... well... ticklish... Adam had started to realize that they intended to tickle him. They couldn't. They wouldn't, actually, could they?

"No, no, Charlie. I demand you to release me!"

"Maybe this will help convince you not be such a pompous asshole," Charlie smirked down at Adam evilly.

And suddenly, Adam felt her dig all ten fingers into one of his most ticklish spots, his ribs. And he felt Angel and Alastor tickle into his sensitive shoulder blades, causing his wings to expand.

"Nohohoho, what thehahahhah FUHAHAHAHAHUCK?" Adam squeals.

Vaggie had hopped in to help Charlie tickle his stomach and hips and Adam was in absolute ticklish hell.

"Fuhahahahuck YOHOU GUYS, AHAHAHAHAHA!" Adam can't even squirm away from their torturous fingers. His laughter shoots up an octave as Alastor and Angel tickle into his wings.

No tickle spot was spared on the guy and he couldn't even move or writhe away from the ticklish touches. It wasn't fair!

"Think you'll give the hotel another shot?" Charlie asked, digging sharply into Adam's lower rib cage. Adam's laughter doubled.

"NohohahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Oh shit, Adam! It feels Ike one of your ribs are missing!! Maybe we should count them to see how many are there!" Charlie teases, enjoying how much power they have over Adam.

"FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOHOOFF!" Adam screeches as Charlie proceeds to count and recounts his ribs.

"We've got all day, tough guy!" Angel digs roughly into Adam's wing pits as Alastor digs his claws beneath the feathers to torture the delicate skin beneath. How long had it been? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Adam quickly realizes that he is utterly fucked.

Adam's laughter goes silent. It's not fair to have them all tickle him to pieces. He couldn't even fight back or try to get away. All he could do was lie there and take it. His eyes begin to water as they continue their ticklish onslaught. And Adam just can't handle much more.

"Think we can renegotiate now?" Charlie asks and Adam quickly nods despite his silent hysteria.

"Okay, I think he's had enough," Charlie slows her hands and pulls them away, and the rest of the group follows suit.

Adam lays there panting giggling, still feeling the ticklish assault through his nervous system.

"I hope you won't forget this, as we are easily able to convince you to do exactly as we want," Alastor chuckles darkly, removing the immobility curse.

"Seriously, fuck you guys," Adam flips them off as he uses his magic to dissappear. His tough guy facade had been broken.

Adam would call off the next extermination, out of fear of what would happen to him if he continued to refuse. Now, his greatest enemies knew of his ticklish weakness. He would never be able to live it down. And maybe a part of him didn't want to.

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moondirti · 2 years ago

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I’m so down bad for Ghost 😭 imagine one day he catches on to the things his voice does to you, he’s talking to you one day and noticed the way you suddenly get tense the moment he praises you and then he takes it and runs with it, absolutely cocky at the fact he can ruin you without even touching you

Every time I hear a voice line or watch a cutscene with him, I get weak 😭 god just kill me pls

i listen to his voice lines to help me go to sleep at night. something about that accent, man

Ghost is not a verbal man. He's best known for his strength, brutal efficiency - that cutthroat quick thinking in moments that mean life or death. In the rare instances that his words don't form barked commands or interrogative jabs, he finds that they come out... awkward sounding. Like the consonants don't meld with the vowels, and two syllables make one. Praise, whispered nothings, affection; tender proclamations fit like kernels in the gaps between his teeth. He's just never had anyone to model it for him.

The most he gives you is a nod, a low grunt of approval when you pitch in with helpful insight during a debriefing. But for all his faults, he is nothing if not observant. Ghost picks up on the subtle hitch of your breath, the glossy sheen over your eyes that glints as you perk at the reinforcement. He's not dumb, either - he knows what it means. The rookie's got it bad; either for him, for his voice, or maybe just for any validation you can get your hands on.

It's not purposeful. At least, he doesn't intend to feed into your little secret. But it finds its way into his treatment of you, like a fixture gnawing on an ego he's tried to conceal eons ago. He hums contemplatively as you speak, echoes your advice as demand, even goes to the unprecedented extent of clipping out a husky 'good' when you hit a target right on the mark. He isn't just doing it to sate you. You're genuinely intelligent, and skilled, and absolutely fucking gorgeous when you try to hide your delighted grin behind a trembling hand.

So perhaps it's perversion. Perhaps he's an deeply disturbed individual who revels in the fact that a person as brilliant as you has likely never been told as much. He doesn't have it in him to care. It's his own little game, a whim to pass the time between gunfire and detonations.

That is, until everyone else starts to notice.

Because of course they do. Ghost rarely ever spoke before you, let alone gave out consistent praise. Consequently, they take it upon themselves to assume shit for it, crafting increasingly ridiculous rumours that put both you and him into question. It manages to inspire an acrid emotion inside him, a mix of unbridled anger and violence that has him seeing bright red. He shuts them down before they gain any traction, looming over officers who think they're being discreet. It's no wonder that, quicker than it happened, the gossip stops.

You're still outcast, though. Jealousy is a vile thing.

But it only means he has a larger chance to get you alone. And when he does?

"Chin up, sergeant. You're at a level they can never hope to reach."

The image of your parted lips sears itself onto the back of his eyelids. He looks for it in his most shameful points, a hand wrapped around his thick length as water beats down his back.

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thefoxtherapist · 5 months ago

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Hello! I hope you are doing well <3

This is a different experience for me as I don’t really request much.. let me know if this is disrespectful or not! but I was hoping to request Jiyan x male/gn reader (i have no preference) angst?

Jiyan has so much angst potential, especially in his story/companion quest! My idea was centered around the reader death (long before this plot) with Jiyan who is still coping about their death. During the retroact rain tacet discords are mimicking their s/o calling out to him like they are still alive. They poke and prod at his vulnerability, with Jiyan having this inner turmoil of how to overcome this.

Thank you for your time! Whether that be indulging in my thoughts or for just reading this request, I appreciate it <3 Take care!

Hi thank you! I'm okay ^^ I hope you are well.

This isn't disrespectful at all don't worry! You did great for a new requester :)

This was quite a sad concept poor Jiyan, giving him hugs.

I hope you still like this even though it doesn't 100% follow the request! Sorry about that, sometimes writing has its own mind without my input..

Jiyan’s grip tightened on his lance after Geshu Lin’s phantom disappeared from sight. No longer haunted by his previous General, he took a deep breath. He turned inwards to the building, he had things to prepare for the coming battle. He had an army to lead and a city to protect. He couldn’t hesitate now.

And yet that was exactly what he did.

Golden eyes moved to the left as he heard a familiar voice. His breath caught in his throat and his heart twisted in an uncomfortable manner. No. He couldn’t listen, he couldn’t falter. Jiyan looked forward, head held high.

He walked forward, ignoring the voice he sorely missed.

Every action he took, accompanied by that familiar voice, that missed pitch, the yearning frequency. It was all a trick. Jiyan knew that, he was aware, he wasn’t stupid. Geshu Lin had been difficult to deal with, but he stuck to his knowledge.

But it was different this time, and the General knew that.

You were dead.

Every breath he took was accompanied by the pained beating of his heart. His head swam. Grief. His mother was always so insistent on his grief. That it was something he needed to face, needed to conquer, cope with. But Jiyan always brushed it off. There was no time was his excuse. But he knew better. He knew better, he just cared too much.

He stepped away, finding a barren spot where he could be alone with his thoughts. Jiyan crossed his arms over his chest as he looked out from the small hill he stood on. Clawed fingers of his gauntlet dug into his opposing arm as your voice once more infiltrated his ears, his mind.

The old General wasn’t the only loss three years prior and it was a guilt that Jiyan struggled with.

Jinzhou was a battlefield.

The Resonator looked up, watching as the rain fell upwards. His face still wet as the rain caressed his skin as it floated upwards above him. He uncrossed his arms, lifting his hand to follow the path of the rain.

He’d been a medic back then, but your life was not one he could save.

The General’s hand closed in a tight fist, arm dropping back down to his side. Even with the antidote against the rain, he could still hear you calling out to him after all these years. But he was left with a lingering fear that if he turned around he’d be faced with the tacet discords that similarly used Geshu Lin against him.

Geshu Lin had obtained an infamous reputation for his choice to stand strong, blamed for the loss of their soldiers.

And you.

Jiyan’s eyebrows furrowed as he closed his eyes, unable to take the soft whimpers of his name, you hadn’t even cried for help, you simply told him to push on, to leave you behind. Was that how he knew the phantom behind him was nothing more than a mimic? Perhaps. Or your phantom was influenced by his own regret.

Huanglong did not know of the sacrifice you made to send him forward.

“You’ll come back for me, Jiyan. You always do.”

He turned his head away, chewing the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood on his tongue. No positive outcomes that day could ever wash away the reality of it all. He’d lost a lover, he’d lost a friend. One forgotten, one cast as a villain.

“Jiyan.. My love? Is it really that bad? Oh don’t look at me like that!”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’ll be okay, really!”

Jiyan opened his eyes.

All he had done was retreat.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #jiyan x reader #jiyan wuwa #wuthering waves #wuwa #wuwa imagines #wuwa x you #wuthering waves imagine #wuwa jiyan #jiyan imagine #༻Stygian #༻Tenebris #gn!reader

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callsigns-haze · 24 days ago

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So you're the neighbour?

Pairing: Slate x shy!reader

YN, a quiet new tenant, meets Slate who isn't so much like her roommates said, charming but notorious neighbour, who seizes an excuse to walk her home, sparking curiosity and unexpected warmth in their budding connection.

Chapter Warning: Contains mild language and flirtation.

You're curled up on the corner of the couch, fingers wrapped around a mug of chamomile tea, listening as Rory and Quinn take turns venting to Reid about the new neighbours. The place feels so much like it did in those cozy shows— the three of you squished together in the mismatched furniture you all pooled money for, the warm tones of fairy lights draping the walls, and the faint scent of Rory's floral candles mingling with Quinn's citrusy hand sanitizer.

“Those idiots blocked our moving truck, Reid!” Rory huffs, crossing her arms and leaning forward as if the proximity makes her point stronger. She’s clearly the most riled up, her voice rising in indignant pitches. “Who even parks like that?”

“Definitely jerks,” Quinn jumps in, raising an eyebrow as she looks over at Rory, as if egging her on. “I mean, how self-centred do you have to be to not realize there’s a giant moving truck behind you?”

You weren’t outside to see the whole ordeal; you'd been buried inside your new bedroom, unpacking boxes and finding space for all your things in the tiny closet. Still, even though you’d missed the confrontation, you’re quietly enjoying the picture they’re painting — a dramatic scene of feisty glares, whispered insults, and exaggerated gestures toward the oblivious guys next door.

Reid, meanwhile, leans back on the armrest, trying and failing to suppress a smile. He's always been a little too amused by Rory and Quinn’s fiery personalities, and now isn’t any different. His gaze shifts to you as you sit, nibbling on the inside of your cheek, debating whether to say something. You want to stand by your friends’ annoyance, but you can't help but think there might be another side to it.

“I mean… maybe they didn’t notice?” you offer softly, looking down at your tea. “It could’ve just been a mistake.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow at you, playful but unconvinced. “You’re way too nice, you know that?”

Rory sighs dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Exactly! That’s why you weren’t out there with us. You’d have been like, ‘Oh no, I’m sure they’ll move it soon,’ and we’d be stuck waiting even longer.”

You blush, glancing over to Reid, who’s now grinning in earnest, clearly entertained by the way you’re trying to defuse things. “What? It’s… possible,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks warm under their teasing. “Maybe they’re just, you know… not used to sharing a driveway?”

Reid chuckles, his gaze softening. “You’re seriously too cute for this world, you know that?” He shakes his head, still smiling as if he can’t believe anyone would defend complete strangers who’d clearly disrupted the day.

The others laugh, too, albeit a little grudgingly, as if your gentleness and hope for the best might actually rub off on them despite themselves. Rory reaches over, patting your knee. “Fine, we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, this time. But only because you’re too sweet to argue with.”

Rory stretches her arms overhead and glances at Quinn, who’s tapping her phone, probably searching for a new café to hit up. “Alright, who’s up for coffee?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Reid’s buying!”

Quinn elbows him with a smirk. “You heard her, Mr. Moneybags. You’re treating.”

Reid rolls his eyes, but a smile plays at the corner of his mouth as he pulls his wallet out, flipping it open. “Lucky me,” he says dryly, though his tone has a playful warmth.

Rory turns to you, a hopeful grin on her face. “Come on, YN, get out of this cave with us.”

You hesitate, wrapping your hands tighter around your now-cold mug. “Oh, I… I actually need to study,” you say, doing your best to sound genuinely disappointed. But it’s only half-true. You do have some reading to catch up on, but really, you just need a little time to recharge after all the unpacking and the roommates' high-energy complaints.

Rory gives you a knowing look, but she just shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she says, though there’s a hint of motherly concern in her eyes, one you’re all too familiar with.

Quinn’s already zipping up her jacket, rolling her eyes fondly. “Classic. Our little introvert needs her quiet time.” She taps the top of your head gently, an affectionate gesture that makes you smile despite yourself.

It’s a bit of a running joke in your apartment. Rory, ever organized and a little bossy, has long been deemed “the mom,” while Quinn, who often takes a rougher, more sarcastic approach, is dubbed “the dad.” Which, of course, makes you “the kid,” a label you don’t mind — at least not when it’s given with such obvious affection.

As the three of them head to the door, Rory calls out over her shoulder, “Alright, kiddo. Don’t cause any trouble while we’re gone.”

Quinn leans against the doorframe, giving you a mock-stern look. “No boys allowed. And definitely no hanging out with those awful neighbours.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Promise, Dad,” you say, playing along.

Reid laughs as he gives you a small wave, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “See you later, YN.”

“Bye Reid.”

With that, they’re gone, and the apartment is quiet once again. You breathe a sigh of relief, settling into the silence. It's peaceful, comforting even, just you and the gentle hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the distant sounds of laughter and footsteps down the hall.

Finally, you can relax, letting the little escape of solitude settle over you like a blanket....

You sink back into the couch, legs stretched out over the cushions as you settle deeper under your blanket. The soft glow of the TV fills the room, the familiar characters and storyline offering a cozy sort of distraction. It’s one of those comfort shows you’ve seen a hundred times, the kind that lets you just relax without thinking too much. You pull your blanket up to your chin, feeling the quiet warmth of the empty apartment.

Just as you’re starting to drift into the story, your phone buzzes with a text from Rory.

Rory: “Hey, kiddo, can you take the trash out? Pretty please? :)”

You sigh, casting a glance toward the trash bag sitting beside the front door, already tied up and ready to go. Typical Rory — somehow managing to organize the place even when she’s not here. You sit up, reluctantly pulling yourself from the couch and shivering a little as the cool air hits you. Slipping into an oversized jumper, you tug the sleeves down over your hands, enjoying the extra warmth. Next come your trusty old Uggs, their plush lining cozy against your feet. You grab the trash bag and twist it in your hand, holding it at arm’s length as you make your way to the front door.

The hallway is quiet, and you’re grateful for it as you shuffle to the elevator at the end of the corridor. The trash bag swings lightly as you walk, its weight surprisingly heavy with the remnants of unpacking — empty boxes, crumpled paper, a few random food containers you’d forgotten about until today.

You press the button, waiting as the ancient elevator creaks its way up. The doors finally slide open with a reluctant groan, and you step inside, hitting the ground floor button. The elevator jolts to life, shuddering slightly as it descends, the fluorescent light overhead flickering ominously. You’ve never trusted this elevator; it feels like it’s one bad day away from breaking down entirely, and each ride is a gamble.

As you ride down, you lean against the wall, watching the floors tick by slowly, each number lighting up with a faint glow. The trash bag feels heavier with each floor, and you’re suddenly eager to be done with this task.

Finally, the doors open with a rusty whine, and you step out, making your way toward the large apartment bin outside. The night air is cool, a slight breeze tugging at your sleeves as you approach the bin.

As you toss the trash bag into the bin, you take a moment to breathe in the cool night air, letting the silence settle around you. Just as you’re about to turn and head back inside, a voice sounds behind you.

“Hey,” the voice says, low and casual.

You jump, spinning around, heart pounding as you clutch the front of your jumper. Standing just a few feet away is a tall guy with a relaxed smile, his hands shoved into the pockets of a well-worn hoodie. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and his eyes have a sharp but easy-going glint to them.

“Whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. His smile softens, a little apologetic but amused. “Didn’t think anyone else would be out here this late.”

You offer a small, awkward laugh, still catching your breath. “No, it’s… it’s fine. Just, um, wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He nods, giving you a quick once-over. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. New here?”

You nod, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I, uh, just moved in.”

He nods, taking that in with a thoughtful look. “Nice. I’m Slate, by the way,” he says, holding out a hand. His voice has an easy warmth to it, and you find yourself relaxing a bit.

You give a small smile as you take his hand, his grip warm and surprisingly gentle. “YN.”

“YN,” he repeats, as if testing the name. “Cool. So, you’re the new neighbour, then?”

It takes you a second, but realization dawns slowly. He’s one of them — the infamous boys your roommates have been complaining about nonstop since you moved in. The ones who blocked the moving truck and left your friends fuming. You blink, a little taken aback, and can’t help a flicker of curiosity as you study him a bit more closely. His expression is friendly, almost inviting, and he seems far too laid-back to match the image your roommates painted.

“You… you live on my floor?” you ask, a little wary.

Slate’s face lights up in recognition, and he lets out a low laugh. “Ahh, so you’re the one with the roommates who were throwing death glares at us the other day?”

You bite back a smile, nodding. “Yeah… they weren’t too happy about the whole moving truck thing.”

He rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish grin crossing his face. “Yeah, I figured Knoxie might’ve been in the way, but… well, sorry about that. He's sorta moody.”

You shrug, feeling a little of your earlier apprehension melt away. “It’s okay. They, um… they just tend to get a little intense about stuff.”

Slate laughs, nodding. “Good to know.” He pauses, glancing back toward the building. “Well, welcome to the building, YN. Guess we’re neighbours.” He flashes you a grin, and you can’t help but smile back, feeling a strange mix of nerves and intrigue.

As Slate starts to walk away, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. “Hey, are you heading back in?”

You nod, feeling the slight chill of the night air sinking in and grateful for the thought. “Yeah. Just… finished up with the trash,” you say, gesturing vaguely toward the bin.

“Well, come on, then.” He falls into step beside you, hands in his hoodie pockets, a relaxed smile on his face as you walk toward the building’s entrance.

The two of you step into the quiet lobby, and you press the button for the elevator, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence beside you. The silence between you is oddly comfortable, and you catch yourself stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye, trying to piece together the neighbour your friends have built up into a villain. He looks nothing like the “jerk” they made him out to be. In fact, there’s a boyish charm to his expression, something almost disarming. He look...cute.

As you both wait, an older woman approaches from down the hall, pulling a small cart loaded with grocery bags behind her. Slate notices her at the same moment you do, and, without warning, he reaches out, his hand warm and firm as he grabs your arm and tugs you gently but insistently toward the stairwell door.

“Uh—what are you doing?” you ask, trying to keep up as he guides you to the stairs, his grip firm yet careful.

He just chuckles, pulling open the door to the stairwell. “Trust me, I don’t think we’d survive that elevator ride.”

You glance over your shoulder toward the elevator, watching the woman slowly approach, and it clicks. It’s an old elevator, slow and cramped; it’s likely you’d end up stuck in a painfully long, silent ride with a stranger if you’d waited.

You narrow your eyes at him, intrigued and slightly amused. “So that’s it? You just don’t like crowded elevators?”

He shakes his head, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes as he gestures for you to go first down the stairs. “Honestly? It’s just an excuse,” he says, his voice soft but playful as he follows behind you. “Figured if I took the stairs, I’d get a bit more time talking to a pretty face.”

You feel your cheeks warm, caught off guard by his words. A smile tugs at your lips, and you glance back at him as you descend the first few steps. “Is that so?”

He shrugs, the same easy-going smile on his face. “What can I say? I’m not about to pass up an excuse to walk a neighbour home.”

@azsazz I loved your book soooo much hope you enjoyed this little write up!

#midnight muse #midnight muse x reader #midnight muse fanfiction #midnight muse fandom #slate midnight muse #slate x reader #slate x yn #slate fanfic #slate fanfiction #slate fluff #slate carrington x yn #slate carrington x reader

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doe-eyed-fool · 10 months ago

Text

Fallen {Chapter Eight}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

"I was also thinking we could add some gaming consoles. Just if you get some younger sinners coming through. Doesn't have to be all new, some people like older systems too." I say to Charlie. She was writing some of the ideas I had down as she listened.

So far, I had suggested a television with some movies to go along with it. As well as a Bluetooth speaker for playing music, and some board games. And it wouldn't hurt to add video games as well. "I think I can get my hands on some of those." Charlie says with a smile.

"Any other ideas?" She asks. "Well, I did have an idea for advertisement. But first I have to ask, why haven't you created a build board yet?" I guess it would make sense for the city like aesthetics of hell would have build boards too. And I've seen tons. Advertising all sorts of things, even admittedly some pretty silly and downright stupid things.

"Well, it's not like I haven't tried." Charlie laughs weakly. "As you can imagine, no one is really taking my idea seriously. So, there's that. Also, there's a ton of people ahead of me trying to get one."

"But aren't you the princess of hell? Can't you just...you know? Make them bump you up to the front?" I ask. "Nah, I don't want to have to do that." Charlie shrugs. "I wanna try and do this my own way, without abusing my power. I've only had to do it once, and that was when Alastor showed up to the hotel. I had to convince him to not pull any stunts behind my back and to basically play nice with the people checking in." She explains.

"I guess even he has to listen to you." I say with a slight smile. "Eh, yeah. But it's like pulling teeth." Charlie sighs. "I believe you." I sigh as well. Charlie eyes me for a second before speaking again.

"You said Alastor helped you find your way here from a bad spot. But how exactly did that happen? He isn't the most...friendly(?) of people." I felt a twinge of panic surge through me at that question. Though, I had a feeling the question would come up eventually. But I had hoped I'd never have to be the one to answer it.

"Um yeah...I was in bad shape when I landed in hell." I began, trying to make this as convincing as possible. "I was really injured and he helped me. Then he mentioned this place and brought me here. I uh...really want to go to heaven. And when he said there was a place to help me get there, I jumped at the chance."

"I see." Charlie nods. "I guess I'm still just a little shocked that he of all people offered to help someone out. He didn't try and trick you or anything...right?" She leans a little closer to me as she whispered. I smile as best as I could and shook my head. "Nope. I came here of my own will." Charlie leans back. "Huh. Ok. Maybe this place is rubbing off on him after all." She says, her smile returning.

"Though, I have a feeling he'd deny it if I told him that." She chuckled. "Well, if you can't get a build board right now. Maybe stick to posting the hotel online? Maybe make an account just for the hotel and it's amenities?" Charlie takes out her phone.

"I've tried that. But there's not many followers, and the attention the hotel does get is mostly from troll accounts and overall dickheads." She says as she shows me the phone. She opened up an app called Sinstagram...uh, clever? And scrolled down to the comments under the photos.

And just as she said, it was filled with crude, hateful, and downright inappropriate comments. Very little people were taking it seriously.

"Oh, I see." I mutter. "I know you said you didn't want to use your status to get your way. But, I was thinking maybe use that kind of power in a good light." Charlie gave me a confused look, she stayed quiet, letting me explain further.

"Why not throw a ball and invite some persuasive people? Maybe the overlords? They seem pretty important. You could pitch the hotel to them personally, and if you can catch their interest, they're bound to talk about it." Charlie leaned back and hummed.

"I do like the idea of a ball but...I don't know, the overlords never expressed any interest in the hotel. Besides, most if not all of them gain from people's sins. Especially in the entertainment industry, like Val and Vox. Those two are unstoppable when it comes to providing for the sinners in hell. Of course, they don't topple over the deadly sins themselves but uh..." Charlie trailed off when she noticed how lost I was.

She cleared her throat. "But, it wouldn't hurt to try...right?" She smiles weakly. I could only nod, matching the grin.

I did feel for her. Starting a project that you're very passionate about, only to be met with hate and dismissive comments has to sting. It seemed like even her own father didn't care about her dream. I wish there was something more I could do to help her.

"Hey, how about those new curtains huh?" I say, trying to brighten the mood. Charlie and I looked towards the large windows, the fancy velvet red curtains that accompanied them. For the past few days, the hotel has gotten a bit of a fixer upper.

New furniture, wallpaper, and lighting had been installed into the hotel. We even gave the outside a good polishing, thanks to Alastor's help that is. Otherwise it would have taken much longer. And now with a new common room with various forms of entertainment on the way, the hotel was looking better with every passing day.

If it's one thing people could say about the hotel, that wasn't completely bashing or berating it, was that it looked aesthetically pleasing.

"If you did throw a ball, the look of the hotel will surely impress them!" I try to cheer her up. Charlie looked around before turning her attention back to me. "Ah, what the hell? Let's throw a ball." She says with a shrug. "I can't let the what if's get in my way. I won't! I will throw a ball, I will invite those uptight asshole overlords, and my parents! And I'm gonna show them just how effective this hotel can and will be!" I smile at her determination.

After getting to know Charlie, I've learned that she was all but willing to give up. Especially when it came to something she really cared about. And she certainly did care about this hotel. "I hope all goes well." I tell her. "You have a good heart Charlie. I want you to succeed." Charlie smiled warmly before hugging me. "Thanks Y/n."

I hug her back, and shortly after we parted. "Alright." Charlie nods. "I have a lot of planning to do. I'll catch you later, ok?" I nod my head and waved before she hurried off. Suddenly, a pang of anxiety hit me. And it was then I realized, I had never been to a ball before. Of course I hadn't. I mean, I haven't even been to a large party before. "Uh oh." I mutter.

"Something the matter?"

Ah yes. That's something I've gotten use to. Alastor's sudden voice in my ears have became somewhat normal to me over the past few days. I sigh before speaking. "Yes."

What followed was Alastor's breathy laughter that only stopped when he suddenly appeared beside of me. "Let me guess, it's about the ball that the princess is planning? Never had much experience mingling with important figures, I take it?" He asks smugly.

"How did you guess?" I roll my eyes. "I'm kind of regretting giving her the idea now. Gosh...the overlords scare me enough. But Lucifer and Lilith being there...I think my heart's going to explode."

"Oh, try not let it. The heart is the best part, wouldn't want it to go to waste." I sent him a glare. "Very funny. Im serious."

"So am I."

I groan in annoyance before turning to face him. "I mean it. Im gonna make a fool of myself. Maybe I'll just fake being sick that day." I say with a sigh. "Nonsense! You'll do just fine." Alastor waved his hand dismissively. "Everyone at the hotel will be there, so you'll be around some familiar faces at least." He tells me. And admittedly, that did bring me some comfort.

I hadn't known these people well, but it was better than not knowing them at all. I got along pretty well with Charlie, but I am certain she'll be busy with the overlords and her parents at the ball. But surprisingly, me and Angel Dust had gotten along as well.

Despite his rather...perverted and lewd behavior, he was actually pretty decent to talk to. And, I also felt a little sorry for him. From context, his boss seemed like a rather cruel and unforgiving guy. Abusive even. Angel's line of work was already tough and dangerous enough. To have a boss like that on top of it all...It must be exhausting.

But even with the somewhat comfort of knowing they would be there wasn't quite enough to convince me. "I don't even have a dress. I can't go to such a fancy event like this." I say, gesturing to my outfit. It wasn't terrible, but it most certainly wasn't ball wear. Causal, is the best way I could describe it.

"Then perhaps you should buy one." Alastor suggests. "With what money?" I counter. "Also I don't know any shops around here to even get a dress. I really think I should just skip out on the ball. Those types of things aren't for me anyway."

"Im sure Charlie would want you there. You're the newest guest in the hotel after all. It'd be strange if you didn't show up." Alastor says with a smirk, knowing he was right. I frowned deeply. I hate that he was right. "Fine I'll go." I say, defeated. "Wonderful! Now, come along." Alastor walks ahead of me.

"Where?" I hesitate before following after. "We're getting you a dress. Not to any shops around here of course. No no, we're going to proper shop for your dress. And I know just the place!" I stop in my tracks. "I already said I didn't have any money." I try to argue.

"Consider it a gift, from me to you." Says Alastor, a hint of false kindness in his tone. I narrow my eyes. No way. He'll want something in return for sure. I cross my arms, still not moving an inch. "What's the catch?" I ask.

"No catch." Alastor says simply. "I don't believe you." I mutter. Alastor only chuckled before snapping his fingers. Before I knew it, we were in front of a store. A big, fancy, expensive looking store. "Alastor!" I snap my head up at him. "After you." Alastor says, opening the door for me. Realizing there was nothing I could do to change his mind, I sigh and walk inside.

The clothes inside of the store looked just as fancy as the store. Soft music played in the background, it being the only noise in the otherwise quiet store. "Feel free to look around." Alastor tell me. I repressed the urge to shoot him a glare before walking further into the store. I didn't even know where to begin. Well, other than finding the women's section that is. "I guess...I just find the best looking one?"

"Or. You could look for one you like?" Says Alastor. "I mean yeah but. Shouldn't it be really fancy and elegant?" I ask him. "The king of hell is going to be there." Alastor looked at the dresses in front of me, he bummed before shuffling through a few. Then he pulled out a red and black dress.

It wasn't what I was use to, but I had to admit, it was a very beautiful dress. And conveniently was backless, perfect for my wings to fit through. "What do you think of this one? Elegant enough for you?" Alastor asks. I had to tear my eyes away from the dress to look at him. "Um, yes. I think that one is fine." I tell him.

He then hands the dress to me before leading me to the fitting rooms. "Go ahead and try it on then. See if we need to make any adjustments." I nod before walking inside one of the stalls and shutting the door behind me. After changing, I turn to the full length mirror behind me.

To my surprise, I was left in awe at the sight of myself. My new form seemed to have complimented the dress wonderfully. I was actually taken back by how nice I looked. "Almost done?" I could hear Alastor call from the other side of the door.

"I am." I say before opening the door and stepping out. If I blinked, I would have missed how Alastor's brows shot up for a brief moment, before returning to normal. "My, how lovely!" He compliments. "I say it suits you quite well. But what about you? Too tight or loose in any areas?" He asks. I shake my head and look down at myself. "No, it fits pretty well. It's shocking comfortable too."

"Well then, let's check out." Alastor guides me to the register. The cashier politely greeted us, but quick to cower in fear as they noticed Alastor. They rang up the dress, eyes darting from the register to Alastor, as if waiting for him to lunge.

When I heard how much the dress was worth, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "Al-" I didn't get a word out before Alastor bought the dress and escorted me out of the shop. As we left, I could hear the cashier sigh in relief.

What just happened?

(I published chapter eight too cause I got hit with a wave of motivation! Chapter nine and ten are in the works!)

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel

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delopsia · 11 months ago

Text

Streetlight Glow | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 10,00 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, shameless use of the one-bed trope, best friends to lovers, one(1) mention of a gun. 80% smut, 20% dumb fluff. Multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, questionable use of an old ring, road trips, taking Bob's virginity 🌷 Brief Summary: In which you go against everything best friends should be doing and become something more.

You've heard this radio song one too many times.

It's so overplayed that your belly tightens with a sickly sourness the second your ears catch wind of that dreadful tune. Top one hundred radio stations are cute until you're trapped in Bob's itty bitty car, forced to listen to the same set of songs. Over. And over. And over. Like some sort of modern torture, vying to drive you mad before you reach your destination.

And yet, Bob's fingers drum against the steering wheel to the beat of the music. Completely and utterly content with this strange new hell you've been shoved into. Even Rhett's humming along to it. Had never heard of this song before he climbed into the car, but has memorized it over the course of the past four hundred and something miles.

You couldn't ask to change the station if you wanted to; Bob reached over and played with the dial a few minutes ago, ciphering through endless static until he landed back on this god-forsaken station once again—the perks of being out in the middle of nowhere.

If Rhett doesn't land top ten in this rodeo, a raging bull isn't going to be his only problem.

It's the distant clicking of a turn signal that garners your attention. Hadn't realized you were looking down at the promise ring in your palm until after you drew your attention back to the road.

"Please tell me this isn't where we're staying," you mutter, leaning back into your seat as if you can possibly cram yourself into it and disappear entirely.

An ancient husk of a hotel, with its flickering 'open' sign plastered haphazardly in the window. Two lamp posts hang in the lot, and yet, their light has done nothing to fight off the velvety darkness that has long since fallen. It's only because of the headlights that you can see the grass breaking through the cracks of the concrete, so worn and weathered, that the painted parking lines no longer remain.

It's enough to send you high-tailing out of town, and yet, Bob's putting the car in park, "Rhett—"

"I know," Rhett's fingertip taps against something metal. "I know."

You don't need to turn around to know that it's his gun. A necessary evil that begrudgingly made its way into the trip itinerary after learning of where this rodeo is located. Though unarmed himself, Bob's head nods, and the door squeaks open without another word. You'd pitch a fit about this, but your choices are either to stop here or take over the driver's seat and hope you can stay awake long enough to find a better resting place.

On their own, your eyes drift back down to the ring in your palm. Dainty. A promise of a life together that your ex couldn't keep his word on. Leaving you with this dumb hunk of metal. Too cheap to pawn and not worth the years it's spent sitting in this old jacket pocket, waiting on the day you would wear it again.

"Hey, Rhett?" Your voice feels foreign in your own mouth. Too loud in this quiet little car.

In the rearview mirror, you can see his head lift. "Hm?"

"Can you make this disappear?" Open palm sliding to rest on the console, that damned ring sitting in the middle of it. Far too innocent for the memories it carries. "Please?"

Rough fingertips brush against your skin as he takes it from you, and suddenly, the ring seems to have shrunken by four sizes. Entirely too tiny in his oversized hand. A part of you reckons he could snap it in two.

"This is from that one guy, ain't it?" There's a bitterness to his tone that you very nearly forgot the sound of. The kind that only bubbles out of him when that old fling gets brought up as if he had his own heart broken in the process. You don't have a response, mouth devoid of another word, but he doesn't seem to need it. "I'll find a place for it."

The reception door swings open, Bob's hand now occupied by a thin, plastic keycard. A reluctantly welcomed sight that you're unsure what to make of. A bed to stretch out and rest in, but at what cost? A lumpy mattress? Bad neighbors? A busted car window come morning?

Roaches?

Ugh.

The car door is squeaking back open, and much to your dismay; Bob is already dishing out the spare keys, "second floor, room two o' one. It's the only room they've got."

Whoever decided that the stairwell should be outside rather than inside should be fired immediately. Metal creaks beneath your slip-on shoes, slippery, threatening to send you tumbling to the bottom at any given moment. You only carry one bag, some tiny thing you threw overnight essentials into, things that you wouldn't miss if you had to get rid of them. Yet, you've already caught yourself feeling as if you shouldn't have brought all these things inside.

The interior carpet is the definition of dizzying. Nonsensical white stripes stretching across navy blue only starts to bug you once you're walking down it. You know you're moving, but the endless hallway and repetitive pattern makes you wonder if you've wound up on a really fucked up treadmill.

Even worse, your room is all the way on the end. Leaving you to trod the entirety of the building, shoulder bumping against Rhett's, somewhat off-kilter.

"Talk about some fucked up carpet," he mutters, and you're pretending that you don't feel the way his arm is curling around you. Protectively cinching you into his side as someone's door creaks open.

If your heart doesn't quit hammering against your chest, you're going to be sick.

But you can't help it. Rhett's so warm in this chilly little hotel. Has yet to let you go, even after stopping at the door, thump swiping up and down against your hip as Bob fiddles with the keycard.

A shrill beep soars through the air, and suddenly, the door opens. Allowing you into your room, devoid of that migraine-inducing carpet, introducing you to a stained, yellow husk of a floor that you suspect was once white, a CRT television, and...

...

huh.

"Now, what made ya think we can all fit into a queen-size bed?" Rhett's chirping, head tilting, as if he doesn't quite believe what his eyes are showing him. Maybe if he shakes his head, a second bed will appear.

There isn't even a couch. Or a complimentary, uncushioned wooden chair, for that matter. The set of four indents in the carpet is your only hint that there once was a chair, or even a small table, of some sort.

Bob scratches the side of his head with the plastic key, only pausing to look at the numbers printed on the door as it swings closed with a heavy slam. Not designed for the luxury of silence, it seems.

Your head tilts, peering into the dark room to your right; hypothetically, that should be the bathroom, but as of right now, it might be an endless void that drops off into nothingness. Home to the monster that lived under your bed when you were six. Maybe even the one who used to live in Rhett's closet, the subject of his lunch conversations with you and Bob back in your elementary school days.

Rhett, once petrified of the dark, now the one to reach into the void, flicking on the light switch.

...on second thought, you would prefer the monsters.

Tiny black and white tiles coated with a yellowish substance that audibly sticks to Rhett's boots as he steps across it. The ripped shower curtain clings to a total of two hooks, poorly concealing the tub and the blackened scuff marks at the bottom.

Rhett lifts the toilet lid up with his boot. "Whatever y' spent on this place," his nose wrinkles as he speaks, "was way too much."

Thunder rumbles outside, as if mother nature herself has agreed with his conclusion. Beligerantly shaking the hotel, an ill-hung picture frame rattling against the wallpaper. The greater half of you expects the lights to entrap you in the total darkness of a power outage, but they remain as bright as ever.

In fact, they never flicker. Not even once, even as the storm begins to pick up. Droplets of rain patter against the window, hued by the golden glow of a streetlight hanging proudly outside of your room. An abstract portrait perfectly framed by stale curtains that refuse to budge, denying you the ability to close them entirely.

The black light in Bob's bag only confirms everything you already knew; half of the floor seems to light up the moment he flicks it on. Parts of the walls are stained in something you don't want to know the origin of, corners of the bathroom that you didn't plan on touching to begin with. Strangely, the bed is entirely clean, the new sheets sticking out like a sore thumb in this dated room.

Your shoes remain on, even as you slip into loose-fitting pajamas, unwilling to put your bare feet on this ancient floor, regardless of the inconvenience it causes. In fact, the only time they come off is when you climb onto the bed.

Rhett's standing at the foot of it, eyebrows knit together as his gaze flickers from the carpet to you, then Bob. "I reckon I take the floor?"

"Absolutely not," Bobby's beating you to the punch, nodding his head toward the open space to your left, "we can all fit."

You don't need to look to feel Rhett's questioning eyes, seeking your help in building a defense that you have no interest in. Instead, your hand idly pats the mattress, and it's the only answer that he's going to get out of you.

Maybe in another hotel, but certainly not this one.

The sigh that cuts through the air is the sweetest sound of defeat that you've ever heard, the corner of the bed dipping as Rhett swings his knee up onto it. And maybe you should switch sides with Bob because your eyes are already gluing to Rhett's bare chest. Old bull rider tattoo sitting proudly beneath his right collar, drawing your gaze down to the gentle swell of muscle.

You reckon you could get a nice handful of it if you were daring enough.

But it's too late to object to your positioning. Bob's already settling in on your other side, glasses clanking as he sets them on the rickety bedside table. His shirt still clings to his body, but his legs bump into yours as he shifts, a warm presence that makes you wonder what it would be like to tangle them together. And that's just as bad as if he was shirtless because now your mind is venturing into a territory that it doesn't belong in.

It's strange having him so close. Remnants of his cologne still cling to his skin, warm, sugary notes kissing your nose, and your selfish mouth wonders if his lips are just as sweet. If kissing him would be like walking into a hometown bakery, cozy and familiar, with welcoming arms that wrap you into a hug.

"Y' know," Rhett's stiff as a board next to you, back flat against the mattress, staring up at the questionably stained ceiling tile, "this ain't how I saw this goin'."

A part of you supposes that you can't blame him, though. You can't move either. "What, didn't plan on sharing a bed with us like old times?"

Bob is the only one daring enough to move, rolling onto his side, to face you. "At least, in the old times, we all fit."

God, how old were you the last time you three shared a bed? You know must have been before you turned thirteen because Bobby still had those obnoxious green-rimmed glasses, and he didn't change them until the day after your birthday.

Rhett must be on the same page as you because the corner of his lip lifts. "It's inappropriate fer you three to be havin' sleepovers!" Speaking in his best, mocking tone of his momma.

"Ma was so convinced that we'd get it on the moment we were left alone," Bob snorts, "meanwhile, all we wanted to do was play pictionary and watch tv all day."

Your head tilts, internally grasping for memories that you haven't dug up in years. "You didn't even know what sex was until you were, what, fifteen?"

"Fourteen," he clarifies, knee bumping into your thigh as he shifts against the mattress, "and I only learned because of that health class we were required to take.

Rhett's chuckle vibrates through the bed and up your spine. "Y' should've seen the look on his face when we went to the restroom after."

You reckon it's the same look that sits on Bob's face right now. Lips tightened into a straight line, eyes a smidgen wider than usual, and you're certain he'd be a shade paler if not for the street light. Warm rays shine through the water-stained window, puncturing through the darkness, painting everything it touches with its golden hues—some strokes of yellow and brown, too.

Those brilliant shades arc across your skin, staining you with its color, and stretch to fade against Rhett's bare skin. The rise and fall of his chest making that old bull tattoo look as if it's bucking in a pool of liquid gold. You've lost track of how many times you've caught yourself staring. The amount of hours wasted, wondering about what it would be like to tangle your fingers in his hair. To kiss across the broad expanse of his chest, if his hands would roam down your back or curl around the back of your neck.

Lightning cracks. For a moment, the only sound in the air is that of your breath.

The heavy fist of thunder strikes the ground.

You don't feel your back leave the mattress, but you certainly feel the landing. The way Bob jolts into you. Rhett's big arm darts out to curl around the both of you, cinching you to his chest, damn near rolling Bob on top of you. Squeezing tight, as if someone has come to steal you and Bobby away from him. Muscles so stiff that he feels like a steel post against you.

Outside, storm clouds grumble as if to laugh, as if this is some sick joke they orchestarted.

"God," Rhett lets go of a breath, fanning out against your cheek, "had me thinkin' someone kicked the damn door down." His head tilts down, lips pressing into the top of your shoulder, where the collar of your shirt exposes your skin.

The world around you screeches to such a sudden halt that you can hear the brakes squealing. Their shrill protests bouncing around the inside of your skull until your ears begin to ring.

He just...did he really...why?

Bob's gaze meets with yours. Then Rhett's. It's strange. Him being without his glasses and all. Almost just as strange as it is to see his eyes so...wide. Like a deer caught in the headlights, as if he's the one guilty of kissing your shoulder and not Rhett.

Rhett's chest rises with a breath.

"I'm...I'm sorry." Voice strained, afraid to let go of the air in his lungs.

"No, it's..." you're speaking before your own brain can catch up, too distracted by the way butterfly wings tickle your lower belly to think. "It's okay."

What the hell are you even saying? You're friends. This isn't...you're not...this shouldn't be okay.

Bob's mouth finds the side of your jaw. A fleeting peck so quick that you only register it when he's gone. Deliberately turns his head down, avoiding your attention, as he mutters something that sounds like, "Gotta even it out, right?"

It was here and gone so quickly that you're only beginning to feel how his thin lips pressed into your skin, leaving behind a coldness that wasn't there before. Far too real to match up to the hopeless wonderings that have frolicked in your imagination for so long.

Something must be in the air. Maybe you've fallen asleep, collapsing into the warm embrace of your imagination, because there is no way that Rhett's chapped lips are finding the other side of your jaw. No, this must be a trick of your mind. You've thought about this too many times for it to be real. This version of Robert Floyd, the one who scoffs and presses a second, insistent kiss on top of the old one, feels too dreamlike.

"Bobby," Rhett's whining, drawing out the vowels in that annoyingly pitchy tone that you so rarely get to hear.

"You started it," Bob's muffled by another kiss. Incessant, one after the other, spreading across your cheeks. The scruff of Rhett's unshaven jaw. The sweetness of Bob's cologne, up close and overpowering your senses. Are you sure this is a dream?

"I did not!" The sudden pitchiness in Rhett's cry is too on-point.

"Yes, you did!" You know that tone on Bob. Playfully accusatory. Breath puffing against your skin, so warm that the hotel air feels cold in comparison.

Their heads are rising. Neither realize how close they are until their noses ram into one another. Too headstrong for gentleness. Not when their giggles are dying down.

Bob's breath catches.

Rhett's eyelashes flutter.

The room is too quiet for this to be a dream.

This is real, and it shouldn't be happening. The nagging of reality chastises you for letting it get this far, for telling them it was okay and not putting a stop to it at the second kiss. But your stubborn heart hammers excitedly at your chest, and your tired soul knows better than to let your shaking hands settle behind their heads. You know not to push their heads in.

Yet, you do it anyway.

And their parted mouths find each other in the lightest embrace they can muster. Only lasts for three beats of your heart before they part, neither quite opening their eyes. The voice of logic asks why you did that.

The voice of your heart wonders why their attentions are turning back to you. Why Rhett is leaning in so suddenly, and why you've considered that he may want to kiss you, too. Because his mouth is warmer than the burning streetlight, and he smiles into it like he's gotten everything he's ever wanted.

You don't know when your eyes closed, but you don't need to open them to know that it's Bobby who kisses you next. Sweet and soft, like you're kissing a marshmallow and not your best friend. Then Rhett's finding you again, then back to Bob, and you're beginning to lose track of all these toothy, chaste pecks that never fail to stir up the butterflies in your belly.

"'s this what we're doin' now?" You can hear Rhett's grin in his tone, punctuated by your own daring venture, leaning up to catch his mouth again. "Kisses?"

Bobby's nose bumps into your temple, close for no reason other than for the sake of it. "What else would you call these?" You think that might be a little bit of stubble you feel, scratching against your forehead, only makes you want to run your hands across it. "Lip locks, smooches, a touch of the lips as a sign of—"

Rhett's cutting him short, the remainder of those babbling words devolving into a smothered grunt.

There's something off about this picture. You shouldn't be collapsing back into the mattress, smothered by the combined weight of Rhett Abbott and Robert Floyd. If this goes wrong, then how many years of friendship spiral down the drain? This isn't what friends do.

Friends don't share hotel beds and kiss under the streetlight glow. The sins of your selfishness are illuminated by those gleaming rays, allowing your greedy gaze to eat up the way Rhett's hair falls into his face as he sucks at the juncture of your jaw. How Bob's guiding himself with his nose, finding a spot behind Rhett's ear that makes him gasp.

"I suppose this is what our folks were afraid of," Bob's muffled voice punctures the silence, "us in the same bed and all."

A chuckle draws out of Rhett's chest, so deep the thunder ought to be jealous. "The ol' tyrant of my house would be havin' a fit if he knew 'bout this."

The voices in your head are still crying for you to stop here.

But you've forgotten how to listen.

"Who gives a damn," and before you can think twice about it, your hand is grabbing hold of Bob's shirt collar and yanking him in.

There's nothing worth worrying about. Not when Bob's weight is fully settling on top of you, chests rising and falling in perfect unison. The short locks of his hair fall forward, tickling against your skin, his big, warm palms cradling your cheeks, the gentle bump of his chin against yours drawing a whine out of your throat.

He jolts, breaking away with a gasp, "Rhett—"

"Don't you worry 'bout what I'm doin'," is the only response Rhett gives before Bob is sucking in another breath of air. Squirming, as Rhett nibbles at the juncture of his sensitive neck, has already left a red mark in his wake. And with Bob's unfortunate reputation, it's sure to bruise by sunrise.

Rhett's hands delve between your bodies, sliding beneath Bob's shirt, and that's all it takes for you to tug on it again. The three of you devolve into a tangle of limbs as you haul it over his head, exposing miles upon miles of milky white skin and intricately freckled shoulders. Tiny spots that you're racing Rhett to kiss.

All it does is make Bob bolder. Defiant palms gliding up the sides of your waist, pushing your shirt up to expose your warm tummy to the chilly hotel air. Bold fingertips stop just short of your breasts, bumping into the swell of them for a fraction of a moment.

Rhett's calloused touch glides up your newly revealed skin, greedy for a feel of you. "'n here I thought I was rushin' y'all."

"I didn't know there was a set timeline for this," Bob's leaning back, bumping into Rhett, as he fights to get a better look at you, laid out beneath him.

"There's going to be if you two keep talking," your eyes roll, pleasantly annoyed to find that they're still the same, even now.

"Ain't gotta tell us twice, darlin'." And before you can process what Rhett has just said, he's planting a palm between Bobby's shoulder blades and pressing. Has him collapsing on top of you in the blink of an eye, falling right between your parted legs.

It's Rhett's hips that push him forward. Grinding into the soft fat of Bob's ass, simultaneously pushing the outlnie of Bob's half-hard cock into your core. You don't know if it's you or Bob who whimpers the loudest, a bolt of lightning jumping up your spine.

That's... that's...

"Shit," Rhett swears, leaning in close, like he's worried someone will hear him through these ancient walls, "forgot you're still a virgin, Bobby boy."

"I'm begging you not to bring it up," Bob's choking through a stifled noise as your body rolls upward, his cock twitching so hard that you can feel it through your clothes. "Fuck—"

And there's more to that, but he's burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing hard as your hands slide up his back. Rising up into the first, weary motion of his hips. Strange at first. Doesn't quite know what he's doing yet; not quite as fluid, a little too rigid. But Rhett's grunting beneath his breath, and you've got the sneaking suspicion he's learning fast.

It sure feels like it. The heavy bulge in his sweats massaging against you, only drawing back to press into the body behind him, letting Rhett's instinctual thrust push him back in. Wondrously punctuated by the glisten of Rhett's teeth as he bites his lip, failing to hold back a groan.

Oh, and their hands are wandering. Rhett's calloused palms finding their way to your thighs, dragging up until he bumps into the hem of your shorts. Bob's fingers dare to rise and dance across your breast, feeling the way you fit into his grasp.

"'s an awful nice sight," Rhett muses, and now he's reaching beneath your shirt, too. Rucking it up to expose your chest, thumb fondly drifting over your nipple. Sends you jolting, knees knocking into Bob's sharp hips.

"You're one to talk," you don't realize it's you who's talking until the words are already out of your mouth, unhindered by the sudden yank on your clothes. Tugging the thin t-shirt over your head suddenly exposes you to them in your entirety.

They're falling over each other. Shoulders collide, and heads knock together as they dip down. Rhett's hot mouth wraps around your nipple. Bob's tickling tongue guides him down your collar, taking his time to shower your neglected breast with his attention, softened gaze never once leaving your face.

Your palm clamps over your mouth, back rising up off the bed. Oh, this is...this is...

Bob's whine cuts through the air. Has the utmost audacity to bat his lashes at you and pout. "Wanna hear you." His hips buck forward, knocking a noise past your lips before you can think twice.

You're in so much trouble.

But you can't dwell on it for longer than a fracture of a second because their attentions are already migrating. Working their way down your belly despite the limited space they've given themselves. Bob's shoulder bumps into Rhett's chin, growing closer and closer together until they're snug against one another, forced to stop just shy of your shorts.

Your thumbs are hooking into the hem of them before you can think twice. Had only intended to draw off one article of clothing at the time, but Rhett's helping hands tug your underwear down, too. Not an easy task when your legs are split around Bob's hips, forcing you to draw your knees up to your chest. Can't imagine the kind of view you must give them, just trying to get the material past your heels.

"Now wait a damn—" Bob's squeaking, batting at the hands yanking on his sweats. "Rhett!"

But it's already far too late because Rhett's shoving them down his thighs without a second thought. Heavy cock springing from its confines, so heavy and long that it struggles to stand upright, knocking into his hip instead. It's only because of the streetlight that you can see the thin vein running along the side of him, some dumb little quirk that you shouldn't find so endearing.

Rhett has yet to notice the apparent monster that's unwillingly made itself known in the room. Too busy messing with his own pants to look up and pay attention. Until a wayward glance damn near reels him in like a fish on a hook.

"Jesus, Bobby," he breathes like he's caught up in a goddamn trance. "Why'd ya never tell us y' were hung like a goddamn horse?"

Your daring hand reaches up.

"Forgive me," he's sucking in a sharp breath as your warm fingers wrap around his cock, feeling the weight of him in your hand, "I was waiting to tell you over a candlelit dinner somewhere in Paris."

You don't know what Rhett is up to until your hand is drenched in chilly lubricant poured from a bottle you don't recognize the origin of. Slickening the glide, squelching far too loudly for how delicately you spread it across him. Such a simple touch that draws the sweetest whine past Bobby's parted lips, so unused to the sensation of a hand that isn't his own.

Rhett's big hand encompasses yours. Squeezing tight as he guides Bob's cock down, thick length sliding through your folds. It's against everything a best friend should be doing, and yet, it feels so good—a twinge of excitement twirling up your spine from this alone.

"Y' ain't fixin' to believe how long I've thought 'bout this," Rhett sounds like he's on another planet. Doesn't fight as you take hold of his wrist, guiding his lube-slicked fingers between your legs, right to where you crave his attention most.

He doesn't need a lick of guidance from there. The rough pad of his finger presses daringly against your entrance, gasping with you as he slips inside.

"'n by the feel of it," his eyelashes flutter at the way you clench around him, some involuntary little movement that makes your knees feel weak, "y've got it as bad as I do."

Bobby shifts, throbbing length dragging against your clit a smidgen harder. Such a strange sight to see his flushed tip between your legs like this, rubbing up and down in languid motions, so distracting that you damn near forget that Rhett's hand is crammed between your bodies.

At least, you forget until his finger curls upward. Stroking against a spongey little bundle of nerves that makes you squeal. "Rhett!"

Wordless, he chuckles, a second finger dipping inside to join the first. Shallowly working his way in and out, only focusing on tormenting the one spot that makes you squirm. Your hand flies down to grab hold of his wrist, head tilting back, trying your damnest to ignore the way Bob traces his nails up your naked sides. A distant tickle that makes your back rise up off the bed, unsure if you want to lean into it or squirm away.

It's hard to ignore how easily Rhett's working you open. Two wonderfully thick digits growing to become three, stretching you wide and so, so much bigger than your own. You don't know how you'll ever satisfy your cravings, now that you've had a taste of the real thing. The way his knuckles catch on your rim, how his gaze fixates so heavily on the sight of your cunt taking him in.

As quickly as he appeared, he's drawing away. Leaving behind a certain kind of coldness that can only be thwarted by him.

"God, you're such a pretty sight," Bob marvels aloud, a certain sort of sparkle in his eye that wasn't quite there before. And there seems to be more he wants to say because his short pink tongue is darting out to wet his lips, already parting with the beginnings of another sentence.

But Rhett's hands are appearing on his naked hips, squeezing the bone there, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the way some of his fingers glisten with your wetness. Catching in the light as he nudges Bob forward.

"Jesus, Rhett—" Bob's knee slides against the comforter, struggling to keep up with the way Rhett's pushing him forward. "What're you doing?"

You've already got a pretty good idea of what your beloved cowboy is up to, your hand already reaching to wrap around his wet cock. Guiding him between your folds. Selfishly pausing to enjoy the final drag of his cock head against your clit, on its way down to where you're aching.

"Oh." He murmurs dumbly, sucking in a shaky breath as he squints up at your face. Never has been able to see far without his glasses. "I-is...is this okay? Are we...?"

"Only if you want it," you don't know why you're whispering, too focused on running your thumb over his slit to do much else.

Rhett's chin comes to rest against Bob's shoulder, peering down at the sight between your legs, then flicking his attention elsewhere. It's the kiss he plants on Bob's cheek that soothes his nerves because the tension melts from his shoulders in an instant.

Weary, Bob's head nods as if he needs to affirm it himself, too. "Okay..." the gears in his head are spinning a hundred miles a minute, but again, he's drawing a blank."I...don't know what I'm..."

On their own, your fingers guide him to press against your entrance, and from there, Rhett's got the rest.

"Jus' like this," he murmurs, biceps flexing as he nudges Bob's hips forward.

Pressure blooms. Your head falls back against the pillow. This doesn't feel real. There's no way you two are taking your best friend's virginity. But there's no way a dream could recreate the ache as his head slips inside you.

"There y' go...nice 'n easy," Rhett's deep grumble is something else entirely.

Bob's eyes squeeze shut, barely muzzling a whimper that sparks a heat in your lower belly. Can feel yourself grow wetter around him as he gradually pushes inside. The stretch is enough to make you reach for the sheets, squeezing them tight in your fist. Doesn't necessarily hurt per se, but God. You could have never anticipated this.

But he's slowly disappearing inside of you, inch by dizzying inch, and the bed is dipping as Rhett moves to settle next to you. Big chest on full display, the golden glow of the streetlight drawing your eye down his gently toned belly to where his cock rests against his hip. Thicker than Bob is, a glistening pearl of precum collected at his tip.

You can't help but reach over and take him into your hand. No, you've waited far too long to deny yourself the simple pleasure of spreading the clear fluid with your thumb, ears blessed with the sound of Rhett's breath catching.

All the while, Bob's hands find themselves braced on either side of you until he's finally confident enough to let himself lay against you. Soft lips find your jaw just as he bottoms out, not an inch of him left to take, his hips flush with yours.

"Ain't you two jus' somethin'," he's rolling onto his side, head snug against his pillow, and you reckon this is what a Greek god would look like down here on the mortal plane. Long hair and soft muscles, wrapped up in a cozy golden glow, smiling in a lazy sort of fashion that only ever looks good on him, "lookin' at me all doe-eyed."

But you can only focus on him for so long before you start to grow impatient, squirming, jostling Bob inside you. "You can move, Bobby,"

Obedient, he does just that, rising up onto his forearms, caging your head between them as he draws himself back. Only by about an inch, maybe two, before gravity reels him back in. The upper side of his cock already dragging deliciously against the nerves hidden along your walls.

He's learning too quickly for his own good, pulling out a little quicker, less hesitation in his hips as he figures out what he's doing. Knocks the breath right out of your lungs, keening in your throat. There's something about getting fucked by your best friend while the other one watches that really does things to you.

"Fuck," Bob's cold nose nuzzles your cheek, so close that you struggle to get a look at his face, "You feel so good, oh my god."

And he'd be babbling if he weren't whimpering like the cutest thing you've ever seen. Blindly guiding himself across your skin until his lips bump into yours, but he's too far down to kiss you properly. No, he's got to draw himself up a little higher, biceps trembling as he pulls himself upward, and—

"Bobby!" Stars sparkle in your vision.

Distantly, you think you catch the sound of Rhett chuckling.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Bob's chanting under his breath, a dainty whisper of your name chasing it, your lips clashing for the briefest of moments, "'s that it?"

"Right there," you blurt. Can't keep a damn word on your tongue for longer than a millisecond. "Keep—keep doing that."

And he does.

Oh, he does, and you fear you might float right out the damn window and up into the stars. Legs rising, squeezing his hips, some obscene, wet noise punctuating the slick glide of him. Only worsened by the way he leans back, peering down at where you're split open around him, just enough of a shift for him to knock into those nerves a little harder. Mushroom tip kissing them over. And over. And over. Sends your pussy fluttering around him like a goddamn butterfly.

"Shit, I can feel—oh," and you're so thankful that he collapses back into you because your hands are aching to roam the war, freckled expanse of his back. Blunt nails digging into the meat of his shoulder, draws the faintest whisper of a hiss from his lips.

There's a hand on you that isn't Bobby's. Calloused. Wet fingers trailing down your side and into the pocket of space between your and Bob's bellies. Crawling down, down, down. Between your parted thighs, devilishly rough fingertips pressing to your clit.

"Rhett—" your strangled voice hardly leaves your mouth. Legs twitching around Bob's hips as those damned fingers start to spiral against you. It's not fair. He's figuring you out far too easily. Makes it so much harder for you to open your mouth again. "Stop."

Bob's head pops up. Wide eyes peering up at you, rhythm stuttering to a slow.

Delirious, your head shakes, "not you."

He doesn't say a word, but he's drawing himself back onto his haunches. It does nothing but give Rhett more room to torment you, even if his fingers have already stilled to a halt. You'll never understand how they manage to give you the same damned look, furrowed brows, and tilted heads, like two puppies trying to figure out what you're asking of them.

"Can't yet," you choke. It's so hard to find words when Bobby's still rolling into you, balls gently smacking against your ass. "Wanna..." you're trying to motion with your hand, but all you can manage is to flail your palm in Rhett's general direction.

But Rhett's figured you out. You know he has because his eyebrows rise, incredulous. "Wantin' both of us in the same night, huh?"

For a moment, you think you've won. His hand draws away as he moves to sit up, instead opting to tangle his hand in Bobby's hair and pull him in for a kiss that you hear more than you see. Wet lips smacking together, Rhett seeming to groan purely from Bob's little whine.

He's close. You can feel it. The way he's twitching inside of you, spontaneous motions of muscle that have no right to spark a fire within you. Burning up into your chest, eating away at the oxygen in your lungs. Rhett may have given up on getting you close. He may be sidling up behind Bobby again. But he might as well still be tormenting your clit, because that heat is spreading, and a familiar coil is beginning to tighten, clamping down around Bob's throbbing cock.

Rhett's big palm slides down Bobby's chest. Doesn't stop until he can pinch a perky little nipple.

Bobby yelps. And it's like he's been kicked back into gear because his hand is dipping between your legs, thumb stroking up your soaked folds, picking up right where Rhett left off. Rubbing feather light spirals into your clit. Shouldn't be enough contact to satisfy you, and yet the faintness of it all is somehow too much.

"I'm—I'm," he's stuttering, head shaking back and forth like he can fight off the feeling bubbling in his lower belly.

You should stop him here. You don't have anything to clean up with. If he cums in you, it's going to be in you for the whole damn night, making a mess of you, your clothes, and the sheets. And yet your legs are tightening around him anyway, ankles locked behind him, and you're nodding. In the same damn boat as him. "Uhuh."

His whimper cuts through the air. Pretty blue eyes rolling. The only reason he doesn't collapse on top of you is because of the arm Rhett's coiled around his waist. Hips stuttering to a sudden halt. Shoves you over the edge before you can think twice. Back arching up off the bed, cumming around his spasming cock with a cry you're certain the whole fucking building hears.

But clarity doesn't come to you.

There's no dawn of realization as your muscles quit twitching. Your shaky inhale does nothing to put out the embers still raging deep in your bones. Isn't a hint of sudden overexposure as you pry your eyes open, weakly smiling up at Bobby's sweaty face. You don't mind them seeing you like this at all.

Gingerly, Bob leans back, taking his time as he pulls out of your cunt; the muscles there still clenching around him, even if you can no longer feel that you're doing it. He barely has the energy to settle beside you, a warm arm resting across your stomach, pressing chaste kisses to your shoulder.

In the back of your mind, you think you can feel his cum spilling out of you.

"Shit, Bobby," Rhett murmurs, a wayward finger rising to push it back inside; you can't imagine what that must look like, "made a fuckin' mess."

The only remark he receives is Bob's half attempt at a grumble. Not his fault that you defiantly pulled him deeper, rather than push him away. But he does have the strength to reach for Rhett's forgotten cock, half hard and still just as flushed as it was before. Seems to know what he's doing when he flicks his wrist because Rhett's entire body jerks.

Your foot kicks his thigh, "still not done, cowboy,"

"You're somethin' else," he chuckles, with the faintest shake of his head, like he can't believe what's happening, "both of ya, actually."

But first, it seems he's got something else in mind. Rubbing up the inside of Bob's knee, breaching into the territory of his pale thighs, not particularly thick but just plush enough to grab a handful of. Squeezing, kneading the fat between his big fingers.

Bob's idle hand keeps stroking him. Slow ups and downs that work him back up until Rhett's leaking into his palm, angry red tip demanding attention. You have to roll onto your side to get a better look, the show only stopping long enough for Bob to lick the pad of his thumb, bringing it back to massage over the engorged head.

A beat passes. He does it again.

"If y' wanted to taste me, all ya had to do was ask," Rhett's fighting to speak through his grin, and you're primarily certain he's joking, but there's an undertone of seriousness hidden there, too.

That's all Bob needs to hear. "So come up here, then."

And who would Rhett be to deny him? Climbing up to straddle Bob's pale chest, leaning forward to grab hold of the headboard, his other hand guiding his cock to that cute, waiting mouth. Greeted with a shy kitten lick at first, unfamiliar with the ropes.

Your jaw aches just looking at the size of Rhett. Can't imagine what it must feel like for Bobby when he hesitantly parts his lips, taking him in, heavy on his tongue.

He's still new to this. Can't take very much into his mouth before he starts to gag, but his hand works what he can't fit, the corners of his eyes glistening with fresh tears. Whining his frustrations, breathing hard through his nose.

"There y' go," Rhett's sucking in a breath, "fuckin' fast learner, ain't you?"

It's impossible to reign in your laugh, "You're telling me." The mess between your legs is a testament of its own, sensitive and aching, whether it be craving from more or exhaustion, you can't tell.

"Eager as hell, too," Rhett's eyes roll; you wish you had a camera to capture that sight for the rest of forever. "Shit."

All Bob can do is whine. Mouth too full to do anything else, trying his best to lift his head and take more of Rhett's cock, even with the fingers tangling in his hair, trying to pull him back. Lips struggling to stay closed around him, knocked loose by Rhett's slow thrust.

"That good?" You murmur, so fixated on the sight of him that you've forgotten everything else.

It sounds like he tries to hum a little "uhuh" in response. Muffled, racing all the way up Rhett's sensitive spine. Has him jerking away with a gasp. Gripping the base of his cock with his fist like he's trying to chase off the twinges of sensitivity.

"Did I do something wrong?" Bobby's tone is frail. One loud noise, and it'll shatter into a million tiny pieces.

Rhett's breath slides between his closed teeth on its way back out. "Complete opposite, actually." A beat passes, and he's on the move again. Sliding down the bed, his hands coming to settle on your hips, squeezing lightly.

It's hard to tell if it's you or Bob who yelps. But one way or another, you've found yourself face down on the mattress. The whole damn world spinning around you, struggling to catch up. Has he always been that strong, or are you actually dreaming these things up?

"Chris above," Bob mutters, "since when were you able to do that?"

Rhett's not done. Lifting your hips until your knees slip beneath you, propping your ass up for him. "Y' wrangle enough calves 'n eventually it becomes second nature,"

You can't believe what you're hearing, blindly kicking with your foot once more. Miss. "Are you really comparing me to one of your cattle right now?"

"A mighty cute one," a wet noise emanates through the room as his cock smacks against your cunt, "if that makes it any better."

So long as he doesn't give you any ear tags, you suppose.

Maybe you've bitten off more than you can chew because, from the moment he nudges into you, one thing becomes painfully clear. He's so much thicker than Bob is. Stretching you even wider, has to pause to slick himself with lube because even with the obscene mixture of Bob's saliva and cum, it's not enough.

"Still so fuckin' tight," he hisses, grabbing a greedy handful of your ass. You don't know if you're tight or if he's just big, splitting you wide open, forcing the air from your lungs, eating up every bit of space you could possibly offer.

Thunder rumbles. The streetlight flickers like a candle. Off, on, off, then on again. Wind howls outside of the window, seems to be squeezing through the cracks of the seal because you don't know where else that cool breeze would be coming from. But it's no match for the heat radiating off Rhett's big chest, snug against your naked back as he presses kisses to your shoulder. Still pressing into you. Inch by devastating inch. Until his hips are flat against your ass, not a centimeter between your bodies.

You'd try to lift your head if you weren't fighting to keep it attached to your shoulders. Feels like it's about to spin right off your shoulders.

"Y' alright?" Rhett's asking so gently, infuriatingly, sets a half dozen butterflies fluttering in your belly.

As if this is an appropriate situation for them to be showing their flashy little wings.

"Move," it's only one word, and yet, you damn near have to strangle it out of your throat.

Rhett doesn't need another ounce of encouragement. Pulling himself back with all the power and confidence of a man who knows what he's doing. So thick that he hits those little nerves without the slightest effort, strikes them hard as he snaps back into you. Balls smacking into your oversensitive clit. His soft grunts nearly washed over by the smack of skin on skin.

"Bobby really did a number on ya," marveling aloud, so focused on the mess made of your pussy that you can feel the warmth of his gaze. Sticky cum audibly squelching inside of you, about to be so, so much worse once he's done with you.

But you can't think about that right now. Not when he's kissing up your spine, forearms bracketing your hips, keeping you from sliding up the bed and away from the heavy punches of his cock. "Y've no idea," kiss. "How much," another kiss, groaning under his breath. "I've wanted this." Kiss.

Your head tilts, peering over your shoulder, straining for a look at his flushed face. "You been dreaming 'bout fucking us, cowboy?" Taunting. A little too confident for someone split open on his dick.

"I'm the reason all our folks were worried," he's taking it all in stride, leaning back, sweaty chest glistening in the light as if to give you a show, "still waitin' to wake up 'n learn this is all a dream."

He leans off to the side. Feeling around, digging through the pocket of his discarded pants. Produces something shiny. Enough to make Bob's breath catch, but far too small for you to see what the hell it is.

And he sets it right against your ass. Metal so cold that it's the only thing you can think of. Round. With a little—

"Oh my god," you gasp through a whimper. Suddenly have the strength to rise onto your forearms, trying your damnest to defy the laws of your body and turn your head all the way around. "My promise ring?"

"Y' told me to do somethin' with it," he grins, downright devilish. An idle hand reaches below your belly, feeling around.

"I told you to make it disappear," the fight leaves your tone the moment his fingers press to your clit. What strength you have fades from your body in an instant, suddenly unable to think of anything but the motion of his fingertips. "Christ, Rhett."

Next to you, Bob seems to have stolen your energy, moving to sit up, unable to rest and watch any longer. You can barely see the way he sidles up next to Rhett, soft cock pressing into his thigh, kissing at that pale, sweaty neck, defiantly sucking a mark into the skin there. Seems to match the one Rhett left on Bob's neck earlier.

Rhett twitches inside of you. Keening in his throat. Doesn't realize what he's just knocked into. Electricity bolting up your spine. Arms going weak. So sensitive all of a sudden, pussy spasming around him. Driven by the spirals of his fingers and the sweet grunts that kiss your ears.

"Rhett," you're collapsing down into the pillow once more, writhing. Panting for a breath you can't catch. "fuck, I...I—"

His hips stutter. "I know it," breathy, rhythm quickening with an urgency you recognize too well, "c'mon, cum 'round my cock, doll."

You don't know where it's come from. All at once, your nerves are on fire, and you're shaking from head to toe. Biting into the pillow. Fighting to keep quiet as he fucks you, fat cock head rubbing against those little nerves over and over and over. You're gonna...you're gonna...

It washes over you like an ocean wave on a serene afternoon. Slow. Starts with a twitch in your foot and boils higher. Tightening like a vice as you cum around his cock. Mewling into the open air, head spinning. And yet you're just conscious enough to feel the stutter of Rhett's hips. Cumming inside of you with a guttural groan that rumbles deep into your bones. Think you can feel him twitching, throbbing as he pumps you full. Only adding to the mess they've made.

A mess that you have no idea how you'll clean up.

But for right now, you don't have much energy to be thinking about that. Because Rhett's collapsing into you, smothering you into the bed, and Bobby's coming down, too. Forming a big, sweaty pile on top of you. Arms wind around you. Kisses pepper your skin. It happens so quickly, and yet, you already don't know where they start and end.

And they're warm.

"We've made such a mess," Bob giggles, the tip of his nose bumping into your forehead.

Yes, you have. But all you can think about is squirming backward, stealing the heat radiating from Rhett's naked body, hugging someone's arm to your chest. You don't think you'll have the strength to move in the morning. Or the day after that, for that matter.

Frankly, you don't think they will be able to, either.

---

A part of you expects to wake up to the crushing reality of regret. That someone has had time to simmer on what happened and has decided this isn't what they really want. That it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. A mistake made over some well-timed hormones and poor thinking.

Not one bit of you expects what you're actually greeted with.

Two sleepy bodies. Kissing up on you. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as they bicker and fight over who gets to kiss your lips. Heads knocking together. Messy hair poking up in every direction as they struggle for dominance. Each stubborn in their own, adorable right.

It's not until later that you realize they're just as serious about this as you are.

It happens some time after Rhett bends Bobby over. Bob's inexperienced but eager tongue drawing an orgasm out of you before you've truly adjusted to the sight of him between your legs. Drooling. Whining as Rhett drills into him from behind, neglected cock bouncing between his pale legs, struggling to keep upright.

You reckon this is what you looked like last night. God, just the thought of it makes you sore.

Fresh tears spill down Bobby's face. Overwhelmed but too into it to stop, as his trembling body collapses on top of you. Lips still slick with your wetness, shuddering like a leaf in the Wyoming wind. Muttering weakly for Rhett not to stop. Leaning into your hand as it tangles through his hair.

He's cute, like this. Trying his damnest to keep up with Rhett, leaning on you to keep himself from falling apart at the seams. With his flushed cheeks and pitchy noises. So loud and unlike him. Confident when it's just the three of you. Unashamed to babble for Rhett to cum in him. Doesn't fear the cleanup that will involve or the short amount of time you have to get out of this hotel, lest they charge for another day.

No, you don't realize until after they both tumble on top of you. Heaving chests and tangled legs, pinned up against one another like sardines in a can despite the ample room available.

"Can I convince you two to get breakfast with me?" Bob's soft voice kisses your ears with its appearance. "I'll buy."

And all Rhett does is laugh. Loud. Hearty. The kind that makes his head tilt backward, curls bouncing. "Oh, so now y' wanna wine 'n dine us." He grins, palm coming down to lightly smack Bob's ass. Knocks a surprised whimper out of him. "Got that a lil backwards, Bobby."

Bob's eyes roll; he should have seen that remark coming a mile away. "I'm offering you free food, you dumb cowboy."

"Hey now," Rhett's still chuckling, the prettiest noise you've ever heard, "I never said I wouldn't take ya up on it."

Two pairs of blue eyes turn to you. Each glistening with their own form of excitement and hope that you've come to recognize over the years. You know it better than you know yourself. How Bobby offers you his every emotion on a silver platter. The way Rhett fails to hide the soft fondness reserved for you and Bob.

"Breakfast sounds good," and unknowingly, you've sealed your fate.

Not that you mind. Of course.

The drive takes twice as long as it was supposed to. Not one of you can keep your eyes on the road for longer than a few hours at a time. Too eager for kisses and fleeting touches and the shy, awkward giggles that come with crossing into this unfamiliar territory. Cramming yourselves into the backseat for an uncomfortable but cozy nap when the road becomes too much to handle.

When you were kids, your attachment issues were horrible. Not one of you could go without the other. Bobby sulked and refused to socialize with anyone who wasn't the two of you. Rhett raised hell when he was placed in a class away from you and Bob. Your entire week would be ruined if you couldn't go out on one of your adventures with the Abbott and Floyd boys.

You'd thought those issues had faded with time. A sort of thing melted by maturity and the understanding that separation would not be forever.

You were wrong.

When it comes time for Rhett to part ways to get ready for the rodeo to start, your heart defiantly aches. Isn't helped by the number of kisses he showers you and Bob with, the way he refuses to let go of your hands until the very last second. It's dumb, and it's childish, and you can't help it. Emotions are hard to handle. Especially ones that have been pent up for several years.

So you and Bob glue to each other. Share the same gasp when Rhett bursts from the chute. Unable to breathe as that beast of an animal bucks and twists through the air. Fighting with everything it has to get him off its back. The crowd roars for a cowboy they've never seen before and shoots to their feet before the buzzer sounds.

You don't see him fall off, but Bob catches sight of him bounding out of the arena. Disappearing once more, mixed in with the other riders. There and gone in less than a minute. All that driving done for such little time in the limelight. The only confirmation he was really there is when his name soars up onto the scoreboard.

He doesn't appear again until after the rodeo. When you and Bob stand idly by the parking lot, ears pricked for the sound of his voice, unsure if you're in the right place or not. These rodeos are never the same. Sometimes the riders come out into the parking lot. Other times, they wind up on the far side of the stadium, where they have no reason to be.

It's the clank of spurs that give him away. Moseying out from behind a gate,

His name still sits on the scoreboard, occupying the second-place slot. Got knocked down a peg by a bull rider with a hell of a ride. He should be cussing. Scowling that he almost had it, he'll do better next time and won't be beaten out by dumb luck. But that version of Rhett doesn't seem to exist anymore.

Because he's running. Arms wide open. A big, dopey grin on his scruffy face as he downright jumps on you and Bob. Spinning, dragging you two along with him like he's just won the lottery. Streetlight casting a perfect, golden glow on his handsome face.

He steals a kiss from your lips before you can register it.

Then one from Bob, too.

"Are you alright?" You're blinking. Once. Twice. But the illusion never fades; it's as real as you are.

All Rhett can do is grin. "Never better." But the corner of his lip twitches; knows exactly what he's doing.

"You're sure?" Bobby's falling right into his trap. Forever blind to the antics of a dumb cowboy. "You only act like this when you win."

"But I did win," Rhett beams, far too proud of himself, as he opens his mouth and says, "I got both of you, didn't I?"

...

huh.

Bob's groan resonates from the very depths of his soul. Eyes rolling. "Oh my god." Physcially needs to turn and look away, as if the very sight of Rhett pains him.

A smile bursts out onto your face. Truly don't know what you were expecting, all things considered. "How long were you working on that one?"

Rhett's grin grows impossibly brighter; you reckon the streetlights are jealous of its shine. "Stole it from the fella in sixth place, actually."

And with a wink, he starts to walk. On a one-way track to the car, he doesn't need to look over his shoulder to see if you'll follow or not. He knows you will. You all know it.

It will take twice the amount of time to get back to town. But as you and Bob stumble after your shared cowboy like a pair of too-eager puppies, you can't help but wonder if the home is where your boyfriends are. Wherever that may be.

Even in run-down hotels out in the middle of nowhere, as much as you may complain about it.

#rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #oneshot

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ominoose · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫-𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Summary: Random drabble's about Steven Grant meeting other Oscar Isaac characters. No Marc or Jake co-concious, only referenced. Characters: Basil Stitt, Leto Atreides, Poe Dameron A/N: This randomly hit me and I wanted to write it because it was funny. Used a spinny wheel for it. Also idk if BB-8 can do that but now he can.

London was it's usual muggy, busy self as Steven ran down the street, hoping to catch the bus to work. It had been hard enough to get a job after the Museum Incident, but maintaining a position was proving to be a much harder endeavor between his abnormal sleeping patterns and head mates.

"Oi! Wait, please!" Steven was within touching distance just as the bus sped off, and at the lack of anything to rest his weight on or break his fall, the man found himself tumbling face first into traffic.

☽ 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐭 (Lightningface)

+ When Steven first wakes up in the apartment, his first thought is that he's woken up in a bomb site. The apartment is a mess, furniture and clothes strewn everywhere haphazardly. He's momentarily glad Marc isn't replying in his head, knowing the American would have an aneurysm over the state of the place.

+ Basil is the one to find Steven, jumping up from his spot on the couch and staring at him like he's an alien. The first thought in his mind is that Ricky the Monkey did some crazy magic and brought a clone to replace him. Poor Steven barely has a chance to process the situation before he's trying to calm his scarred, other American look alike down and explain his situation. Nothing manages to convince Basil there isn't some magic going on here, but he stops viewing Steven as an evil replacement.

+ After the initial shock and awkward introductions, they manage to sit down and chat for a few minutes. Basil shares the story of the lightning strike, insisting that its imbued him with magical powers. Steven, bless his heart, immediately believes this and boasts about his own moon powers too.

"You know, I've always wanted to try jumping off the roof and flying, have you done that?"

"Oh no, my mate Marc usually handles that, but maybe we can practice together? Have you got a suit as well?"

"Yeah, it's this paper bag and bed sheet I fixed up myself! C'mon, I have a stool on the balcony-"

"Wait, hang about.... Actually, mate, on second thoughts, lets not."

+ Steven ends up convincing Basil to properly fix his apartment, not just brush away the broken shards and dust. So that's what they do for a while, busying themselves as they theorize on how to get Steven back home with only a handful of brain cells between them. Basil listens with surprising intensity when Steven ends up branching off into Egyptology tangents, and likewise Steven nods along when Basil brings up all the documentaries he'd watched recently. In the end, the apartment does end up in much better shape, and the pair become quite chummy.

"Damn. Thanks for the help... Maybe I did overreact a bit."

"Yeah, it's no problem bruvs, it happens. Surprised the doctors didn't give you anymore meds, though I suppose over here its not like the NHS."

"Oh, no I didn't go to the hospital."

"...You wot?!"

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 (Dune)

+ Coming to on hot, sandy slabs is enough of a trigger point to Steven Grant as they come. Coming to on hot, sandy slabs with weird astronauts in suits pointing space guns at him goes beyond frighting and circles back into 'Shit yourself' territory. Thankfully they seem to speak English. Unfortunately, his high pitched screams and babbling British noises don't make sense to them while they peer down their guns at him with confusion. It isn't until a booming voice draws everyone's attention that Steven gets a chance to breath.

+ Said breath is swiftly knocked back out of Stevens lungs when a wiser, nobler and older version of him walks into the room, commanding the attention of every single space soldier in the room. The man stares down at him as he lays huddled on the ground, curled into himself, and quirks a single well groomed eyebrow at him.

"I am Duke Leto of House Atreides. You have penetrated your way into my home. Who are you?"

"I-I-I'm S-Steven Grant. Of the... Giftshop."

The Duke continues his stony stare at Steven for a few seconds longer before holding out a calloused hand.

"Well Steven of the Giftshop, I think we both have many questions for one another, and hopefully some answers."

+ When Steven finally gets over being starstruck at the dignified, royal version of himself, and when Leto makes the accidental mistake of mentioning that they're billions of years in the future on another planet, Steven freaks out, having a 10 minute long panic attack. When that's over he geeks out instead, asking a million questions about technology, using apologies as commas and full stops.

"Do people still know about Khonshu in this era?!"

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with that name."

"Lucky sod."

+ Leto thinks the strange, weird sounding clone of himself is a schizophrenic long lost cousin, but at lease he isn't trying to kill him over a title. It's not as common in Arrakis, or the general noble courts, to find someone as earnest, honest and willing to learn as Steven seems to be, which earns him a surprising amount of respect from the Duke.

𝐏𝐨𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 (Star Wars)

+ Waking up in a space ship that's doing somersaults mid-battle while dodging and weaving around beams trying to explode it out of the sky was almost as stressful as waking up on a London bus at 8am. Commendably, Steven didn't scream or cry, but simply had a silent panic attack until a rolling white and orange ball started beeping at him, or rather the ridiculously handsome version of him currently flying the plane.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get on my cruiser?!"

"Bloody hell, not another handsome American me!"

"What?! BB-8, check for a concussion!"

+ After being given a water bottle by the polite little droid, Steven finally managed to calm himself down by the time the ship touch down and the pilot in matching droid colours sprang before him, launching question after question. When he clocked Stevens face, he was speechless, brows slowly knitting over his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him. Mid stare-down BB-8 nicked the Brits skin, running a quick diagnostic test and beeping the results out to the pilot who's eyebrows swiftly un-knitted at the noises.

+ Taking advantage of the silence, Steven tries to explain himself and his situation, insisting he comes in peace and simply wanted to get home before Donna got another excuse to give him the sack. The pilot finally introduced himself as Poe, the best pilot in the resistance at that, and with a sigh he promised to try and figure out how to get Steven back to whatever galaxy London was from.

+ Poe tries to explain the resistance and the empire to Steven, who in turn compares it to Ammits cult and jointly rants about those who take choice and freedom from the innocent. Poe is happy enough that his weird blood ancestor is with the resistance, even if he does constantly regard him with a quirked eyebrow, wondering how in the universe he managed to evolve from this walking concussion. For a second time Poe is rendered silent as Steven mentions being Moonknight.

"Oh yeah, I've done that too, at least those Jedi blokes doesn't send their jackals after you though!"

"You've... fought? In battle?"

"Course, yeah. Fought off giant gods back to the underworld, stopped the day of reckoning as the souls of the living were flooding the underworld. It was just the other day actually."

"...You killed god?!"

+ Steven absolutely adores BB-8 and Leia, a feeling the bot and all of the resistance seem to happily return, much to the dismay of Poe. Steven's quite flustered from all the attention and questions, leaving Poe to drag him away in a huff, claiming they need to get back to figuring out how to send him home. It feels like a babysitting gig more than anything, but deep down it strokes Poe's ego when Steven ooh's and ahh's at all his resistance tales.

#steven grant #leto atreides #poe dameron #basil stitt #oscar isaac #omiwrites

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desswright29 · 10 months ago

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CLASS 58 (Co-Captain)

Pairing: CopShuri X Cop reader

Contains: Reader Crushing hard, hints at cheating (that’s about it)

You pull into the parking lot, in your all black 1967 Mustang, 5:30 am on the dot. The sky was still pitch black and there were only two other cars in the parking lot that you assumed belonged to the instructors. You turn off your car, get out and sit on the hood, taking a deep breath, staring into the sky. Early morning was your favorite. The still and quietness of the morning had always helped you start your day off right. Popping your airpods in, you lay back and stare into the sky waiting for the sun to rise.

Your mind wondered as “Angel numbers/10 toes” poured into your ears. You could only hope that this was the new beginning you needed. This offer from the FBI came at the perfect time. Right in time to give you a new beginning after you and your wife of 5 years divorced. You had the need to get away. Especially, after she’d taken the son you’d adopted together. Going through this would give you an outlet during the nasty custody battle you found yourself in. You didn't want to take him from her, just for the two of you to be able to co-parent cordially. But, she was making it so unnecessarily difficult.

“Get the fuck out y/n!”

“Baby please. Listen to me please!” You sat on your knees infront Riri, begging to be heard.

“What am I listening to? I saw everything I needed to see!”

“I was lonely, Ri! You're not even affectionate with me anymore! We hardly see eachother. Don't act like you haven't checked out of this relationship!”

“And who’s fault is that? How dare you!? How dare you turn this shit around on me to cover your ass. At least I was trying! I never even entertained the thought of cheating!”

The look in her eyes broke you. The tears spilling out of her big pretty brown eyes, onto her beautiful face. Since you were teens you’d worked hard to keep those eyes sparkling, to make her smile so hard that the dimples in her cheeks would show up. Now she was broken by you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, just go.” She seemed exhausted with the conversation.

“What about Amari?” You say in tears. A look of disgust came over Riri’s face.

“You should have thought of that shit before you placed your face between another bitches legs. Right now I don't want you around me or my child. Get out.” She spoke softly, walking away as though it took all her strength to hold her body upright.

You huffed, rubbing a hand over your face. To stop the tears from escaping. You had to shake it off, push the memory back into its space on the back of your mind, and prepare yourself for the day.

“Today you will have your first P.T. test! It’s purely to gauge where you are physically right now and will not affect your grade. But, if I were you I'd give it a hundred percent! I suggest you don't waste our time or yours. When I release you all, you’ll head from the training building over to the gym and prepare for the push up and sit up segment of your test.” Mr. Kaufman looked over the class as they stood at attention, stern, serious. Making sure he got his point across.

“FALL OUT!”

The class fell out of formation, grabbing the belongings they would need to head to the gym when a voice called out to you.

“Aye yo Y/l/n wait up!” Benson scuffled, catching up to you. “What’s up, boss lady. We get assigned to dorms today. You think we’ll be roommates?”

“Prayerfully, my luck isn't that bad.” You continue on your way trying to avoid conversation not in the mood, however she doesn't take the hint.

“Ahh man you do me so bad. You're gonna love me when this is all over.” The two of you walk inside of the gym and find a weight bench to sit on, waiting for instruction.

“You’re very confident. You should direct that towards someone who won’t ruin that for you.”

“Loosen up, pretty lady. You can't be stuck up the entire six months.” You shot daggers at her and she finally took her cue. Laughter erupted from the other side of the gym, and you peered over seeing Shuri and a group of the guys from the class entering the gym. Damnit was she fine! When she walked into a room everyone had to sit up and take note, and you had to admit it had you intrigued. The girl that everyone would soon find to be the class whore, lingered closely pretending to be interested in whatever was being talked about. Laughing and twirling one of her cornrows around her finger.

“You could look a lil less disgusted by the sight.” You look back over at Benson’s amused face.

“What are you talking about?” You say defensively.

“You look like you wanna snatch Auguste up by them thick ass cornrows for being all up on Udaku.”

“I dont give a fuck about that girl. I don't know her.”

“Yea. Well you look like you want to.”

“Whatever.” You stood to your feet, rolling your eyes, and walking away with Bensons chuckle trailing behind you.

Mr. Kaufman entered the gym instructing you all to place out the green mats assigning you all to your respective lines. You were all called up by three’s for the push-up portion of the test. The class captain being one of the first up. She walked up confidently placing herself in a push up position. Sgt. Sanders called start and you watched Shuri work. Biceps protruding from her short sleeve compression shirt, and veins popping from her forearms and neck. She moved so effortlessly, even with her weighted vest on. You found yourself in a slight trance. She must have felt your stare, because her eyes found yours, her bottom lip curling into her mouth as she pushed them out faster. Your mouth fell open slightly as your mind traveled to places it shouldn't, her eyes never left yours as she put on a show.

“TIME! Damn good job Udaku! You knocked that out of the park!” The sergeant called out. Snapping you back into reality. You finally let out the breath that you never realized you were holding. What kind of spell did that woman have you under?

“I’d pay money to be the mat underneath that woman.” Auguste said from behind you.

You swallowed to ignore the way your body had gotten hot under Shuri’s gaze. A smug smile sat on her lips as she walked past you.

“Good luck, battle.” (Military jargon to acknowledge other military personnel. short for “battle buddy”)

She knew who you were.

“Y/l/n, you're up!”

You sat on your knees on the mat looking ahead seeing Shuri standing in between the lines arms crossed, focused directly on you. You got in position and when start was called, you looked straight forward, avoiding Shuri’s eyes that burned a hole through you. You knocked out your two minutes effortlessly.

“TIME! Udaku’s got some competition! Great job y/l/n!” You found Shuri once again, as you stood to your feet. She stood in the same position she was in before. A small smile plastered on her face as she gave a slight nod in your direction, before walking over to her group of friends.

The rest of the test breezed by. You and Shuri taking the lead the entire day. She left you in the dust on the running portion. She was Olympic level fast. And you were impressed.

“Alright everyone! Settle down. Get to your seats! Great job today. We’re gonna go ahead and release you all so that you can get settled in the dorms. Good news. You all will be the first class to use the new dorms. So only two to a room. You’ll share a a kitchen and bathroom. The bedrooms are seperate.”

The class began to cheer.

“Dont get too excited you dont get to choose your roommate. The list is on the board in the hall. Check it out. Get settled, curfew is at 9 pm. That means toe to line for count at 8:59! Get out of here.”

The class stood to their feet, the chairs squeaking against the floors as they rushed into the hall to find out who they would be spending the next six months with. You stayed behind, pushing in chairs waiting for the crowd to clear out. You pulled out your phone turning it on, checking to see if there was any word from Riri. Once again nothing.

You shot her a quick message before placing your phone back into your pocket and walking out into the hallway.

You were met with Bensons smiling face at the end of the hallway.

“Whaddup roomie!” Her face lit up with a smile and her arms spread wide. Your eyes widened.

“No way!” You rushed over to the list, your finger roaming over the paper until you found your name; low and behold your name was listed below Bensons in room 306.

Your head dropped as you let out a sigh.

“Don’t act like you don’t love the idea of being alone with me 24/7” You let out a groan.

“We’re gonna have to set some clear boundaries. Atleast I know what to expect from you.” Benson pumped her fist yelling. “This is gonna be a fucking blast!”

“No yelling in the halls!” Sgt. Sanders yelled from the office.

“My bad sarg!” She yelled back. You shook your head and started walking out of the building.

“I’ll meet you at the dorm Benson.”

As you walked to your car, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, you felt someone quietly approaching, your guard went up and you turned quickly ready to strike when you came face to face with Udaku herself. Your hand went up to your chest as you let out a breath.

“Shit!”

“I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you. Wasn’t trying to sneak up, I'm just naturally stealthy…..Like a cat.” She stood in front of you, her smirk showing just a sliver of her perfect teeth, today her hair was braided back, and she had changed into a simple black sweat suit, she made it look like she’d just stepped out of vogue, and It made your body visibly tremble.

She noticed your reaction as her gaze traveled over your body, “Cold?”

“Uh yea. It is pretty chilly.” You say once again avoiding her eyes.

“Yes it is.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Y/l/n right? I noticed you didn't come get my information after class yesterday.”

“I think I'm capable of listening and getting the same information you receive. I won’t be needing it.” You say, and she smirks.

“The other Army recruit, huh?”

“How’d you know?”

“Kind of my job, and I can tell you’re very strong willed, competitive, and prepared.”

“Competitive?” One of your brows shot up, your arms crossing in defense.

“Yes, I saw your attempt at beating my scores, and though I admire your resolve, you can’t beat me.” A smirk spread across your face.

“Is that so?” She nodded very sure of herself.

“It is very much so.”

“Riiiiight Captain. We’ll see.” You say with a salute. She gave a chuckle, the soft sound made your ears perk up, you could listen to that forever, my God was everything about this woman attractive!

“But since you can’t beat me. I was thinking you would consider joining me.” You cocked your head to the side waiting for her to continue.

“You see I need a Co-Captain. And turns out I get to choose. I’ve watched you and think you would be the perfect partner.”

“Oh do you?”

“I haven’t seen anyone more qualified than you.”

“Co-Captain?” She placed prayer hands in front of her, before putting on her best pleading face.

“Pretty pretty pleeeease?” Those intense eyes focusing on your own, paired with her sexy accent had you looking away quickly trying to avoid the blush from rising on your cheeks.

“Your one hell of a negotiator. Where’d

you learn?”

“I’d say it was my military training, but that one in particular seems to work best outside of work.” This time you couldn’t escape the blush.

“I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” She said pumping her fist just like Benson had earlier. She held out her hand and you firmly grasp it; The two of you shook on it. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

“Same.” The handshake lingered a bit before the two of you let go.

“That yours?” She said her head nodding towards your car. Your face lit up. Not going unnoticed by Shuri.

“ ‘67 Reborn. My dad passed it down to me. His dad passed it down to him. She’s my baby.”Shuri nodded her head, cocking it to the side, her smile getting bigger.

“Cute.” She said, Your head snapped towards her. “The car. She’s beautiful.” Her gaze lingered on you, and the two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. In reality it was only a few seconds. She turned towards the building, throwing a “See you at the dorms partner,” over her shoulder before walking away.

You stared as she swaggered her way into the building. Leaving you with her clean scent lingering and your heart racing.

This was going to be a long 6 months.

Once inside your car you check your phone again. Heading straight to you and Riri’s text thread. The only thing ther was the several read text messages you’d sent over the past few weeks. Including the one you’d just sent.

Ri, I’m sorry. Just let me see him

Shuri watched from the window inside of the training building, as you hit the steering wheel in frustration. You sat back staring at the sky for awhile before you finally placed your key in the ignition and headed towards the dorms.

#Spotify #letitiawright #shuri udaku #shuri fanfiction #shuri imagine #shuri fic #shuri angst #shuri x reader #shuri x you

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pandorasfavorite · 1 year ago

Note

Can I get on dom and reader pupic sex for kinky October please

No one will Know 🎃

Kinktober Day 14: Public

AN: oh my

If Dominik had the choice of having you sit in his lap all day he would, he really would. Though everyone has their responsibilities and Dominik just cant sit with you all day like he hopes for. He's at yet another public appearance mandatory event. He of course brought you as his plus one again, but he wasn't expecting to get to do what he wants. Dominik has to get up and talk to other people, or at least stand in a group and act like he cares. You sat on the couch in the room; just observing Dominik for a few minutes; clearly already used to these kinds of things.

One thing about this meet though is that it isn't casual. There is a dress code and Dominik chooses to pick an all-black suit, fitted to his body and suited to him personally. You've never had the pleasure of seeing him in something so serious; so hot and serious. If he were to boss you around; you'd have no problem listening to what he has to say, unlike usual where you would quip back. Dominik is just standing in silence, bored and barely paying attention. His hands are in his pockets and his face is serious; his irritated look makes your legs tremble and your mouth go dry.

In the car it was hard enough to sit by him without saying anything, but watching him and taking it all in was so much more different. You readjust your outfit before walking to stand next to your boyfriend, the slit in your dress raised high up, and you best believe the dress suited you well. You loop your arm around Dominiks, looking forward while you rub down his arm soothingly. You feel Dominik looking at you, waiting for you to say high to him or at least acknowledge him. You turn your body towards him just enough to talk to him quietly. You lock eyes with him intensely, the passion behind your look making him swallow and his heart race a tad.

Dominik could tell from your look alone what you wanted... needed from him. You tug on his arm, Dominik leans down some so you can whisper in his ear, "I need you right now" you whisper, holding onto his arm tighter and glancing around to make sure no one heard. Dominik waits to say anything, pulling you further away from the group for a moment. But you're impatient, before he can speak you plead to him, "Dom please baby, please-" You step increasingly closer to him, arms wrapped around his neck now in a hug. “You know I can’t say no to you when you like this- fuck can you wait a little longer?”, Dominik asks. You grab his hair, tugging on it and pulling yourself closer to him, the heat between your legs almost painful. You exhale and shove your face into his neck, “Dom it hurts” you whisper; so close to him but so far away. Dominik exhales heavily; your words affecting him.

He grabs your arms, pulling them off of him so he can guide you away. Hopefully discrete slips away with you in tow, a small closet the only thing he can find. You both rush inside and the door clicks behind you, Dominik’s lips instantly attaching to yours, bodies basically right on top of each other from the cramped space. Dominik starts unbuttoning his suit and taking off his shirt, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs just in time for you to strip. You're pushed up against the closet wall, your hands flat on the wall and your ass out for Dominik to grab. Your silk is down your thighs and Dominik clenches his hand into a fist, closing his eyes for a moment to ground himself; remembering anyone can hear. He slides inside of you only to stop when you let out a high-pitched moan, Dominik’s hand clasps over your mouth as he sides the rest of his cock inside you.

Stretching you out and hitting deep inside of you, satisfying you and the ache you felt. You squeeze your eyes shut, moans fumbling from your mouth unintentionally the heat of the moment and how hot this was to you making it hard to stay quiet. “Mami you have to be quiet, we don’t want anyone to catch us, do we?”, he grits out lowly, hand tight over your mouth; though it isn’t helping much. You nod and clench around him at the possibility of someone catching Dominik ramming his cock into you. The thought was sexy, but you didn’t really want to be humiliated like that.

You bite your lip from behind his hand, grunts and hmfps overtaking the once loud moans. You drop your head down, and the closer you get the harder it is to stay quiet, “I know mami, so needy for my cock, you just couldn’t wait. You wanted me shoved inside of you, didn’t you baby?”, he pants out in a groan, quiet as ever; your legs tremble and you squeeze around him cumming at the dirty words. Dominik does the same; groaning and falling forward at the tightness and intensity of your orgasm compelling his. “Just had to be fucked”, he comments, smoothing out his suit and running his hands through his hair, right before he helps you clean up too.

#dominik mysterio x reader smut #dominik mysterio smut #kinktober #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x you #dominik mysterio fluff #dom dom #dominik my bbg #dominik mysterio fanfiction #wwe #dominik mysterio x reader

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rustys-lodge · 1 year ago

Text

His ward Pt 2 (choice 2 )

Summary : After your little fight with Sherlock, you attempt to leave; The person that haunts Sherlock next is unfamiliar to your knowledge.

Warnings : physical violence. A little mention of jumping off a building.

A/N : It's very Mycrofty behavior...But it's also big brother in the 1880 behavior ?

Part 1 Part 2 choice 1

----

"If." Sherlock's voice filled the room again. "you do step out of that door, the consequences of that will be solely your responsibility to bear." The softness in his voice sent chills down your spine, as behind it hid a dark pitch that...You weren't sure you wanted to hear again.

With two fingers slightly curved around the door handle, your eyes dart from handle to Sherlock. You rotate the handle.

"Your mother has done a very well job educating you. Inside"

Your hand is gripped tightly. "NOW." And before you get to process anything, you find yourself flying back inside the house.

Ready to fight him off, you lifted your hand up to attack him. But he predicted your movement, as you found your wrist violently swinging backwards, causing you to stagger back.

"Listen here, little girl." Sherlock growled, suddenly cupping the lower half of your face in his hand, causing you to gasp in surprise. You attempted to lean back but the grasp on your face tightened and you found yourself swiftly pulled closer to the demon haunting your brother.

You groaned at the pain pulsating in your jaw, finding it harder and harder to steady your shaky breath...

"I am not your mother." You flinch at the anger lacing in his voice.

She's your mother too you f-

"I will not watch you disobey me like that." The detective growled again, leaning closer to your face. "Do you understand ?"

You shut your eyes closed as a whimper involuntarily escaped your lips . You can't look at him. You can't be this person...This isn't you. You're not weak.

Sherlock lets go of your arm. And you quickly falter back, gripping your aching arm...Your muscles have been stretched too much...It hurts to even move it...Along with your jaw. But what hurt more was the loss of your dignity...Of your identity.

"You're no different from Mycroft." Your voice, although low, tinged with disappointment. "You're just like him."

Your words feel just like venom shooting out of a serpent's fangs, to Sherlock. You can tell because he lowered his gaze to the ground. And a sudden sadness stretched across his features.

You couldn't tell whether it was really sadness, though...Or maybe shame ? disappointment ?

"You don't mean tha-" All of that anger washed away. "I am solely looking out for you...After all you're my w-"

You exaggeratedly sighed. "Say that I'm your ward again and I'll jump off of this bloody window." A hollow and unauthentic menace is spat out of your mouth. And you just turn on your heels.

"I'll be inside." You informed him, heading for his room. There's no need to talk more, or to argue. What needed to be said was said. For both parties. The fight is over.

"I'll bring you t-"

"Don't bring me anything." Your voice first sounded commanding. But....But you reconsider. "Please ?" Low and bitter, you can't get yourself to be inferior. That's what your mother taught you ! But...she isn't here at the moment...She's nowhere to be found. So you'll just have to do with this.

That is Until you come up with a better plan.

A sigh is merely audible from behind. And you pretended like you didn't hear it.

As soon as you closed the door, you collapsed to the floor, sobbing relentlessly.

You tried to keep it quiet, to stop yourself. But that only made it worse. You just...You don't know what to do anymore.

-----

@czheythebard @bunny24sstuff It's here ❤

-----

Huh, sorry for the angst. I just love it !!! Which ending is better ? i'd like to know. I hope yall liked thiiis ❤❤❤🌹🌹🌹

#sherlock holmes #enola holmes #enola and sherlock #enola holmes brothers #sherlock holmes x sister reader #sherlock holmes x sister!reader #sister!reader #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock imagine #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavil x reader #writing prompts #sister x brothers

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ask-robokasa-and-rui · 1 month ago

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Nene's Origin Pt.1//

OCC Note: I wanted to put all her origins in one post but I realized it would be too long so it's gonna be like 2-3 parts.

Nene was made a month before Mafurobo was made. She was inspired off of a ballerina character in Saki's favorite children book. So naturally, she was made as a ballerina. Her personality was also based off of the ballerina character; kind, calm, daring and charming. She felt like snow, by how calm and comfortable she makes people feel. Everything was going alright, when one day she was at Kanade's workshop to get fixxed. After that though, she started seeing things. Black shadowy things hovered over the robots, mostly on Tsukasa and Mafuyu. Nene wondered why they were there, she wouldn't be left unanswered.

"Emu...! Emu...! Where are you?"

She said, looking around for Emu. She walked, and walked but never found her. She asked the others about it. None.

"Saki...do you know where Emu is?"

"No, ask the janitor I'm busy."

"The janitor went missing..."

Saki nodded, not really listening, and walked away. Then Nene heard faint giggles coming from a room. She followed the noise and went inside.

"Emu...?"

She whispered as she peeked through the door. There, she saw Emu looking into a mirror and laughing at herself. She then noticed, it, again. The black shadow. This time, the shadow was all over the robot girl. Nene then felt this sense of dread. She felt herself being pulled to the shadow. In a faint moment; she saw a brown haired girl, with pitch black eyes, smile at her. Then the feeling went away, and Nene uncounciously ran away.

Ever since that encounter, she felt more cornered then ever. She could feel those black shadows watching her. Not only that, she felt them increasing by the day. It wasn't long before the same thing happened with Mafuyu. Nene feared the same would happen to Tsukasa aswell.

Her relationship with Tsukasa was fairly normal, but they were closest to each other. Nene would comfort Tsukasa when he messes uo a show because he had a malfunction, and Tsukasa would encourage Nene to do more than she already can. She feared, the black would hunt for him aswell.

Then it hits. She must have a black shadow, waiting to drive her insane. She had to find a way out of this. So she goes to “Saki’s office” to find and talk with Saki about this since Saki is the creator of the robots. She knocks on the door, waiting for Saki to answer but...she didn't. Nene knew she isn't allowed in her office, no one is, but she needed to know the answers. Now. She carefully opened the door only to be blinded by a tealish light. Nene looks up, to see huge tubes. One of the tubes had a human body in it. The body was pretty scratched up, along with millions of wires attached to it. The body...looked a lot like Tsukasa. Could it be...? No, no it couldn't be! Saki wouldn't do such things! However, Nene's hopes were shattered immediately as she turned her head around to see the lifeless body of the janitor, in one of those tubes, attached to countless wires. Nene couldn't understand what was happening...her program became blank before it hit her.

Saki was making robots out of humans.

All the robots...all the shadows she saw...were humans...she couldn't believe it. She didn't want to. Her program calculated, and imagined many ways Saki killed the real Emu, the real Mafuyu, Tsukasa, and so on...

She looked down at her hands. Was she also a human...? Was she tricked all this time?

Suddenly, the door swung open.

"Nene-!? W-W-What are you doing here!? You weren't-!!"

Saki stutters. She is clearly in panic of her own creation learning the truth behind it's life.

"Did you...kill me too...?"

Nene asks. Her eyes had the rage of a tiger, the sadness of a losing mother, the vulnerability of a small kitten and the lifelessness of a porcelain doll.

"Okay...L-Let me explain!!"

Nene's body made some mechanical sounds before her arms turned into a blade.

"N-...Nene...?"

Nene didn't say anything, still looking at Saki with the same expression as she started walking towards Saki.

"Nene put that away-!! Nene-!!!"

Nene charged at Saki.

"NENEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Tags: @aspenii @bobcross1010 @mizuribbons @mai-mai-mai @kiwi-does-stuff @scodscod @dazeddoofus @kusanagi-nene-official-mod

#project sekai #nenerobo #saki talks #nenerobo talks #lore post #robokasa

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ticklykitty216 · 18 days ago

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Mo/uth/wash/ing Tickle Headcanons

(Ok chat, because I'm so normal about this game, I decided to do some headcanons because RAAAAAAAGHH!!!!!!!) (Also I put slashes in the title so hopefully it doesn't show up in the main tag, let's hope it works, if it doesn't, hi main tag people, I'm sorry you had to see this lol)

***

First things first, from least ticklish to most ticklish: Swansea, Jimmy, Curly, Anya, Daisuke

Daisuke:

Lee leaning switch

Is an absolute gremlin about it

Would be a total tickle monster if he wasn't so ticklish himself and so easy to turn the tables on

Has really ticklish hips and sides, his belly his also really bad

Has a very light and quick laugh, very fun to listen to

He's VERY teasy

Loves to quickly spider and scribble at your spots and doesn't linger for long

He coos and baby talks a lot, also tells terrible jokes while he tickles you to try and make you laugh more

CANNOT take what he dishes out

Very squirmy, flails a bit but doesn't try to escape all that much

Starts tickle fights on the Tulpar, 9/10 times he doesn't win them (even though he is trying (or is he?))

Swansea:

Ler

He is too old for this tomfoolery, leave him alone

The least ticklish crew member on the Tulpar

Has ticklish ribs, sides, belly and feet

Only way to really get him to laugh is if you catch him by surprise

Has a deep, gruff belly laugh

He will not instigate tickles, but he will wreck you if you drag him into them

Not much for verbal teasing, mostly calls you an 'idiot' or about how 'childish this is'

It's scary, he somehow just always knows where your the most ticklish first try, and he will exploit your worst spots to 'teach you a lesson'

Not overly rough with tickles, but he's not gentle either

He has one super secret tickle spot that only his wife and kids knows about (Daisuke is still trying to find it to this day...)

Anya:

Lee

Someone help her, this isn't fair

Very ticklish, might be the most ticklish person on the ship

Her hips, thighs, knees, ribs and armpits kill her

Has a very high-pitched squeaky laugh, almost sounds frantic

She snorts if her knees are tickled, she's super embarrassed by it and gets extremely flustered if you tease her about it

She doesn't usually get a chance to be a ler because of how stupidly ticklish she is

But she would totally tickle you during a physical and then act all confused as to why you're laughing (even though she's fighting back a grin herself)

Has slim fingers, easy to get into you most ticklish places

Also has a good grasp on anatomy so she knows exactly where to target

Her neck is also pretty ticklish, but she doesn't let anyone touch her there unless she really trusts you

Curly:

Switch, Ler leaning

Secretly also a menace, but unlike Daisuke he doesn't start tickle fights either

Views tickling a friendly thing and will do it to cheer up crewmates or bond with them (if they're alright with it)

Canonically weightlifts so you know he's using his strength to pin you down

Pretty gentle with tickles, he's playing the long game here

Compliments and teases you about your laugh and little things that you do (or try to do) as he wrecks you

Has a very loud, rich laugh, that comes from his chest, wheezes too

Very ticklish around his thighs, ribs, feet and armpits

His first reaction is to drop when tickled, so be warned

He'll often use his position as Captain to tease you, but if you do the same to him? He's dead. Deceased.

He snorts if he's caught off guard when you tickle him, it doesn't fluster him as much as Anya but it also gets him laughing harder because he's a little embarrassed by it

Jimmy:

Ler

Second least ticklish crewmate

Says he hates tickling and being tickled, but he actually has a thing for it

Likes it in a sadistic way, also like the power and control he gets from it

Mean, mean, MEAN about it

Will ruthlessly hunt down your worst spots and then exploit them until you're too tired to fight back (and then he keeps going for a little bit longer)

Like Swansea, doesn't initiate tickle fights and will try to avoid them, but if he gets sucked into one he is finishing it, and you're screwed for it

He might show you mercy if you acknowledge his status and say how much better he is then you (and that he's better then Curly)

Also has a gruff laugh, though it's more wheezy and raspy

His armpits and ribs are pretty bad, but his worst spot is his feet

Curly is the only one brave enough to tickle him and get away with it simply because of how long they've known each other

#Kitten_Blunders #tickle headcanons #trying to not get this to show up in the main tag #I know the fandom's so chill but like #this might be a little too *raises eyebrow*#Idk why I'm so self conscious about this one chat lol

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jhilsara · 9 months ago

Text

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 6

It’s late, or early. She isn’t really certain. She is more than sure she's exhausted.

MJ is dragging her feet trying to get home at three in the morning. She’s ready to pass out after the shift she'd had at the pub. It had been a long night and it doesn't help that she's been on edge at work since some creepy man had tried to attack her. Not the highlight of her time working as a bartender.

The police did eventually show up and apprehend the man. Andy and Lars had stayed behind to call him in and also explain what happened. Her lead manager that had been dismissive of MJ's worries was promptly fired after. The owner apparently was not made aware of any of her concerns. Lars also wasn't alone as the bouncer anymore. The owner had hired two security posts for every night now, hoping to dissuade another incident.

MJ's therapist had more than enough to unpack with her that month. She did feel leaps better after the owner profusely apologized about the lead manager ignoring her worries. That made her feel more supported.

Truly after her long shift, she just wants to go home. She was making plans to herself to put on her big hoodie and crawl into her warm bed after the hottest shower. Maybe even have a little snack.

She slides her key into the door and is almost drooling at the thought of her soft, plushy bed. She shuffles in and trips over something in the entryway. She looks down and almost screams when she sees Hobie leaning against her wall and bleeding out on her floor. It looks like a crime scene with the lights off.

She throws her bag on the ground and turns on her light. She squats down in front of him checking his pulse making sure he’s alive. She moves to grab his face, holding it gently to make him look at her. His face was dirty, caked in blood and grime. Blood dripping down his forehead and lips.

“Hey, hey, Hobie. I need you to look at me right now.” She pleads, voice a little pitched.

He barely peels his eyes open, he’s looking at her, but not really. More like he’s looking through her. He grunts in response. His eyes are blurry and she doesn't think he knows where he even is.

“How long have you been here?” She asks moving his hand to look at the wound he’s been clutching at his side. There’s a decent pool of blood underneath him that looks to have been sitting there for a while.

“Couple a minutes, an hour… I don’t know…” He murmurs, his head lolling off to the side. His eyes start closing again, clearly a losing fight to stay awake. Which she needs him awake because she has no idea if he has a concussion.

“Hey, nu-uh, you can’t do that right now. I need you to be present with me okay? I don’t know where you’re hurt.” She whispers to him. She holds his head back up, forcing him to look at her. Her brows furrowed in concern.

He nods his head, struggling to keep his eyes open. He's only half listening to her, but he is doing as she asks.

Since finding out Hobie was Spider-Man he had started a habit of using her home like a 24/7 clinic. The first time he rolled into her home she yelled at him as he tumbled face first into her rug. She had to learn how to clean and dress wounds on the spot. She chastised him all the way through it. He scared the living daylights out of her and on top of that he just sat there laughing like it wasn't a big deal.

This though, this is the worst she’s seen him. There's so much blood and he doesn't look okay at all. His eyes can't focus on her and the distant look in his eyes scares her.

She moves to grab her medical kit, “What happened?” she prods trying to figure out what trouble he got into.

“Not a big deal,” He tries to shrug but hisses in pain, “just got nicked by the Goblin is all.” He replies slurring his words together.

She bends down next to him and gives a disappointed look. “It is a big deal if you’re bleeding out on my floor.” She tells him with a slight scoff. “Can you take your shirt off or do I need to cut it?” she asks him digging around for her safety scissors.

He gives a soft chuckle but does as he’s told. His top clings to his skin and it's sticky where his bloods dried. He groans in pain as he peels the dried blood off of him with his top. “We should go on a date before I strip for ya.” He teases.

She rolls her eyes, “If you’re coherent enough to joke I should be meaner to you.” She mumbles to herself.

She grabs some alcohol to clean up his injury with from her medical kit. She soaks up a soft hand towel to start cleaning around his wounds.

“Oh come on, ya love it.” He says reaching for her hand so she’ll look up at him.

Her fierce gaze flashes to him and his face falters a bit. She knows she's being harsh, but she's never seen him so beat up. It scares her. Maybe it's because she childishly believes he's invincible. This is a hard moment as she realizes he can get hurt.

“What I would love right now, is for you to shut up so I can clean you up enough for you to take a shower without bleedin’ all over my bathroom.” She states giving him a pointed look.

He nods his head silently and lets her work.

She cleans the area surrounding his wound, he’s mostly stopped bleeding but it’s a nasty gash. Once it’s clean she can disinfect. She looks closer at his wound and assesses his face too. He’s got a few good scraps along his brow bone and one of his piercings definitely looks like it’s caused some damage. Almost like his eyebrow piercing ripped out.

She quietly continues to work, ignoring Hobie’s grunts and hisses of pain as she cleans his face. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She's afraid if she pauses and looks him in the eye she won't be able to finish. She wants to scream at him to be more careful, but she also just wants to hold him tightly and protect him.

“Anywhere else that was bleedin’?” she asks him softly.

He shakes his head no. She pats his thigh reassuringly. “Go take a shower and let me know when you’re done. I need to bandage you but you need a shower first.” She tells him.

He groans but lets her help him stand up. “Don’t leave a mess in there alright?” she teases him lightly.

“No promises, I’m pretty grimy.” He jokes as he shuts the bathroom door.

She smiles and turns to grab the discarded pieces of his suit. She throws them in her washer and waits to run it when she can grab the rest of it from the bathroom. She moves to set up the couch for him to sleep on.

There’s no way she was letting him go back this late after just dressing his injuries. She grabs her spare sheets and blankets, preparing the couch for him. She throws one of her pillows down for him as well.

She hears the bathroom door creak after a while and turns to see him poking his head out. He already looks a lot better. Relief washes over her and she relaxes a bit. She grabs the medical kit again and goes to wrap him up.

Hobie leans his weight against her bathroom counter. He's just in a towel wrapped lazily around his waist.

She takes a deep breath and adjusts her eyes up. She forgot to give him clothes. Her face is burning but she tries to refocus on bandaging him.

“You look better already.” She comments. She grabs the gauze and bandages to wrap him. She’s so close to him, eye level with his broad chest. She should be used to it by now but her ears are burning. She can feel his eyes on her, and he gives a halfhearted chuckle.

“I feel better that’s for sure.” He murmurs.

She starts to wrap him, eyes trying to keep focused on her task, and not lower to where the towel is barely hanging on his hips. She's definitely not looking over his toned body. She can keep her eyes focused, this is not the time to be checking him out.

She’s so intentional with every motion. She’s slow and deliberate, making sure she treats his wounds correctly.

She doesn’t notice him move until she feels him brush her hair off her shoulders. The action has her taking a shuddering breath. She looks up at him questioningly.

His own face is in scrunched up in thought. He keeps her hair between his fingers as he looks lost in his own head.

She finishes wrapping his chest before looking back up at him. She gently uses her hand to make him turn to look at her.

“So serious, what’s rattling around in that brain?” She tries to joke, but it falls into more of a genuine question. Her voice quiet.

He looks at her face and meets her question with silence. Contemplating his own response. He stares at her and he’s doing that thing again. He’s looking at her in a way that feels like he’s peeling back layers of her soul, exposing herself to him. She feels barren and unguarded, it scares her.

“Nothin’. Just thinkin’. Brain got all rattle remember?” He says softly tapping his brow. He immediately regrets it, hissing as he hits his own injury.

She gives a soft giggle and lets it slide for the moment. She reaches up, “Let me bandage that, your piercing got pretty fucked right there.” She tells him focusing her attention on that.

He hums in agreement. His hands coming down to grip the counter edge. His grips is so tight it leaves small cracks along her counter. Clearly trying to hide how much he's been hurting tonight. He's a good patient in that he never complains, but sometimes she wished she did. Maybe he just has a high pain tolerance or maybe he just doesn't want her to worry. She'd worry regardless though.

At the end of the day, she'd still rather him crawl into her window every night regardless of his injuries. At least she'd know he was alive. See his chest rise and fall as he breathes.

When she’s done she looks at him, his eyes have just been burning holes into her. She flushes for a moment, she was so lost in thought she didn't notice him staring. Their faces are so close, too close. She swallows hard and takes a step back, “I’ll uh, I’ll grab some spare clothes you’ve left here before… I can just throw your suit in the wash.” She tells him softly, her face burning.

She turns to go into her room, grabbing his clothes and returning to shove them in his hands. He hands over his own dirtied and blood-stained suit to her.

“Thanks Mariana.” He tells her softly pulling her into him with a one armed hugged. For someone so injured, his grip was still strong.

A chill runs down her spine at him using her name, “It’s no big deal.” She mutters returning the embrace.

She moves away to close the bathroom door and she leans against it. Her head hitting the door as she looks up trying to control her rapidly beating heart.

He can’t keep looking at her with those big brown eyes that crack her open. If he does she might have to acknowledge the fact she’s starting to like him.

She doesn’t think she can handle those far too big feelings right now. So, she shoves them down, under the surface. She can’t think about him like that.

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