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#But this thought just crossed my mind a few days ago and won't leave
myung-heee · 6 months
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manipulation c.yj
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kinktober: day 9 + manipulation
pairings: yeonjun x f!reader
warnings: manipulator!yeonjun x (kinda) innocent!reaader, manipulation, unprotected, (noncon at first), oral (f receiving), missionary
yeonjun is your closest friend since high school, both of you are complete opposites. he was popular, athletic, and had good grades, making him every girl's ideal type. Well, you can't blame them. yeonjun is a total package, embodying everything one could desire in a guy. he's like the living standard of a man.
both of you are quite close, and the reason why he was close to you and never broke your friendship remained a mystery to you and the other students around you. imagine being friends with the most idolized man on your campus while you consider yourself just a potato. however, yeonjun doesn't see you that way!! he views you as a cute potato.. (lol) he likes you as a woman, as a lady. he just hasn't found the right time to tell you
on the other hand, there's kai, your new friend who recently transferred to your class. initially, yeonjun didn't pay much attention; he would casually greet kai with a smile or a simple 'hi' whenever they crossed paths.
your friendship with kai seemed to flourish as yeonjun got busier with his basketball practices.
"let's hang out at my place," yeonjun approached you while you were sitting at your desk, copying the notes kai had lent you. you looked up at him and said shortly, "sorry, can't," before returning your attention to your notebook.
he raised a brow and asked, "can't? why? do you have something important coming up today?" he replied, "yeah, I'll be studying with kai," you said without even glancing at him. his expression faded, and he scoffed, "kai? the new guy, huh?"
"are you replacing me, y/n?" he asked. You looked up at him, trying to find a joke in his expression, but he seemed genuinely serious, gripping his towel, eyes fixed on you. "it's just one time.. i can always hang out with you, you know?" you explained. he sighed and looked away. "that's the point—just one time. this is the first time you don't want to hang out with me and choose someone you met just weeks ago?" his voice grew louder, drawing a few glances from your classmates. you sighed and looked around.
"jun, let's talk about this tomorrow. i have something to do," you said, showing him your notes. he just scoffed, wiped his face with the towel, and walked away. Before he could leave the classroom, he said, "i'll see you at the gate after class. i won't take no for an answer," and left.
your brows furrowed as you were about to say something, but the door had already closed. you sighed, put down your notes, and placed kai's notebook on his empty desk.
you told kai you weren't able to study with him tonight because something urgent came up. luckily for you, kai didn't actually mind it and told you that it was all fine.
you smiled at him. after class, you went to the gate right where yeonjun told you to. you saw him on his phone, a basketball on the side of his waist, and he had a towel hanging over his shoulder. you cleared your throat; he immediately looked in your direction and smiled, putting his phone in his pocket and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
"i really thought you didn't want to be friends with me anymore," he chuckled. you looked down. he was your only close friend, so of course, you would choose him over anyone else.
you had been debating with yourself earlier about whether you would hang out with him or kai, then a thought came to your mind. yeonjun was a popular guy, yet he chose to be friends with you. you felt bad, so you thought that maybe you had to choose him too.
"well, you're my best friend... why wouldn't i hang out with you?" you smiled. he patted your head. "i am your only best friend, so you'll choose me over anyone, okay?" he whispered. you nodded.
"that's what i thought," he smiled. you looked at him, confused about what he meant, but you just brushed it off. as you arrived at his home, his parents were there, and you greeted them.
"we'll just study together," he said and guided you upstairs into his room.
as you entered his room, you immediately made your way into his desk. you put your bag on the table and sat on his gaming chair. his eyes were fixated on you. "do you really think we'll study?" he chuckled. you furrowed your brows and threw a glance at him. "wait, we won't?" you asked in a confused tone.
 
he put his towel on the doorknob before clicking the lock. "yeah.. we'll hang out, remember?" he smiles innocently. you looked over at the doorknob, confused about why he locked the door.
 
when he saw your doubting expression, he slightly scratched the back of his neck and looked at you. "i just wanna have some privacy, so i could make up for the time i should've been with you instead of my practices," he sighed. you slightly nodded. "it wasn't your fault though.. besides, we're best friends, it doesn't really matter. it's not like i am your girl or anything," you said quietly.
 
best friends. he smiled at that word.
"yeah, best friends," he replied. you smiled and stood up. "what should we do then? we aren't going to study, right?" you asked. "do you want to play games? multiplayer?" you continued.
 
he shook his head.
 
"there's, uh, thoughts in my mind that i want to ask out loud, but at the same time, i can't" he softly said. you tilted your head in confusion. "what is it? Tell me, I'm your friend," you smiled.
 
"yeah, that's why I can't tell you because you're just my friend," he sighed. you stared at him for seconds. not knowing what to say. "what.. should i do then?" you asked, his face lit up like a candle. smiling at your response as if it were the exact words he wanted to hear from you.
"are you sure you can do anything i'll ask?" he raised a brow, making his way towards you.
 
you slightly nodded; you trusted him. so why not?
"you know.. you've been spending a lot of time with kai, and it makes me.. jealous." he sighes. he stops walking. he's in front of you, towering over you. you looked up at his tall figure.
 
"you feel jealous?" you asked, confused. he nodded.
 
"yeah." he places his hands on your chin and looks at your eyes deeply. "i wonder if he's being this close to you." his voice sounds like it's hypnotising.
 
you immediately shook your head. "n-no.. he doesn't," you said. he chuckles. "he better be," he says, lowering his head. "you won't let him, right?" he whispers in your ears.
 
"no," you shortly said. "good girl," he said as he kissed your temple. "that's what i thought, hmm?" he smiled.
 
you nodded. with each second, you grew more desperate and needy for your best friend. all the signs of battling from your thoughts that he was just a friend disappeared. every word that leaves his mouth feels like music to your ears.
 
"i know you like me, y/n, so why don't you show how much you do?" he held your shoulders and sat you on the bed
"h-huh? right now?" you asked, confused. you held his arm and shook your head. "we can't.. your parents are downstairs." you whispered.
 
"let's just be quiet and quick," he said reassuringly. he gently kissed your neck down to your shoulders, your hands holding on to his shirt.
 
"wait—"
 
you said, stopping him from removing your shirt. halfway through it, he paused and looked at you. he can see that you were hesitant.. you were about to say something, but he cuts you. "don't you trust me? come on, y/n.. i'll take care of you. hmm? you'll love this," he confidently said, kissing your nose before completely removing your shirt.
 
he traces soft kisses on your shoulders, leaving soft marks. "trust me, okay?" he said softly. he cupped your clothed chest and massaged it softly before removing your bra. you blushed, feeling all shy and embarrassed.
 
"you're so pretty," he whispered, giving both of your chests equal attention, sucking and licking, leaving bite marks all over them.
 
he knelt on the bed and pushed you on the mattress, back touching the comfortable sheets. he rubbed his palm against your inner thighs. you're still wearing your denim shorts.
 
he was about to pull them down when you stopped him again, holding his arm. "wait—i don't think—" you were stopped when you met his eyes; his eyes are dark, staring into you. he seemed to be losing his patience now.
 
"don't act like you didn't do these with kai. Such a whore." his words hit like a brick as he pulled your shorts down. you rubbed your legs together, and you knew deep down that you didn't want this at all. but you can't do anything. you like him, and you trust him.
 
you bit your lips as you felt his finger rubbing your clothed sensitive spot. you've never felt this way before, not with your best friend.
 
you gasped when you felt him pull down your panty, revealing your wet core. he laughed softly when you covered your face embarrassingly.
 
"cute"
 
he said before completely diving into your wet entrance, covering your mouth to muffle your moans, the other hand gripping to his sheets.
 
"kids! dinner's ready!" your body froze as you heard his mom shout from downstairs. your brain is getting fuzzy. your eyes shut, you force yourself not to moan so hard.
 
"yeonjun," you moaned his name quietly, making him look up, his mouth still on your entrance. your eyes met, you could see how his jaws move up and down and the way he eats you out.
 
he groans, and he can tell that you're getting close. and he has a bad idea. as you were about to release, he removed his mouth from your core, your hips chasing his mouth. you whined at the sudden loss of pleasure. "junnie." you glanced at him, brows furrowed.
 
he chuckled at the view. he ran his fingers through his hair before lowering his sweatpants, just on his thigh. he took out his hard erection. you were about to say something but were stopped when you felt him rub his shaft against your wet pussy.
 
when he entered his shadt inside you, you couldn't help but whine. "hnggg!" you whine loud enough that both of you stopped at the same touch, eyes meeting with each other full of lust.
the surroundings were all quiet until you heard him chuckle, "keep quiet for me, y/n." he kissed your forehead and pushed himself deeper.
as he found his pace, he began thrusting fast enough that you could hear the bed creaking. your brows furrowed, hands on your mouth, and the other one is holding his arm.
you were so lost in pleasure, yet you remained conscious, forcing yourself not to release a sound.
"fuck. im near, fuck!" he groans. you shook your head. "please pull out," you said quietly.
the case is that he won't come unless you go first. he held it in and began thrusting harder and faster, hissing. "come on, cum for me," he said desperately.
you can feel yourself getting closer and closer until a wave of pleasure hits your body, making you moan out loud. yeonjun immediately covers your mouth and chuckles. "shh.. you're taking me so well," he says, still fucking you through your orgasm.
he closed his eyes and pulled out, exactly as his seed spurted out on your thigh.
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itsbubbleteataro · 1 month
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The Radio Host and The Reporter (pt 2)
Parings; Human!Alastor x Human!fem reader
Warnings; Alastor being Alastor. Murder, gore, stalking, cannibalism, drinking, sexism
Dw yall end up in hell......eventually
Pt one Pt three
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As you stepped out of the club into the swampy night air, you take a deep breath. Stretching your hands up to the moon with a soft groan you go ahead and step off into the night, walking towards your home.
Unknown to you however that you were being followed by two people. One being the very same politician she had written her very first story on. The second being Alastor, wanting to ensure that a fine woman such as yourself made it home safely.
With the occasional stumble you make your way down the street, turning right at the corner of where your home was. Alastor sucked in a breath, noticing the crude way the politician spoke about you under his breath. He had decided on his next victim.
*****
A few days later his voice rang through the airways,
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, it's me, Alastor yes it's a pleasure to be speaking to you all once again. Now onto today's news! About a year ago a story was written by this fella named "Roger" about how one of our own political figures was quite the abuser, leading to him losing his job. Well last night he has been reported missing! My what I wouldn't give to meet this Roger fella, he's got quite the talent."
Alastor could not help the smile that crossed his lips as he remembered the joy he had in slaying the poor sap. Watching the life leave his eyes after his blade had plunged into him. His mouth watered at just the mere thought of how wonderful a stew he had created with that man's heart.
As Alastor's show continued you sat at your table, notebook open as your pen dropped to your table with a soft clang.
Your story, your writing, your journalism had been brought up by THE Alastor. Your face split in half at the grin that crossed your features. Joy built up in your chest at the thought. A giggle breaking the steady sound of Alastor talking at the amusing thought that he had no idea it was even you who had done it. 
You stand up, knocking your chair over as you jump for joy, laughing as you take in all the praise. You then fix your chair and go back to working on your next story, a smile still across your face, deciding that in the evening you would go visit your favorite speakeasy again.
1922
You and Alastor had been meeting at Mimzy's speakeasy nightly for quite a few months now, each time leaving Alastor with more questions than answers.
Some foreign feeling had wormed its way into his heart, making it beat faster and faster whenever he was around you. To his dismay the feeling hung around even after he had sobered up. So he figured that on a fine autumn evening, to run himself an experiment.
He sauntered over to the table the two of you shared. Taking your hand in his he placed a gentle kiss upon your knuckles, raising his eyes to speak his greeting,
"Why good evening my dear (y/n) how are you doing on this evening?"
His advices made your cheeks burn with a blush. Alastor could have sworn his heart did a tumble seeing such a sight. Retracting your hand so Alastor could have a seat you give him a response,
"Oh right as rain Alastor. Truly. Although I have been quite bored at home. My pa won't even let me work at the family's company"
You respond with a sigh, taking a drink from your glass. As soon as you set your drink down, Alastor grabs your hand.
"Then let me take your mind off of things, come join me for a dance?"
Without a second thought you let him drag you to the dance floor. The two of you spin and dance for what seems like hours on end, the entire time, a smile never leaving your face.
While on the dance floor, Alastor pulled you close for a moment,
"Say Cher, you say you've nothing to do, so how about I take you out tomorrow afternoon?"
Laughing you give your response,
"Oh Alastor, I'd love to!"
Giggling like gossiping school children, the two of you take your seats again, finishing your drinks before paying, and finally letting Alastor walk you home.
Walking arm and arm, chatting the night away as Alastor walks you home. Well not exactly chatting, more of Alastor talking about who knows what, and you listening in gaining information on his likes and dislikes.
In turn, you shared that you quite enjoy Barbershop quintets and swing music. Before long, Alastor and you had arrived at door. Letting go of your arm you take your key out of your small bag and fumble with the lock for a moment before pushing open the door. You turn around to face Alastor,
"Thank you for walking me home Alastor. Please take care tonight, I hear all kinds of men are disappearing into thin air!" 
With that you walk into your home, closing the door behind you. You take your shoes off before placing your hands on your cheeks feeling them heat up with blush at the thought of going on a date with Alastor.
"Oh hush up your emotions girl, you ain't in love. He ain't either. You were the one who told the fib about you being stuck in the house all day, now you gotta follow through"
You shook your head as you head to your room to get yourself ready for bed.
Meanwhile Alastor chuckled to himself as he walked away from your door. He found it amusing that you worried for his safety, not knowing he was the one behind all the missing persons.
Wearing his signature smile (your never fully dressed without one) he made his way to his cabin on the edge of the bayou. He thought about his impromptu proposal of a date and found a familiar feeling start to warm his heart.
Walking into his cabin and taking off his coat and shoes he glared at nothing in particular. He wasn't sure if he liked the feeling or not. The way he felt as if his heart was lighter when you smiled at him. The way your laugh sounded like bells in the wind to him.
In his mind only one woman mattered, his mother, so why did he find his thoughts starting to become consumed by you?
He sighed running a hand through his hair that had already started to return to its naturally curly state. He needed a hunt. Nothing like a good hunt to clear his mind of any and all distractions.
He gained a sinister smile at the thought of a hunt, so that evening he went ahead and did just that, crossing another person off his list and ridding New Orleans of someone he thought to be inferior.
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hsgucci94 · 7 months
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Heartbroken
Summary: Harry doesn’t want his lifestyle to affect Y/N so he only has one card left under his sleeve, and it involves breaking up.
Part 3 of His weakness, a mafia!harry short story.
Read previous parts:
Part 1 | Part 2
by no means I’m trying to romanticise this lifestyle, it’s pure fiction x
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“You better not be trying to get rid of me right now,” Y/N joked, but when she didn’t get the response she was looking for out of him, she frowned, moving her hands away from his face and using them to hug her torso instead. As if she could protect herself from whatever was coming next.
His countenance stayed as stern as it was when speaking his last two sentences, and she was starting to think he actually meant them.
“Harry-"
"Tell me you haven't thought about how different your life would be if I wasn’t in it," he cut her off. "Tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind to leave me behind and get away from all this shit, from all my shit," he moved one of his hands up to her cheek and caressed it slowly. "Tell me, baby, I won't get angry at you. I could never. You had a lot of free time to think while recovering, I bet you thought about us, and how I won't get you nowhere good."
She stressed her frown, taking in everything he had just said to her. Why would she have thought about any of that? Wasn’t he listening when she told him a moment ago how grateful she was for everything he had done for her these past weeks?
“Are you breaking up with me?” Her voice cracked, “‘S that why you’ve been so good to me? To soften the blow?”
“No,” he hastened to add, “None of that, sweetheart.” He let out a sigh and and closed his eyes afterwards.
“I don't get it then,” she harshly replied, pissed at him, herself and the goddamned conversation they were having out of nowhere, “One minute you tell me you can't live without me and the next you’re encouraging me to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave me. But I don’t want you to stay if you’re not sure either.”
“Sure about what, Harry?” She was exasperated.
“Sure about us, baby,” he spoke in a soft tone still.
“I am sure, are you? Because I get the feeling it’s you who doesn’t want me around anymore.”
“Y/N…”
“No, Harry.” She gulped, inhaling through her nose a few times before getting up from his lap and turning her back to him, too overwhelmed, “I’ll go sleep in the guest room. Good night.” Her voice muffled.
The moment Y/N closed the door behind her, Harry put his hands on his head, pulling at his hair in frustration.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned, infuriated with himself for being like that, so dumb and insecure when it came to her.
All his brilliant qualities, those that turned him into a witty and elusive criminal, numbed whenever she was involved.
He would have put up a fight for her to sleep next to him regardless of his stupidity hadn’t he known her well enough to understand she needed some time on her own after he practically doubted the love she had for him.
He knew her feelings were genuine, as sincere as his were for her, but that was the main issue: he was scared. He didn’t know how to move forward from there. He had never before been in a relationship as serious as that one; he had never cared for anyone as much as he did for her, but he knew that no matter how good she was for him, he would only end up burying her up in his misery one way or another. The night Y/N was attacked kept on playing on his mind whenever it got the chance, making him shudder in fear just by thinking how much worse it all could have turned out.
Instead of some pretty bad looking wounds and a couple of broken ribs, it could have been her death body laid on the dark pavement for him to find it the following day.
That illusion alone gave him chills.
Everyone knew the six-feet tall and dark-haired British man didn’t fear anything, except losing her for good. She now had the chance to get away from him and move on, he was leading her the way out of all his bullshit. As much as it would pain Harry to let her go, a part of him wanted her to leave him and don’t look back. The other, however, was just too selfish to let any other man have such a diamond in the rough. Because that was what she had become. His most precious relic.
So he was conflicted with himself wether it was best to keep her or let her go.
Some time later he walked to the bathroom, where he picked up on his previous activity and brushed his teeth. Then he stripped off his clothes and walked to the bed. He tossed the duvet open and slid on his side, sighing heavily when he felt the cold and emptiness of a solitary body surrounding him. The bed that had always been cozy and warm enough for him, now felt harsh and uncomfortable without her body pressed to his.
He switched off the lights of the room and only kept on the lamp on his nightstand, which set the room in a much night-like scene. But even though he was supposed to close his eyes and get some sleep, his mind wouldn’t give him a rest. He could only think about her, about how hurt she felt when he spoke, and only prayed she hadn’t started crying as soon as she left his sight. The simple thought of her tears running down her flushed cheeks broke his heart.
He clenched his jaw, cursing himself.
His eyes wandered around the bedroom, and soon ended up on what had now became her nightstand. That piece of furniture had no special use before she came into his life. Now it was the drawer she used the most. It was where she kept all her valuables, such as her wallet or glasses cases, anything she couldn’t afford to buy a second time until it got broken or unusable. She also liked to keep there her current read and the medication she was taking for her treatment.
Her medication.
As soon as realisation hit him, Harry got up and walked to his bathroom, where he filled a glass of water and went back to the room. He opened the drawer and took out the small plastic container with the remaining pills in it before heading to where she was sleeping.
Even though Y/N liked to roll her eyes at him and tease him about how he never listened to her whenever he forgot some minor details about something she had previously mentioned, he did. He did listen to her. He might not always remember what she said, but he always tried to pay attention. So even if Y/N had told him a couple of hours before that she was feeling much better and didn’t need to take her medication as often, he didn’t want her to wake up in the middle of the night in pain and not have it near.
Being as cautious as possible, he entered the room where she was peacefully resting. Her features were relaxed and her lips slightly parted, and he couldn’t help but smile at such beautiful view.
He crossed the room in silence and left her pills on the nightstand next to her, before turning around to leave. He would have swore he had been absolutely discreet, but his sneaky steps and calculated movements were not enough to ovoid waking her up.
Y/N’s eyes opened and widened as soon as she noticed a big dark shadow moving around in the room. She was way too sleepy to distinguish who it was, so her first instinct was to scream.
Someone had entered the house and was there to hurt her once again.
She quickly got out of the bed, ready to grab the doorknob and run for her life, but two strong arms grabbed her.
“Shh, baby. Shh, it’s me, it’s just me. I’m here, I’m right here,” Harry spoke in a rush, pulling her to his chest. Her screams faded the moment she felt his skin against her, his arms wrapping around her back, securing her. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Y/N’s hands gripped his biceps anxiously, inhaling and exhaling a few times trying to get her breathing back to normal. “Shit,” she mumbled, her heart still beating hard against her chest while it echoed through her ears, “Shit, Harry.”
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said again, soothing her with small strokes on her back.
He pitched his lips in a thin line afterwards, processing what got her so terrified so suddenly. No one, and he meant no one, would get the chance to touch her after that night. He could promise her that, and wouldn’t get tired of assuring her so over and over again. He knew she was still scared of people showing up out of the blue to attack her, but he made her a promise to keep her safe above anything, and he was a man of his word. “I increased surveillance on this house and I have eyes on you at all times. You know that, right?” His words were stern, but his tone warm and calming.
“I know,” she mumbled, closing her eyes shut as if by doing so she could forget the fear she had previously experienced when, for a moment, she really thought they came back to hurt her.
She knew such thoughts were just her mind playing tricks on her because Harry had already got rid of those who assaulted her. She found about it when she mistakenly read one of his text messages a few weeks back. But still, she knew there were tons of bad guys out there ready to get a grip on her just to try get to him.
He was a mafia leader, after all.
It was inevitable.
“Y/N, look at me,” Harry caught her attention a few seconds later. She didn’t break her hold on him nor signalled she had heard him. “I need you to look at me.”
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Part 4 coming soon
Please, like & share if you liked it? it’ll help so much 🥺✨thanks!! x
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madhatterbri · 2 months
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It All Fell Down | D.P. Part 2
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Summary: The fallout costs Damian and Y/N their relationship.
Author's Note: Saw him last night after Smackdown in the last dark match. He went against Jey Uso. 😮‍💨 so fine.
It All Fell Down Part 1 | Damian Priest List | Main List
"Are you ready for our match tomorrow?" Rhea asked happily. She sat next to you at the hotel bar. The two of you decided to go late that night to avoid people calling her Mami that night.
You sat on the stool fixated on the bartender as he counted money from the register. Your mind so far in space, it was like you were visiting ET in his home land. All you could think about was Damian and the look on his face when you broke up with him. A nudge to your arm brought you back down to Earth.
"You okay? Is it a full moon? I swear between Damian ignoring my texts about us being here and you being a bloody space cadet tonight, it's like I'm stuck in the twilight zone," Rhea complained and took another drink.
"Damian isn't going to come," you whispered. Guilt ate at you, and you bit your lip.
"Why? Is he feeling sick?" Rhea pressed.
You were unsure if you should tell her and leave it up to Damian, but she was your friend too. "We broke up,"
"What? When?" She asked and scrolled through her messages. Rhea wondered if she missed anything in her chats with Damian. Tonight was the only night that something was off.
"About three hours ago," you answered. You frowned and started to cry. The pain was worse than you could have ever thought possible with dating someone for a few weeks. He was with you for everything. It felt like a dream, but now you were living a nightmare.
"What happened?" She asked and rubbed your back. You cleared your throat and told your side of the story.
💜🖤
You first thought about breaking up with Damian the night Finn found out. Continuing the relationship felt like a dig at Finn. The way he looked at the two of you lived in your mind rent-free. Every time you closed your eyes, you can see his hurt face. Damian convinced you that things would get better and decided not to split.
The relationship was going strong until you finally cornered Finn to talk to you. It was in an elevator, and it was a happy chance. He tried to ignore you, but you cornered him. Finally, he let you have all of it.
He didn't appreciate your broken promise to him or Damian for almost letting Finn ask you for another chance. The betrayal of you two sneaking around instead of telling him was brought up. Now, he was upset because you messed with his career. That conversation made you feel worse. You knew what you had to do.
"Break up? Take it easy. Finn will eventually come around to us," the archer of infamy shrugged. His arms crossed over his chest as you sat at the foot of the bed. Your hands rubbed together nervously.
"No, he won't," your voice cracked. "This was all a mistake. I cost us our friendship to Finn,"
"Our relationship is many things, but it is not a mistake," he defended. "Why are you so willing to throw us away for a man having a temper tantrum?"
"I'm not throwing us away, Dam. We are just going back to being friends," you tried to explain. You knew it would be hard to break up with him, but you never expected such a fight. He told you he didn't know if he could just be friends with you.
The argument didn't get much better from there. There was no yelling, but there was a lot of hurt. Finally, he threw his hands in the air and took a few steps back. There was no changing your mind about all of this.
Before he left your hotel room, he turned to look at you. "I love you, Y/N. I just wish that would have been enough for us,"
💜🖤
The air in the bar was thick. Rhea bit her lip and contemplated on what to say next. All this drama had gone on long enough. For the most part, everyone kept it professional, and it was contained between you and Judgment Day.
"It's late. Why don't you get some sleep? I want you to be good for tomorrow. Here, I will help walk you to your room," Rhea offered. You gladly took her up on her offer. She helped get you settled back in and left.
She stood outside your door and grabbed her phone. Finn's name lit up her phone screen. She hit the message button.
"You and I need to talk," the message simply stated. She hit send and waited for his response.
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a-aexotic · 1 year
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half & half. part 005. previous
warnings ;
taglist: @steveharringtonswifey09 @starkeysmp4 @mannstarkey @readingbcimlonely
Last night was a complete haze for you, you couldn't even process it because you had to get up to work. Work was going like usual, customer after customer.
You were pretty much a like zombie trying to get through work. You hadn't even drank a single cup of coffee and you felt like you were there. You couldn't even think straight because of your head pounding.
You didn't get much sleep last night; there was too much going on in your head. JJ, Rafe, Sarah, the Pogues, your job, college. Your mind was on a loop until the early morning. Summer was supposed to be relaxing and right now, it felt like anything but relaxing.
When you were finally done at the country club at 4:30 pm, you glad took your leave and started driving home. These past few nights have been insanely eventful and you just wanted some time alone.
You came home, ate, showered (and shaved), lathered your skin up in your favorite lotion and topped it all off with a cute pink night set you got. You went into bed and sighed at the warm feeling, turning on your TV and turned on your LEDs.
You turned on your comfort show and watched for about five minutes before, almost comically, someone knocked on your window.
You wanted to face palm yourself. You almost thought you misheard it until you heard it again. Of course the universe wouldn't let you have on peaceful night.
You put on your slippers and went to the window. You weren't completely surprised to see JJ standing there, an apologetic look on his face.
You opened the window to let him in and you stood there, arms crossed as he closed the window after him. You both stood there in silence for a few seconds before he spoke up.
"I wanted come here and say I'm sorry." JJ finally spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper. "I said things I shouldn't have and I know I hurt you, but I am sorry. It won't happen again." He looked like a hurt puppy, looking up at you.
"It's fine."
"No, it's not. When Pope said you were going to apologize-"
"Wait, what?"
He stopped and thought for a second, "Shit. Uh..."
"I'll deal with Pope another time." You felt like an overworked mother with four annoying little brats you had to deal with. "Continue."
"I'm sorry, Y/N. I just say stupid shit when I'm angry."
"Yeah you do." She said flatly, as JJ pursed his lips tightly. You let out a sigh, "do you really think I nag you?"
JJ looked a deer caught in headlights before shaking his head slowly.
"Be honest, JJ."
"Sometimes. I mean you act more like my mother than my sister sometimes and yeah, it does get a little annoying..."
You wanted to get angry but you couldn't. This is healthy communication, you kept repeating in your head.
JJ noticed your silence, "I still love you though. I know you mean well."
Your lips moved upwards slightly into a small smile. "I love you, too."
JJ smiled at you, realizing he had finally gotten on your good side once again.
You opened your arms for a hug and he gladly walked up to you, embracing you tightly. He basked in your warmth and your familiar perfume; you hadn't changed your signature smell since freshman year.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Y/N/N. How am I going to survive?"
"I'll still be with you in spirit, JJ." You guys separated. "And you can always call or Facetime, I'm not dead."
He laughed. "Yeah, but it's still not going to be the same."
You shook your head, "Let's not think about this now, okay?"
He nodded slightly, a smile still evident on his tanned face.
"You wanna watch a movie?"
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Rafe had been in his room all day trying to figure what his feelings meant. He has never been so conflicted in his entire life, especially over feelings towards a girl.
Well, he wouldn't call you just a girl. If someone asked him a month ago how he felt about you, that about sums it up. You were just a girl to him but that all changed the night you had found him on that beach.
No one has ever done anything so selfless for him. You could've left him there on the beach and he wouldn't have even remembered it. But you went out of your way to help him. Not only help him, but actually take care of him.
The day after you had saved him, he woke up and he just looked at you for a few minutes, trying to process how everything that had happened. He'd only just remember the last few hours of the night, the rest was a blur.
The only thing that stuck out to him was his newfound feelings. When he looked at you, his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his body in the best way imaginable as he remembered the night before.
He never looked at you the same after that day. You weren't just a girl; you weren't just one of Sarah's friends anymore, you were more than that now. And that scared Rafe.
He'd never felt that way about anyone in a while. He was sure that he'd never felt this way ever because of how foreign it felt.
When he saw you downtown that night when that man was bothering you, it was like a instinct to go and help you. He had to make sure nothing happened to you now, because you were his savior. It wasn't even about owing it to you, it was just what felt most natural to him.
He had never been more confused. Did he like you? And if he did, how would he be able to show it without coming off weird? His mind raced, what was he going to do about you?
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maplleaf · 2 years
Text
"Act Professional"
Al-Haitham x gn!Reader (small spoilers about chapter 3 Sumeru Archon Quest, written in 3.0 before the story of 3.1)
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In Sumeru, information is the key for everything. Researches need information for their papers. Eremites needs as reliable information as possible to complete their tasks without risk. The whole foundation of Sumeru's title as "The City of Wisdom" is based on information that the previous Archon and her citizens found.
It's the same for Al-Haitham. As much of a genius he is, his name and face is known both outside and within the Akademiya. Therefore gathering certain information can be tricky at times.
That's where you came in.
You're not a genius like Al-Haitham, but you are capable of having more inside connections than him. Being an informant has its perks.
Whether it's the Eremites, merchants, Akademiya scholars; you'll give any information they need for the sake of a paycheck, and for Archon's sake does it pay well.
Al-Haitham became aware of you from a rumor that spreads a year ago; "An informant that could tell you what you need with proof." As a man of rationale, he knew that having connections with an informant such as that would do him well.
It would be a lie to say that you don't interest him beyond your professional relationship; your latest meeting as something that he couldn't get out of his mind.
And so he became one if your regulars. Granted, finding out how to be your client is a difficult task; almost as difficult as becoming Dori's customers. Fortunately, the hard work pays off as you gave him any information and proof that he needs.
______
"My favorite client! What do you need today, pretty boy?" you called out. Teasing Al-Haitham with nicknames seems to be your favorite hobby everytime you two meet.
Al-Haitham cut to the chase, numbed to your teasing. "The words 'world...forget me,' does it seem familiar to you?"
You pondered for a moment, "not that i know of, though for a special pay I can find intel on it." You gave him a smile only merchants seeing a business opportunity could give.
Al-Haitham thought about it for a moment, "seven-hundred thousand mora, with evidence."
You faked a sad tone, "We've been working together for months and you can't trust based on my words alone? I am incredibly hurt."
After receiving an unimpressed look from Al-Haitham, you waved off his cold nature, "loosen up would you? Even Kaveh and I have more chemistry."
You stepped away from behind the building, a place that wouldn't catch other people's eyes. "I'll get it done as soon as I can. Better have my payment ready after."
_______
Meetings between the two of you usually goes that way; you tease him, Al-Haitham requests what he needs, one of you offer the payment, and you leave. The mention of his roommate is what's been bothering him.
Al-Haitham operates solely on rationality, he doesn't see any reason why he would be bothered by the mention of Kaveh. No, he definitely didn't glare at his poor roommate this morning, and the morning before. He's just in a bad mood these past few days.
It didn't help that he can't mention you to Kaveh to ask him. The deal between you and your clients is that they can't mention you, for the sake of your business' safety.
When Al-Haitham received a letter about your the next meeting time and location, his swinging moods seems to change for the positive. Kaveh is silently thanking the Gods for that.
Al-Haitham met up with you within the following days, this time inside a hidden café near Sumeru City. You were already there when he arrived, sitting cross-legged as you waited for him.
As he sat down, you begin to speak. "Nice place right? Better than behind a run down building," you started. The decorations of the café is classy for a hidden one, Al-Haitham began to grow weary. "Don't worry, I know the owners. They won't do anything."
"That's reassuring," Al-Haitham took notice that you don't have any sort of items with you, or something that could be described as evidence.
"Let's get straight to business," he started, making you chuckle.
"As stern as usual," you commented. "I couldn't find any physical evidence and the source said that they wouldn't come. So I'll say that the price would be decreased to.... around two-hundred thousand."
It's bad for business, you knew that. But even an informant like you have your own morals when it comes to selling intel.
"'World...forget me,' is coming from Irminsul. A God is related to it, about what God specifically no one knows," your past few days' research only came to that. Getting intel about a recently berserk Mizri and a strange blonde traveler with the flying mascot is hard, even if it's only two sources.
Despite the lack of supporting information, Al-Haitham seems pleased. "That's good enough, pleasure doing business with you again, (y/n)." He slid the bag of mora that you're owed, though sliding a second one right after.
"Although, I have one more question," you're confused, Al-Haitham usually leaves right when business is over. Not even sparing a moment for you to make small talk. Though it would be a lie to say you're not amused at the change.
"And that would be?"
"What's your relationship with Kaveh?"
You wanted to laugh, though kept it to yourself. You remember mentioning Kaveh at your last meeting, honestly it's adorable how a genius like Al-Haitham would be bothered by a meaningless comment.
"Oh? Using our professional relationship to ask such a private question?" You smirked, trying to prolong a feeling of superiority over Al-Haitham. You even moved closer, arms on the table as you leaned over to him.
"You did take the payment, (y/n)," Al-Haitham pointed out. He kept his composure, much to your disappointment.
You let out a chuckle, placing your finger under Al-Haitham's chin to make his head look up. You satisfy your sadistic needs by looking up at him. Al-Haitham began to sweat involuntarily. He held an unbothered, or even annoyed look. Though inside, he feels his heart racing the more his informant continue.
You took notice almost instantly, somehow being able to move your mouth directly next to his ear.
"Act professional, Al-Haitham."
You stepped right back after, an innocent smile appearing instantly. With your needed payment and an added bonus, both monetary wise and to tease your favorite client, you're completely satisifed today.
"I've only worked with Kaveh once, and i didn't like him enough to be included as my regulars."
And with that you walked away, oh so innocently.
Unfortunately you purposefully left the internally confused and flustered Al-Haitham. Such a rare moment you wishes you had brought your kamera...
_________________
First time writing a fic solely bc I'm hungry for al haitham content
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silence-burns · 1 year
Text
Midnight Snack
Fandom: James Bond movies
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Q scratched his cheek and paused—he had oil on his fingers. He sighed, but didn't move to wipe it off. He was alone in the lab, like most days, and the chances of anyone dropping by in the middle of the night were slim.
He should’ve gone home hours ago, but the prospect of being faced with familiar dull walls and a silence broken only by the few meows of his cats wasn’t enticing. The downpour of rain and perpetually gray skies had put his cats into an almost hibernating state these past few days. His habit of playing with them before bed was put on hold, but he didn’t blame the cats—he understood, the past few days had been rough on him too.
Although it may have seemed it, Q wasn't a fanatic at his job. He appreciated the stability and various opportunities it provided him with, but he preferred to leave it behind once his shift was over. 
He noticed midnight passing a few minutes ago, the clock one of the few sounds in his lab. He should've gone home, but his mind would be able to wander there, towards things that would only bring more pain. He’d had enough of sleepless nights leaving him more exhausted than when he’d laid down. 
In the lab, he could at least be productive.
Q pulled the mechanism further apart. Being productive was a great thing while working for MI6, as it divided the few outstanding employees from the masses. It should've been a good thing to have those employees rewarded with new opportunities, right? 
Even when it meant taking them away.
Q tossed the screwdriver onto the desk with a clank. His chest hurt again. He couldn't be free from those thoughts even in his own lab.
He leaned over his desk, forehead resting on his crossed arms. The main principles of working at a place like this had always seemed so simple to him. Do your job. Keep your eyes and ears open. Don't get attached to anyone.
He had failed, rather spectacularly, at the last point.
The elevator doors opened with a ding that echoed sharply in the silent lab. Q wiped his face vigorously, trying to wipe away any sign of what had been bothering him. The last thing he needed was questions he didn't want answered.
Q froze when he noticed it was you who entered. His eyes jumped to the bruises and cuts on your face. Only then did he notice a cake in your hands. 
“You look like shit,” you said, nodding to the grayish smudges on his face.
“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” Q raised his eyebrows. “Did you get run over by a truck?”
“A taxi.”
“Should've called an Uber.”
“I'll be smarter next time. Care to join me?”
Q followed you to a cozy corner behind the shelves where the two of you had hidden a few chairs and a set of colorful lights over the last couple of years. Somehow, it turned into storage for all the things you might need while avoiding responsibilities during your breaks. It was better than going back to the more official part of the building.
Q sat down next to you, wondering how many of those trinkets you'd take with you after your promotion.
The cake looked pretty, although a little beaten down. He wondered where you got it in the middle of the night. Last he checked, bakeries in the area closed during the evening.
He took the offered fork. 
"This place is going to feel emptier without you. When are you leaving?"
"Technically my plane is in a few hours, since we've already crossed midnight."
"A shame. Good choice for breakfast, though." Q made a small salute with the fork.
"I'm a genius, I know. Whatever will you do without me?"
"Probably finish my projects faster, since there won't be anyone breaking the test versions."
You gasped dramatically. "How rude, my dearest Quartermaster! I was only making sure they would adapt to field conditions."
“Just like your face did? Those are going to be some magnificent bruises by the time you get to the airport. You will surely make a grand entrance.”
You shrugged, leaning back in your armchair. It creaked loudly, always one wrong move away from completely breaking down, but you got used to it so much it felt like the most comfortable place in the world. For many years it was, after all.
The cake was half gone, but you barely tasted it. Q seemed too engrossed by whatever thoughts made his brows furrow to notice all the crumbles landing on his vest. He made quick progress on the cheap cake, despite it not being up to his usual tastes. It's a strange thing, how much you can learn about a person throughout a few short years, starting with the way they leave for home and ending in their favorite flavors of cake.
“I'm sure they would've been charmed by my endless grace and wit, but they will have to live the rest of their sorry lives without it.” 
It took Q a while before he turned to face you, almost choking on the fork. “Am I missing something?”
You chuckled, stealing the last bite of cake. Somehow, it tasted better than the rest.
"You'd miss me a lot if I took that position, so I've decided to stay. For someone so intelligent, you really are dumb sometimes, my dear Quartermaster."
Q looked at the empty box and at the fork. For the first time in the last few weeks, his head was positively, completely empty. 
"You're such an asshole," finally came out of his mouth.
"I know."
"I hope another taxi uses your face as a parking lot."
"I'm sure you'd make a video out of—"
Q's hand found the side of your face, wrapping gently around your cheek and smearing oil over it. But it was only a fleeting concern, and was soon gone when he pulled you close and firmly put his lips against yours.
Once he pulled back, Q took in your dazed expression with a satisfied smile. “Glad to have you back, agent.”
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delopsia · 1 year
Text
Flowers In November (1/4) Rhett x Reader
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Word Count: 12,705 ♡‧₊˚ AO3 Cross-Post ♡⊹˚₊ Flowers In November Masterlist₊˚⊹♡ Warnings: Fem!Reader. Briefly mentioned abusive relationships (not involving reader), improper disposal of a horse's corpse, l-bombs, oral sex, physical and verbal altercations, blood, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of a firearm, lying to a police officer, multiple mentions of food and cooking. Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊
Flowers.
No matter where you go, whether it be the big, bustling concrete city or the vast, unforgiving pastures of your hometown, there have always been flowers—poking out from cracks in the sidewalk, dancing like fairies in unkempt lawns and waving daintily from their pots and planters.
But you think this is the first time you've ever seen something quite like this.
When you'd gone to bed last night, the backyard had been green grass for as far as the eye could see. All was normal, not a singular sign to be found that you would wake up to this.
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"I've never seen so many flowers in my life," your mother muses from where she stands in front of the sliding door, "and yet, not a single purple flower to be found."
At first glance, you'd thought they were Autumn leaves, freshly fallen from the old Oaks along the tree line, but those trees shed their leaves weeks ago. Overnight, flowers have decorated every inch of your yard just days before December's start. Coming in all possible variations of red, orange, and yellow.
"Would you mind filling a basket of them for me?" She asks, already reaching for the wicker basket she's just put away, "I reckon we could make a beautiful Autumn wreath out of these."
"Sure," picking flowers sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than packing belongings into cardboard boxes and loading them onto a Uhaul.
You don't think you've actually seen her make a wreath out of live flowers before, but again, you can't argue with such a deal. Not when your shoulders ache from days of hauling everything your family owns from place to place.
It would have been so much easier to hire a moving company.
"Do you want the basket to be completely filled?" You question, just to be sure.
"Please," folding up an old flyer for the local raffle. If you'd guessed three-hundred forty instead of three-hundred ninety, maybe she'd have the leather necklace printed on that paper, "keep an eye out for some purple ones, too."
Can't be too hard, can it?
Sliding your headphones up over your ears, you step outside, basket in tow. For as beautiful as it looks, it sure doesn't feel like it.
Frighteningly chilly wind nips at your neck as you walk across the yard, seeking the perfect spot to settle down in. The more you think about it, the more you realize that this is really, truly, weird.
This many flowers, three days before December starts?
Even the pasture in the front yard is full of them; from the looks of it, so are the lots all around you. An endless sea of flowers with absolutely no business showing up as abruptly as this.
You wonder if they'll come back like this in the spring.
A part of you wishes that you could be here just in case that day comes, wake up to a magical sea of brightly colored flowers marking winter's end. But that won't be happening. Not if the brightly colored for sale sign at the end of the driveway has anything to do with it.
Right by the treeline, you find the old tree stump, still stained from all those times you painted it when you were a kid. It's uncomfortable sitting on, but it's better than sitting directly in the flowers themselves.
Drowning your thoughts with the music from your headphones, you get to work. Picking flowers with the longest stems and placing them neatly in your basket.
This isn't how you pictured your gap semester from college going.
The plan was to come back home and take it easy for a few months, pick up a job waitressing at the local mom-and-pop diner, something simple until you could get over your rapidly worsening burnout. But your mom has her heart set on selling your childhood home and moving closer to the city, and that's a process that has had you working for months.
You never truly realize how many things need to be fixed in a house until someone comes in to appraise it. Replace this, replace that, so you'll finally get an offer worth accepting.
But it doesn't work. You've practically renovated this entire house, and not a soul has made an offer. You don't want to see the house sell, but Lord, is it frustrating, working your ass off, only for it to add up to a whole bunch of nothing.
At the end of the day, many people want to avoid buying a property with a not-so-pleasant history. A handful of times, your mother has mentioned that all this land belonged to a single family. Their daughter, the sole inheritor, disappeared in a storm. Your folks bought this place shortly after the final member of the family passed.
"How's it going?"
The sudden appearance of your mother has you jumping out of your skin, your heart rising into your throat.
"Baskets nearly full," you chirp, sliding your headphones down until they rest around your neck, "not seeing any purple, though."
She hums, reaching down to sift through what you've collected. To be honest, you hardly remember picking half of these. How long have you been out here?
"Well, I hate to interrupt you," she muses, still rummaging through the basket, "but dinner's ready."
Alright, so you've been out here for a little while.
It starts to rain the moment you step inside the house. It feels as if the clouds had been waiting for you to get out of dodge, the storm appearing just as quickly as the flowers had. The wind howls as it whips around the corners of the house, angry and threatening to break through even the tiniest of entryways.
Storms around this part of Wyoming are common. Usually, they don't last any longer than twenty minutes, but it only worsens. The wind only grows louder, buckets upon buckets of rain coming down in thick, white sheets that seem to wrap around the house, blanketing the outside world from view.
You're washing dishes, gazing out the window just in front of the sink, when you notice something bouncing around in the lawn.
"Is that an animal?" Thinking aloud, you lean closer to the glass, squinting. No, animals don't move like that.
Shit.
Swearing, you reach for the towel, dying your hands as you rush toward the door, "I forgot the flowers outside!"
That's what it is. Your mom's favorite wicket basket is bouncing around the lawn, back and forth, being whipped around by the wind like a ball.
Without much thought, you pull the sliding door open, and immediately the cold wind starts to painfully nip at your skin with its frigid teeth. It's only worse as you step outside; the tiny raindrops feel like needles as they batter you, but you can't let that old basket be blown away.
You can hardly see, stumbling blindly as you chase the silhouette of that tumbling basket, but the wind is making a game out of keeping it from you. Whenever you think you've got it, the wind picks up, ripping it away.
But the wind slows a bit, and in a last-ditch effort, you jump on the basket the moment you've seen your chance. Your foot catches on a patch of mud, and your back hits the ground with a painful thump.
But you've got the basket. It's mostly empty now, but you've got it.
All your collected flowers are probably miles down the road by now, blowing into who knows where. So much for making a wreath with them. Swearing under your breath, you push yourself back up, fumbling for purchase on the muddy ground, some kind of leverage to help you onto your feet.
"Huh?"
There, right in front of you, lies a dainty purple flower. Remarkably short, its petals fluttering in the wind. No wonder you hadn't found any.
It should be easy to pluck from the ground, but it's not.
No, the damn thing will not so much as budge from its spot in the ground. You change hands, supposing that one is weaker than the other, but it barely moves. Come on; this can't be that hard. Using both hands, you take hold of the flower's tiny stem and pull.
Just like that, the flower plucks from the ground, leaving a dark hole in its former resting place. Strange.
With the flower safely tucked into the basket, alongside the ones that have survived the wind's torment, you try to get up.
But that hole...it's starting to...grow larger?
You think it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but no, it's—that hole is getting bigger. Beneath you, your legs become nothing but jelly, near useless, as you slip around on the muddy ground, fumbling for footing.
One foot catches traction; you've almost got it, you've almost—
the ground disappears out from under your feet,
and you
fall.
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You don't know how long you fall for.
Everything around you is pitch black, a blanket of darkness wrapped around you so tightly that you can barely tell if your eyes are open or closed. The sour bubbling in your bones is the only indication you have that you're moving at all. You've become weightless, fluttering through the air like a discarded feather.
All of a sudden, a strong gust of wind hits you from behind. Now, it feels like you're moving back up, like someone's just flipped this hole upside down.
Where in the world are you? Are you halfway down to the center of the Earth, or are you somewhere else entirely?
A twinge of light appears in the distance.
It's faint, but it's there, and it's growing larger. You can't quite tell if you're moving toward it or if it's moving toward you. But it grows bigger and bigger, rapidly hurtling towards you until all you can see is a blinding light as it engulfs you.
All you see is a dark sky, but then, like a quarter, the world around you flips, and all you see is green as you come crashing down into it with a painful thunk. The impact is strong enough to knock the air from your lungs. It feels like someone's picked you up and thrown you against the ground.
Miraculously, your basket still contains its flowers, the tattered handle clenched in your weak hand. Your only sign that you just popped out of a...
...hole that has seemingly disappeared.
No, no, no, none of this is right. Where are you?
Instead of being once again surrounded by your childhood stomping grounds, all you can see is endless pasture hills. It's dark, still raining, but you can see enough to know that you've never been here before.
The ground squelches below your muddy shoes as you slowly stand. White-hot fire shoots up your right ankle as soon as you put weight on it. It doesn't look broken, but it's hard to tell when every bone in your trembling body aches.
There's movement up on the hill.
A woman. You can't see much of her, but her blonde hair is easy to spot as it flows in the wind, waving like a flag behind her. It seems she's seen you, too, because she's coming toward you.
"Hello?" You call out, shielding your eyes from the rain, "ma'am?"
She yells something back to you. Intelligible, borderline a shriek. No, that doesn't sound like the voice of someone coming to help.
"No, no, no!" She wails, "you don't belong here! You don't belong here!"
You have no time to question it. All you have time for is to turn and run.
Every step hurts. Your feet struggle to maintain traction as you race across the slick ground, left foot sputtering out from beneath you with every stride.
You don't know where you're going. You can't see anything. It's all pitch black and silvery raindrops and green grass, and you can't figure out how close this woman is getting to you. Her voice grows louder and louder with each passing step, chanting incoherently; how you don't belong here; this isn't right.
Lightning strikes the ground, lighting up the world around you.
There's a fence in front of you, the silver gate already halfway open. However, there's a black dot just beyond that. You haven't the slightest clue what it is, but you'll take anything over the woman that's rapidly gaining on you.
Come on, come on, come on, you're almost there.
Something heavy hits you from behind, and for the umpteenth time, you hit the ground with a painful thunk.
"You!" Her voice is so loud that your ears feel like they're going to bleed. Silver glints in the dark as you squirm, legs kicking out as you try to get back up. But she's faster than you, climbing up on top of you as that sharp silver glistens. Your nails find purchase on her scalp, clawing at a raised scar. It doesn't faze her. "You don't belong here!"
Black flickers across your vision, and just as quickly as she'd climbed on top of you, she's knocked off, landing flat on her back. She's still yelling, chanting the same thing over and over, but her voice is drowned out by a deeper one that booms through the dark like thunder.
Your throbbing ankle crumples out from under you as you try to stand, leaving you frantically scooting backward. Away from that girl. Away from whoever was crazy enough to go after her. No, no, no, you've just backed into the fence.
...and the fence steps out from behind you?
It's a horse. Black in color, concealed near perfectly by the blanket of the night. She steps out from behind you, feet dancing dangerously close to your face as she does so, and then she turns and...
It's enough of a sight to make you momentarily power through the pain biting at your nerves. Rising to your feet, you stumble for the open gate, each step feeling like it'll be your last.
That horse has three heads.
The man's calling after you, something that sounds like a rushed 'hey!' but you pay it no heed. Your heart hammers against your chest so loud that it drowns out everything else, beating in perfect synchrony with your racing feet. But that three-headed horse is coming after you, barely visible as she runs you down.
Something thin passes overtop of your head and cinches tight around your waist. The next thing you register is the sharp pull of rope, so strong that it stops you in your tracks.
"Hold on, hold on!" That deep voice shouts; it doesn't sound threatening, but it doesn't stop you from fighting the lasso cast upon you, squirming, pulling at the loop.
Maybe it's the rapid in and out of breath; perhaps it's the fear permanently etched into your expression, but something makes him get down from that monster of a horse. Dropping the rope in favor of kneeling and raising his open palms to the sky.
"'m not gonna hurt you," he breathes, speaking slowly, "a'ight?"
You don't know if you believe that, but as a scream echoes through the night, you realize that you don't have much choice here.
"Who..." your voice dies in your throat, "who are you?"
He's quiet like he's considering, and then, "'m Rhett."
Rhett.
You don't think you've ever met a Rhett before, surely haven't met a Rhett who smiled when you uttered your name.
Whatever moment you've just built up is shattered by the rapidly approaching yelling, the shrill voice of a woman who isn't happy about your presence. Rhett peers over his shoulder, then, turning back to you, "do you trust me?"
"Define trust," you blurt, shaking free of the lasso.
With remarkable speed, he stands and mounts that three-headed mare. "Either you play your cards with a woman wielding a handmade knife," holding out his hand, "or you let me help you."
Well, when he puts it like that.
His hand engulfs yours as you take it. There's some effort required, but he's strong and quickly pulls you up onto the horse with him. It's uncomfortable being crammed up here when this saddle was clearly not meant for two.
"Hold on to me," he tells you, peeking back at you, "don't let go until I tell you to."
Mayhaps it's because you're dripping wet, but as you wrap your arms around his waist, you learn that he's remarkably warm. And as the horse starts to move, he reaches down to tuck his arm alongside yours as if they'll slip away at any given moment. You're lucky that this isn't your first time on a horse.
As the fence line disappears from view, you begin to lose track of where you're going. Everything looks the same; everywhere you look, it's the same. It's starting to feel strangely similar to the lots for sale around your home.
There's no way that this is actually happening right now. This must be some wild, fucked up fever dream you're having. There's no way this horse has three heads, and there's not a damn logical reason behind that hole you just fell through.
Yeah. This is all just a vivid dream.
Rain begins to pick up, wind beats against you like it did before you fell into the hole. It feels a little too familiar as you cling to this strange cowboy, trembling under your wet clothes. But at least he's warm.
It's a while before a dark, rustic little cabin comes into view, looking strangely similar to the abandoned one across the street from your home. It bears the same log walls, cement filling in the gaps left between, but this one has a bite-sized front porch with a little white swing that sways in the wind.
The horse stops just in front of the porch steps, and it's only now that you realize you've just about frozen to Rhett. Muscles and bones stiff with imaginary ice, struggling to detach yourself from him.
As soon as you've let go of him, he's hopping off the horse, spinning around with outstretched arms, "God, you're fuckin' cold," he hisses from the moment he touches your numb hand, "you're lucky you still have these things attached."
Beneath you, your legs feel like sticks, completely numb as you let him guide you up the stairs. The door is partially ajar, easily kicked open with his boot, but the house is warm. Hot, even, feels like the heat that first washes over your face when opening an oven.
A little kitchen sits just to the left of the entryway, but the only thing you can focus on is the crackling fireplace directly in front of you. Rhett walks you right to it and places a thick blanket around your shoulders as you sit on the floor next to the dancing flames.
With two thick fingers, he pinches the sopping wet clothing from your shoulder, chewing on his lip as he visibly thinks. Then, he ventures off through a door on your right.
The fire is hot, and you think you can feel the coldness melting from your skin, but it's hard to warm yourself when you're practically wearing a block of ice.
"These are probably too big for ya," he remarks, remerging from what you assume to be his bedroom, "but it's better than nothing."
There are folded clothes in his arms, what looks like a shirt, a pair of flannel lounge pants, and some plain socks. He sets them on the footstool just behind you, careful not to ruin his near-perfect folding of them. The way he speaks to you makes you feel like you're a pair of old friends, like this isn't the first time you've met.
"If you want to get that mud off," pointing off toward the room he just came from, "there's a shower just around the corner; help yourself to whatever you need in there."
Then, without much else, he heads for the door and mutters something that sounds like an "I'll be back in a minute" before the door shuts behind him.
It takes you approximately half a second to decide that you'll take him up on that offer.
You were right; this is his bedroom. Looks just how you'd imagine any man's bedroom to be, plain navy blue comforter, bedside table devoid of anything but a lamp, a phone stand, and what looks like an obscenely large belt buckle.
Fluffy white towels are on the bathroom sink, neatly arranged into a stack of largest to smallest. You don't think you've ever met a cowboy that was so meticulous with arranging clothes and towels.
Thunder rolls as you step under the water, the lights briefly dimming, but they don't go out. The sound of the shower barely conceals the howling of the wind, angry, daring you to venture out and face its frigid wrath once more.
You think you spend a good fifteen minutes scrubbing the mud out from every crevice of your body. Just as you believe you are finished, you find another patch, caked to your skin like glue, refusing to budge. God, it's even in your eyelashes and behind your ears. A part of you wonders if this three-in-one wash has anything to do with how hard this is to remove.
In the light, you can see that your ankle has swelled up. Not too much to be of concern, but it's a visible difference from the other one, puffy around the joint and sore to the touch. Must have injured it during one of your many falls tonight.
Come to find out, he's given you an option of two shirts, a plain black tee, and a soft, long sleeve pajama flannel that matches the pants he's given you. The shirt you choose engulfs you, the pants a little loose in some places, but they're warm, dry, and not caked with rainwater and mud.
As you lift your dirty clothes up, something hard hits the ground.
Your phone.
Huh. How long has that been in there?
It's got no service; the battery is only at half charge, but aside from that, it hasn't been affected by your escapades in the rain. The time though...how is it eleven thirty at night? It was barely seven just earlier.
Rhett's moseying about the kitchen with a basket of laundry. Perking at the sight of you. "Y'almost look like a different person," he muses, holding the basket out for you to place your soaked clothes. You feel like a different person, to be honest.
"Now, if you don't mind me askin'," making off toward the laundry room, just past the kitchen, "how did a lady like you wind up in our west pasture?"
Well...
"I'm still figuring that out...?" Because you're still processing it all yourself. Surely this is just a horrible dream; maybe you banged your head and hallucinated all of this.
Rhett's head pokes out the laundry room door, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn't say anything. That look was enough of a statement.
Calling your mother's phone doesn't work. It doesn't ring, only displays your call screen, and does nothing more. The frustration must be evident on your face because Rhett fishes his phone from his pocket, "y'can try mine," he offers, holding it out for you to take, "service is patchy out here."
But you receive the same outcome, except his phone won't even accept the number as valid. The longer you struggle, the closer together Rhett's eyebrows knit, tongue poking around in his bottom lip. On your third try, he comes over, peering over your shoulder.
"You're still missing some digits," he says after a moment.
"No?" Lifting your phone for him to see, "I have all ten."
You don't understand why he's looking at you like that, absolutely perplexed by what you've just said. He squints at your screen, reaching out to tap and expand one of your contacts. Ten digits. But then he opens his contacts, and you see...fifteen.
What the hell?
Hesitantly, your mouth starts to move, "I can tell you how I wound up there," your voice wavering, "but I don't think you're going to believe me."
But Rhett is all ears.
And so, you tell him from the strangeness of the flowers that chose to appear toward the end of November to the flower that opened up a hole to your unceremonious arrival to his west pasture. As you tell it, you realize that you've lost your flower basket somewhere in that field; the one thing you have to back up your statement.
Somewhere during your retelling, you wind up on the couch, sitting across from one another as you recount your tale. Rhett doesn't say a lot, nodding his head every once in a while, like this happens every Tuesday.
"That may explain the strange noise from earlier," he recalls, gaze fixated on the fire as the flames twirl and lick the air.
Lifting your head up from where it was resting against the couch, "there was a noise?"
Again, his head nods, slow, "my brother sent me a video of it, hold—shit."
He recoils with a pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut as he reaches behind himself, rubbing his right shoulder blade. Is that...
The image of that silver blade flickers through the darkness of your mind.
"Did she stab you?" It's more of a statement than a question; it's hard to mistake the red stain on his jacket for much else.
"Maybe," speaking through his teeth.
Still, he doesn't fight you as you reach over, urging him to turn so that you can see it better. It's easily missable, but there's a thin cut through his jacket, maybe four or so inches long, slicing through two layers of clothing and deep into the meat of his shoulder. Most of the bleeding is concealed by a bit of mud caked onto his shirt, you suppose, from a fall.
"This needs to be cleaned," how long has he been quietly putting up with this? "It's going to get infected."
"Nah, it's alright," poorly concealing his wince as he stands up, "not like I can reach it, anyhow."
"Well, I was gonna offer to do it for you," it shoots out of your mouth before you've even had the chance to process what your reply was going to be.
Your words make Rhett stops in his tracks, arms limp at his sides. Quiet, dead silent, actually, to the point that you're just about to retract your words when he looks back at you, "...okay."
He disappears into his bedroom, and through the wall, you can hear him shuffling around in there, searching, sifting through cabinets and drawers. But eventually, he comes back with a wet cloth and a white plastic box, the little red plus sign so faded that it's barely visible. Looks vintage.
It's heavy in your lap, full of all the supplies you could ever need. Bandages, creams, sprays, tweezers, safety pins, a strange assortment of oddly shaped bandaids. Everything you can think of is in here.
Rhett's jacket hitting the floor regains your attention just in time for you to get an eyeful as he removes his shirt.
Good Lord.
Those muscles in his back could go on for days, rippling under his pale skin with every movement, a display sent straight from the heavens above. Are you drooling? You think you might be drooling.
Red soaks his right shoulder, blood dried and stuck to the skin there, and it's just about what you'd pictured the moment you laid eyes on the slice through his jacket. But damn, are you glad it's not a cut on his chest. You don't see much of it, but you catch just enough to know that you'd definitely be distracted.
He sits on the floor, back to you, granting you ample access to his injury. The wet cloth does most of the work as you gently wash away the dried blood, careful of his still-open wound.
A strange sound plays through the air, loud, like a rusty gate creaking open, only deeper, unnatural. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. "What is that?"
Rhett lifts his phone from his lap, "that's what the sound was." Did that sound come from...you traveling through the hole?
"That sounds like something straight out of a horror movie," your remark earns you a dry chuckle, a slight, easily missable noise that dances around your ears like the sweetest music.
"I was convinced we had a troll on our land again," Rhett barely winces when you touch the antiseptic wipe to his open wound. Still, you can hear the pain in his tone, words becoming tight, higher in pitch. Falls quiet as you clean it properly, removing the mud and a stray piece of grass that wound up there. "Didn't expect to run into a pretty little thing like yourself out there."
Oh.
You have no reason to smile at that, you really don't, but you find your lips twitching upward.
"I—I'm sorry," evidently, your silence is getting to him, "I didn't mean to..."
"You're fine," you can't help the laugh that leaves you; at least he's not being weird about it, "I'm just too focused on your shoulder to think of words right now."
Intentionally vague, leaving him to fill in the blank incorrectly because right now, you're only focusing on how these muscles feel under your hands. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. At least this wound of his doesn't look like it needs stitches, just a bandage.
"Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."
"No?" Holding two bandages beside the cut, internally debating which one is big enough. Hm. Seems the one on the right is the better option. "I take it you don't get hurt very often, then."
"Naw, I wind up with a new injury every week," he drawls thickly, "that there is my bad shoulder anyway."
To add to his words, he lifts both arms above his head, and you can see exactly what he's referring to. His right arm looks normal, but his left one fails to go up all the way, falling short by an inch or so.
"How did you do that?" Inquiring while you open up the packaging. His left arm is slower, too, and takes a little more time to drop back down than its companion.
His shoulders shake with a half-hearted sound, nearly making you put a crease in the bandage, "Thought I could make a livin' bein' a bull rider," the bitterness of the memory so thick that you can taste it in the air, "dislocated it in the finals. Went from first, straight to last."
With the bandage applied, he rolls his neck back and forth, cracking the joints, shoulders doing much of the same. From here, you would have never been able to tell that his left shoulder had anything wrong with it. Those muscles twitch and flex all the same, putting on a simple little show that's got you mesmerized.
Unfortunately, it doesn't last long because he soon gets up. Disappearing with his dirty clothes and the bloody cloth, leaving you to pack the first aid kit back up. He isn't gone long, reemerging into the room, pulling the ends of a black tee down over his gently defined belly.
Selfishly, you wish that he only owned two shirts. The one you're wearing and the one that was just ruined.
"Look, I know this ain't...ideal," he mutters, scratching his neck, "but how 'bout you take my bed for the night."
Your mouth opens, protest heavy on your tongue, "I don't...you don't have to give me your—"
"—and my momma taught me never to let a lady sleep on the couch," his voice firm, but his face soft, "I washed the sheets this mornin' if that makes you feel any better."
This argument was over before it even started.
As you rise to your feet, the ache in your swollen ankle blossoms into something sharp, enough to make you wince. It's barely a reaction, a squinting of the eyes at most, but Rhett's already caught it. Eyes already trained on the way you mind your foot.
"No, no, don't you even say a word," effectively killing your protests before they've had a chance to open your mouth; Rhett heads over to his fridge, "I coulda sworn you were limpin' when I found ya."
"I'm not sure what I did to it," you admit, sheepish. You really don't have any recollection of it happening. It hadn't been hurting when you fell through the hole, but adrenaline is a deceiving mistress.
Which could explain why it hurts even worse than it did while you were showering. Putting pressure on it only makes matters worse; nerves feel like they're burning hotter than a blazing wildfire. Still, you make an effort to walk back towards Rhett's bedroom, hopping along to avoid any more usage of it than necessary.
"You sure you ain't part bunny?" Chuckling at the sight of you, Rhett slowly follows after you, armed with an ice pack.
It could be the pain and exhaustion that makes this bed feel so comfortable; even sitting on the mattress feels like a cozy dream. Rhett kneels in front of you as soon as you're off your feet, taking your foot into his large hands. One on the back of your heel, the other gently manipulating it in his grasp.
"Not broken, at least," he observes aloud, "probably hurt it when you fell, and the adrenaline kept you from feeling it until later."
At least his theory is similar to yours.
He's quick to leave you in peace, passing off the ice pack and letting you know that you can find painkillers in the second drawer of the bedside table. Before you know it, he's made off with a pillow, and even from here, you can see his feet propped up on the edge of the couch. Stacked, one on top of the other.
The sheets are warm and soft against your skin, so freshly cleaned that all you can smell is the fresh linen and vague smokiness of the fire. It's almost as good as your bed at home.
Almost.
You're still figuring out if this is all real, if this is really happening, or if it's just a vivid dream. This bed, this place all feels real; even Rhett feels too real to be a figment of your imagination. But a magic hole? And that...woman?
No, that doesn't make a damn bit of sense. None of this does. If these magic holes were natural, they would have been documented long ago. They'd be common knowledge.
But the drowsiness pulling at your eyelids, weighing them down, feels pretty real.
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The next time your eyes open, you feel like you've stepped into a new body.
Eyelashes flutter, momentarily blinded by the bright morning sunshine peeking through the blinds. The air is warm enough so that you aren't burning up under this nest of sheets. You don't want to move, your head full of clouds, your body as light as the comforter nestled on top of you.
Your eyes adjust. This isn't your bedroom. This is...Rhett's.
Sitting up, it all comes flooding back to you in the form of watery memories, vague and fuzzy around the edges. The flowers, the hole, the strange woman, the cowboy, and his three-headed horse. There's a peculiar squishy material under the blankets: the ice pack.
No, no, no, this isnt—
your mom's flower basket sits on the floor next to you. Battered, strands of the material stick out, the handle crushed and deformed, but it's the basket. Flowers and all. There aren't many left, but a handful of orange and yellow have survived, accompanied by some flowers you don't recall picking. Three daffodils and a handful of daisies. Rhett must have added these.
On the very top, though, lies that purple flower.
Pale petals with a darker center, with three red stigmas standing proudly. A fourth one has been crushed, lying bent alongside its companions. The little flower that your mom would have loved.
You wonder if time has passed the same for her. Selfishly, you hope your disappearance has stopped time, wherever she is. You can't imagine how worried she'd be, knowing that her daughter disappeared in a horrible storm, leaving little to no trace of where she'd gone. There has to be a way for you to get back...but how?
Considering the horse...maybe Rhett will know. Thinking back, you don't recall a trace of disbelief as you recounted the night's events to him. If the three-headed horse you saw last night was real, surely this place can't be normal.
This time, your ankle doesn't hurt as badly when you put weight on it, but it stings and is still somewhat swollen. It hurts enough to affect your stride, limping toward the bedroom door.
"Rhett?" You croak, voice echoing about the house. No response.
You can properly take in the room with the sunshine creeping through the windows. It bears the same white horizontal wood paneling as the bedroom did. Two long brown couches on either side of the fireplace and a matching, short sofa in between them. The kitchen is tiny and feels more like a hallway than anything.
Barely any decor, aside from a tall cabinet that stands next to the bedroom door, decorated in trophies, awards, and little knick-knacks of all things Western. The golden bull wearing a cowboy hat is your favorite.
"Rhett?" You try again; maybe he didn't hear you the first time.
Nothing. Must be outside. Your shoes sit in the gap between the fridge and the front door. They've seen better days, but they're dry, slipping over your feet like they always have. The door squeaks as you open it, painfully loud compared to the silence leading up to it. It takes a little effort to shut; the door a hair too big for the frame.
There's an old wooden barn off to your left, not far from the house; everywhere you look, you find nothing but rolling green pasture. In the distance lies the same snowcapped mountains that surround your childhood home, identical. Is this the same location?
"Rhett?"
Again, nothing. But at least a bird chirps in response this time.
A little dirt path leads to the barn, worn down from years of walking the same route until the grass has died and refused to return. Beside the barn sits a GMC Sierra, looking a little worse for wear and desperate for a good scrub. So thoroughly covered in dirt that you have to wipe away some of it to see its actual color.
Blue. Like his eyes.
The barn doors are wide open on either side; it feels like a tunnel, dark inside, with light pouring in from the entrances. Horse stables line the room, maybe twelve in total, with a big back room to your right and what appears to be a feed room to your left. Something's rustling around near the doors on the other side. What that could be, you're not sure you want to know.
Three-headed badger?
A portion of you wants to investigate. Maybe it's Rhett or an adorable barn cat that deserves some head pats, but rationality reminds you that you may not like what you find. The rustling growing louder is what makes up your mind.
Not today.
Turning on your heels, you leave. You've had enough life-altering escapades for the foreseeable future. Lord only knows what else you may run into, given your current luck. But walking away from the barn means walking away from your only viable idea of where Rhett could be. Glancing at the endless fields surrounding the house, there's no telling how hard it would be to find the guy.
A strange sound resonates from behind you, metal on metal. The hair on the back of your neck stands straight.
"Make any sudden move, and I'll put a bullet right between your eyes."
That's not Rhett's voice.
"Turn around."
In your chest, your heart hammers so hard that it feels like it'll throw you off your feet as you slowly turn, raising your palms to the sky. Innocent. Mean no harm.
You find yourself in the middle of Rhett's dirt driveway, staring down the barrel of a gun.
"What are you doing here?" Growling, the man steps closer. Words fail you. Stunned stupid by the gun that bumps into your nose. "You here to take Amy too? Huh?"
Stammering, your feet tangling as you try to step back. Who is this guy? Who's Amy? He won't get the gun out of your face. The barrel pressing into your trembling flesh. You step away. He steps closer.
"Answer me, bitch!" He barks, spit hitting your cheeks.
"I—" gulping, "I was looking for Rhett."
The gun doesn't lower.
"Don't you bullshit me, girl," his words drip with so much venom that it makes him tremble, "I'd know if my brother brought one of his bitches home."
Brother.
Your tongue evaporates. Language forgot. Sweat beading on your forehead. Rhett's brother clenches his jaw, breath whistling through his teeth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"I—"
"Perry!" Barking so loud that it sounds like it's come down from the heavens above.
The world goes dark.
It takes you a moment to realize that you're looking into the back of a jean jacket with a rip down the right shoulder, exposing the plain white shirt underneath. Even longer for you to catch on to the fast-paced bickering, words hurled back and forth with such malice that they burn your ears.
"How about you quit waving that gun around like it's a fuckin' toy?" Rhett's nose to nose with him, teeth bared.
"This bitch is trespassing on our land and saying she knows you," Perry's stepping back and forth, a caged dog trying to get around him.
Rhett's always a step quicker. "They have a name, Perry," he hisses, "and you'd know that if you were decent enough to ask before you put a gun in their fuckin' face."
The argument is over. Not because of a loss but because Rhett walks away from it. Whatever words Perry has to add to the pot go ignored.
"Y'alright?" He's slow to approach you, allowing you to close the space if you're comfortable. When you do, he reaches out to rub dirt from your nose using his thumb, likely from the gun.
"As alright as I can be, considering the past twenty-four hours," his touch tickles, a welcome sensation to distract from the spasming of your gut.
"Are you really pretending I'm not here right now?" Perry huffs, raising his hands up, gun-free.
Rhett tilts his hat, effectively blocking his brother out, "were you the one callin' my name earlier?"
Nodding, "I can't exactly remember why I was looking for you, though."
You're only just now recognizing that his horse is off to your left, one head idly sniffing at the sparse ground below her feet. It's hard to tell what the other two are doing.
"'ts alright," chuckling, he nods toward the house, "was about to come checkin' on you myself."
If only for a moment, the two of you step back inside. Rhett's fridge is the definition of baren as he rifles through it, but he produces two breakfast rolls, says he made them this morning. They don't taste how you expect them to. At a glance, you figured they must have been some gross concoction of ingredients, but biting into it is like biting into a dream.
"Not as bad as you thought, huh?" Rhett grins around a bite of his, "I saw that look you gave me."
Has it always been this warm in here? "Only because I don't know if the food here is different." Lie.
Glancing up from his phone, "is it?"
You pause. Now that you think about it..." it's better," you conclude, and with that, you finish it.
"Good," his chest rising and falling with a silent laugh, "don't tell my mom I stole her recipe."
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Rhett doesn't have the answers you're looking for, but he suspects that his father will know something. Based on the way he phrases it, it sounds like strange things happen all the time here. What kind of place is this? The cowboys where you come from would not be as calm as Rhett is.
"Takes too long to drive," Rhett explains as he walks you to his horse, "Isabel won't mind a second passenger, though."
Isabel.
Despite her unearthly appearance, the horse isn't as scary as you expect her to be. She happily accepts the pets you offer her, leaning into your touch like any other horse. In fact, everything about her is absolutely normal, aside from the head situation and her massive size.
You've ridden horses enough times to know how to get on their backs, but Isabel is so tall that you need Rhett's assistance. It's a miracle that you fit up there last night, all things considered. Once you're up there, though, it's alright. Especially not when you're graced with the opportunity to wrap your arms around Rhett. Snuggled close, your head tucked below the brim of his cowboy hat, perfectly blocking the sun from your eyes.
You learn that there are four pastures. Rhett lives in the north, Perry in the south, and their parents reside in the south pasture. He says nothing about the east one.
There's something shiny moving in the pasture as you ride through it. Too far for you to tell what it is; its location is only given away by the way the sun glints off of it. You struggle to piece it together as you ride directly toward it.
But then it clicks. "What the hell is that?"
While you can't hear it, you feel him laugh, vibrating against your skin, "you ain't got cows where you come from?"
"Of course, we have cows, genius," you retort, "but we don't have cows with shiny gold horns!"
You can't believe what you're looking at. A herd of maybe forty cows, black in color, bearing long, golden horns. At first glance at those horns, you'd thought they were longhorns, but they're much too fuzzy. The animal equivalent of cotton balls.
The words that left your mouth are enough to make Rhett look over his shoulder, eyeing you, "no?"
What kind of world is this?
A good portion of you expects to see miniature elephants next, somewhat disappointed when you don't see them. The only other animal you pass is a singular bison relaxing in the west pasture. Just beyond lies a marvelous, towering mansion. The close you get, the bigger it becomes until you can no longer comprehend if this is a house or a stadium.
"Good lord, Rhett," choking the words out, "are you sure this is a house?"
His hand squeezes one of your arms like he's trying to make sure you're still there, "still decipherin' that myself, actually."
An older woman is sitting on the front porch, a stablehand at her side who wordlessly takes Isabel off to a paddock next to the house. For the longest time, she doesn't speak. Not when she leads you inside, not when she has to pry an adventurous kitten from your pant leg, not even when Rhett asks if she's alright.
The inside of the house is just as ridiculous as the outside. Towering white walls, vaulted ceilings, glistening chandeliers, and sculptures that cost a pretty penny. A variety of kittens scamper about, tiny, too young to be taken away from momma just yet. Paintings of cowboys and horses hang along many of the walls, accompanied by pictures of Perry with a blonde woman and an equally blonde daughter.
But try as you might, you can't find any pictures of Rhett. Even when his mother leads you into the living room, you fail to come up with anything. No embarrassing school pictures, no baby photos, no nothing.
"Rhett," her voice firm, quiet, like she's afraid of being overheard, "what have I told you about bringing women home?"
Rhett begins to speak, but an older man steps into the room before he can get the first syllable out. Dark, graying hair, an equally colored beard, and a hat nearly identical to Rhett's. This must be dear old dad.
"Rhett, can I speak to you alone?" he says, smiling, but it fails to make the statement sound any less cold.
For a moment, Rhett hesitates, gaze flickering between you and his parents, until you nod and motion for him to go ahead. Then, albeit reluctant, he leaves the room without a sound.
Friendly family.
"Listen, honey," his momma begins, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but..."
Tilting your head to the side. "But...?" Where is she going with this?
She sighs, loud, exasperated, "I know you must like my son. He's a good man. Exactly who I raised him to be."
You have no idea what she's trying to tell you, but you force a smile, pretending that you do. Sure hope Rhett is gone for a while.
"But he's a bit of a casanova; he's darn near slept with every young woman in this town," oh, that was...not what you expected her to say, "I just want you to know that before you go and get your heart broke."
With that said, she scoops up a gray kitten from the floor and leaves the room.
You feel like you've just been slapped.
What the hell just happened?
It's probably a minute or two, but you must sit there for an hour, staring at a picture frame containing a pressed flower as you try to comprehend her words. Does she think you're Rhett's girlfriend? Did Rhett not tell her how you got here? You wish you were here all for a pretty cowboy, but you're not.
Just as quickly as they'd left, Rhett and his father return. You're thankful that Rhett sits next to you again. Even though you don't know him very well, the familiarity is much welcomed after the uncomfortable experience you just had. His dad carries a large book, the binding so old and tattered that it barely holds together.
"So, Rhett tells me that you...came out of a magic hole in my pasture last night?" His father inquires after a minute.
"Picked a flower, a hole opened up, and now I'm here," you get the feeling that you're going to become sick of recounting this.
For the longest time, he stares at you as if you've grown three heads yourself. Gaze hard, but his eyes wide with unspoken recognition. Then, carefully, he begins to flip through the book's pages. You squint, trying to read the pages, but you're too far away.
"Strange things happen on this land all the time," Rhett elaborates, "our family has been documenting it for generations. If it's happened, it's in that book."
Explains the age.
You don't like how long his father looks through it. Flipping through it once, twice, gradually becoming faster with time. Rhett looks at you. You look at him.
You're still looking at each other when his dad says, "Books got nothin'."
Your expression drops. A million and one worries flicker through your psyche. Rhett's jaw tightens, the muscles flexing under the effort. "You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," his dad's voice raises, "what, do you not believe me?"
"Couple of months ago, Perry said a hole just like that appeared on his land and swallowed up half his kelpies," Rhett chides, leaning forward, "now, according to him, you handled it and got them back."
So this has happened before.
Abruptly, his father stands, the book falling to the floor with a resounding thunk, "how many times have I told you to stay out of Perry's bullshit?" He howls, going from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye.
Not backing down from the fight, Rhett stands and steps off to the side, away from the couches. Leading the argument away from where you're sitting. "You only say that shit when it's convenient to you," hissing, an octave deeper, "but you involve me in his business when you want me to do his work for him."
"Because it is your job as a younger sibling to cover for him while he's grieving!" Words shouted so loud that they echo, bouncing down the towering hallways of the house, shaking the paintings and the house's very foundation.
Rhett scoffs, incredulous, "it's been nine months, pops. Nine months."
As if on cue, they both yelp, stumbling away and rubbing their ears. Rhett's mom stands between them. "That's enough!" She bellows, a completely different woman from before, "Rhett, I think it's time for you to leave."
You wish you had your phone; you could definitely use the twisting of the ear technique in future ventures.
Rhett barely waits for you to catch up to him on your way out of the hose. Winding through hallways, past rooms that you know you've passed but have no memory of, everything looks the same, but it's all different spaces. He holds the door open for you, though.
"Did my mom give you a...talk while I was gone?" He inquires as you step past him out onto the porch.
Nodding your head yes, "she practically told me you were the town whore, if that's what you're asking about."
That seems to be the statement that he's looking for because his eyes roll. "She keeps telling that to every woman I so much as glance at," shutting the door behind himself, albeit a bit too hard, "I haven't slept with anyone since I was twenty-three."
"And how old are you now...?" Please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old.
"Twenty-six," tilting his hat downward.
Oh. Well, that's a lot more palatable than what you were afraid of.
"Wow, a whole three years without sex," melodramatic as you can manage, "how have you ever survived?"
"It's easy when you don't get nothin' out of it," you can't tell if that's bitterness or jealousy leaking through his tone, drenching it.
"Get nothing out of it?" You parrot as if it'll help you decipher what he means.
"Nope."
So much for elaborating.
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On your ride home, it starts to rain.
It's hard to do much of anything. Even with the weather, Rhett still has work to do, leaving you alone in this strange, unfamiliar house. Without a working phone and hardly anything to distract you from the situation. There's a television above the fireplace, but the remote is nowhere to be found.
Chores are your only escape for a while. Washing the few dishes left in the sink, making the bed, and sweeping the floors until it's pristine, without a single flaw. But even then, it's difficult to silence your thoughts. You think about your mom, your disappearance, all over again. If time passes, the same for her, and if she saw what happened.
Your head is torn between hope and horror. If Rhett told the truth about the hole, you can find a way home. His father doesn't seem keen on helping, though. What if Rhett's wrong? And wait, what happened to that girl last night? And his brother, what's up with him?
Oh, what if there's another variant of you here, and what if she's why Perry was so hostile towards you?
This is getting out of hand.
Your only option to stop your racing mind is to make a game out of organizing the shoe rack that sits by the front door. It's a disaster; shoes piled onto its shelves with little to no care. Once you're done with it, though, it's picture-perfect. Boots, dress shoes, and sandals are carefully arranged into appropriate sections, ranging from tallest to smallest.
Come to find out, the remote was also in that mess.
You don't even realize it's a remote at first. Rather than being built vertically like the remotes where you come from, it's horizontal, like a keyboard. Fitting somewhat strangely into your hand, but it turns the television on just fine.
At least Rhett has a few streaming services, all with familiar logos but different names. Prime Pictures, Hoop, and something named...Kibble. But who would have thought that this world had the same shows and movies? There are so many things to rewatch. Are they going to be the same? Different?
It's too easy for one movie to become two, and soon you lose track of how many you've started.
"Where the hell did you find the remote?"
Words as sudden as a thunderclap send your heart into your throat.
Rhett. Dripping from head to toe with rain water, cheeks covered in a thin sheen of dirt.
"Over in the shoe rack," nodding toward the door, "not sure if I want to know why, either."
He turns, casting a long glance toward his newly organized shoes, then a sheepish grin works across his face, "I uh..." rubbing his chin, "I tend to reorganize the house when I'm drunk."
You laugh. His face blossoms into a bright cherry red. Unable to form many words all of a sudden, he fishes out his phone, telling you to order any pizza you'd like while he takes a shower.
Pizza boxes are circular here.
"The fuck you mean they're square?" Rhett sputters, so shocked by your words that he has to put his slice down.
"They just...are?" You think it's got something to do with cost-effectiveness, but you're unsure. "I'm being serious; we don't have round pizza boxes where I come from."
With how he looks at you, you're not sure he believes you.
"I need to see one to believe it," that sounds like intrigue laced around his tone.
"Well, if we can figure out how to reopen the hole," you say, leaning forward, "then I can show you all the square pizza boxes in the world." And...you know, go home.
"Deal," Rhett grins like a cat, "we need to look around the west pasture and figure out where you came out at, anyway. Mash two potatoes with one fork."
Mash two potatoes with one fork. That's different.
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An aggressive slam of the front door wakes you around three in the morning. The sound startles you awake, and as you sleepily call out for Rhett, you get no response. He's not on the couch, his blanket and pillow lying in a messy heap on the floor.
You expect him to be mulling around the house when you wake up around eight. Or to at least be within the vicinity of the place. Nine o'clock is the time you've set to go and visit the west pasture because his father tends to have visitors that will get in the way if you wait until any later.
That time comes and goes with no sign of him.
You shower, hunt down a vase to place your slowly wilting flowers inside, reheat some pizza, and still, nothing. This was his time suggestion; he was the one that insisted that you go early, and now the blue-eyed bastard is late to it.
If he doesn't want to come to you, fine. You'll go to him.
The land around his home is vast and unwelcoming to those unfamiliar. His property is that it's mostly flat. You noticed it yesterday when you were riding on the back of Isabela. It's nearly impossible to lose the house if you keep its silhouette within your view.
"Rhett?" You call out, "Rhett!"
No dice.
He's not in the barn, and his truck isn't here. Asshole must have left. Not like you're stuck here against your will or anything.
Isabela knickers at you as you walk past, a harmonious synchrony of three, her own little choir over in the pasture.
"Hi, Isabela," reaching out to scratch her foreheads, "you wouldn't happen to know where your owner went, would you?" You don't know why you expect a horse to respond to you, even a three-headed one.
She looks behind herself, her ears pricking like she hears something. Is that..?
"What is he doing?" Isabela can't talk, but you're pretty sure she understood every word you said because that's Rhett's truck out in the middle of the field. In hindsight, the fresh tire tracks leading toward the gate should have been enough of a clue.
It's a longer walk than you thought it would be, but still, Rhett fails to see you coming. He's got a shovel, throwing dirt into a bottomless hole in the ground. A tarp lies in the bed of his truck, audibly rustling in the morning breeze. It's covering something, but you can't quite decipher what.
"Did you forget you had something planned for nine o'clock?"
He jumps, swearing expletives under his breath, "Jesus, how long you been fuckin' standin' there?"
"Just got here," biting your bottom lip, "you're two hours late to the plans you made because you wanted to do...this?"
"Somethin' came up last night," grunting, he lifts the shovel again, spilling dirt into the hole.
Very descriptive, Rhett. Very descriptive.
"Something?" Isabela nudges you from behind, politely demanding that you give her more pets.
The shovel hits the ground with a soft sound as he marches to his tailgate. Grabbing the edge of the tarp, he yanks it upward. Revealing two severed legs, but not to a person; no, they belong to a horse. Or, they used to belong to one, anyway.
"I don't..." looking back at the shovel, then back to the house, "I don't understand."
"Perry drove home drunker than shit last night," he elaborates, tucking the tarp back down, "moron went off the side of the road and hit one of the neighbor's horses."
You're still not computing this. "So you're hiding parts of it on your property...?" So bewildered that it simmers in your speech.
"The horse is a retired racehorse worth a couple million, at least." Rhett hisses like his neighbors can hear him from here, "if they find out Perry did it, they'll sue us and take the whole ranch."
Exciting. You hope you won't be here when the law comes knocking. "Well, can we look for the hole after you're done?"
"Probably fixin' to be out here all afternoon," he says as he lifts the shovel with his foot.
"Tomorrow?"
"Probably be busy all that day, too."
Helpful. So helpful that you can feel your blood bubble in your veins, red hot, "so when can we look, huh?" It's not even like you can go by yourself. You don't even know which direction the west pasture is in, never mind how to get there on foot.
"God, fuck, I don't know, Monday?" Throwing his hands up, Rhett drops the shovel for a second time, "look, I know you're wantin' to go home, but I have to run this ranch all by my damn self. I don't have time, woman."
You're speechless. What does he expect you to do? Lay around without a care in the world until he feels like helping? Not like you've been uprooted from your entire life and everything you've ever built!
"Alright, alright," deadpanning, your feet move, turning back for the house. Then, under your breath, "with how you talk to women, you probably had to pay all those girls to sleep with you."
A shadow casts over you. "You wanna say that again?"
"I think you heard me well enough the first time," you smile, tight-lipped.
He takes a step forward. You take a step back. The cold metal of the truck presses against your skin.
"I don't think you know what you're talking about," he says, voice lower than you've ever heard.
"What, you gonna prove me wrong?" You shouldn't be taunting him when you're backed into a corner like this. But for some reason, you still do. "Call one of them up for a testimony?"
The bastard laughs, "oh, honey," his hand coming down to plant itself next to your head, "you don't need no damn testimony when I'm standin' right here in front of ya."
Your eyebrows raise. He can't possibly be suggesting..."I thought you didn't like sex?"
"Not usually, no," his head drops down as he speaks, looking you dead in the eye, "but there ain't nothin' better than watchin' a pretty woman fall apart on my tongue."
You're unsure how you feel about the heat that sparks between your legs as he sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact with you. Here you are. In the middle of this pasture, with a cowboy on his knees...for you.
One of his hands caresses your hip, thumb teasing the brim of your—no, his sweatpants. You shouldn't be doing this. You just met this guy for crying out loud!
Logic doesn't stop your hips from twitching forward into his touch.
That's all he needs to hook his thick fingers into the waistband, "no panties, hm?"
"I didn't exactly have the luxury to pack," there's more you want to say, but it's hard to when he pulls the material down until it pools around your ankles. Cold air nips at your previously covered skin, only warmed by the hot breath that fans against you.
Rhett's hands trail up the inside of your thighs, callouses tickling the sensitive skin there. It's been so long since the last time that his simple touch alone makes you start to drip. His hands continue to rise until his fingers comfortably dip between your folds, running from your entrance to your clit.
"Cute." Before you can even process what he's just said, Rhett leans forward and—
oh.
His tongue is so unbelievably hot as it presses against you, spreading you open around him. Then, one slow, flat, broad stroke of his tongue dragging from your entrance to your clit, circling it lazily. The motion pushes his hat into your belly, and as he drops back to tease your hole once more, it ultimately falls off. Leaving nothing but messy hair, perfect for you to tangle your fingers into.
And you do just that.
"That's it," he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, "pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours."
One little tug, and he moans directly into you, laving over your clit in sloppy figure eights, and that, that. It has no right to feel as good as it does, making your hips start to writhe.
"So squirmy," big hands settle upon your hips, forcing them to stay still as he works you, rapid, quick little licks that wrench a cry right out of your throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this guy knows what he's doing. "Still think I had to pay them, girls?"
You don't recall closing your eyes, but when you find the strength to open them, you see those blue eyes peering back up at you. He smiles at the sight of you, flits his tongue against you a little harder, the tip pointed just at the right angle.
Chest heaving, you tug on his hair a little harder; your legs are starting to shake from it all, "fuck," the tone of your own voice foreign to you, "Rhett."
"God, you make my name sound like it's a fuckin' sin," growling, he pulls you close toward him, giving you no chance of escaping the onslaught of his wicked tongue on your pussy.
The sensation of him sucking on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure, heat pooling between your thighs while he keeps fluttering his tongue over it. You're whimpering out into the open air, helpless as he downright devours you like a starved man, and you're his last meal. It's been so long since the last time you felt the subtle nudge of your gut tightening that it's almost foreign.
"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."
"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."
You barely feel it coming on.
All it takes is one more suck against your clit, and you're spiraling toward the edge with no guardrail to catch you. Too much, too fast. You yank on his hair so hard that Rhett moans around your clit, a beautifully pitchy noise that sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Like a tidal wave, your orgasm washes over you. Convulsing as he licks you through it, straddling the border of too much and just enough. Lungs burning, head spinning.
Just as quickly as it had bubbled up, it fades away, leaving you a panting, trembling mess, all for him to see.
"Damn," his scruffy cheek is pressed against your hip, lazily smiling up at you like a cat who got the cream, "you're out of this world."
You could hit him.
His chin is so drenched that it's downright glistening in the sunshine, thin lips swollen, so completely, utterly relaxed against you. A totally different man from the one a few minutes ago.
"You know," carefully running your fingers through his hair, combing out the mess you've made of him, "I can't tell who this benefitted more."
He laughs, cheeks starting to turn pink, "consider it a mutual trade-off." The end of his sentence distorts around a sleepy yawn, "'m sorry, I tend to be a real ass when I'm tired."
The way he's peering up at you is awakening something. An uncanny urge to take him back to the house and look after him until he's well-rested and that lively spark has returned to his eyes. But, for the life of you, you can't understand why.
What the hell did you just do.
Taking your silence as a reply, he opens his mouth again, "whaddya say we try and make a quick trip to that pasture?"
Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.
You're lucky he offers to drive you back up to the house because your legs tremor so much that you can hardly walk straight. Rhett's quick to notice it, winking at you as you stumble past him and toward the front door.
Curse orgasms and their need to fill your bladder with half the water in the Pacific ocean.
By the time you step back outside, a little more stable on your feet, Rhett's already got Isabel ready to go. She's standing next to the small porch steps, and with the added leverage, it's much easier to climb up.
"If you can't figure out how to get you home," he chuckles as you squeeze in behind him, "we're gonna have to find you a horse."
"You gonna go hit one too?" It shoots out of your mouth before you can stop it.
Lucky for you, Rhett laughs some more, "somethin' like that, yeah."
Back to the pasture again, bypassing Rhett's little stash of evidence. Should you be concerned about that horse's owners coming knocking? Probably. Are you?
Not really.
Maybe you would be if you thought about it more, but it's hard to linger on it when fluffy cows appear in the distance. With their long black fur and glistening horns, something straight out of an art piece.
"Are their horns actually gold?" You inquire. It looks damn close to real gold to you.
"Yes, ma'am," Isabela slows as you grow closer to the herd, stopping just shy of them.
One of the cows is feeling friendly, approaching you like an old friend. She's close enough for you to touch, but as you reach out, she looks at you kind of...funny, making your hand freeze midair.
"You can pet her," demonstrating, Rhett reaches out, scratching his nails against her cheek.
You're not too sure about that one. She sure doesn't seem to like it when you brush your nails over her forehead, absolutely fixated on you, as if you've just offended her to the core. Yeah, no, you probably shouldn't...
A careful hand curls around the back of your own. Slow, Rhett guides your hand to pet her forehead, up and down, in the same fashion you would pet a dog you've met. She's so unbelievably soft.
"Are all cows this soft?" You've never felt anything quite like it. Silky, a little velvety, even.
"Nah, not all of 'em," he lets go of your hand, gives her golden horn a little tap, "these right here? Solid gold, not hollow."
Their horns are entirely and utterly mindboggling, perfectly smooth and cool to the touch, not at all like you'd expect a horn to feel. How strange.
"Do you raise them for their gold or their meat?" A part of you isn't ready for the potential answer.
Rhett chews on his bottom lip, "both." He gives the cow one last head pat before Isabela starts to move again, "the gold pays for most of the expenses 'round here."
So gold is still considered valuable here. Interesting.
"But just between you and me," he continues, "lately, I've been lyin' sayin' nobody's in the gold market no more."
You have to cling to him a little tighter now that Isabela is starting to move quicker; with every step, you fear you may fall. "How come?"
"They think they're entitled to it," he reaches down, grazing his fingertips along your arms, where they're looped around his waist, "always askin' me to slaughter my cows before their time so that they can buy stupid shit."
A memory flickers into the forefront of your head. "Is that how your parents could afford that giant house?"
"You catch on quick."
The gate to the west pasture is just up ahead. While it's hard to say, you think this is where you first met Rhett. Barely even a few days ago, and yet, it feels like a distant memory, fuzzy in your head. You can almost feel the way that lasso cinched around you, catching you with such little effort.
After you go through the gate, it takes a lot of work to come up with much of anything. You know you were close to the fence that borders the end of the west pasture, but the land looks so different during the day than it does at night.
"I've got nothing," you frown, "it all looks the same."
Rhett hums. A deep sound that vibrates through your arms and up into your chest, leaving you feeling all tingly after he stops. "Y'know, I think you landed a little further down."
"How would you...?" Unless... "Rhett, were you there when I came out of that hole?"
"Sorta." You can't see his face, but the tips of his ears tint a pretty shade of ruby red, "I watched the hole open and headed off to let my dad know," he peeks over his shoulder at you, "but then I heard Autumn start screamin' and I turned back 'round."
Autumn. So that's what that woman's name was.
Up ahead, there's a patch of dead grass. Perfectly circular, maybe ten feet in diameter, brown in color, a stark contrast to the green surrounding it. Isabela stops short of it and refuses to move any closer, even as Rhett asks her to continue. Seems you'll be going on foot.
You're unsure why you feel nervous about walking closer to the patch of grass. Ideally, if it reopened under your feet, you would wind up back at home, and all of this would be over. So why are you feeling like this?
Rhett audibly sucks in a breath as you step into the circle. Like he's expecting it to swallow you up at any given moment.
No, no, no, there should be something here. A sign, a clue, something, anything. The realization of there being absolutely fucking nothing is suffocating. Brings your heart rate up until it beats in your ears like a drum. You look and look, kicking the ground as if that will force it to open.
Nothing. Nothing happens, and the only things out of the ordinary are the few remaining flowers strewn about the grass.
"If it can open up once, it can open up again," Rhett tells you, holding out his hand to help you back up, "we'll figure this out, one way or another."
You're beginning to wonder if that's truly the case.
Rhett hums the entire way back. Some slow little tune that he doesn't have a name for. It's not much, but it's enough to distract you from the sour taste this trip has left in the back of your mouth. At least for a little while.
Something possesses you to stick around while he untacks Isabela, petting her as he busies himself with unclipping various things you don't know the name for. You're thankful she enjoys all the attention because it's the only thing keeping your hands from shaking.
For the first time, it hits you. The realization that you could be stuck here for the rest of your life. There's a very good possibility that you're never getting home. That you'll never see your mom again, your friends, your old life. They'll never know what happened to you.
"You're gonna spoil that horse," you've almost forgotten that Rhett was in here with you.
"Probably," you wish you could come up with more to say, but you can hardly think up another word.
Rhett has already caught on to your mood. Doesn't say anything else, instead communicating without words. He tells you he's ready to turn Isabela out by placing his hand between your shoulder blades and giving you the slightest nudges to get you going in the right direction. Does it again when he's done with that, wordlessly telling you to head for the house.
As you step inside, you can't help but feel like something is...off, but you don't know what it is.
"Y'alright?" It's now that you realize you've stopped dead on the threshold, leaving Rhett no choice but to idle on the porch. You start to turn, but along the way, your eyes catch a glimpse of the vase sitting on the counter.
"Someone's been in here."
Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?"
"When I left," gulping, "my flowers were sitting in that vase on the counter."
It's empty.
All it takes is one long gaze into the house before Rhett reaches for the door, slamming it shut. Your mouth opens, but he's quicker, "we're goin' into town to get a doorknob that actually locks."
Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊
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The Oracle|| The Isekai’d Oracle|| Concept Oneshot 6
Sorry for posting much lately. This week has been extra busy for me and had drained my creative writing energy. It wasn't until a few hours ago, I finally came up with something. A big storm came again and I got inspired. So here is some angst. Also, it's unedited let's hope things are written correctly. Remember you can request or ask questions.
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A storm rages outside, trying to tear apart the world. The temple stays resilient, seeing storms way worse through its time. A celestial being watches the rain fall from the sky. The piercing thunder tore through the air shaking the world. 
Wukong wasn't one to reminisce, choosing to forget about it. Especially now knowing how he made so many mistakes. Too late to regret or apologize, the only option is to sadly continue on. Yet here he was, thinking about someone he tried to forget. Deep down, this was only one of many choices he regrets.
Wukong couldn't wrap his head around how you would sacrifice everything. The only thing tying you to this world and abandoning it. All for what? Why sacrifice everything for him? 
He doesn't have a clue, even after all this time. You said it will make sense in the future. Even when he matured and saw how his past actions weren't the best. Wukong still couldn't understand your reasoning.
“Ah, why am I remembering her now? It doesn’t matter, that spirit is long gone.” He said, trying to calm his loud mind. 
A faint memory of you worms its way into his mind. How you would try to secretly visit him when he got trapped under that mountain. During that time, he chalked it to guilt. Yet even in the strongest of storms, you ventured out to visit him. 
Is that the reason why he's out on the porch and waiting? That, maybe, you'll show up and keep him company like the old times. 
His chest feels tight, throat burning. The thought set free an emotion he tried to kill and bury. 
It was useless to cry now. 
Too late for tears.
“Why are you here?”
“Is it a crime to just want to keep someone company?” 
“Maybe if you have caused someone’s current imprisonment.” 
“Call me a weak coward all you want, but I'm not strong or brave like you. I can't face the whole celestial army. When the Jade Emperor asks you a question, you answer truthfully.” You huff. Looking away annoyed, regardless that guilty expression took over. 
The atmosphere was tense. 
“So you can meet the Jade Emperor? Then will you pass on some words for me?”
“I swear, you want me to get exiled.” The spirit sat beside Wukong, getting comfortable.
“Oh please, you're a spirit. Not like being exiled will do anything.”
“No, but it takes a lot to tie me to this world, and I'll be in big trouble if I am cut off from it.”
“I see a win-win situation here.”
“You're such a rude little monkey.”
The spirit crosses her arms, slightly offended by his words. Wukong couldn't help but smile at her reaction. 
‘Perhaps having her company wouldn't be so terrible.’
The thunder roared, mercifully tearing Wukong away from that memory. 
A memory that is best forgotten with the rest.
He was about to head back into the temple. Ready to end this tiring day. When a blast of energy blasted through. 
A familiar blast of pure warm energy.
Wukong faces where the blast originated. A busy city, he doesn't travel to. 
Megapolis.
A part of him wanted to believe that he imagined it. However, the blast had blown away the storm clouds. Leaving a ring of clouds exposing the blue sky. 
Wukong wanted to check to see if you were actually there. However, he didn't move.
How can he face you after everything? 
Could it be possible for you to even accept an apology? Do you even want to see him?
No, it's better if he stayed out of it. Wukong won't be able to live with himself if his actions hurt you again.
“It's for the best.” He said while walking back into the temple. Wanting nothing but to forget the past.
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burnin0akleaves · 20 days
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Hey! Sorry for popping in as anon, I'm genuinely not sure if some of the things I'm going to say are going to be nice, and I am a coward. But this is regarding you quitting to post in the RA fandom. If you consider my opinion on this as unwanted/unnecessary, do not feel obliged to reply. (Though I honestly think you never feel like that anyway)
I first saw your art when I joined the RA tag a while ago, and I thought to myself: 'Huh. Nice art, not my cup of tea though.' Since then, you have changed my mind. Your obsession with TRR Will and repeated posting about it not only has changed my thoughts on your art (I've really grown to like it) but also on the character of Will himself. I was on Reddit during that massive TRR Will hate phase and some of these posts had really tainted my view. You changed that and I am so grateful for that. Not seeing your art anymore will be sad, but I suppose my own lack of interaction is to blame for that. I made my bed so now I sleep in it. Your reaction to stop posting is justified and understandable, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to miss seeing your TRR Will on my dash.
Who knows what the RA movie (if it ever does come out) will do to this fandom, but I hope that new faces might get things swinging enough again for you to rejoin the fandom. Lastly, I have to say that for me, you've been a legend in this fandom, and will continue to be one, even if you focus on other things from now on.
Well hello there, this was unexpected. First of all thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to write to me! The reception to that post has been overwhelmingly positive even though it hasn't been up for that long and it makes me feel very glad I finally pushed myself to write that official goodbye message.
I don't know who you are and I don't really have any guesses, your message implies you didn't interact with my posts a lot so maybe I saw you around only a few times (?), but you have no idea how much this means to me. Throughout most of my time in the fandom my main goal was always to change people's minds about TRR and more specifically, TRR Will. I've heard that I succeeded many times and honestly, that was one of the biggest reasons I could keep myself so pumped up about a book series I read all the way back when I was in middle school (<- an adult saying this)
Seeing people go from "Cool post, not my thing though." to "Well I can kind of see what you mean when you say it like that." to "I agree, this does sound pretty good!" was both my biggest source of pride and motivator here. Hearing you say I changed your mind just now has the same effect on me, it almost makes me want to rush to my computer to draw or write about Will.
Also, extremely bold of you to say you didn't like my art at first motherfucker /j
Speaking seriously though, my art style practically grew here. When I first joined the fandom I was NOT good; hell, I can't look past anything before July of last year still. Maybe it was just me improving artistically that helped you warm up to my stuff more. I really really hope the new artists have that kind of experience too! You get obsessed with a little guy and then your brain decides to level up as fast as possible. TRR Will is that little guy for me.
Your last words are so, so kind. The way you speak about me here in general is extremely kind. I'm glad I was able to leave a good impression. And you're right, maybe all I need is a break and when I come back this space will feel more fitting again.
Like I said, I still have lots of connections to this fandom via others. I'm still technically helping out with the Gathering stuff, so maybe I'll work on doing a prompt or two still! I'm also a mod in the NSFW server and I love that place, I'm not leaving it anytime soon. If more TRR books come out you can bet I won't be able to shut up about them anyway, if I don't make at least one post then assume I'm dead.
What I'm trying to say is, I'll be around! Our paths will cross again.
PS: The entirety of the RA subreddit can suck my dick. I'm gatekeeping older, experienced Will from all of them. None of them deserve him.
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hystericalnightmare · 1 month
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Withered Fates - Some KillerMare
Its been eight years since I found Dream with that body, making both of us adults… I met my friends Error, Killer, and Cross along the way while protecting people from my brother and his friends…
I was lost in thought as I read when a certain little girl ran into the room with a familiar plushie of herself that Error had given her—Luna was my daughter, I made her from the magic of one of the black apples six years ago. She climbed up onto the couch next to me and leaned her head against my arm, ‘reading’ over my shoulder while holding her doll.
”Papa the book doesn’t have pictures…” She pouted slightly and I chuckled, patting her head. 
“Most books don’t. Besides, what happened to all that bragging about getting better at reading you were doing to Cross and Error?” She huffed a little in response, being rather stubborn.
”But they’re less fun to read without the drawings!” She quickly retorted and Killer walked into the room, grinning slightly. 
I sighed a little, things were kinda awkward between the two of us recently… Killer was flirting with me and I kissed him to shut him up- 
“Hey NootNoot-“ 
“Please don’t call me that..”
”-If your done being lost in a book, I was hoping we could go on a walk?” Killer asked and I hummed a bit, looking over to Luna as if to ask if it was okay for me to leave for a bit.
She gave a small nod and I set my book down, standing up from the couch and stretching.
I walked out of the room and to the front door, opening it and stepping outside, Killer following behind me.
We had been walking for a while and the silence was awkward and uncomfortable. I looked over to him a few times and frowned a bit, thinking over what I should say.
Killer seemed to notice that something was on my mind and smiled slightly, tilting his head a little as he spoke.
"What's got you so nervous? It's just me, there's nothing to worry about!" Killer spoke, making me relax a bit with a soft smile. I knew he wasn’t wrong, he was still himself.. It just felt weird for me after what happened the other day, and the only reason that was awkward was because of how I felt about him.
"You're right. Sorry, it's just that I'm still trying to process everything." I explained and he hummed a little, his grin widening a little as he leaned closer.
"Everything, or something in particular?" He teased a bit and I rolled my eyes, blushing a bit as I looked away from him.
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Aww~ C'mon Nightmare, you know you love me~"
"Oh really? You sure about that?"
"Of course! You wouldn't have kissed me if you didn't."
"You're an idiot..." I muttered, rolling my eyes, not denying the statement as I looked back at him. He smiled and I felt his arms wrap around my hips.
”Maybe I am, but either way I’m yours~” He purred a little and I blushed, quickly nudging him away.
“Killer! C-chill with the flirting!” I grumbled, a flush of purple on my face. I heard him laugh a little, causing me to look at him again in a frustrated embarrassment.
”But you’re cute when I do! Besides, you might kiss me again-“ 
“Shut it!” I snipped at him, looking away.
Killer grinned, turning on his heel, “Oh well! We should head back before Luna drives the other two crazy. We can continue this later- oh wait, it won't be continued! Cuz it's never gonna end~"
"Killer, I'm going to murder you!"
"You know you love me, Nightlight."
"I swear- if you call me that one more time-"
"You'll what? Kiss me?"
"Killer!"
I heard him laugh loudly, and I sighed a bit, smiling a little. He was an idiot, but he was my idiot.
————————
Once again character designs are on the withered fates page!
Thank you for reading
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calhe08 · 2 years
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One day, a duck appeared in the middle of Forest of Darkness.
"Human, what's a duck doing here?"
"Maybe it lost its way around"
"Can we take it back to the Villa, Human?"
"Sure, we can take care of it. A duck won't be a bad thing to have around."
Going back to 20 minutes ago..
Alberu, the Crown Prince, got caught in Rosalyns' and Eruhabens' experiment while visiting, teleported nowhere and transformed into a duck.
Having lost his way around, he walk around warily. Until a few minutes later, he heard a sound. A child. Raon! And another one. It was Cale! He must have teleported to the Forest of Darkness. Good thing he didn't teleport far away.
Back to the present
Cale, decide to bring back the duck with him, stared at the shiny white duck with its golden yellow beak, that somehow reminds him of the crown prince. Cale decided to pick up the duck and bring it back to the villa.
Alberu, being picked up by Cale all of sudden, was flustered. Never did he imagine he would be picked up by the frail hand of his dongsaeng. 'His hand is very warm' Alberu thought, settled cozily in Cale's arm and soon fell asleep.
Cale, noticed the duck is getting comfortable with him, started petting the duck softly.
Arriving at the villa, the duck was placed on one of Cale's soft and fluffy pillows. Leaving the white duck alone in his room.
Thirty minutes passed. Alberu woke up in a fancy room on top of a very soft pillow. He look around the room, looking and analyzing slowly, as if engraining it in his mind. He's never been in his dongsaeng bedroom before. It had never crossed his mind that he would enter his room in this way either.
It was a luxurious room, but also empty. Unlike his treasure room that is full of gold and precious stone, this room was simple, and warm. Alberu liked that. It gives the feeling of warmth everywhere he looked. Reminding him of how Cale acted around his children.
"Ehem" Getting out of his tranced state all of a sudden, tilt towards the source of the sound. It was the sca- Henituse's Butler, Ron.
"Your Highness" He bows.
"!!?" Alberu, shocked at his statement opened his beak and just stayed like that.
"I heard from Rosalyn-nim and Eruhaben-nim that you got caught up in their experiment and predicted that you may have transformed into an animal. Seeing your behaviour after you woke up, this old butler is convinced that you are His Highness, the Crown Prince."
'My behaviour? Wait, since when did he enter the room?? Scary old man'
The old man, staring at the duck, smiled and walk towards it. Pick him up and bringing it to the perpetrator.
Alberu turned back to his normal body. Playing with Raon, On and Hong. Met his dongsaeng after and started bickering with him. Rosalyn only cuckled and Eruhaben huffs fondly.
Cale got back to his room after eating his steak at 3 p.m, found the duck gone and figured that it must have found it way out from the villa. He didn't pay much attention to it but feel a bit of an emotion that he can't describe.
Ths duck seemed different and he wanted to keep it beside him. The duck was very soft and fluffy, just like his pile of pillow. But also remind him of someone.
Two hours later, he met Alberu in Eruhaben's laboratory. Started annoying him and Alberu did the same. The day went on just as usual. But Raon then asked for a white duck because he missed the white duck that was gone.
Cale then agreed to have a small duck pond for Raon while dismissing the thought of how it was a bit similar to the Crown Prince.
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Picture source: Forest Idle
A bit obsessed with this duck pic and decided to write a duck Alberu. :D
About Choi Han, he was in the village with the Wolfs at the time.
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madam-well · 2 years
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“Geez,” I sighed. This has been a lot of trouble but it will all be worth it soon. Ladies and gentlemen I’ve found the holy grail a bucket of coffee jelly, a WHOLE bucket, whole 6 ounces of rich coffeey goodness. As my long time viewers may know, I usually don't waste my time with traveling but this is a completely different matter. I cannot wait, I can almost taste it. “𝕎ℍ𝕆𝔸 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖 𝟞 𝕠𝕨𝕔𝕖𝕤!” I stop. D-did someone just…
“ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠?” Good grief another psychic, this one sounds young, maybe around Yuuta's age “𝕎𝕙𝕠𝕒 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕒 𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠𝕠?! 𝕎𝕆𝕎! 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕤!!” I winced slightly from the volume “𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥’𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖? ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦? ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣? 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦? 𝔻𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕥𝕤? 𝔸𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒 𝕤𝕡𝕪 𝕥𝕠𝕠?” Spy? Is she playing some type of game?
....Nope, don't care it's time to go home. I look for the near alleyway so I can teleport back home.
I feel a tug on my shirt “WHOA!! You have pink hair too!” I look down and see a little girl in a black dress, pink hair, and little hair clips that were suspiciously placed (control devices maybe???) “Ummm where’s your parent's kid?” I asked looking around “PA is….” She looked around, great she was lost, this is total déjà vu “NOOOO PA GAVE ME AWAY!!!” She wailed. “wha…?”
“How cruel.”
“No wonder he’s trying to abandon her look he young he is”
“How irresponsible”
“Abandoning kids is illegal right? I should call the cops”
Wait they think I’m her dad?! “Kid, look there’s no way your just-“ she loudly sobbed, I sighed and picked her up “𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕞𝕖 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥?” She sniffles “yeah” she adds. I don't want to leave PA. I don’t want to go back”.
After a quick scan of her memories, I learned a few things like little Anya here was an orphan until, not even, a day ago, and Loid, her father, is an actual spy. I won't lie I wasn’t expecting that last one.
“Are you calm now?” I feel her nod, I’ve been walking around to see if Loid is even looking for his daughter “𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕, 𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕀 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕠 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕞”. Aright Blonde, blue eyes, green suit, red tie, and a tan Fedora with a black stripe. Got it. “How are you going to find him?”
“𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙.” I put her down and take a look around “keep an eye out, okay?” She quickly nods, looking excited. I cross my eyes, I'm using Clairvoyance, to find her father faster. The last thing I want to do is to the soda jump again.
I quickly scan the city streets looking for her father. Nothing. So then I start looking in each individual store.
I hear a little gasp “𝕄-𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣! 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘” blonde hair green suit this must be him “𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥?”. She looks at me and focuses, she gasps again “𝕎𝕙𝕠𝕒!! 𝕀 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕡𝕒!” Good.
“Good,” I said, man, it felt weird to talk but it can't be helped this old lady is starting to get suspicious, I stand by my up and help her get down “let's go before he notices your gone.” She giggles and starts (very slowly) running ahead.
After walking for a few minutes I noticed an officer following us, great what now. I turn us down an alley so I can focus on her thoughts, it's also a shortcut to the store Loid is in.
Why is this little girl following this man?
Man? That's a bit of a stretch, I’m only 16 plus is the fact I’m a boy the only reason she's following us? This really is de-
I sneeze, suddenly my head felt heavier. “Bless you-” she stops and stares at me “what?” I asked. “Hey stop right there!” I turned around to look at the cop “yes officer?”.
“Uh never mind, sorry to bother you two” the cop meekly said. I can't believe I just assumed she was a guy being her hair was short. Wait What?
“Anya am I girl right now?” I asked too scared to take off my hat, she doesn't answer, and she starts giggling “Hey! Don't laugh!” I scold. Geez, what is going on today, this reminds me of I turned in Kusuo (girl version) to defend Mr. Matsuzaki. The only real difference is my hair is a bit longer which is weird.
“Anya!” crap where'd she go? She was just here “PA!” Anya ran over to Loid “Anya! What were you thinking! You can't just go running off” he all but yelled Anya quickly apologized and started tearing up just as fast.
After listening to Anya babble for a bit he looked over to me and smiled “Hi my name is Loid Folger-” he wraps his arms around Anya “-little Anya here father. Thank you for finding her what’s your name?”.
He is really trying to sell the whole father-daughter thing, well it doesn't matter the sooner this conversation ends, the soon I can go home and enjoy my coffee jelly.
“PA this is my sister Kusuo!”…. Huh? Sister? Her file said nothing about a sister. Yeah, cause she lying! 𝔸𝕟𝕪𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘?! She looks at me then clings to my leg.
“PA I want my sissy to come home with us!”
-----///-----⚜️⚜️⚜️ -----///-----
“NO! NOOOOOOO!” Anya screeched. God really does hate me.
“I hate study time!” Anya protested, for the 7th time today, “I need to judge your academic abilities for the test.” Loid stated “but I don’t need to study for the test! I can just read everyone else’s...” minds.
“Anya what have I told you about cheating!” I cut in, I look over to Loid “what's so important about this school anyway?”. “Do you two plan to get by with pure cunning?-” he glares down at both of us, then look over at Anya “Now listen here, if you don't pass this test I'll...” Fail the mission.
I'm flattered he doesn't think I’ll fail but still, I wish he'd lay off a bit. “Whatever, I'm heading out. Kusuo watches your sister…. Please.” Then again she's the reason I wasting my summer here.
Well, one thing lead to another and Loid blocked off our only exit, but this is no problem for an all-powerful psychic. “𝔸𝕟𝕪𝕒 𝕀'𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜” Anya shots off the couch “where are you going? Can I go too?” “ℕ𝕠𝕡𝕖, 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕠 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕁𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟'𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖.”
“Don’t do anything stupid okay” I don't wait for a response and teleport anyway. As soon as I stand up I see my patent making out on the couch “Gross. Anyway I won't be here for a while”.
“Okay son have fun”
“Okay sweetie be safe”
I bet you're a little concerned about their nonchalant reactions but they're kinda justified you see this isn’t the first time I’ve done this, left home I mean mean, when I was 7 I thought space was “super cool” so I decided to explore it for a while. Returned home after 2 weeks, and luckily parents didn’t have the sense to report me missing.
“Alright, I’m off,” I say crouching down “wait did you just talk?-“ my dad shakes his head “-never mind that, what do we say if your friends stop by?”.
“ I really don’t care what you say, as long as it doesn’t raise any questions or make me look dumb“ I instructed my dad, he dumbly nodded while mom came around the corner with a bag.
“Here you go, Ku.” she handed a camping bag full of... Female clothes? “I noticed you were a girl for some reason so I grabbed some of my old clothes for you” she lend in and whispered “I stuffed some coffee jelly’s for you” she winked at me. I guess it's true, mothers always know “thanks mom, I'll be going”.
“Wait what about me-” I teleport back to the apartment, I look around “Anya! I'm back” I call out when I noticed Anya wasn't on the couch anymore “Welcome back!” I heard Anya call out.
I walk over to Loid’s bedroom to see a mess “good grief Anya” I sighed she nervously giggles then she stops “hey sissy, how did you disappear earlier” I’m going to ignore the fact she keeps calling sissy “I teleported”
“So you can read minds and telefart?” she said in awe I choke back a chuckle “I can do a lot of things”. I think of a list of my powers, how they work, and their drawbacks.
“.....wow” Anya muttered “d-do you think I'll have as many powers as you?!” she said excitedly.
“Honestly speaking, no.” I look over and she looked disappointed “I was born with these powers while your was created” I was telekinesis to clean up her mess/organize everything, Anya stares up in awe at the floating objects.
Once everything was back in place I used telekinesis on Anya and float her into my arms “besides these powers aren’t so good as they seem” a loud sound cuts us off Anya gasps “PA back!” she jumps off of my arms and runs towards the living room.
Geez I thought we were having a moment, wait what I saying?! Suddenly a scream rips through the air, without even thinking I ran towards to scream, I ran through the door then everything went black.
Well, a normal person would've passed out on impact but as a all-powerful psychic such as myself it felt more like a light breeze. I could fight back, but I don't really feel like it. I guess I'll just go to sleep.
And I know what your thinking "Saki are you really going to abandon Anya?!" and no I'm not, I've already place a invisible and indestructible shield on her. Trust me she'll be fine.
-----///-----⚜️⚜️⚜️ -----///-----
“-ey. Hey! HEY!!” I hear from somewhere within the darkness. I finally open my eyes and the first thing I see is some gritty looking thugs.
“Are you two twilight’s daughters?” This big dude with a cigarette in his mouth asked, like I don’t have tape on my mouth, I ignored him and looked around for Anya.
Cigarette guy just huffs and turns back to his followers “I guess it doesn't matter. If they turn out to have value as a hostage we can use her as a shield” he turns and looks at the other thugs “We’ll force Twilight to take the photos of the minister of foreign affairs’ wig himself”.
As so that what going on here. If we're being completely honest I don't think a few pictures of the minister's wig flying off are enough to make him quit but maybe that's just me.
“Boss?” a thug with brown hair piped up “isn't it time we gave on the wig”, finally someone with some sense. Suddenly the cigarette guy pulled out the pistol and shot the brown hair guy without hesitation. I spoke too soon.
“Honest is important in politics. Wigs are no good” all this for a wig?! 𝕊𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕪 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜! 𝔸 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕝! ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥?! “Plus the minister is secretly backing the west. That's treason.” I knew this couldn't be about a stupid wig. “Anyone who covers up for treason is committing treason too.”
Whoa. I look to Anya. A real bad guy! 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕘𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕗 𝔸𝕟𝕪𝕒. I sigh “hey boss! Nguyen and the rest of the boys we left with at the house are back!”
Huh. he actually came to save us, I won't lie I was kinda worried for a second. I look over to Anya and see her slowly calming down.
After a minute or two, a small, group of guys came in carrying a man with a bag on his head. Of course, as the all-knowing psychic, I am it wasn’t really hard to determine that the man under the bag was not our father Loid.
“We caught a man,” one of the men said. They dropped a man dressed like Loid onto the floor. Good grief, these guys are dumb but I must admit the mask Loid made is amazing, no wonder twilight is known as a ‘living legend’.
Not to mention he’s acting skills are out of this world, I watch him wobble around pretending to be hurt “ugh... No amateur has moves like that! This guy is the real deal!” this blond guy comes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder “hey, go lay down”.
I take a glance at Anya again, she is dead eye staring at Loid. I look back at loid and watch as he slowly makes his way to the back of the group then over to us “now then, twilight-“ Loid quickly unties us both, picks Anya, grabs my hand, then starts running.
Next thing I know we running out of the building with thugs behind us.
This is a mistake.
 Ouch I won't lie that one hurt, I know he is a spy and everything but I didn’t think he’d be this cold.
Taking a risk like this, even strolling into enemy territory… I'm a disgrace of a spy. A little harsh don’t you think, *sigh. “Pa? PA!” Anya suddenly wails.
Oh… right. I think I just realized why children crying makes me so mad. 
Imagines of a war flood into his brain; blood, guts, destroyed buildings, abandoned tanks, bodies beneath the rubble. The things he saw- the things he lived through were enough to make me sick. After a second or two I noticed something in the in his memory, on left side of the wreckage there’s a unbroken window, in the reflection you can see the image of a blond frail-looking boy sobbing his eyes out.
Because it reminds me of my childhood. The isolation and despair from no one reaching out to me. 
Suddenly the memory starts to change; (child) Loid started looking around and made eye contact with his reflection, the poor boy was covered with dirt and blood from his wounds. The boy started to cry harder.
“The powerlessness of being able to do nothing but cry”. I don’t want to watch this any more… Sometimes I really hate my powers.
I thought I’d thrown it away, but it looks like my past self has been unconsciously tagging along, huh?
No that's not important right now. Loid drags us over to the sidewalk outside of the building and places Anya down “now listen here ladies” he digs through his jacket and pulls out a notepad and a pencil.
“We’re actually a team of pro tag players-” he said while handing a piece of paper, really?! out of excuse in the book he picks that one?!  “-and when we find someone with talent, we like to challenge them to a surprise match” he said with a fake accent.
“Now listen up. If you hear straight down this road-” he points to the right “-and then I turn right then keep walking, you'll find a police station. He folds up the paper and hands it to me, "when you get there you two need to give this to the officers then you win"
Ah, what a nice way to abandon someone. Whatever, if anything this works out better for me, once we get out of sight we can teleport back to my house or anywhere Anya wants to go.
When they see this, they 'll put them in a better orphanage, then I'll rework the mission. I'll figure out a way to do it that doesn't involve a kid. "Pa?" Anya starts, "Ready Set Go!" he cut her and sends us on our way.
Not fit to be a spy?
No. The mistake was endangering those children in the first place. How did I not see that?
We hear him turn around so we take to chance to look back at him. Making a world were children don't have to cry- he rips of his mask- is the whole reason I became a spy.
Oh wow.
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"Ugh he's taking forever" I sighed we've been here for about an hour waiting Loid to finish beating up the 'bad guys'. I back at Anya to see messing with a line demons ants.
"Anya leave those ants alone!" I yell while picking her up "whyyyy" Anya whines "because they're gross plus I don't want to listen to cry when they bite you"
"Anya? Kusuo?!" we look up to see Loid with the leather jacket from before over his shoulder. "PAAAAA!" Anya yells as she runs to Loid and hugs his legs.
"How did you- I mean uh what are you doing away from home" Loid asked, nice save father. I shot him a look, and he start to panic, "as for me, uh, I came here to shop but it looks like to they've went out of business."
Papa really is a liar.
I tried to bite back a laugh. Anya looks up at Loid and said, in que quote " we were playing tag with strange man" ......... I sigh and face palm. I Loid looks at me confused but just nodded.
"I see..... was that fun?" he asked still looking confused Anya hugged his leg a little harder "it was a little scary". "I want to go home! with you and sissy!".
"Are you- are you sure about that?'" he asked looking shocked, 'if you leave again I'll cry" Anya said using his previous thoughts against him, he looks at me. I nod. As much as I want to go home, I have some time to kill so I'll stay until this mission is over. Something tells me It'll be exciting.
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I'm gonna stop here. Here ya go @fruity-fruition I tried my best I hope everyone enjoyed reading this post if anyone want another part just ask!!! I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope everyone has a good day, Bye!~
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swanimagines · 2 years
Note
heyyy could you write G2 with morpheus from the sandman <333
OLD VERSION, NEW VERSION HERE!!!
Fandom: The Sandman
Pairing: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x gn!reader
Prompt: Whispering something to other's ear (bending it a bit because this was my first and best idea for this prompt, this is more like "whispering so nobody else hears")
Word count: 927
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It had been quick. Your uncle's blood flowed on the floor as his servants were above him. Alex's eyes were unfocused as he stared at the sight and you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He did not flinch at your touch but remained silent, staring down at the pool of red spreading out from under his father.
The man inside his glass prison stared at Alex and you remembered your cousin's promise from just a few days ago.
I'd let you out if I could.
The man seemed to remember it too, judging by the way he looked at Alex. Alex turned away from his father, slowly walking around the prison and met eyes with the prisoner. He seemed like he was in trance as he slowly lifted his hand up towards the glass. His fingers moved through air for a moment, then began to shake and he withdrew on the last moment.
"Alex, you promised," you scolded him, crossing your arms. "You said you'd free him if you could."
Your voice echoed around the basement and Alex turned his glossy eyes on you.
"I need to think... I need to make sure he won't hurt us if I free him."
You rolled your eyes, glancing at the man who was watching the scene unfold and gesturing to him. "Do you not see what keeping him prisoner has already caused? All the damage with sleep and dreaming? And if you free him now and don't ask for anything in return, he might reward you by letting you go in peace, it wasn't up to you a moment ago but it is now, you have to keep your promise!"
Suddenly, Alex's tone harshened in a way you had never heard before. "That's just it! He might leave us alone, but he might kill us as well, or curse us! I can't take that risk, I need him to promise he won't do that!"
And with that, he marched away, leaving you standing there seething in anger and frustration. You grabbed hold of your hair, tugging them between your fingers as you ground your teeth together as you held back a scream. The man inside his cell watched you intently and you felt his gaze like an icicle piercing your skull.
You let go of your hair after a moment, took in a deep breath and turned your eyes on the man, looking down at the sigils and placing your feet just behind them and he cocked his head as he inspected you.
"I'm sorry..." you whispered and swallowed. "I really thought he would free you."
Then you turned, feeling his eyes on you as you exited the basement.
***
It had been a week from that day when you made your way back to the basement with one goal in mind. You had avoided Alex and sulked at everyone else for a few days, and then proceeded to research your uncle's old spell books and managed to find things that might help you free the man in the basement.
You had been around long enough to know that he wasn't as dangerous as your uncle had painted him to be, and until last week, Alex had seemed to think so too. But then cowardness took over him too. So now it was up to you.
You glanced at the guards on duty who seemed to pay little attention to you being there, muttering something about your uncle's incoming funeral and you took the opportunity to lean your forehead against the glass. The man slowly raised his eyes on you again, and you offered him a soft smile as a greeting.
"I'm getting you out of there," you whispered, so quiet even you had trouble hearing it but you knew the man certainly did as something in his eyes shifted once you said it. "If this won't help you, I'll think of something else, but as for now..."
You then withdrew from him, quickly dragging your foot along the floor to mess up the circle and coughed loudly to mask the sound. The guards raised their eyes on you as you turned and started walking towards the gate.
"Are you okay, Mx?" the other guard asked you and you nodded with a small smile.
"It's just that the stench here is horrid and I can't concentrate on trying to persuade the prisoner, I think I'll go have some fresh air."
You tried not to glance back at the man in his prison even though you felt his eyes on you even after stepping out of the house.
You breathed in deep and listened to birds chirping in the trees nearby. Your heart pounded in a rush of adrenaline, knowing there was a possibility that the man would come after Alex when he got free to punish him for breaking his promise, and whatever would happen would technically be on you. 
But still, it had been Alex's decision to break his promise and start demanding for favors in return too. Maybe he wasn't as greedy as his father had been and “just” wanted him to promise he’d be safe, but even so, he had become more cowardly than before. So you had had to take matters in your own hands.
You could only hope that messing up the sigils would help the dream man... if not, it would be a far more difficult task to free him, but seeing how much bad had emerged from him being locked up, you knew helping him escape would be worth the trouble.
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Tags: @jesllianaquilesrolon @stygianoir @shining-yuu // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of my fandoms you want to be tagged on! Don’t just say “can you add me to your taglist” as I can’t know what taglists do you mean by that!! ALSO IF YOU WON’T INTERACT BEYOND LIKING, I’LL EVENTUALLY TAKE YOU OFF THE LIST!!
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natalie-the-writer · 2 years
Text
Hey y'all! It's another UglyDolls story. Yep.
Except this time, I did a big twist with an AU idea I've had in my mind for months. This story follows where the Lou in the movie wasn't the real Lou, but a replacement and, well, you'll see how it goes.
Replacement and Rescue
It had been two years since Lou woke up locked in the basement of his own home. Two years since of him being in this ten by ten foot cell with three sleek grey walls and one glass wall. Two years since he was replaced for being 'corrupted' because he learned emotions from Ox and was willing to send a so-called 'ugly' doll to the Big World. Two years of learning dolls' names every night, seeing the memories of his replacement, and trying not to cry from helpless loneliness. He couldn't save his dolls. He couldn't protect them from the harsh words of the doll who pretended to be him. He couldn't protect Ox. 
 Everything changed a few days ago. Dolls that could only be from wherever Ox came from had shown up. They were going to go through the Gauntlet - an exercise for compassion and skill during his leadership and an object of pressure and fear for his replacement. If they made it through, it would reveal the secret. Lou might get out of there. For the first time in a year, he allowed himself a little bit of hope as he meditated, peering through the eyes of his replacement. The creator couldn't completely sever their connection with one Lou alive. Why he was alive in the first place, he didn't know. Didn't really want to know the answer. 
 It had been hard to stay up straight and meditate for hours. He usually kept it short, just a glimpse because even though it was torture for himself, he had to know. He hated not knowing even if everything he found out, everything he saw during lessons, crushed him. He was sleep deprived for hours, shaking where he sat and heart thundering in his chest, but he had to know what would happen. Ox was back. His replacement dragged him here and as much as Lou hated him being tossed around by someone he thought was Lou, there was a part of him that was happy. Hopeful. Ox was near. He would figure it out. He had to. The replacement had his memories, but not his attitude. 
 Ox would figure it out. 
 Lou watched as his replacement ran the Gauntlet, doing everything he could to trip the other dolls and failing. His heart went a mile a minute, a foreign, forgotten smile of triumph appearing on his face every time the other blonde was thwarted. He watched Moxy, Mandy, Nolan, Ox - everyone. He watched everyone cross. Watched his replacement fail. Grinned when the metaphorical ax fell and his replacement revealed he was a prototype. 
 Exhaustion took over in a wave as his replacement fought Lou's brother. His palms hit the ground, head hanging forward and bangs covering his face. His hair had long since fallen out of a perfectly good style, hanging in wavy locks on his forehead and reaching just above his shoulders. The last thing he heard was his replacement's cackle and remark of, "I'm not the Lou you knew." 
 He woke up hours later on the ground with a crick in his neck and his replacement banging on the glass. He rolled his head to look, lacking the strength to stand or even raise up. 
 The second Lou looked so much worse for wear than ever - suit shrunken, hair a mess, and a scowl permanent on his face. They must've sent him through the wash. Lou allowed himself a small smile. 'Was the water nice?' He wanted to ask, but all that came out of his mouth was air. He hadn't spoken in months. He wasn't sure if his voice worked anymore. 
 "I'm leaving to talk to the creator and get my position back since your stupid doll friend took it from me." He growled, folding his hands behind his back. Lou's smile grew. "Don't worry, they know nothing about you. They won't find you. They aren't looking for you." His mouth pulled into a smile as Lou's heart dropped. "I can sense your hope as well as you can see through my eyes. You shouldn't have developed emotions. If you hadn't, you'd be in my place without a stupid mistake to take care of." 
 'I'm glad I developed them!' He wanted to scream. 'I don't want to be like you. I'd rather be here than hurt any doll, especially my brother.' Since his throat refused to cooperate, he glared with newfound defiance. It'd been so long since he'd stood up against his replacement, acknowledged him with more than a short look, and it felt powerful. It felt right, for just a moment. 
 His replacement snorted. "Adorable." He spun on his heel. "I'll be back in a week or two. Try not to die before then. Sir wants you alive for some reason, despite all your mistakes." Lou waited until the door down the hall closed before letting his eyes shut, breathing deeply as he slowly pushed himself to sit up against the wall. The little cot of a bed was only three feet away, but he didn't have the willpower to get on it. Instead, he drew his knees to his chest and settled his forehead on top of them, unbidden tears falling down his cheeks. Relief. Hope. Desperation. It all boiled over into uncontrolled crying. He hadn't cried in months. 
 It felt good. 
__________________
 Lou waited five days. 
 He forced himself to take a long cold (it was always cold) shower in the little cubicle in the corner every day. Most of it was letting the water fall down on his face and over his threads, grounding him to reality with every shiver. A robot brought him a meal once a day. They seemed to get smaller and smaller with every month that passed, only enough to keep himself alive. He wore plain, stiff clothing, usually black or white, and he hadn't felt comfortable since his capture. 
 Who was he kidding? The only time he felt comfortable in his life was when he was singing his songs, teaching, or with Ox. It had been a long time since any of that happened. Could he even sing anymore? What would he sing about?
 On the evening of the fifth day, Lou sat once again with his back against the wall. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep. Every sound made him jerk, hope skyrocketing that someone was here to save him only to crumble when no one showed. He couldn't take much more of this. His hair was wet from his most recent shower, damp clothes clinging to his skin because he hadn't had the energy to dry himself as much. Shivers wracked his lanky frame making him curl up tighter. 
 Lou eventually put his head down against his knees again, wrapping his arms around himself in the closest thing he could get to a hug. He missed Ox's hugs. He missed Ox. His only friend. The only person who ever hugged him. Sometimes, he could feel the phantoms of his arms ghosting around Lou's torso, a barely there touch that was really only air. Absentmindedly, he wondered what other's hugs would feel like. 
 His imagination was torture. 
 Lou sighed and closed his eyes, trying not to picture for the millionth time what it would be like to be rescued. He couldn't get himself out of this. He'd tried so many times. Attempts only ended in punishment. His body was too weak to try now, even with his captor away. His mind was only sharp through single player card games and mental problems he solved. How he kept his sanity, he wasn't sure. Always remembering Ox? Always keeping a small drop of hope despite everything? 
 There was no hope now, he realized. Tears pushed at his eyelids and his head pounded in time with his heart. Ox was within a mile from him and he hadn't found him. Hadn't figured it out. He wouldn't be found. Lou #2 would come back and take over again. Everything would be the same except... Ox and the others would undoubtedly be kicked out or worse, never able to return. Lou would be truly alone. He shook, pulling his legs closer as tears broke through, soaked into the cloth of his black pants. 
 He didn't want to be alone anymore. It was cold. Sad. Scary. All the bad emotions Ox gave him names for. He wanted it to stop. 
 He wanted his brother, but he was just out of reach. So close, yet painfully far. 
_______________
 Lou wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he knew when he woke up to the call of his name. 
 "Lou!" 
 He shook his head a little, pressing his eyes shut again. It was only in his mind. His stupid imagination. He kept his head downward, pulling his body as close together as he could go to try and block out that imaginary voice in his head. A voice he hadn't heard in years. The last time he truly heard Ox, they were wishing each other goodnight the day before the Gauntlet. Lou had replayed that moment thousands of times, wishing that he'd said so much more. 
 "Lou! Please, Lou, look at me." 
 'No, I won't.' He said to the voice in his mind, fighting back the urge to really look around. It would only be another disappointment. 'You're not really here. I'm not about to get tricked by my own mind. Not again.' His fingers pinched the fabric of his pants as he screamed at himself to snap out of it. He was losing his mind. He really was going crazy.
 "I'm coming, buddy. We're coming. Just hold on and I'll be right there with you. I'm here." 
 Buddy. Only Ox ever called him buddy. He went to raise his head only to forcefully stop himself. No, he was not going to respond. Voices without bodies don't get responses. Their promises aren't real. Their words can't bring the comfort he longed for. 
 There was a whoosh of air and then the pattering of several footsteps, one set much faster than the others. He really was losing his sanity after two years. He was breaking- 
 Soft arms wrapped around his torso from the side, one looping around his back and the other across the front of his legs. He jolted with what little strength he had left in him, but was otherwise frozen, his mind coming to a stuttering halt as he curled further into a ball. No. No. No. This wasn't real. It was too much. Why? Why did his mind do this to him? Hadn't he suffered enough?
 "Lou." His name was spoken softly. Ox. That was definitely Ox's voice. It was always Ox in his nightmares and dreams, screaming at him or comforting him. This was no different. He wouldn't fall for the trick. 
 The arms tightening around him almost broke his resolve. He turned his head away a little, unwilling to look at the illusion or think about how real the hug felt. "Talk to me, Lou. I'm here. I'm sorry. Can you hear me?" One of the arms moved. Lou almost let out a whimper at the loss of contact, as fake as it was, and opened his eyes to stare at the blank tile. A hand took his chin gently, pulling it until he was face to face with Ox. 
 Ox who's hand was warm. Ox who was looking at him with his one eye brimming with tears and mouth turned up in a shaky attempt at a smile. Blurred figures stood at the edge of Lou's vision, silent and staring, but he only had eyes for the illusion. "Say something, Lou. Please." His voice cracked, fingers tightening minutely on the blonde. The touch, the pressure, gave Lou a realization that had his lungs hitching and tears pooling in his eyes again. 
 This was real. 
 With a burst of sudden strength, he gripped onto Ox's arm with his hands, checking- He was solid. Completely solid. A strangled sound left his throat as he met eyes with his friend, more tears running down his face. He choked on them, breaths coming faster as he was enveloped in a strong hug, face pressed into the green fur of Ox's chest. Lou hung onto his warm with all his might, begging for this not to be a dream. 'Please, don't let this be a trick. Please.' He wasn't sure who he was begging to. Himself? God? Ox? Trembles ran through his frame, suppressed sobs and flagging strength overtaking him. 
 "I'm right here. I promise." Ox whispered, voice breaking again. He always knew what Lou was thinking. "Oh gosh, Lou, I'm so sorry. If I knew - if I'd known - I would've been here in a heartbeat." 
 He hadn't used his voice in so long that he wasn't sure how to speak. He opened his mouth, pushed his throat, and- "Ox." The name was barely a whisper, hardly loud enough for he himself to hear, but Ox's arms tightened anyway. He tried again, managing something slightly louder. "Ox. Ox." 
 "I'm here. It's- You're gonna be just fine. We'll get you out of here. He'll never hurt you ever again. Just rest a minute. I promise I've got you." One hand moved from his back to run through his wet hair. Lou's eyes closed involuntarily, breathing evening out at the action. "Moxy, Ugly Dog, keep an eye out for that... monster of a doll. Mandy, your house is closest. We need to get him somewhere comfortable and out of here. You're going to lead the way. Nolan, I need you to come here. Everyone else, find anything that might actually belong to Lou and then act as bodyguards outside. We don't need other dolls seeing. It would be too overwhelming." 
 The calm command in his friend's voice soothed his heart further. The role of leader fit him well. Lou peeked an eye open as several pairs of feet moved, vision clearing now that the tears bad slowed. He recognized all the dolls, seen them from his replacement's memories, and knew the Pretty Dolls' names since they were created. He also remembered all the others. As Nolan came closer, an anxious look in his mismatched eyes, he let his eye fall shut and relaxed against his brother. If he trusted them, then Lou could trust them, too. 
 "What do you need me to do?" The brunette's voice was small. Lou recalled the Ugly sign on him and the U.G.L.Y. song that made him cry. Did that shatter his confidence on the first day? His heart wrenched with the thought. He'd have to make it up to him. Somehow. 
 "I can't... I'm not tall enough to carry him comfortably. I need you to, until we get to Mandy's house. Please." 
 "I... I'll do it. As long as he's fine with it." 
 Lou felt the eyes on him and ignored how his heart picked up the pace again. He wanted Ox and only Ox, but he also wanted out of here. It had almost been a week since the other Lou left. He could be back at any moment. He wasn't about to get locked in a cage again when freedom and safety were right in front of him. So, he forced himself to open his eyes halfway, look between Ox and Nolan, and nod. 
 "You'll be just fine. I won't be far." Ox assured as he was gingerly shifted away. His brother didn't let go until he was safely tucked against the chest and shoulder of the other doll, one arm looping around his back and the other under his knees. After a '1, 2, 3' count, he was lifted from the cold floor. He tried not to 'cuddle' up against Nolan - they weren't exactly friends and the Lou the brunette knew was far from the original - but it was hard when you hadn't had the contact of another individual in two years. Carefully, he pressed his forehead to Nolan's neck and folded his hands over his stomach. Nolan stiffened, saying nothing, and Lou deemed it safe enough to close his eyes again. 
 He wasn't sure when he drifted off. Slivers of consciousness came and went as he was carried down the vast hallways of what was once his mansion (he wouldn't admit to himself that he flinched when he peeked and saw all the statues and artwork). He opened his eyes a little when warmer air hit him, almost crying when he saw sunlight and buildings. Outside. He was outside. The wind whipped by, running through his hair like an old friend, and he smiled. Lou wanted to see all of it, but his exhausted body begged for reprieve. He gave in, letting unconsciousness take him in bits and pieces for a little while. Vaguely, he was aware of the forms moving around him, creating a barrier, and Ox's hand on his arm. 
 He awoke again when he was put down, laid across something so soft he could've cried a third time. A bed. A soft bed that was a stark contrast to the cot he had nightmares in. A large hand rested on his head as the comforter was pulled over him. "Rest bud, you're safe." He whispered as another, heavier blanket was flattened over Lou. A weighted blanket. Lou snuggled down into it, a small puff of content air escaping his mouth. Everything was soft and warm. He could lay there and not get up again for all he cared about right now. 
 There was a small shifting of feet as he laid on his side. He listened as Ox told some dolls to leave, grab supplies, and inform the town that he'd be unavailable for a while. (Knowing Ox would be there made the last of the unknown tension ease from his muscles, leaving him feeling floaty and happier than he'd been in forever.) He called back two dolls: Mandy and Nolan. He instructed them to help keep watch on Lou. 
 Before everything, Lou would've protested being babied. He was independent, perfect, and everything in between. Now though? He wanted dolls close to him, even nice dolls that he didn't know because they weren't mean and cold. 
 As the conversation went on, Lou found himself no longer able to feign sleep, slipping into real oblivion easily. No nightmares interrupted him.
_________________
 Despite everything, something urgent came up that Ox had to deal with. It had been several hours since Lou went to sleep and the sun was going down, the bustle of the town at a slow down before dolls poured through the portal, their children asleep and ready to get rest themselves, hang with friends, or grab a bite to eat. Mandy had returned barely half an hour before, walking in the door right before Ox left, leaving her and Nolan to watch over the sleeping blonde who looked so much like the tyrant who was toppled a week ago. 
 "He looks a little different." Nolan muttered after a long stretch of silence, unaware of her racing thoughts. He was looking at Lou, almost studying him, and watching the ride and fall of the doll's chest. Lou had barely moved since he was placed in bed. The only movement he did make was from when he was switched into more comfortable blue pajamas, now laying on his back instead of his side. His hair was laid out, fanning over the pillow in golden waves. Sometimes, he'd almost smile, lips twitching up, only for his face to fall lax again. 
 But there were things underneath the blankets and a peaceful face. Lou was thin, thinner than a doll should be. He'd been locked inside of what could only be described as a cage, unmoving against the wall when they found him. He'd broken down in tears when he finally responded to Ox, eyes so lost and vulnerable it made her heart hurt. She hated to think she'd been so skeptical of Ox's suspicions that there was something else going on. It was only after they found the secret door by pure dumb luck (as in Lucky Bat and Ugly Dog horseplaying until they ran into the fake column-lever) that they found the real, vulnerable Lou. If they hadn't gone in there, hadn't found him.... who knows what would've happened. 
 He'd been there a long time. That was clear to see. Why hadn't anyone noticed? She wasn't here for his personality flip, wasn't here to see one Lou turn to another, but did he not have friends who would see it?
 She thought back to the words and technical warning Ox gave before he left. "We can't fix the past. I was the only one who coulda seen it and I didn't..." He'd ran his hand over his head. "We can only help him now. He's going to be a complete flip from the Lou you know. He... He was only just learning emotions when I knew him. There's no telling what that time did to him. Be careful with him." 
 Then he'd left, leaving the three dolls alone. It'd been an hour. 
 
 "He does," she replied after another minute. They were sitting in armchairs by the bed, watching either the window or Lou. "But...before he probably looked exactly like... him." Her voice lowered to a near growl on the last word. She didn't understand how someone could take the identity of another, destroy who they were in the public eye while torturing the original. 
 Nolan fiddled with his hands. "What do you think he's like?"
 "I... I don't know. We'll find out soon." 
 A few heartbeats later, Lou shifted. 
 'Sooner than expected,' Mandy thought, tensing a little while trying to appear relaxed. She thought she mostly succeeded. Nolan did not. He gripped the fabric of his pants, shoulder going a little rigged as Lou slowly pulled his eyes open, brief confusion and fear flashing across his features until realization settled in. He blinked at the ceiling, then his eyes landed on them, curious and hesitant. None of them said a word for a full thirty seconds. 
 It was Lou who broke the silence, voice an unused rasp. "Hi." He gave a little wave with his fingers. 
 Nolan jumped into action. "Hi- uhm, oh, you must be dehydrated. Hold on. I'll get some water." He sprinted from the room so fast that he ran into the hallway wall. Both Mandy and Lou winced. "I'm okay! Just a minute!" His fast footsteps disappeared down the stairs. 
 The two remaining occupants met eyes, Lou looking between her and the door with a little worry. She waved it off, trying not to show how caught off guard she was to see that face show such emotion. "He'll be alright. He does that sometimes. Do you want to sit up?" He opened his mouth and she stopped him. "No talking. Just move your head, okay?" He nodded twice, getting his elbows up under him. Mandy hastened forward to help him, putting her hand against his back as he slowly sat up. She helped him lean back against the headboard, blankets still firmly wrapped around his shoulders. He looked a little like a sick child, except with emptier eyes.
 "Thank you," he mouthed, offering a tiny smile. 
 Instinctively, she smiled back. "You're welcome." 
 Footsteps came down the hall again. Nolan practically sprinted into the room with a half full pitcher of ice water and an empty glass. Mandy raised an eyebrow. "You didn't spill half of that, did you?"
 "No, but I knew I would if it was filled to the top." Nolan replied sheepishly. He poured up a glass and held it out to Lou. The blonde pulled his arms out from under the blankets, taking the glass in slightly shaking hands. Mandy stepped forward to offer assistance, but he managed to drink it by himself. He went through another refill in slightly weird silence before putting the glass on the bedside table with the pitcher. 
 Lou ran a hand down his throat and cleared it. "Thank you, Nolan." His voice was still weak, but less gravelly. A bare whisper that could almost not be heard over the ceiling fan. Nolan grinned, some of the tension broken, and said "anytime." The word made a smile form on Lou's lips. 
 It was strange. If the Lou from last week had smiled, it was the smile of a shark, teeth or not. The hesitant smile on this wavy haired Lou in pajamas was entirely different. A doll pushed toward the edge finally saved. 
 "Where's Ox?" He asked, folding his hands in his lap. Blue eyes scanned the room in one swoop, anxiety visibly growing the longer Ox wasn't around. The image of him clinging to his brother as hard as he could flashed across Mandy's mind, pulling on her heartstrings once again. 
 "He had to step out for a little bit." He'll be back soon." She assured him. "Something about several dolls fighting." 
 "Oh. Alright." 
 Silence descended for a minute. Not exactly uncomfortable, but they didn't know each other. Lou didn't know them. They didn't know this Lou. He needed to be comfortable, especially while recovering. 
 Wait...
 "How did you know Nolan's name?" She asked, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him. Her tone was carefully constructed to be curious, not accusing. 
 He fiddled with a stray thread on the blanket. "I was awake earlier, but it wouldn't have mattered if I was or not. I know the name of every doll that is made for me to teach." He said, then winced. "Well, before, anyway. Now I know the names and have to watch while my replacement teaches you all. He's right and wrong." Like that, he was off on a tangent, eyes narrowed on the bed as his voice gave in an out. There was a small fire brewing in his irises, drawing Mandy in. "The washer is only for demonstration. Not to be used on dolls. The Gauntlet isn't supposed to just test strength, as you all finally figured out. The-'' He broke off in a coughing fit. Nolan poured another glass and passed it to him. 
 "Slow down, Lou." Mandy said. The name felt foreign on her lips. "There will be plenty of time to dissect that later. The other... guy is gone. All you need to do is rest up." 
 He finished the glass, voice dejected as he spoke again. "He'll be back soon. Possibly with an army of robots or something. He wants his... throne back and me gone. He hasn't been able to since the creator wants me alive for some reason, but now? He'll kill me no matter what." He let out a frustrated huff. "If I had the strength, I could tell you exactly where he is?"
 "What do you mean?" Nolan voiced the question on Mandy's mind. 
 "He is... hardwired to me. I am the original prototype to run this place. Since there can't be two from the base programming, he is based off of me. Connected to me." He touched his chest, right above his heart. "We both have chips. Mine is the original. His follows mine. I can see through his eyes and he can feel my emotions since that's the one difference between us. The creator made sure he wouldn't develop emotions like I did. He has many purposes to drive him, but not emotions. He won't listen to a word I say. He's less doll, more... robot."
 "We'll fix this." The promise pulled itself from Mandy's lips. He looked at her through hanging bangs. "You won't be hurt again. We'll get rid of him. You'll have your rightful place again." 
 He smiled, looking somewhere between shy and surprised, but grateful all the same. "Thank you." 
 "It's the right thing to do." Carefully, she took his hand in hers. The muscles tightened a brief moment, hesitation flickering across his face, and then his fingers curled around hers in a gentle squeeze. "Wage is coming with some food for you. It should be here soon. Ox said you liked pasta with pepper." 
 A small light lit up his eyes. "I do."
 "Then you're in for a treat." 
___________________
 Not long later, several sets of feet came bounding up the stairs, murmurred voices and 'shush' admonishments following. Mandy shook her head fondly. She loved her friends, but a lot of them couldn't be quiet for anything. Nolan shared the same sentiments in a small chuckle. Lou just looked vaguely amused, settled back against the pillows. He was exhausted, but refused to sleep any longer. 
 The door came open and Moxy's head peeked in. She grinned when she saw Mandy and Nolan. Her grin grew wider when her eyes landed on Lou. "He's awake!" She told the others, running forward to the bed as everyone else filed in, Wage holding a styrofoam box of pasta and Lucky Bat with a bowl of ice cream held in his wings. "How are you feeling, Louey?" Moxy asked. 
 "Uhm..." He was clearly a little overwhelmed by the exuberant pink doll. "... better, I suppose." 
 "Your voice is shot." UglyDog said blatantly, receiving a light smack to the back of the head by Babo. "What? It's what the ice cream is for! I was setting the scene, man!" 
 "Ice... cream?" He sounded so confused it hurt. 
 "Yeah dude! Vanilla!" The dog doll jumped onto the end of the bed as Lucky Bat walked up with Wage. They settled the food in front of Lou with friendly smiles. He smiled back, but Mandy saw the glistening sheen of tears in his eyes. She squeezed his hand again and their eyes met. 
 'Are you okay?' She silently asked as the others moved around the bed, laughing and joking lightly with each other. 
 "I'm fine," he murmured. "Just...happy." 
 She smiled. "Eat your food. You need strength back, and the ice cream will help your throat." She reached out and opened the containers for him, putting the fork in his hand afterward. After a moment of hesitation, he started eating, watching the others and her with slightly wary eyes. It would take time to build a friendship with Lou. He'd been burned a lot mentally, but they'd help him. 
 A few minutes later, Nolan's voice broke through the chatter. "Does anyone want to play cards?" He held up a stack of Uno cards. 
 A chorus of "yes" went around until eyes landed on Lou, halfway done with his pasta. He looked between all of them, then asked, "How do you play?" 
 Instructions were given. Cards dealt. Lou's half eaten plate was put to the side because he couldn't stand any more and he nibbled on a scoop of chilled ice cream in a cup, the rest having been put away in the freezer while cards were given. They played round after round as the sun went down, laughing and sending good natured jibes at each other. Lou stayed mostly silent, smiling as he organized his cards. When he won, he laughed. 
 It was like a million cheerful bells going off. Beautiful and contagious in every right. Maybe it was a little weak and breathy. Who cared? Nobody. Everyone enjoyed the fact that he was laughing. 
 Ox came in at about ten o'clock, frazzled and worried, but when he stopped and saw them all playing Uno, Moxy about to win and Lou grinning as he laid down a draw four on her, Mandy watched him smile. It was sad and happy at the same time. She allowed him to slip into the spot between her and Lou, smiling to herself as his arm slipped around his brother's back in a side hug that Lou leaned into. 
 It was the calm before the storm, she knew. The replacement would be back eventually. Lou was struggling in both mind and body. The storm would come with a bang and they'd get thrown around a while, but they'd be okay eventually. As long as they stayed together. 
 For now though, Mandy pushed the thoughts of the hard future away and enjoyed the moment. They were together now, getting to know Lou, and that was what mattered. 
 (Lou won again.)
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secret-kpoplibrary · 2 years
Text
The Prince's First Love Pt. 2
Pairing: Prince!Namjoon x Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Nothing to worry about here- you're safe
Genre: I think this counts as fluff
Summary: You've been working at the palace for much of your adult life, under specific instructions from The King. That is to stay as far from the prince as you can manage and certainly not to speak to him. Above all, you are never allowed to tell him the truth about how you ended up here. Which is all easy enough until doing one nice thing for his little cousin gets you his attention and suddenly you're doing everything you can to keep the king's skeletons in your closet while Prince Namjoon keeps trying to open it. If you thought keeping the prince in the dark would be simple you're about to find out just how difficult the royals make your life.
***
The weather today is nice enough that you find yourself in one of the palace courtyards by midafternoon.
"Hello." You hear behind you. You close your eyes for just a moment as your friend and fellow servant Kenna has already stood for greetings.
"Hello your highness." She bows. You don't have to turn around to know who has joined you. With how often he's made himself present lately you've become quite familiar with his voice.
"Hello your highness." You glance over your shoulder and nod slightly before turning your attention back to the needle and thread in your hands. You frown when Namjoon clears his throat and you look back at him. A subtle gesture towards Kenna with his head causes you to sigh a little and wrap up the stitch you're doing.
"Kenna dear, would you mind taking these to Yoongi for me? I believe he's in the kitchen now." You say handing her the now folded garment. Once she's gone you turn back and look at Namjoon expectantly.
"Walk with me?" He smiles at you.
"Do I have a choice your highness?" You ask standing up.
"I've told you before to drop the formalities when we are alone." He says as the two of you cross the courtyard.
"The palace has ears your highness, especially at this time of day." You respond.
"I see." Namjoon hums.
"Your highness, forgive me if this is rude but is there something you've needed from me this afternoon?" You ask him
"Something you said a few weeks ago. It only made sense for you to take over from my mother's lady who my father took council from after her passing."
"As I said then, I was trained by her yes." You shrug.
"I suppose I just wonder- you've garnered my father's trust and yet you can't be much older than me."
"I'll be 26 when the seasons change." You tell him.
"That makes you a year younger than me." Namjoon says.
"Yes I suppose it does."
"How long have you been here? At the palace I mean."
"Almost a decade. I was 17 when I came here, coming up on my 18th birthday."
"And my father trusts you for council."
"I don't know- I think your father more trusts lady Eloise's judgment. His wife trusted her and she trusted me so- it was likely a choice of convenience, rather than having to vet a new person for council."
"Convenience."
"Well yes- by the time I arrived here the Queen was dead, may she rest in peace and lady Eloise had become the king's aid. I learned everything from her and if the king can trust Eloise's judgment that's one less decision he has to make. Again if it bothers you take it up with him. I don't make those choices here, I'm just guessing the most probable reasons."
"I'm not bothered. You're clearly very capable. I just like to understand things." Namjoon says.
"Yes well- if you'll excuse me your highness I do have to run to town before dinner and if I don't leave now I won't have enough time." You say.
"Would you like me to accompany you?" He offers.
"No thank you, I'm going with lady Kenna."
"Right, then I will see you at dinner."
"You will see me serving dinner." You say putting some distance between the two of you.
"Lady y/n!" Namjoon calls after you.
"Yes your highness?" You stop but don't turn to look at him.
"We should take walks more often together." He says. You can hear the smile in his voice.
"If it pleases his highness." You respond.
"It would please me. Greatly- but only if you enjoyed yourself too." He says. You're glad you aren't facing him when you feel a smile make its way onto your face. You shake your head as you walk out of the courtyard to find Kenna.
"I've tried not to ask but I am quite curious y/n." Kenna says while you're walking through the market. You're just about finished here and will be heading back after you find one last thing.
"Curious about what Kenna?" You look at her.
"Well- what did the prince want?"
"The prince? Ah he was just- curious about my duties with the king." You shrug.
"Your duties with the king?" She frowns.
"I suppose he's trying to figure out if that's something he'll be changing once he becomes king one day." You muse as you pick up the last item you're looking for and complete the transaction.
"What? Why would he change that? The king trusts you."
"Well we can't say that for sure- but regardless it seems the prince does not." You say.
"The prince does not know you." Kenna says.
"Yes I noticed Kenna, that's probably why he's curious about the king trusting me and I'm okay with it. The prince does not yet decide my place in the palace. So long as the king is satisfied with my work I'm alright." You smile.
"You're not at all worried about the prince's distrust?"
"The prince's distrust comes from unfamiliarity. If he comes to know me as his father does I'm sure I'll be fine."
"What if he makes you leave?"
"Leave the palace? Well- the king made me come here so that would be an interesting turn of events." You chuckle.
"You're so cavalier about this."
"Kenna relax. The prince is not a threat to my being in the palace. Not until he becomes king and that may be years from now." You tell her. She lets out one last huff of discontent before dropping the subject for the remainder of your walk back to the palace. Some of what you purchased is for yourself, which you drop in your room, before taking the other stuff to Yoongi who asked you to grab some things.
"Yoongz! Brought your stuff." You say handing him a basket.
"You're a lifesaver honestly." Yoongi says placing it down out of the way while he does his part of dinner.
"So I'm told- oh did Kenna bring you the clothes you asked me to fix? I sent her to you but I know she can be a bit distractable. Did you get them?" You ask him.
"She brought them yeah, said you were busy with something and asked her to drop them for you?" 
"I actually sent her to you because of prince Namjoon."
"The prince? What has he got to do with this?"
"Kenna and I were in the courtyard and the prince came by. He wanted to talk with me. Alone." You explain.
"This doesn't seem odd to you? The prince paying so much attention to you in the last couple of weeks?" Yoongi frowns.
"I think it's absolute madness but he seems interested in my- position helping the king."
"What? Why?"
"From what I've gathered he doesn't exactly think I deserve it."
"He's suspicious."
"It would appear so." You mutter.
"Do you think he's- growing curious enough to learn of your origins?"
"You and the king are the only ones here who would know anything about my origins. Even if he were curious he wouldn't find anything."
"You don't think the crown prince would be able to find out who you are? Where you came from?"
"He'd have to ask you or his father. The king has no motivation to tell his son the truth of my presence here and he wouldn't know to ask you. I believe my secrets are safe."
"I believe you should just tell the prince the truth."
"I can't. The king- he'd have my head. My family would be in danger. The prince can never know- not from me and not from you either."
"Like you said- he wouldn't know to ask me anything."
"But if he does- you won't say anything?"
"Your secrets will die before they leave my lips." Yoongi nods.
"It's not worth your life. I don't believe he'd do it but if he does threaten your life Yoongi. You are worth more than my secrets. Tell him, but only if your life is in danger, please."
"I can handle myself. You should focus your energy on dispelling the prince's curiosity. Being in favor of the prince can lead to dangerous attention. Especially given the king's forbiddance."
"I know- I'll figure that out. Somehow. A problem for later. It's almost time for dinner, I'm sure you have things to finish." You smile leaving out of the kitchen. Most days the king and prince eat in their chambers unless there are guests in the palace. You need to visit the king before dinner to make sure you're not expected for the rest of the evening so that's you're destination after leaving the kitchen.
"How was your trip to the market?" You gasp slightly when a voice speaks beside you. You hadn't noticed him appear beside you.
"Your highness. Do you enjoy sweeping out of shadows to surprise your servants?" You ask.
"Only to surprise you y/n." Namjoon jokes.
"Of course." You sigh.
"your market trip- was it fruitful?"
"It was yes, I got everything I needed. Thank you for asking."
"Have you had dinner yet?"
"No, I'm on my way to see the king."
"Why?"
"I always see the king before dinner. He insists that I confirm with him that I've completed everything for the day and in case there's anything he needs me to do before I turn in for the evening." You explain.
"After you see my father, please come to my chambers."
"Of course your highness. If you insist." You mutter.
"I would just like you to join me for dinner." He explains.
"Okay, your highness. I will- join you in your chambers for dinner following my meeting with the king." You say.
"Excellent!" Namjoon nods and turns down the hall towards his own chambers. Dinner? He wants to have dinner with you?! This is not a good way to get less attention from the prince. In fact it's quite the opposite of getting less attention. You weren't expecting it to be easy to disinterest the prince, but you're beginning to worry it'll be even harder than you were expecting. You can only hope the king doesn't find out because you know he'd be livid if he did, but you can't very well deny a request from the crown prince either.
***
Part 2/???
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