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apollyonsdarksecrets · 3 months

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The Rescue

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Guys this is a very long chapter with a lot going on please put on your seatbelts, settle in, because it gets wild.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warning: R explains the trauma she dealt with as a child, SMUT. Oral (F receiving), Fingering (F receiving), Praise, Dirty talk, partially protected sex (F on the shot) Aaron has a slight breeding kink, cream pie,

Present Day

David waves one final time before slipping into his car, the parking deck of the quantico office quiet and still in the late hours. It’s nearing 12am, you’re mentally taxed, your brain begging to shut down but you can’t stop fidgeting in the passenger seat beside Aaron.

Aaron’s face is hard set, his eyes gauging your every move. “What do you want to do?” His voice is soft, filling the quiet cab, “I can take you to your neighbor’s if that would make you feel better…” There’s another option he would like to give you, his own nerves firing in overtime, afraid to let you leave his sight.

You’re staring out the window at the concrete walls, you feel hallow, like something inside your body has shattered and you’ve lost all of the important pieces. “I…” you like your lips, trying to find your voice. “Anna said she was okay with Bruce, right?”

“Yes.” Aaron draws out the word, searching for your face in the darkened glass, barely able to make out your reflection. You look torn down, the strong woman he has known chipped away to reveal a scared little girl, running from whatever darkness haunts her past. “We can go wherever you need to.”

“I’d… I just…” you take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have only been a few hours between what happened and now, and each one has been filled with flourished activity. You haven’t had time to stop and process what has happened, your brain now catching up to your body. Your head throbs slightly, the few cuts in your palms sting when you close your fists, your eyes hurt from crying so much. But the worst of it all is the war raging in your mind, the struggle of keeping it all in or letting it all out a constant battle that you seem to be losing more and more control over.

“Why don’t we take a ride?” The suggestion breaks through your thoughts, making you turn towards Aaron. His face is so soft, an expression you’ve never seen before, and you aren’t sure if you want to hate it or long for it.

“Okay…”

And so he does just that. He drives into the city, the street lights zipping by, barely illuminating dark houses and empty streets. Aaron drives with no real destination in mind, taking random turns, navigating the roads as you sit in silence. Eventually one of his hands come to rest beside your thigh, the flash of light on his watch catching your attention.

It’s a reminder.

An offer.

Salvation.

An hour passes in stark silence before you take your first deep breath, the noise loud in the small space. “Thank you… for saving me.” You force your voice to steady out, grappling for the mask you so carefully constructed all those years ago to shield the rubble of your true form.

“Do not thank me.” Aaron responds, rolling to a stop at a traffic light. You’re unfamiliar with this part of town, but it looks like a nice area with large lawns and small houses. “I just want you to talk to me.”

Your lips press together, glancing down at his large hand. Slowly you let your own hand slip off of your lap, tentatively touching his pinky with yours.

“I… it’s hard… and messy.” You whisper, watching how his fingers twitch but he makes no move to take your hand.

“I understand… but please, let me help you.” The light above suddenly cascades the car in neon green, and Aaron’s drives on, his face stoney and a twinge of desperation in his voice.

You turn your gaze back to the window with a deep breath, the cracks in your soul widening as you speak.

“I… I had a fairly normal childhood when I was younger. Very typical suburban family, my mother stayed home with me while my father worked at a mechanic shop. Happy, picturesque family…” You swallow thickly, choking on the pressure building in your chest. “I was 8 when my mom died… she was hit by a drunk driver and my dad just… he couldn’t handle it. He loved her so much that when she died he snapped. He started drinking and I… he would drink so much that I would find him passed out for hours on end and I was still just a child…”

A dark bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head as you lean back into the seat. “Then one day he seemed to wake up. Instead of being mad at the world and God, things that felt no retribution from his anger, he decided that he needed something that would. Me. The night she died she was on the way home from seeing her mother. It was so late but I missed her, she had been gone for two days. I begged her to come home.”

You can still see that night vividly when you closed your eyes, the old house filled with police officers, the broken sound of your father’s begging screams. The female officer who had taken you to your room to explain that your mother would not be coming home as she sat with you on the floor surrounded by coloring books and stuffed animals.

“He told me my emotions caused everything. That if I had just sucked it up and been strong she would still be with us. He made me believe it, and… I still do to this day. From that moment on he had decided to train me to be better.”

Your fingers inch farther across Aaron’s knuckles, and finally he flips his palm, lacing your fingers through his. The feeling of him squeezing your hand settles your rolling stomach.

“Our house was a fixer upper, the guest bathroom had never been completed so my dad… painted over the small window, put foam over the gaps to the door and threw me in. I…” Your grip tightens, your throat restricting. You look over at Aaron’s normally stoic face and see barely restrained rage. “Hours and hours I’d spend in that room…. As I grew older it grew worse. He’d keep me from school… have me do everything my mother used to do. Clean, make all the meals, laundry. By the time high school rolled around I had missed so much school CPS has been called. The case was dropped in an instance because my dad charmed the woman over, said I was a run away most of the time since my mother died.”

Aarons grip on the wheel is white knuckled, his lips pressed into a hard line as he focuses on the road ahead. “I was beat with a belt that night. It gave me the courage to leave though. From that moment on I worked my ass off to get here… I just… I didn’t want there to be another kid like me… I know what my father did was wrong but it’s so ingrained in my head that every emotion I let slip through could be my undoing, could be the reason the next bad thing happens to me or those I care for… I can’t… I can’t let that happen again.”

You glance over to Aaron, who’s silence is becoming unnerving as his thumb strokes over your own. Finally he pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles for a long moment before he speaks.

“I’m sorry. I know those words do little for what you have been through… I also know you don’t want to be pitied, and I’m not going to do that. You are extremely strong, Y/n. You have over come something that most people would let consume their lives, steer them to destitution.” He licks his lips and glances your way briefly, noting the solemn look on your face. “You know my opinion on your emotions, and I think you’re wrong about believing they can only bring you harm or failure. You’ve done so much involving them already you just haven’t realized it yet.

You have accomplished things that others only dream of, you alone and no one else. Your father played no role in this, he didn’t train you to become the woman you are, that was there all along. And I know deep in my heart that your mother is watching you with pride.” Your heart, the damaged organ that it is, swells from the praise and the thought of your mother. Your eyes burn and you’re surprised you have anything left to let out. But then again it’s years of buildup all coming to a head.

“Is he the reason for these?” Aaron gestures to your thigh, and you nod slightly.

“He threw me into the bathroom once and some of the tiles were broken… I can’t really feel the area anymore but I have what I guess you would call a phantom pain every now and again.”

Aaron brings your hand back for another gentle kiss, the delicate action such a contrast to the gleam of fury in his dark eyes. “My brave girl.” And for whatever reason, those three words break you. Maybe it’s because Aaron is seeing you, and not a facade, maybe it’s the perception of the fact that you are brave, or maybe it’s the simple claim that indicates so much more than ownership.

Comfort.

Safety.

Someone to rely on when you need it the most.

You clamp your other hand over your mouth as you sob, leaning into his shoulder as you feel everything fall into you all at once. Letting another person hold the weight of your world for just a little bit.

Aaron turns into a parking lot, into the first spot he can find before killing the engine and wrapping you in a tight hug. The consul is digging into your ribs, his hold is a little suffocating, but you bury your face into his chest anyways.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are you sure?”

Once you had finally calmed down Aaron offered you his guest room for the night. You were an hour away from home but only 20 minutes from his. After a long moment of hesitation you agreed, much to his visual relief. But now standing in front of his door you feel your reservations creeping back in.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He pushes the door open and steps into a dark room. Your breath unintentionally hitches, your eyes scanning the deep darkness until light floods the area. “I have a security system installed. We will get you the same one for your home.”

The beeping of the alarm would have went completely unnoticed had Aaron not said anything as he fiddles with the control panel on the other wall. He turns once it goes silent, watching you as you linger in the doorway, doubt and fear waging in your eyes as you scan over his simply furnished apartment.

“It’s okay. I promise.”

He’s warm reassurance makes you feet ease into the room, the door shutting firmly behind you. You’re entire body is rigid, arms slung around your center like you’re holding yourself together with your own white knuckled grip. Aaron bites his lip slight before stepping closer, gesturing to the rooms behind him.

“What would you like to do? Are you hungry?”

You tug slightly at your necklace, opening your mouth only to find the words are stuck deep in your throat.

“Y/n?” He steps closer and your eyes snap to his.

“I… I don’t know what I want to do… my head is pounding and I just… I can’t figure it out, I can’t decide.” Your stare is helpless, eyes flickering back and forth between his brown ones. It’s your way of asking for his help without letting the words out because if you do you’re scared of what you will become after that.

Something in his face shifts, it’s ever so slight but you can see it in the way he shrugs out of his coat, tossing it on the back of the couch. You can see it in the way his shoulders roll back and the lines around his eyes soften. “I know baby.” He closes the distance between you, cupping your face between burning hands and you physically feel the tension draining from your jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up okay? We will go from there.”

Aaron leads you through the apartment, flicking on the lights as he goes, he walks you into his bedroom, a space as simply furnished as the rest of his home; and towards his joint bathroom. “Why don’t you wash your hands and I’ll find you something to wear to bed?”

Even though he is phrasing everything as a question you know he’s giving you the guidance you need, not making you over think or pick what needs to be done first. You nod your head and he gives you a soft smile before ducking out of the restroom.

You glance at your hands, the nurses had cleaned your hands enough to remove the shards of glass but there is still blood caked between your fingers and under your nails. Turning on the water you test the temperature before easing your hands under the flow. A soft hiss leaves your lips at the sting but you find yourself leaning into it.

You don’t notice Aaron standing in the doorway, watching as your hands tremble under the steaming water. “Here.” You jump faintly at the sudden rasp of his voice, finding him in the mirror.

He steps by you, his hand skimming your waist and your attention zeros in on the touch. Aaron grabs a rag from the shelf over the toilet, gently pushing you from in front of the sink. He wets the rag and turns to you, reaching for your hands without another word and begins to wipe away the blood and grime.

His hands hold yours softly, and you never knew he could be so gentle. Your eyes can’t leave his face, the concentration making lines appear between his brow, his eyes squinting slightly.

Aaron glances up at the feeling of you watching him and your cheeks flush, having been caught but still unable to look away. Once finished with your hands he rinses the rag, cupping your face once more as he runs the rough material over your cheek, cleaning away the stains of makeup.

Your eyes flutter, something in your body thrumming to life with each swipe of the cloth. “Aaron…” You don’t even mean to say his name, the syllables just fall so easily from your lips and he stills, eyes boring into yours.

“Sweet girl.” He breathes back, and your insides twist sharply. The tension is undeniable, the feeling of him so close forcing your body to react. You inch closer, your eyes dropping to his lips, watching as a smile curves the corner of his mouth.

The rag falls to the counter, his hands pulling you in the rest of the way. You’re nearly on your tiptoe, your hands finding his arms to steady yourself. He brushes a soft kiss against your lips and you whimper, the sound high in your throat and he breaks, deepening the kiss with hunger.

Electricity shoots through your body, pinging off of every nerve, setting them all ablaze. His hands move to your waist, bunching up your shirt until his palms meet your warm skin, and you shudder at the feeling. Aaron moans, the sound deep in his chest and you whimper as it travels through your bones straight to your core.

Pressing you backwards, Aaron walks you out of the restroom, hands wandering the plains of your back. You stumble against him, letting him lead you to the bed where the backs of your knees brush the king sized mattress. Your heart pounds in your chest, but when Aaron breaks the kiss to look down at you, he finds no hesitation in the dewy set of your eyes.

“Can I?” His voice is husky as he tugs at your sweater and you offer a small nod. He kisses you again, knocking the air from your lungs as he helps you pull your arms free, backing away to slip the cotton over your head and throw it to the floor. You’re in nothing fashionable, a simple black t-shirt bra but the hunger in his gaze is undeniable. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your hands find his chest, going for the buttons of his white shirt only for Aaron to grab your wrists, pulling your hands to his lips to kiss your palms. “Aaron I…”

“Do you know how hard it was to work today? Knowing you’re just a few feet away from me?” You shake your head, swaying slightly on your feet. “All I was able to think about was you. How your lips taste, how you moan my name, the way you looked underneath me in the morning.”

All of those things felt like a lifetime ago, and as his teeth nipped your skin just over the pulse in your wrist, you realize you would do anything to relive it. “I need you.” Your voice is a desperate, soft plea; your eyes alight with need making his lips curl.

“Then let me take care of you.” He whispers, his grip tightening slightly. You lick your lips, his gaze darting down for a breath before snagging your eyes again, there’s so much lust and need swirling in the depths of his brown irises that you find yourself lost in them. “Let me show you how you deserve to be treated, princess.”

“Please.” It’s a soft breath of a word, but it’s all that’s needed.

Aaron kisses you so forcefully that you’re sure your lips will be bruised, but you don’t have time to care as he suddenly pushes you. The bed springs squeak under the sudden impact of your body, the air leaving your lungs in one big whoosh. Aaron’s fingers expertly pop the button of your jeans, and your blood buzzes with excitement as you lift your hips, helping him pull them down and off your legs, taking your shoes and socks with them.

There’s something about the way he is suddenly above you, still fully dress in his work clothes where as you’re laid out scarcely clad in your underwear set, with nothing to hide behind. It’s a display of dominance that sends a rush of wet heat to your center.

Aaron smiles down at you, his hands making their way up your thighs, spreading your legs for you to display the soaked gusset of your grey panties. The moan that rips from his throat makes your stomach clench, your teeth impaling the pink flesh of your lip.

“You are all I have been able to think about,” He whispers, his fingers curling into the band of your panties as he moves to his knees. “And now I finally get to have you.” Aaron pulls your panties down your trembling thighs, laying you bare before him as he slips one of your legs over his shoulder.

His warm breath fans over your soaked lips, your vision going hazy as you prop yourself on an elbow to see. He looks sinful between your thighs, dark eyes looking up at you through darker lashes, his hair tussled, jaw hanging open slightly. The anticipation makes your stomach swoop and the breath in your lungs freeze.

You’re given no warning before he ducks his head, his tongue licking a fat stripe from your entrance and catching on your clit. You gasp at the sensation, your head falling back against the bed. Aaron wraps his arm around your thigh, holding you still as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, your legs threatening to squeeze his skull.

“Oh fuck…” You moan, your hand finding his short hair and tugging almost painfully, back leaving the bed. Aaron smiles against you, his teeth nipping at your folds before he lazily fucks his tongue into your dripping hole. “Oh god, Aaron…”

“You taste so fucking sweet.” His arm tightens on your thigh, his other hand tracing patterns on the inner skin of the other. You squirm at the feeling, your eyes pinched shut as waves of arousal roll through your body. Aaron’s dark eyes travel up the expanse of your body, seeking your face but he can only see the way your chest rises and falls with each gasping breath, your head tossed back as noises of pleasure fill the room.

His cock pulses in the tight confines of his slacks, the need to feel your wet heat wrapped around his aching member nearly driving him insane.

“Fuck, please Aaron…” You aren’t sure what you are begging for as your orgasm begins to swell under your skin, pulling your muscles taught. A part of you wants to feel embarrassed at how easily he has been able to bring you to the brink, but the sounds of his moans between your legs quickly floods the thought out.

“Cum for me baby, make a mess on my face.” It’s dirty and mind reeling all at once, your jaw going slack as your hips grind up to meet his mouth. Aaron slips two fingers to your opening, gathering the combination of slick and spit before easing into you.

A soft whimper accompanies the sudden intrusion, your hips undulating to take more of his thick digits as your orgasm creeps ever closer. He sets a steady rhythm, slow and deep that leaves stars dancing around your vision and with one final swirl of his tongue as his fingers curl into that spongy spot deep in your walls you break.

Your orgasm rips through your body like a bolt of lightening. Your limbs lock and your back bows up, your lips form a perfect ‘O’ as waves of pleasure crash over you.

“That is, that’s my good girl.” Aaron praises, keeping his pace steady as you moan his name like a prayer. It’s a few more seconds until your body collapses back onto the bed, your fingers falling from his hair taking a strand or two with them. Aaron pulls away, standing back up licking your slick from his fingers with a grumbling groan.

Climbing back up your body he creates a trail of kisses that leave you feeling hot and desperate, a distinct emptiness between your legs as he settles over you. Aaron cups the back of your head, lifting you to meet his bruising kiss. The tangy taste of yourself is heavy on his tongue as he explores your mouth, your still trembling hands finding his back and pulling him closer.

The hard ridge in his slacks presses against your heated, slick core, grinding slowly. You whimper into his mouth, hands trialing up his back, scratching at his shirt. You break away with a gasp. “To… too many clothes.” Going for the small plastic buttons Aaron lets out a soft laugh as your fumble over them.

“Easy princess. All you had to do was ask.” He sits back on his heels, your legs draped over his thighs and you watch mesmerized as his fingers easily work the buttons free, revealing his chest full of dark hair. You manage to twist your arm behind your back, freeing the clasp of your bra and quickly throwing it somewhere in the floor to join the growing pile.

Aaron groans at the sight of you, his mouth watering as he thinks of every spot he wants to cover with bites and bruises. Starting with your breasts. He leans over you, snagging your wrists and pinning them to the bed.

You bite your cheek, surprised that you welcome the weight of him above you, that you like the feeling of him pinning you down, leaving you to his mercy. You find your mind slipping more, every worried thought falling into some unreachable place that can remain in the dark.

Clearing his throat lightly, Aaron licks his lips. “Maybe I should have asked this sooner but… when was the last time you were with someone.?”

An awkward but none the less important question to ask, even if he is seated between your trembling thighs, staring down at your naked body.

A new flush spreads over your cheeks and you shift against the bed, against the hold he has on your wrists. “I… I was in high school.”

A moment of shock steals his features before he can school his face back. “Do you take birth control?”

You squirm again, chewing the inside of your cheek as his thumbs rub over your galloping pulse. “I.. Every three months I go get a shot. It’s better than taking a pill every day that I might forget.” You explain weakly, searching his face.

Aaron nods, shifting his weight on his knees, his cold belt buckle pressing into your thigh. “I can always grab a condom if that makes you feel better.” One hand leaves your wrist but you don’t dare move as he places it on your lower tummy, spreading wide. “But I have to admit, the idea of fucking you full of me is very, very exciting.” Your breath catches, eyes widening and Aaron’s grin turns devilish. “You think so too.”

All you can do is nod slightly, a thrill working through your body that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end, gooseflesh cascading over your skin.

Sitting back, Aaron releases you completely to fiddle with his belt. The brown leather hisses through the belt loops and when he stands he takes his pants and boxers down in one swoop. Your eyes instantly fall to the hard member standing up between his legs and your thighs clench.

His cock is long and thick, the dark hairs at the base trimmed neatly like the rest of him. A few veins run along his shaft, the prominent one on the underside pulsing slightly. He takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice, to relieve some of the ache, the mushroom head a light shade of pink.

You whimper at the sight of him, the need in your belly almost painful. “Aaron… I want you.” Your voice is sultry, your eyes glazed over when you finally look at his face. He smiles crookedly as he slinks back onto the bed, his eyebrow cocked.

“You can have me, princess. Every part of me is yours.” The words scorch through your chest right to the very center of your soul and you find your legs falling apart, your hands still gripping the sheets above your head. “Come here.” Instead of covering you with his body, Aaron lays down beside you, turning you so you lay on your side as well.

“What?” He pulls your back flush to his chest, his hand slipping over your thigh and dragging your leg on top of his. You whimper when you feel the smooth heat of his cock glide through your wet folds, your back instinctively arching into him.

Aaron’s arm tucks under your head, his other hand free to roam your body as he rocks his hips, slipping his cock between your folds with ease, gathering your slick. “So wet baby, so ready for me aren’t you?” He breathes, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. You whine and press your head back into his shoulder, exposing your neck more. “That’s my girl. Are you going to let me mark you up? Show everyone just who you belong to?”

You nod without a thought in your head, “Y-yes… please Aaron.” He smiles against your skin before nipping the delicate area, turning the skin a deep shade of red as he closes his lips over the spot. You moan loudly, rocking your hips back against his, the steady glide of his cock bumping into your clit driving you wild.

“So fucking pretty.” He whispers and you force yourself to turn your head and look at him. When you do your heart jumps to your throat, his hooded eyes burn with lust but there’s something else swirling just below the surface, something that makes your head groggy and your body melt into his.

“You belong right here.” His voice is deep and rough and it makes your jaw slacken. Your chest squeezes, butterflies erupting in your stomach, beating at you with their wings as his hips draw back. The round head of his cock presses against your entrance, his hand tightening on your hip. “I’m going to enjoy every moment of watching you come undone for me.” He presses forward, stretching you around him and your nails dig into his forearm with a whine. Aaron’s gaze never wavers from yours, caught in the depths of your irises. “Then every moment of piecing you back together.”

Leisurely Aaron rocks his hips, slipping deeper and deeper into your wet heat. Every inch has your back arching, the ridges and bumps rubbing along your walls in the most perfect way. Your eyes slip nearly shut, your breath puffing across his pink lips and your only awareness is of Aaron. How his muscles bunch under your hand, how your body sticks to his from the heat radiating between you both, how his fingers dig into your flesh guiding your hips back to meet his as he sinks home.

Never have you felt this full, the stretch burns and it boarders on painful but you wouldn’t want it any other way. Ecstasy skirts down Aaron’s spine, making his own groan slip free and his cock twitch. You jump at the feeling, your breath wheezing in your lungs and he smiles, repeating the motion.

“Aaron… oh fuck.” It’s all you can manage, head falling back into the crevice of his shoulder, one arm wrapping up around his that pillows your head. His name is a soft, sweet beg and it has Aaron’s stoicism crumpling.

“Tell me what you need, princess. I’ll give you everything.” His breath is warm against your ear, your eyes starting to water for reasons you can’t explain the longer he stays seated inside you. His hand continuously strokes your side as you fight for your words, kisses littering your jaw as the seconds pass.

“I need… I need you to move, Aaron.”

There isn’t a chance in hell he would make you beg twice, slowly he pulls back, ensuring you feel every part of him before pushing back in. Your jaw drops, uninhibited moans falling past your lips at the steady rhythm he sets. Aaron slips his hand to your cheek, caressing you with his thumb in time to each deep thrust. “You take me so well, my cock was made just for you wasn’t it?”

It consumes your body like a wild fire, burning intense and bright, cracking through your skin which each grind of his hips. You cling to him where you can, your eyes rolling back into your skull, and he uses the opportunity to turn your face back to his. Aaron kisses you with no sense of urgency, no rush to throw you to the end, he claims your mouth the same way he claims your body; with a measure of patience and understanding that leaves you reeling.

You break away first, moaning his name and his hand travels down your neck, cupping your heavy breast as his lips find your neck. His long fingers toy with your pebbled nipple, sparks flying into your stomach with each pinch and roll. Your leg tightens around his thigh, your breath coming faster as your body arches into his touch.

“I’m… fuck I’m going to cum.” You breath into the warm air, your cunt fluttering around his cock rhythmically.

“Cum for me, take what you need and cum all over my cock.” Aaron’s rhythm doesnt falter in the slightest, the pump of his cock hard and slow hitting spots you’d never dreamt of finding. His hand leaves your breast, trailing down your stomach slowly circling your belly. You moan at the feeling, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin. “This little part right here, this part of your beautiful belly, drives me mad.” His hand presses down into your lower stomach slightly and you see stars at the sudden pressure, feeling his cock against rubbing against your muscles. “Imagining you heavy and round-.” Aaron groans as your cunt tightens, your breath uneven like the sudden stutter in your hips. “Pregnant with my baby.”

A guttural version of his name leaves your lips as you snap in two. The fire inside your body turning into an inferno, consuming you entirely as you cling helplessly to Aaron. Your head is flush with his shoulder, your foot hooked around his leg as your pussy spasms and coats his cock with cream. Aaron’s pace suddenly falters and he moans loudly, the feeling of your velvet walls clamping down around him nearly his undoing.

Slowly you drift back to yourself, gasping for air and shuddering as the aftershocks rock through you. You lick your lips, about to say anything when suddenly Aaron is pressing you forward, rolling you onto your front. He slips free of your pussy and you whimper, letting him adjust your pliant body to his needs. With your chest pressed to the bed and your ass thrust into the air Aaron groans at the sight of you. Your thighs tremble in effort to keep yourself up right, sweat gleams across your back and shoulders, flushing your skin a beautiful shade of pink. “You’re doing so good for me.” His hands graze over the globe of your ass, settling on your hips as he nudges your knees apart, adjusting your stance. You make a soft noise in your throat, fingers finding hold in the bedding. “I know baby, you’re being such a good girl though. I know you can take it, just relax for me.” Your brain hardly keeps up, picking out the important words in its state and your body melts into the mattress with a sigh. His cock aligns with your opening, teasing until you whimper, rocking back trying to impale yourself on him. Aaron smiles, sweeping your hair off of your neck and into his fist. He's gentle as he tugs at the strands, testing the waters and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"That's it baby. Just like that." He draws out the words as he sinks into your heat. The angle is so much different than before, the head of his cock rubbing along the front wall of your cunt and you gape at the sensation. Your grip tightens on the bed as his hips become flush with your ass, giving you a moment to adjust.

"Oh fuck... Oh fuck." You mumble, electricity skimming up your spine as Aaron pulls back until only the tip is left.

"Beg for me." The words are a laced growl and you simper below him, the hold on your hair growing tighter.

"Please, please Aaron I want- I need you so bad. Please fuck me." You don't know where the words come from, somewhere deep and primal in your guts but they have never felt so right.

Aaron's hips snap forward, sinking into you at a punishing force and you cry into the air, the need and pleasure curling back into your stomach with a vengeance. To say Aaron is fucking you into the mattress is an understatement, the hold on your hip is bruising and the grip on your hair is punishing. The lewd sounds of sex fill the air, wet squelching as his cock sinks into you, the slap of skin against skin and the unmistakable moans of pleasure.

"Such a good. Fucking. Girl." He breathes, his body curving over your own, husky moans falling from his lips as he pounds into you. "Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so hard. Are you gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?"

Your head tips back a smile curving your lips at his praise and you nod what little you can. "Yeees! Oh god yes Aaron.” You hold onto the sheets with white knuckled force, your moans and gasps mixing with his grunts making an intoxicating song. He growls low in his chest, his teeth bared, sweat gleaming on his shoulders and forehead.

“I’m gonna cum Y/n… I’m gonna make you mine. Again.” A harsh thrust makes you keen, your head tilting back making your neck strain. “And again.” Another one leaves you gasping, your mouth falling open. “And again.”

You snap simultaneously, his hips slamming into your ass as you cry his name. His cock switches, painting your walls with ropes of milky cum, your cunt squeezing every last drop free as you shudder and collapse. Lights dance behind your lids, your orgasm moving through your body with such force you are scarcely aware of the moans falling from Aaron’s kiss bitten lips.

“Mine. My good girl, my pretty little thing.”

It takes a few more moments before Aaron is able to roll onto his back beside you, grunting slightly at the burn in his hips as you let out a soft moan, stretching out your soar muscles. Aaron pulls you into his side easily, wrapping an arm around your waist as your head finds his shoulder.

You both lay like that for several minutes, basking in the afterglow of it all as you try to catch your breaths. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to your sated body, letting the euphoria and calm take the lead for a while longer.

Aaron is the first to break the soft silence. “We need to get you cleaned up.” A soft noise of protest leaves your lips, your limbs too heavy to move. A smile in his voice makes your own lips curl, “I know. But we need to. There’s going to be a lot going on tomorrow.”

With that you can’t argue, so you allowed Aaron to slip from your grip, the sound of water running in the bathroom filling the quiet. Moments later he’s back, helping you into the restroom on unsteady legs where a warm shower awaits.

When he steps in behind you, you only have a moment to be surprised before he pulls you under the stream of water. The shower is small with just enough room for the both of you, but you find no protest on your lips as Aaron begins massaging his fingers through your hair.

You sigh blissfully, letting your weight rest against his chest as he works away the agony of today, but also a little off of the mountain that has weighed you down for so long.

“I don’t care about the contact.” His deep voice is sudden making you jump slightly.

“What?”

“I don’t care about the contract.” Aaron runs his hands down to your shoulders, turning you slightly so you can gauge his face as he speaks. “I care about you, the contract was… is a piece of paper to ensure neither of us got hurt. We don’t need it.”

You scan his face, his dark eyes reading so much more than he is saying. “What… what do we do then?” Your throat works as you swallow, butterflies eating once more at your belly as Aaron cups your check.

“Whatever you would like… but… I like the idea of you coming to me with your problems, of taking care of you, of you being mine.” He curls your necklace around one of his fingers, tugging softly and a new heat flairs at the bottom of your spine. Aaron’s dark eyes scan your face, trying to read your thoughts.

“I…” You swallow, the reality hitting you. These last few days had you thrown through the wringer, forced out of your comfort zone, and brought dark secrets to light. You’ve struggled and cried and raged all while finding comfort and passion and acceptance in ways you didn’t know existed before Aaron Hotchner knocked on your door one dark morning.

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips as you run your hands up his chest, the water spilling over his shoulder and the mist sprinkling your cheeks. You press in tighter and Aaron cups the back of your head, angling it ready to capture your lips at a moment’s notice.

“I can still call you ‘Sir’?”

A large smile breaks across his face, wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he cups your face, bringing you closer. "You can call me whatever you would like, little one..." His palm slips into your wet hair, tangling his fist into the strands and giving a soft tug. "As long as I get to call you mine." He laces the word with a growl and crashes his lips to yours with surprising force, need instantly flooding out the exhaustion from your system. You gasp against his lips, whimpering a soft yes as his tongue sweeps over your own.

"Good girl."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you all so much, once again, for sticking with me through this story. This has been the most grueling, but rewarding thing I have written, and I am just astounded by the love it has received! I plan to make a few blurbs off of this story so fill free to check in ever now and again but if you would like to be tagged in future tidbits please feel free to leave a comment! 💜💜💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

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skylarsblue · 2 years

Text

Cat Calling

Content Warning(s): Murder, creepy men, very mildly implied fem!reader (but no pronouns used), blood.

(This took me way too fucking long. Bro, the burn out has been REAL SHITTY. Anyway, this was requested by @lonnielolooington. Forgive me for this taking so long-)

Michael Myers(All)

Michael obviously stalks you most of the time. The longer you two have been together, the less he follows you, mostly because he’s more comfortable doing his own thing. He’s less paranoid about you going to the police and ratting him out. Still, he likes following you, observing your everyday actions. He won’t try to hide from you very much.

Michael’s possessive. That’s a plain fact. You might not interact with many people, but he absolutely hates when people hit on you. He wouldn’t be mad at you in any aspect unless you were actively flirting with someone else. But what makes him livid is when you get clearly uncomfortable, even verbalize your disinterest, and the person continues to try shit. It sends a wave of protectiveness through his veins.(especially if it’s RZ Myers)

He’s pretty unaware of a lot of social issues. He likely never thought about what he’d do if someone he cared about was cat called. Not only has he been living under the assumption that he’d never care about someone like that, he’s also never experienced someone he knows being cat called on the street. The closest comparison he has is the occasional pervert in Smith’s Grove making comments at a nurse. He definitely didn’t like hearing it, that’s true. Not that he cared for the nurse’s, but he definitely doesn’t like perverts. They make him uncomfortable by proxy. (Again, especially if it’s RZ Myers)

Now, watching you get cat called? He instantly understands your concerns about the matter and he is immediately angry. If it’s broad daylight, he’ll hold back until he can drag the individual away in order to kill them. If no one else is around, he’ll brutalize them right away. (More UTC)

Michael had been following you for the past ten minutes on your way to the grocery store. It wasn’t anything new, and at this point, it felt oddly comforting. His presence brought a sense of safety with it. Ironic, really. Walking alone was always a bit nerve-wracking, especially when it was a bit late at night. But you desperately needed some things from the grocery store and gas prices were sending you through the wringer. It wasn’t that far, walking there was completely feasible. Though it didn’t help with your paranoia at all. Michael’s heavy stare did, ensuring you had a guard dog of sorts on your tail.

“Hey baby, how bout I get your number?!”

And there it was. You jumped at the sudden exclaim, glancing in the direction it came from. Michael watched as your shoulders tensed and your face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. He looked at the man who called out to you. Middle aged, unfit, appearing to work in some form of construction. The section of the street that was torn up gave more credence to that observation. His hands tightened around the handle of the blade he’d taken from your kitchen. Michael watched you cross your arms and look at the ground, walking faster. “Aw come on baby, don’t be a bitch, I can show you a good time!” Michael’s jaw clenched when the stranger called again. You were very obviously uncomfortable, it was plain to see, even to someone as emotionally oblivious as Michael. He could only guess that the man knew this fact and enjoyed it. Michael liked intimidating you, sure, but it was a different circumstance. You now trusted him. Your “fear” with him was now associated with situations you ended up enjoying, you submitted to him willingly because you wanted to. This was not the same circumstance. Even Michael knew when to quit based on your body language.

The man called at you one more time. You kept your gaze down and mentally prayed that he just wouldn’t follow you, not when the streets were dark and lacking of people. It was the sound of a scream and a wet choking that made you stop and look back. Michael hadn’t hesitated to grab the man’s shirt collar and send the knife through the front of his face. You winced at the sloppy sound blood and tissue made when he retracted the blade. Michael slowly turned to look at you, dropping the body. You swallowed and looked around. There was still no one, so you took a moment to mouth your gratitude before turning to run away from the scene. Sticking around would be suspicious and Michael knew that. He’d protect you on your new route to the store and back.

Jason Voorhees

Oh, Jason hates people like this. He despises them more than almost anything. Jason’s naturally against things sexual in nature anyway, but to top it off, Pamela taught him to always respect others. He likely hasn’t seen much of this kind of behavior, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Pamela got hit on here and there when he was growing up. Not to mention any creepy campers that couldn’t keep their hands off the girls in their group.

Two consenting teens/adults having flirtatious interactions makes him upset, but that’s mostly because it feels disrespectful when they’re in his camp. He knows they’ll eventually try to have sex, where he died, and where his mother died. Yeah that’s gonna piss him off. But watching someone pressure someone else into something like that? Making disgusting comments that are unwarranted and unwanted? Pamela’s angry before Jason can even register what’s happening, and if mom is angry, Jason is livid.

Jason doesn’t like people interacting with you anyway. It means there’s people in camp, which leads to complications, and he doesn’t want you involved with the typical visitor of Crystal Lake. Even if you used to be a visitor…that’s different, okay?

He absolutely despises people who are pushy, flirty, etc. So seeing you subjected to such behavior brings forth a rage he hasn’t felt since he saw his mother be decapitated. It’s a lot of anger. He might even need to stay out of the house for a few hours after he’s maimed the person, purely to calm down. It’ll be a bloodbath. Rest assured, they will not make it out unscathed.

The bells had gone off earlier that day, meaning Jason was out in the woods around Camp Crystal Lake, stalking whoever was stupid enough to visit. Your cabin was off the camp, up some paths mostly hidden by the woods, with a view of the same lake. It was the only finished building that had gotten done when some people tried to expand the camp, add more cabins. They of course, failed that task thanks to Jason. You had grown to fill up the time when Jason was gone with things like chores. It wasn’t necessarily fun, but it was better than lounging around, especially when the weather was nice. Not too hot or humid, warm with a breeze. Today, you decided to fix up the outside of the cabin. It was…well loved, so to speak. You’d been helping Jason make it nicer in your time with him. The tiny porch attached to the wooden home had a lot of chipping paint and the amount of splinters it’d given you was unmeasurable. So currently, you sanded parts, painted them, and while they were drying you’d move on. Simple!

Yeah, well, that was until some people in the trespassers decided to explore. It was a rather large group. Jason was currently occupied with another portion of them, he hadn’t seen the group of three young boys meandering their way up towards your house. Probably in their early twenties, fresh out of college. You were only doing some work. Dressed in something to keep heat off, but it wasn’t provocative in any way. Not that it would’ve mattered. You carried the can of paint off the porch and set it on the set of stairs, dipping the brush so you could begin on the railing. Enjoying the sound of breeze rustled trees and chirping wild birds. And then came a sharp whistle.

“Damn baby, nice ass!”

You nearly dropped the paintbrush at the sudden noise. You looked over your shoulder, seeing the three boys chuckle to themselves, motioning at you. It’d been a long time since you had to deal with something like this. That was part of the reason living with Jason was so nice, no one bothered you. Self sustained and independent without having to worry about walking home alone, or someone being in the backseat of your car, or having to change your outfit to avoid stares. As if it was the clothing that was the problem. Nervous nausea settled in your stomach as you tried to ignore them. They were going to die anyway, you didn’t have to be bothered by their comments. “Come on, sweet stuff, lemme show you a good time!” “You wanna make our trip worthwhile?”

The two voices made your shoulders tense. You exhaled shakily and reminded yourself to ignore it again. Maybe it was unconscious, but you glanced at the tree line, subtly hoping to see a stained hockey mask. You set the paintbrush in the can, deciding it might’ve been better to wait out this time wave of trespassers inside. The fact they were moving closer wasn’t helping. “C’mon, don’t be a bitch.” One of them laughed. You backed up onto the porch and looked behind them again. They saw your facial expression change, no longer tense and fearful, more bright and expectant. They followed your gaze. Adrenaline and terror shot through veins as they came to see the hulking figure or Jason Voorhees. You hugged yourself and gave your man a wave. “They tried to touch me, Jason. They also commented on my ass.” You replied. They looked between you and the new threat fearfully. Jason’s shoulders squared and the rage he felt radiated off him like heat from the sun. It prompted the three to run into trap filled woods. Jason stomped up to you first, making you smile. With the porch allowing for a less intense height difference, you leaned to kiss his mask. “I’m okay, just try to have them done before dark. I want to watch that movie with you.” You said softly. Jason gave a single nod and pressed the mouth of his mask against your temple. He then set off into the woods, utterly seething.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is admittedly a flirtatious man, but above that, he is extremely possessive. He’s not shy about it, he’ll say it outwardly. When dating him, you are his. Not in the way someone owns an object, he doesn’t want you to think of it that way, that’s not what he means by statements like that. He means that you’re his special person. You stand alone in a specific spot in his life and he doesn’t want anyone trying to shove you out of that.

Okay, that and he’s insecure, I can’t lie. Especially in the beginning of the relationship. Bo’s never been in a proper relationship, one where you’re both committed and emotionally vulnerable. He struggles a lot at first. So, when he feels he might be an inadequate partner, people trying to flirt with you upsets him.

Now that is a completely different case in catcalling, because that is NOT flirting. That is harassment. Harassment gets him angry for different reasons, obvious reasons. Bo might come across a little pushy here and there but he knows the importance of boundaries when it comes to it. He has the right to try and test what boundaries are okay to push and what you can compromise on. Bo’s your partner after all! Someone calling you sexy from across the street does not have that right, and the fact they’d try such a thing makes him livid.

Bo is an angry man. That’s just fact. If you hold him back, he’ll settle for shouting back while pulling you close to him. If they’re close enough and you don’t stop him? He’s whoopin’ ass. He’s a fighter, that’s just how he is, how he’s always been. He’ll break noses, send teeth flying, he might kill someone if it’s bad enough.

It wasn’t often that Bo took you out on the town, which wasn’t necessarily an issue, but it was still nice when he did it. He walked with his arm around your shoulders. Passing shops that he let you glance at, wondering when you’d pick one to go in, though he was content with just walking. You leaned into him slightly. It only took one glance at him to catch his slight smile that he was trying to fight. “Thank you for taking me out, again.” You said. He glanced down at you and nodded with a soft gaze. “‘Course baby.” He said quietly. You always liked when he was like this, a bit zoned out but happy, speaking gently and calm. He was so used to being rough & angry, seeing him at peace felt like a victory.

You glanced at a small bar and restaurant. “Are you hungry? We could get something to eat.” You said as you motioned to it. Bo opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “Yes you can get a beer, but only because we’re walking.” He chuckled at your response. “Am I that predictable?” He asked while you crossed the street. “For me? Yes. For others? You’re as unpredictable as a Lester’s three AM conversation topics.” You replied, feeling warmth in your chest as he laughed, shaking his head. “Now that’s just plain nonsense, doll. Unpredictable and insane are two separate things.” He opened the door for you. “Yeah, but somehow you got both.” You teased back. The restaurant wasn’t too busy necessarily, but it was clearly well liked, the bar especially. You and Bo glanced at the drink menu hanging on the wall, though you already knew what kind of beer he liked. “Why don’t you find a spot, I gotta hit the bathroom.” He offered. You snorted with an eye roll. “Old man kidneys.” He gently flicked your nose in response, smiling still as he left you to find somewhere to sit.

You knew Bo didn’t like being in the center. He was more extroverted than Vincent, but he was far from social. He liked people he knew. He also hated being paranoid that someone could hear his conversations, even if they were innocent in nature. You stood for a moment, scanning empty tables, trying to pick one that would suit his comfort. He wouldn’t care either way, but you like accommodating him in these situations, it benefited you when he was comfortable. You spotted an empty two-seat table in a corner near a window. You decided to walk towards that, gaze mostly on the floor out of habit. It completely caught you off guard when someone let out a sharp whistle from the bar. It was sudden enough to make you look up and where it was coming from.

“Hey, sweetheart, why don’t’cha lemme buy you a drink?"

You tensed a bit at the comment, frowning uncomfortably. "Uh, no thank you." You said, raising a hand and shaking your head. The man clicked his tongue and scanned his eyes over your figure, making the sense of discomfort even worse. With an uneasy breath, you smoothed out your outfit and went to get the table again. You ignored the mutterings the drunken individual gave to his friend on the topic of your figure. You chose to stare out the window until Bo came back. The thought of Bo helped put you at ease, knowing he wasn't far and he'd never allow someone to hurt you. He made that clear many times. You gasped and jolted when a rough hand hit the table you sat at, making you turn, finding the man who offered you a drink leaning a bit too close. There was no fighting the face of disgust you felt at the heavy smell of a cheap whiskey, cheap whiskey always smelt terrible. "C'mon baby, let a man treat ya. What'cha want? Somethin' fruity? You don't look like a beer drinker."

The sleaze was slurring his words, he'd clearly been here a while. "No, really, I don't want anything. I'm just waiting for my husband to come back." Bo wasn't yet your husband or your fiance, but that's often what you used in your act back in Ambrose. It usually helped keep anyone wanting to push your luck with him or you, keeping them from flirting too heavily or outright assaulting either of you. The man scoffed and stumbled a little. He looked ready to fall over. "I don't see a ring. You lyin' to me?" He accused, making you shake your head quickly. Usually, you had a decoy ring, but since it was a tarnishable metal, you took it off when you had to shower or anything similar. You forgot it today of all days. Anxiety plagued your veins when he roughly grabbed your wrist, mouth open to speak. It didn't last long, however.

The drunk man hit the floor with a small gust of air and the resounding clap of a fist against a cheekbone. Bo stood with a clenched jaw, tense shoulders, and a sneer. If looks could kill, those baby blues would hit like a tank. Quickly, you stood and placed your hand on Bo's chest to prevent anything further, even if you wanted nothing more than to watch him break the stranger's face. His gaze turned to you. "He hurt ya?" You shook your head. "Mostly just gave me a headache from the smell of cheap booze and chewing tobacco. That's all." Bo sighed at your reassurance, but he kissed your forearm anyway, just in case the grip hurt you. "Let's go, I don't wanna deal with some drunken assholes makin' my baby uncomfortable." He instructed. It was impossible to not smile at the statement. He softened slightly at the kiss you placed on his cheek. "My hero." You said, smile genuine and tone teasing.

Vincent Sinclair

There aren't many scenarios you'd be put in with Vincent around when getting cat called. He prefers you stay in the house, and if not there, then in Ambrose. They don't like you being too far just in case something bad were to happen, cat calling and a plethora of other things are one of their biggest concerns regarding you. While they're sure Bo and/or Lester can keep you safe, he trusts himself the most with that responsibility.

That being said, if there is a case where you're cat called or harassed, it'll likely come from a visitor in Ambrose. It's not really surprising. Drifters come from all walks of life, it's bound to bring in a creep or two. Vincent is reluctant to let you help in their schemes, even if they're flattered and touched you'd be willing to. Really, it'd be Bo that encourages it. Which always puts Vincent on high alert when visitors come into Ambrose.

Vincent values you more than they can usually express thanks to their limited speech. However, he often pours how he feels into drawings or poems about you. He's a hardcore hopeless romantic, likes consuming the old classics in romantic literature, and tries to convey his adoration like that. They could never fathom being the type of guy that shouts at others across a street. He finds it both disgusting and tactless.

Now that becomes a whole new set of emotions when it becomes applied to you. Vincent may appear more composed and calm out of the three brothers, but he holds just as much murderous rage as the other two. He can be ruthless, and merciless. When someone is a threat to those they care about? There is no hesitation, he goes for the kill. There won't be any fanfare when the person who wronged you dies.

Vincent was always wary about you helping in the small town, kind-hearted southerners act that Bo & Lester pulled. But, you insisted you wanted to help and Bo made the point that it would help sell it all better. So, after a lot of convincing, he lamented. So, you fell into a routine with the other two brothers. Most days you still stayed inside the Sinclair home, where Vincent was most comfortable with you being. Filling time with chores or a hobby. Visitors really weren't all that common in Ambrose, which made sense, it wasn't even on the map anymore.

However, when Lester called in a visitor, Bo would ask you to head down to look busy in the town. Most of the time it was where you'd act like you were cleaning or carrying something around. Today was no different. Lester called in a group of four young men, probably in their college years, heading into town for the standard. A fanbelt. You left your chore of dirty dishes to clean the station, which was actually cleaning it, rather than faking it. Bo never properly thanked you for it but you knew he was grateful. Vincent would be somewhere nearby no doubt, they always watched you closely, wanting to ensure your safety 24/7. That was why you felt no fear when the new voices came from outside. You were certain you'd be safe. Either these men would die at the hand of Vincent's knives or they'd die with a blast from Bo's shotgun. You put on the sickeningly sweet fake smile that all customer service people had when the bell above the door rang. "Good morning! Welcome to Ambrose, what can I do for y'all?" You asked kindly. It was still a strange effect. Talking to people you knew were about to die, even if they weren't aware of it. Though it was now less disturbing and more so fascinating.

They meandered up to the small counter. "We're looking for an eighteen-inch fanbelt." One said. "Or ya know, your number would be just as good." You fought the urge to sneer in disgust. "Well, I think we can get you that fanbelt. We just got a few eighteen's in a few days back, just haven't hung them up yet. I can go get'em right now." You said in a cordial tone. Bo was up in the church. Vincent was somewhere, but you couldn't be sure where, if he was close enough to see what was happening. Admittedly, it was a bit nerve-racking to be basically alone with four men you didn't know. The young man's friend snickered and nudged him at your subtle rejection. "That's cool. When we get my car fixed, how bout we take you out somewhere?" He persisted.

You fought off an intense eye roll. "I'm taken, thank you. Let's just get you that fanbelt." You repeated, frowning when one of the strangers moved to block the entrance to behind the counter. "Well he ain't here, he doesn't have to know." The first one spoke. You let your frustration show on your face finally. "They would know because I'd tell them. I don't want anything to do with any of you, I'm taken. You can either pay for the fanbelt and leave, or you can leave empty-handed. Those are your options." You hissed, voice sharp and shoulders tensed up. "Ooo, fiesty. That's how you like'em, right Bryce?"

It was shockingly fast as it all happened. The main one, Bryce apparently, went to speak. But all that came out were blood-filled chokes as a long knife blade emerged from his esophagus. How none of them had seen Vincent approaching, you weren't sure. He always had a miraculous ability to sneak around silently, sometimes they used it to startle you, when in a playful mood. Unlike now, in which they used this ability to murder sadistically. You quickly ducked behind the counter as he went for the second one. Vincent was deceiving in his hobbies. You watched him delicately carve and smooth out details in wax, cautiously placed strokes of paint, lovingly and patiently creating artwork on sketch paper, canvas, and sometimes on your skin. Yet they were far from a delicate being. This proved it. You waited as a few guttural screams left the victims, followed by the squelching of muscle being pierced by steel.

You waited until you heard even boot steps come close to the counter. You lifted your chin to gaze up at the wax mask you came to adore, surrounded by long locks of black hair. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, leaned over the counter, hands a mess with blood. You gave a smile. "Thank you, love." You moved to stand on your knees and peck the forehead of his mask. They exhaled through their nose and gave a little nod. "We should get back home, Bo's gonna be real pissy when he sees the mess you made in his shop." You said fondly, making Vincent nod slowly.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is the most…”sane” out of the three brothers. That doesn’t mean he’s normal, but he plays it the best. Lester is the most likely to handle things like your average person, he goes into public more often, he’s the most extroverted. Etc etc.

He is also the least aggressive. Outwardly, at least. Lester will hesitate and stop himself from doing things like fighting people. He has the most restraint. However, this doesn’t mean he has any less rage than his brothers, it’s just better hidden. He can smile in the face of something that’s making him livid. It’s a little scary sometimes, just how well he’s able to fool others into thinking he’s not angry. When internally, he could be tearing them limb from limb.

One of Lester’s biggest rage triggers? The disrespect of those close to him. (In my pre-movie lore, it’s Victor’s treatment of Bo & Vincent that gets Lester to kill him.) He takes very seriously. He’ll approach most situations with the intent to diffuse or redirect attention. This doesn’t always work though, nor is it always it an option. Someone shouting something lewd at you from across the street will have Lester seeing red, even if he can hold off. In public, he knows better. He’s not as blatant as Bo, he gets into less trouble because of it, he knows not to start a physical fight because it draws to much attention. So he’ll lead you away and shield you. He’s not as confrontational.

But, this does not mean that he won’t act when given the opportunity. If he can manage to find the person off on their own, even if it’s months after the incident, they’ll be found mysteriously beaten beyond recognition. Without anything left but DNA samples to confirm who the body is. Or perhaps Lester will make them unrecognizable from the gore of the roadkill put. He will never bring them to his brothers because he doesn’t want them used in art. Even if Lester’s art isn’t anything like Vincent’s, he takes the concept of art very seriously. Someone who makes you uncomfortable, insecure, upset in any way? They are not worthy of art. And they most certainly aren’t worthy of breathing the same air you do, that’s how Lester feels. He doesn’t make a spectacle of it. But he is ruthless, in a way, it’s an art form in itself with just how meticulously he’ll tear them apart. Hence why his typical breezy demeanor can be so…misleading.

You and Lester didn’t often get a chance to go out on the town. It wasn’t a problem of distance from the city or a result of antisocial behavior. More often than not, it was just because Lester’s job could be taxing on the body. Lugging around dead animals wasn’t exactly easy. After all, some kinds of deer could weigh up to two-hundred pounds. Not to mention the mental aspect. Lester was an animal lover, even if fascinated by death. Picking up deer, birds, and wild rabbits didn’t bother him as much. But every once and a while, he’d come home and immediately seek you out for a hug, all because he had to put a deceased dog or kitten in the pile of corpses near Ambrose. He was a hard working man. Despite his energetic personality, he rarely had the energy for dates outside of the home, even if he tried to do so frequently. Regardless of you saying several times that you were fine with staying home.

Lester was an extrovert. He enjoyed social atmospheres, even if he didn’t go out of his way to talk to every individual he could. He liked focusing on you when out. Listening to you talk about whatever you wanted, occasionally joining in to give an opinion or extended rants about his own likes. He especially liked when you’d both land on a topic enjoyed between you two. He also enjoyed walking during Summer nights, passing busy bars and clubs, enjoying the lessened humidity and the hum of neon signs.

He wasn’t the most intimidating man, but just him being there tended to ensure you weren’t in any danger. He’d proven to you before that he was more than capable of keeping you safe. Aside from that, it was just helpful to not be walking alone in the dark. It often worked well! Though there were those occasional times where someone just didn’t seem to care. “Hey sweetheart, how bout you bring that nice ass over here and give daddy a better look at’cha!” The voice was slurred and masculine. Distant from across the street. At first, you and Lester didn’t even think it was aimed at you. So, though disgusted, you were particularly concerned and kept walking. Until the drunken man called out again. “Ay, I’m talkin’ to you! C’mon baby, ditch your pal and lemme show you a real lay!” He called again. Now it was abundantly clear he was talking to you. You felt Lester’s hand slightly tighten on your shoulder as his face fell.

It was always an odd effect when Lester’s face grew serious and upset. He tended to have a natural scowl when focused, but you were more used to him smiling. This face wasn’t like the one you’d see when he was wrapped up in a task. It seemed like a normal expression on first glance, not pleasant but not abnormal either. It was his eyes that made it so uncomfortable. Deadpan and intense, blue-like green suddenly so sharp it could pierce the air. Freakishly calm. You placed your hand over his which rested on your shoulder as Lester took the man’s physique & face into memory.

He wasn’t good with numbers or letters, but he was excellent at remembering faces. A useful skill. He stopped his stare down when you softly said his name however, face softening slightly. “Ignore him. We can just go home, he won’t try anything.” You reassured. Lester swallowed and glanced back at the drunken stranger. “Don’t mean he should get away with it. Bein’ so fuckin’ rude. Even my ma taught me better than that.” He huffed. “I know, but really, I’m okay. You’re okay. Let’s just enjoy the rest of tonight.” Your words got him to nod and walk a bit faster with you. But, he did not forget the moment, nor the man.

It was a week later when you were taking a momentary break from laundry to check the news that you were caught off guard. Folding one or Lester’s pyjama shirts, the anchor began speaking of a body found in Pearl River. The station wasn’t shy about stating the details.

“We just got information about the body of a man found in Pearl River. Uh, as you can see, there’s a lot of officers out there trying to get as much info as they can. We don’t know the identity of our victim, but we do know that he is a Caucasian male, estimated at about five foot eight. The cause of death has not been technically confirmed but the report includes a lot of injuries. About twenty eight stab wounds, broken ribs and a battered face. We can’t show it here but it’s safe to say that this man’s face is…well, it’s essentially just gone. We’re unclear when his body appeared in the river and so far a murder weapon has not been located.”

You blinked at the screen and slowly turned your head. Lester stood in his Lazy-Sunday clothes, which consisted of an old AC/DC shirt he stole from Bo as a teen and a pair of pyjama pants with small beetles & bees printed over them. Holding the a mug Vincent crafted out of clay, full of warm coffee. He leaned on the doorframe and kept a hand in his pocket, the other raising his drink so he could sip the caffeinated beverage, watching the screen with a familiar expression. “Lester.” He glanced over at you. “Would you happen to know anything about that man in the river?” Though your voice was quiet, he knew better. He smiled jovially. “Not a clue, but who knows,” he shrugged.

“Maybe he had it comin’ to him.”

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas adores you. I just have to make that clear. The fact you’re with him is something that always sends him for a loop, and he utterly adores your entire existence. This is why he takes protecting you very seriously. Be it from everyday things like the rain, a sickness, flying insects. Or be it from people. He’s protective, that’s no secret. It’s why he’s known as “the guard dog” of the Hewitt Family in a way. Not only is he big, imposing, and powerful, but he’s also got a strong sense of familial bond. When he loves something/someone enough to call them family, let alone call someone a lover, he’s going to defend them with his life.

Now, admittedly, the cat calling concept doesn’t work very well when we’re in the movie timeline. Fuller is deserted. There are very few people around to be creeps, which is a blessing and funnily enough a curse. Given those creeps would turn out to be steaks if they were around. So, for the sake of it, let’s say you’re with Thomas before the meat plant shuts down and when Fuller is still a working small town. In this case, there is no shortage of assholes willing to say the first thing that comes to mind. Take it from me, old Southerners, especially old Southern men, will not hold off saying they first thing that comes to mind. No matter how vulgar.

When someone makes a disrespectful comment about you, even if not shouted at you or intended for you to hear at all, if Thomas hears it, it’s going to be an issue. He thinks of you like a godsend. No matter how much of an asshole you may think you are or how chaotic your personality is. You are his angel, period. So when Thomas hears residents mutter lewd comments about you, that alone is enough to send him into a rage. He’s a calm man until certain buttons are pressed. The conundrum of being a gentle soul with anger issues is something Thomas understands well.

Now, Hell forbid someone make you uncomfortable by saying things like this to your face. And Heaven prohibit someone do something more than just a comment. The wrong set of words and actions can make Thomas revolt to murder, if he’s not stopped of course. That’s something you’ll have to do if you don’t want your sweetheart shot by police or thrown in a cell. He’ll still make it clear that you are to be respected. If he has to send that message by breaking an old man’s face? He will. (Oh, and while he won’t resolve to physical violence for Hoyt and/or Monty, he will still make them shit their pants in fear if they make such comments.)

Thomas hated going into town for anything other than work. Plain and simple, people were cruel, they always had been. It’s why it shocked everyone so much when word got out that Tommy got himself someone special. Hell, even Thomas himself was shocked when someone expressed interest in him. In all honesty, your flirting had gone right over his head, mistaken for plain kindness. Though, that alone got him to fall for you, so it worked out anyway. Victory was victory even if it didn’t go as planned. Luda Mae was very happy to learn that her baby had someone interested in him, even if the Hewitts were wary of anyone that wasn’t family. It wasn’t necessarily easy for you to gain their trust, and often times you wondered if you actually succeeded or not, but you managed to be placed in a spot somewhere in their family.

Luda wasn’t going to turn down your help either. When you offered to accompany Thomas for errands, she didn’t hesitate to accept. She wouldn’t admit it yet, but she was getting older, and the more she moved the more she was reminded of that fact. Thomas did heavy lifting jobs. You always insisting on helping, even if he could easily handle it on his own. Still, your presence was never unwelcome by him. He’d keep you at his side 24/7 if possible. He watched fondly as you went about checking your list of things you’d need to bring back. As well as keeping track of your budget. You bent slightly to grab something off a lower shelf in the store you both stood in, muttering right Thomas about the next aisle you’d be going to. Both you and him were alerted to your surroundings when a sharp whistle hit your ears.

You stood and looked towards the source behind you. Two men, roughly your age, maybe a few years younger than Thomas. They chuckled and nudged each other. Your face flushed with a mix of rage and embarrassment when you realized the whistle was directed at you, for your ass, presumably. You huffed as you dropped the item in the cart. “Hey Tommy, you outta send that piece of ass my way, I can show’em a good time!” One grinned. Naturally, you scowled, beyond repulsed. You shook your head and went to move away. However, Thomas didn’t, and that’s what prompted you to stop and look at him. His face showed nothing but disdain. A perfect depiction of wrath. A far departure from your usual blank faced but soft eyed man. “Thomas?” You whispered.

“What? That piss you off, freak? C’mon, Hewitt, you and I both know I can show your pretty lil doll a better time than you.” The young man pressed. You scoffed, only to have your expression drop when you saw Thomas leave his spot beside you. Approaching the vulgar idiots in large strides. It was something so quick, it almost gave you whiplash. Just three minutes ago, Thomas was gazing at you with the gentleness of cloud fluff as he helped you get things off shelves. Now you watched him begin to bludgeon the individual who felt it necessary to comment on your body. The cracking of bone, the clatter of flying teeth, and then dripping of blood. You watched in awe and, admittedly, some morbid fascination. Before it hit you that Thomas wasn’t going to stop on his own.

You approached quickly and placed your hands on Thomas’s shoulders, tugging slightly. “Thomas! Tommy, baby stop! You’ll kill him and then you’ll get in trouble!” You pleaded. He glanced up at you. “Just leave him, you’ve done enough damage.” He glanced at the boy, who was crying and incoherently groaning in pain, occasionally muttering a call for his mother. The brunet stood to his full hulking height. You exhaled in relief and hugged his arm, pulling him away. You rushed to get out of the store with your items before anyone noticed the bleeding man on the floor. Thomas held into some residual anger as you loaded Luda Mae’s truck. You both settled into the three seater cabin of the blue pick-up.

Thomas ground his molar teeth together as he picked at a seam in his pants. He jolted when he felt a careful peck on his cheek, just above his mask. He looked at you. Honestly, confused by your gentle smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. You defended me today.” Your tone made his chest clench. He nodded with an acknowledging hum. He felt better knowing you weren’t upset with him for his outburst, sighing in relief while you started the car. “Besides, I could get used to seeing you whoop ass for me. Since you look so sexy doing it.” You laughed at his sudden wide eyes and jolt at your comment, grinning at the blush it formed. He looked away from you but rested his hand on your thigh casually as you began driving.

#slasher x reader #slasher community #slashers #jason voorhees #jason vorhees x reader #Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #slasher fucker #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #thomas hewitt #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher

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quartzalynlove · 11 months

Text

Dating Hobie Brown Would Include

Summary: various hobie x black fem reader hcs

A/n: this man yall...THIS MAN. Also listen I know very little abt British slang but I did my best-

He will pop up at your house at any hour

Early in the morning bc he wants to say hi

Going to take a little superhero break in your room

Or chilling with you at night

I think he would dabble in video games but if you're more into them than him he could sit and watch you play for hours

He likes stealing the job of your game chair and having you sit in his lap while you game

And omg don't be wearing his clothes he thinks you're so hot in his stuff

He'll just give you his clothes sometimes just to see you wear them

If you're also punk he'll give you so much gear

And probably get you two matching jackets and pins

You aren't entirely sure what his love language is

It's pretty much an even mix of everything

Insecurity is not an option around him

He'll either tell you how he loves you the way you are or how perfection is a construct of society to pressure people into conforming

He really can't believe that YOU are HIS

You're just so bad like a dream girl come to life

Calls you babe and sometimes "peng ting"

He almost never calls you by your name tho

He likes pda

His hand will always be on your thigh no matter where you're chilling

And he'll give a few cheek kisses in public

I feel like he'd be obsessed with just doing stuff to your hair

Give him a box of rubber bands and some beads or other accessories and he'll go ham

It's always really cute and unique so he's lowkey like a personal stylist

He also just knows how to do your hair in general

So if you don't feel like dealing with wash day you know who to call

He cannot cook or bake but he does have your regular orders from your favorite restaurants memorized and will surprise you with fast food

He'd do whatever for you in a heartbeat

Sometimes you don't have to ask he just knows

He acts as cool as he is all the time but you be having him mentally swinging his feet

You can tell by a lazy smirk he does or he'll just tell you

"You're actin' mad cute rn, peng ting"

Most of the time when he's gone he's just thinking about seeing you again

He will definitely bring you up in conversation at least once a day

Taught you how to play his guitar

He wrote a song about you that's his favorite to practice alone in his room

816 notes · View notes

goosewriting · 1 year

Text

Wherever you go, I go

summary: after reader and Cal are rescued from Bracca, reader questions whether they know him at all.

relationship: Cal Kestisx GN reader

warnings: none!, a tiny bit of angst sprinkled in there but mainly fluff

word count: 4.4k

A/N: i have the Cal Kestis Brain WormsTM and they will not leave me alone sdfsdfd this follows the first part of the game on Bogano pretty closely but not to 100%

Navigation: Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 | Part 3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

You breathe in Bogano’s humid air deeply into your lungs as you stretch your back, stepping out of the ship onto the soft grass. The last 24 hours have been wild.

Around two years ago, you had ended up on Bracca, where you met Cal. You were both around the same age and Prauf had taken a liking to you both, so he had ended up introducing you to the redhead when you were new. They showed you the ropes of the place, how to properly use the machinery and tools, and pretty much everything you needed to know to be a scrapper.

You had been dealt a bad hand early in life; it wasn’t without reason that you ended up on a planet like Bracca after all. You were on your own, needed a job, and the bounty on your head didn’t make it easy to hide, so you had to disappear.

And yet, after everything that happened, you can’t help but think that it wasn’t all so bad, in hindsight at least. Because after leaving behind everything you knew, adopting a new name and taking the first ship to “as far as way as possible” from your homeplanet, it was like the universe dropped you right into Cal’s arms. Or at least that’s how you liked to think about it.

Ever since then, Cal and you became pretty much inseparable. In each other you found the friend and peer you needed right then. You were both pretty secretive about your lives thus far, but you knew that if there was anyone you’d trust on that heap of scraps, it was Cal for sure.

As time went on, you grew ever closer. You ended up telling him about how you had been on the run and needed to lay low for some time. Even if he didn’t tell you much about where he was from, you knew that if he wanted to tell you, he would, on his own time. And you were okay with that. You tried not to make up your own stories about him in your head, yet sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder. Whatever backstory your mind came up with though, never in a thousand years would you have believed the truth if he had told you, which you learned later and saw with your own eyes.

You think back to how that day had started and gone by normally, everyone working on their own thing. It was only on the train ride home that you noticed how weird Prauf was acting, and he and Cal were having a talk in hushed whispers, looking around nervously. You had made a mental note then to ask the readhead what happened later on, but you’d never get to that.

From the moment the train stopped and Stormtroopers escorted you all out to line up, everything happened so fast; the Inquisitors talking about a Jedi traitor in your rows, Cal suddenly taking out a lightsaber, Prauf being killed, the whole train chase… Your memories are foggy, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re having a hard time wrapping your mind around everything that’s happened, or if it’s because you understand exactly what trespassed, but are unwilling to accept it. For now, at least.

Cal had somehow managed to get you out of there, falling onto moving wagons, and ushering you to go on. He fought off the scary Inquisitor lady while you cowered away. Then a mysterious ship came to your aid, bringing Cal and you to safety.

And now it turns out this Cere person needs Cal to go to a… vault of sorts? Because he is actually a Jedi, and needs to pass a test to help her on a mission.

Truly, what a wild 24 hours it has been.

Now on the swampy planet, you somehow convinced Cal to let you tag along. You really don’t want to leave him on his own right now, and to be honest, you also don’t want to be left alone with Cere and the Latero. You aren’t even sure yet if you can trust them. This whole situation is just… too much right now.

So off you go with Cal, making your way towards the first cliff in silence, breathing in the clean air and taking in the sight. Little creatures with big eyes hop around and out of your way, looking at you curiously. As you reach a drop, Cal jumps first, helping you down.

When your feet meet the ground, you don’t let go of his gloved hand just yet. He gives you a questioning look.

“It’s the first time in a while that I’ve been off-planet,” you remark with a smile. “It’s so silent out here. I had almost forgotten what that’s like.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while for me too,” Cal says. “It’s nice out here.”

You two just look at each other for a moment, suddenly aware that it’s the first time in a long time that you’re alone, hidden from prying eyes. And there’s also the bantha in the room of Cal being a Jedi.

“Thank you, by the way,” you speak genuinely. “For… taking me with you, and not leaving me behind.”

“I already lost a friend,” Cal says, and you see the hurt cross his face for a moment. “I wasn’t gonna let them take you too.”

‘Friend,’ you think, and bitterly smile to yourself as Cal turns and keeps walking, without letting go of your hand though. You look at where he holds you, heat starting to spread on your cheeks. You’re painfully aware that your feelings for him have developed into more. You’re not quite sure when it started, but they were solid. And as strange as it was, Cal being a Jedi suddenly seems like the last piece to a puzzle. Everything falls into place, finally making sense. It actually suits him, somehow. And you understand why he didn’t tell you. The memory comes back of how he fought with his lightsaber, and how good he looked while doing that. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. You were actually planning on confessing at some point, but that just got pushed way further into the future. There’s more pressing matters right now.

You don’t want to force Cal to talk about his past or his abilities, but you do have to talk about what your plan is. Not entirely sure how to approach the subject, you start formulating some questions in your mind, trying to find the best way to word them. You don’t get to ask him though because Cal stops at the base of another cliff, removing his hand from yours, which you miss immediately.

“This seems like a good place to meditate,” he remarks, more to himself than to him.

“Meditate?” you ask.

“Ah, yeah,” Cal says and kneels down onto the ground. “To, you know, connect with the Force. It’ll take just a minute.”

And with that, he closes his eyes and starts evening out his breathing. You look at him for a moment, then decide to sit on a rock a couple steps to the side. It doesn't take long and Cal’s face starts twitching lightly, his brows furrowing. Wherever he is, you hope he’s alright.

You watch him a little longer, then avert your gaze as you realise you’re just shamelessly staring at this point. Taking in your surroundings a little better, you take note of the rocks and their curious colouration, with several shades of reds and browns between the white layers.

Suddenly you hear little, mechanical steps approaching, so you stand up and turn around, your body getting tense in a fight or flight moment. But you immediately relax as you see a curious little droid approaching the two of you. It looks at you, then at Cal, and stands in front of him, seemingly waiting for the redhead to come out of his meditation.

Cal’s breathing starts growing shallow, with the slightest of whimpers, and you want to reach out to him, asking if he’s okay, but you’re not sure if it’s safe to interrupt his meditation. So you just sit next to the droid, who gives you a look and a beep you can’t quite understand; you’ve never been fluent in binary.

With one last pant Cal finally opens his eyes and is met with your worried gaze and the droid.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers, and gestures to the droid with his chin. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, he joined in earlier. Looks like he was waiting for you to react,” you explain and the beeps sound like agreement to you.

“He says his name is BD-1,” Cal translates, then introduces you both to the little droid. BD gives another series of beep-boops.

“We’re looking for someone,” Cal answers, and BD beeps excitedly. “No, not you,” Cal says with a chuckle. “We’re searching for a Jedi. I think.”

BD jumps with a series of quick beeps, and hurries off.

“Hold on, you know the Jedi?” Cal asks and stands up. “Hold on!” he calls after the droid who is running ahead, and tells you to follow him.

You two navigate through the landscape of floating rocks and cliffs, following BD. He brings you to what seems to be a long abandoned hiding place. As you have to walk over a big pipe to get there, BD arrives first, and gets attacked by a rather ugly, maggot looking creature that was burrowing underground, and you see some sparks fly. Cal rushes to his help, getting rid of the creature and its friends with his lightsaber.

“BD! Are you okay?” you ask the droid, picking him up to inspect his leg, which is pretty busted. He beeps sadly.

Cal joins you, taking a look at the droid to check out the damage, and you can’t help your heart skipping a beat at how he’s standing behind you, looking over your shoulder, and you feel the warmth radiating off of him. BD tilts his head at you for a second but you choose to ignore it, trying to convince yourself that droids can’t pick up on that kinda thing.

“That was pretty brave,” Cal says to BD as he takes the droid from your arms. “And hey, I can help you with that…”

He brings BD over to a workbench, quickly fixing up the mechanical leg. BD seems to run some damage analysis as he stares straight ahead, then beeps at Cal.

“The vault?” he asks. “Yeah, that’s where we’re headed, too. Let’s go.”

“Uhm, what’s happening?” you ask, following behind the other two.

“BD says we have to go to the vault. He said he knows a Jedi, so, I’m guessing that’s where we’ll find them.”

“So… BD is a friend, yes?” you question further, lowering your voice so the droid doesn’t hear you.

“Yeah,” Cal answers, looking after BD that is rushing ahead to show the way. “I hope so…”

Trying to find a way out of the place, you two squeeze through a barely open door. There’s a hallway that could be your exit, but it’s blocked by some thick cables. You’re too late to notice Cal swinging his lightsaber at them; they’re clearly sparking. Before you’re able to stop him, he gets zapped and thrown back. You rush to his side.

“By the Maker, Cal, are you okay?” you ask, checking him for injuries.

“I- I’m okay,” he groans, as he sits up.

You’re about to give him an earful about being reckless when BD rushes to Cal’s side, offering a healing stim canister from a little slot on his cubic head.

“A stim?” Cal asks as he inspects the vial. Looking up at you, he offers you the object with a lopsided smile; you’ve always been the one to patch him up.

You playfully roll your eyes at him, taking the stim and stabbing it into his upper arm.

“That’s better,” Cal sighs, and you help him get back to his feet.

“Thanks, little droid,” you say to BD, and he beeps happily.

“Let’s try that again,” Cal mutters, and you give his shoulder a squeeze.

“Without getting hurt this time, please,” you instruct, to which he chuckles, and you let him go. But BD is now holding onto his leg, beeping. Cal lifts him up and swings him over his shoulder, where the droid settles, and you see the happy little shimmy, which internally makes you go “aaw”. It really is an adorable sight.

The three of you continue your journey to the vault mainly in silence. Cal makes a little conversation with the droid from time to time. You can’t understand everything but it seems that BD doesn’t remember how he got here.

At one point you get to what seems to be the last stretch towards the vault. You wonder how you will get across that narrow space, which essentially is just vertical, rough walls, in mid-air. You turn to Cal, about to voice your concerns, when you see that he touches the wall, and his eyes glaze over, staring beyond the walls into nothingness.

Is he… meditating again?

You wait a couple of seconds, but he remains unmoving. Reaching up, you give his arm a gentle squeeze.

“With persistence…” he mumbles, shaking his head slightly, seemingly coming back from wherever he was.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask him, stepping in front of him to have him meet your eyes.

“Yeah, all good. Just remembering old tricks…” he replies.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just saw my… my old Master,” Cal explains with a slight shudder. “I was remembering my training, as a Padawan.”

Padawans. Jedi Masters. The Force. Those are all names you’ve heard growing up, but you never got to see one for yourself. You were too young to understand what was going on when the Clone Wars ended, but you did hear the stories. Some fantastical, others straight out of a horror holomovie.

“Listen,” Cal speaks softly, taking both your hands in his, and your heart flutters as you look up at him. “I know this must be all so weird to you, and I promise I will explain everything. Just… I have to do this.”

“Do you though?” you counter. “What happened was awful but it was our ticket off of Bracca.” ‘We can start over again. Together’ is what you want to say, but it doesn’t seem like the appropriate time. “Why are you listening to a stranger?”

Cal hesitates for a second.

“It’s hard to explain,” he starts. “There’s just something coming from that vault, it’s like it’s calling out to me. I know you probably don’t understand, but please, trust me on this,” he almost pleads. “If anything is off, we’re leaving, I promise. But if there’s another Jedi… I need to know.”

You don’t trust Cere, or Greez. Maybe even BD, not yet at least. But you trust Cal. So you nod.

“Just promise me one thing,” you insist. “Warn me when you’re about to meditate or think about your old Master. It’s a bit scary when you’re just… gone like that.”

“I will,” he promises with a smile, giving your hands one last squeeze before letting go.

“So,” you say after a while, looking at the vault which is so close, yet so far. “How are we getting there?”

Cal gives BD a sly glance, then looks back at you with that stupid grin you’ve grown to love so much.

“Heads-up: you won’t like this,” he says and suddenly leans in, and you freeze. His arms snake around your back and under your legs, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing. “Hold on!” he quips.

And with that he runs towards the cliff end, and you do hold on, for dear life. Cal skillfully runs along the walls, jumping from one side to the other, until he reaches the far end and hops onto safe ground once more.

He chuckles as he sets you back onto the grass, but you have to hold onto his shoulders a little longer until you feel safe on your legs again.

“Please never do that again,” you mutter under your breath, and Cal laughs.

“C’mon, we’re almost there,” he remarks, gesturing towards the large structure with his chin. BD beeps happily.

You walk next to Cal as you climb the rather steep mud path towards the vault. Up close, it is much taller than what it looked like from a distance. Still, you’re not sure what you expected it to be, but there really isn’t much… It’s just a giant tower surrounding a smaller column. That’s it.

“Huh, such a fuss over this?” you ask no one in particular.

“Hold on, I think I can get it open,” Cal says, and reaches up to touch the front panel. Closing his eyes, he focuses, and you can feel a shift around you as well as under you, as the ground shakes slightly, and the panel opens, revealing a dark and narrow passage.

You inspect the passage, but you can’t see anything through it; it’s just a black void, and it’s rather unsettling.

“I think you should wait here,” Cal states, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“But–”

Cal walks into the void, BD still on his shoulders, and you circle around the column to catch him coming back on the other side to make fun of him thinking that would lead anywhere, but he doesn’t come out.

“Cal?” you call, but there isn’t even an echo of your own voice to answer you.

With a sigh, you walk back to the side where the redhead left in, and you lean onto the opposite wall, waiting for him to come back. The wait grows longer and your patience thinner, and for a second, you think that you just got ditched on this swamp planet, and you hug yourself. No, you tell yourself, Cal wouldn't do that.

…Right?

After what feels like an eternity, but probably was just a couple of minutes, Cal and BD finally emerge from the void again. You all but throw yourself onto him, hugging his torso.

“What took you so long!” you say into his chest.

“Sorry, I…” he hesitantly hugs you back, and you can feel he wants to say something but is holding back. So you look up at him.

“What is it?” you ask. “Did you meet the Jedi?”

Cal just looks down at you, studying your face with an unreadable expression, and if you weren’t so worried by his silence, you would probably be very flustered by his gaze and how close his face is to yours.

“Things just got a lot more complicated,” is all Cal offers as an explanation as he takes your hand, pulling you with him, out of the vault. “C’mon.”

“Wait, what?” you ask confused, trying to keep up with his hurried pace. “What happened in there?”

“This is bigger than we could have imagined, I need to tell Cere immediately.”

That’s all you got out of him all the way back to the ship. BD kept looking back at you with questioning beeps, but Cal either didn’t hear or ignored him.

When you finally make it back to the Mantis, you’re out of breath. Cal’s pace was relentless when he was in a hurry, and he did carry you across some of the walls like before without warning, so you were looking forward to getting in there and sitting down for a moment.

“You passed the test,” Cere calls from the entrance of the ship as you approach it.

You beeline for the corner bench behind the round table, where BD hops on as well, and is immediately scolded by Greez. Cal introduces everyone to BD, telling the other two that he’s “with us” now.

Sitting down, Cal starts explaining what he learned in the vault. Some guy called Cordova hid a Holocron with a list of force sensitive children in the vault. The only way to get it though is by following his path, and the next leads are on the planets Zeffo and Dathomir.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around this whole ordeal, when Cal asks Cere why she’s no longer a Jedi. She explains that an experience changed her perspective (vague much?) and she cut herself off from the Force. But she believes that with the holocron they can rebuild the Jedi Order, and in that way fight against the Empire.

When Cere asks Cal if he’s on board with the plan, he’s about to answer, but then looks at you, and you can see in his eyes that he wants to do this. So you give a short nod.

They come up with a plan, deciding what’s the next step, and Cere and Greeze disappear in the cockpit. You find an empty cot at the back of the ship and take a seat.

Your chest tightens at the realisation that Cal isn’t who you thought he was at all. That maybe you don’t know him at all, actually. But Jedi or not, he’s the guy you fell for. Behind whatever it was he’s been trying to hide all these years, there was a personality that was just unmistakably and often unapologetically Cal. And he’s become too important for you to lose.

And now there’s this mission. A mission where, if you got things right, the weight of the universe will be placed on his shoulders. And it makes you angry, because that’s just not fair. There must be other Jedis out there that could do it, right? To make it worse, and you’re aware this might be a selfish thought, it makes you feel inadequate. Was Cal gonna drop you off on the next pit stop? You aren’t exactly an experienced fighter. You doubt they’d have a need for a thief on the run from the Empire. Would you be just a burden to him?

Cal, who survived the Purge of the Jedis, and will now attempt to restore the Order. And you, helplessly in love with him, probably holding him back, because you’re too scared to lose him.

Just as there’s a voice echoing in your mind, telling you that you’re not enough, you feel a dip in the cot beside you. Looking up, you’re met with Cal’s worried gaze.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You slowly nod, but it quickly turns into a shake of your head instead.

“I just…” You hope your voice doesn’t betray you, giving away the tears threatening to spill. “Everything happened so fast, so much all at once. And now I’m left feeling like I don’t know who you are.”

Cal is about to retort but you quickly add, “Wait, I didn’t word that right.”

So he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“What I mean is, we’ve known each other for some time now. And I understand why you hid who you are. I just can’t help but wonder if the Cal I know is the real Cal or not?”

You dare bring your gaze up to meet his, and your chest tightens at the hurt look in his face.

“Because I like the Cal I know,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “A lot.”

He gives you a smile, and you swear you can see the slightest shade of pink spreading on his ears and cheeks.

“There’s only one Cal,” he says, leaning slightly to the side, softly bumping his shoulder into yours. “And he likes you too. A lot.”

For a second, you simply watch your hands in your lap, replaying his words in your mind. You see how his hand gets into your field of vision, folding over yours, and now your brain short-circuits for real. You look up to him, searching for regret or teasing in his eyes, yet you find nothing but affection and warmth. A warmth that spreads through your whole body, and has you taking a shuddering breath.

“So what’s the plan now?” you ask him after a while, giving his hand a squeeze that he returns.

“Telling you the truth,” Cal answers. “And then you can decide if you want to actually be a part of this.”

“And if I say no, you’re just gonna ditch me?” you say with a playful scoff, but a slight panic still sneaks itself into your voice.

“What? No, of course not,” he assures you. “I already talked to Greez. You can stay on the Mantis as long as you need. What I mean is… I want you to stay by my side. But I won’t force you to. We have a pretty ambitious mission, after all.”

“Fighting the Empire?” you ask rhetorically. “Been there, done that.”

“Wait, what?”

“Why do you think I have a bounty on my head, Master Jedi?” you say with a playful tone.

“What did you do?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Hmm,” you stroke your chin as if considering his question. “I’ll tell you after you tell me about your training and how you escaped.”

“Deal,” Cal says with a smile. “And I’m not a Master Jedi, actually. I only ever was a Padawan, an apprentice.”

“Well you have some nice moves for an apprentice,” you chuckle. “And Master or not, you look good with a lightsaber.”

Cal lets out a strangled sound at your comment, face now several shades darker.

You both turn when you hear steps approaching, seeing that it’s Greez. You instinctively want to remove your hand from Cal’s, feeling like you just got caught, but he doesn’t let you go.

“Ah, I see you’ve found the bed,” Greez says. “It’s the only extra we have. We were counting with just one Jedi, after all.”

“Technically you’re not wrong,” you say, unable to meet anyone’s eyes and looking down at the floor instead. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You’ll have to,” Greez answers with a smile as he doesn’t miss your joined hands, and turns to leave. “Come get some dinner, kids.”

Cal wants to stand up but you pull him back. He turns to look at you with a raised brow and you take the chance to plant a kiss on his cheek. You almost laugh at the surprise on his face.

“Wherever you go, I’ll go,” you tell him as you rise to your feet with a smile. “At least it won’t be boring, right?”

— — —

A/N: this may have the potential for a second part? if you'd like that let me know! ♥ // (screenshot is mine)

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings (sorry for the late tag!)

#goose feathers #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #star wars x reader

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candywife333 · 2 months

Text

One of the guys

pairing: OT7? alphas X chubby wingwoman HYBE counselor Y/N (omega in hiding)

NEW MINISERIES (almost resembles a series of just drabbles)

Summary: She's the man. No literally. She totally is. At least in the perception of everyone at HYBE. She hangs out with the guys like a pro , strategizes with them to get them any girl of their choice, gets rid of their one night stands with ease, convinces their FWBs to leave them alone, provides constructive criticism about their sexual techniques, and even counsels them when they are having mental breakdowns. In essence, she makes MEN out of boys. Is that her job description? Not exactly. But she does it anyway. Because Y/N just happens to be one of the guys.

Warning: cursing, crude language, eventual smut

PART 2

"Y/N!!!! Y/N?!!!! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR. I NEED YOU!! I AM GOING TO BLOODY DIE OTHERWISE!! PLEASE GIRL, OPEN THE DOOR AND I WILL GIVE YOU MY FIRST BORN CHILD". y/n scoffed as she heard the ruckus outside of her door, first born child? What was she the antichrist, or a demon? The closest to that she ever got was using cow placenta face masks on a Sunday and babysitting her niece.

She opened the door in bewilderment adjusting her thick specs, goddamnit, the constant disguise got on her nerves some days. She stared up blankly at a perspiring, anxious looking Namjoon who was frothing at the mouth. "Sure Namjoon, come in and while you are it, why don't you tell me why you want to sacrifice a squealing, diaper pooping little human being to me? Maybe we can work that into a schedule".

He sat on the comfy couch on her office, as she blew out her lavender aromatherapy candle, turning off her zen bamboo lights. He blurted without preamble in a nervous frenzy, " I am not able to take my penis out of my foreskin ".

Y/N was the only one he would ever come to with such a concern, because she wouldn't laugh in his face and judge him. Y/N tapped her floral pen on her stationary sheet and wooden pad. Her tapping brought his attention to nails painstakingly painted pale pink color with a pink diamond ring surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds on her left hand that twinkled in the dim light. That was new. He never had noticed those on her before.

She calmingly inquired, "Are you on any medication Namjoon? Any antidepressants or heart medication, or did you ingest any herb recently"? Namjoon stuttered, somewhat soothed by her expressionless, blank face, "No. Not that I know of". She continued asking him, "Were you getting your morning erections and any nocturnal ones prior to this? And also, do you have diabetes or atherosclerosis"? As he answered negatively to all these questions, Y/N sighed. Then she quietly asked, "Do your regularly clean down there, with soap and warm water"?

Namjoon froze. "Ex--x-xcuse me"? Y/N sighed again, she rephrased , "To your own knowledge, do you clean up every time you have a shower down there by retracting back your foreksin from your penis and washing it with at least some warm water". He remained silent til he gasped out ," Yes ....I think I do ". Y/N put down her clipboard , keeping her hands on her thighs, looking directly in his eyes.

"You have a few options Namjoon. Either you can go to the clinic a few blocks away, and get it checked out by the urologist, who I can notify regarding your complaints. And he will get it figured out. Or, I will have to examine the situation since I am a licensed psychiatrist (a doctor nevertheless)".

Namjoon sat there in confusion, Y/N was a licensed psychiatrist, an actual doctor? Since when? So, her counseling idols was the usual for her? Then it all made sense. So that is why nobody had to actually go outside of HYBE to get basic medication/psychiatric medication prescriptions. That is why the prescriptions would always be written in her loopy cursive handwriting.

Then he realized he had to answer her. He decided to let her examine, as embarrassing and humiliating as it was. He didn't have time with the upcoming showcase the day after tomorrow to run to an urologist. "Please examine me y/N".

She nodded in assent and told him to get on the examination table which had been lined with a long white sheet. She turned on a circular examination light told him, "Take your pants and underwear off, and lie down flat on your back. I will examine you, so let me know if I am hurting you. I will stop or be more careful if that is the case".

She turned around , her back briefly facing him so that she could get sanitize her hands before placing gloves on. Namjoon noticed a protruding mass wrapping around her long baggy shirt. Did she by chance, have a big ass? It was a little silly to think that way, but they had never seen her in anything else. And her specs occluded her face, so they couldn't tell what she looked like without them.

Y/N took off her tinted glasses, and low and behold, Namjoon was starstruck as he saw her beautiful face. She had the biggest eyes and a classic round face, with beautiful lips the color of carnations. He was so distracted at her gorgeousness, he didn't realize she was trying to retract his penis from his foreskin. He erupted loudly, "OWWWWW. PLEASE STOP". She held his member more gently as she sighed, stating in a placid manner, " You have to clean down here a little more frequently Namjoon. After sexual intercourse, when in the shower regularly, and especially after a workout. This is called smegma, this white stuff. And it is basically dead skin cells that don't get cleaned off and build up as gunk. Let me get some saline solution and a pair of artery forceps and I will try slowly retracting it".

Namjoon blushed in embarrassment. Y/N took some saline solution on a gauze pad and gently started working it around his penis , making him slightly wince due to the sensitivity. Y/N internally sighed. Thankfully she didn't need to use artery forceps to pull it down. After dislodging the smegma, she was able to pull his skin off of the penis. It took some more time than usual, because there was a good amount of buildup and the man had a big D. Surprise, Surprise.

After fixing the situation, Y/N motioned for him to dress up once again. Namjoon, looking less stressed, but still flushed from the somewhat humiliating experience thanked Y/N, " I am so sorry to waste your time Y/N". Y/N waved away his concern, "That's what I am here for man. Just make sure to regularly clean that area with warm water okay"? Sheepishly smiling in agreement, Namjoon, taking a seat gingerly at the edge of the sofa.

Nodding reassuringly at him, Y/N concluded, "If that will be all, then I will talk to you later. Please let me know if you have any concerns later on, and I can help you out".

Namjoon walked out breathing a sigh of relief, that his problem was easily resolved even though he was mortified that she had to see something so intimate. He shouldn't be so inquisitive, but how was it that her face was so pretty but she covered it in thick framed glasses? And the rest of her appearance was drab and uninspiring expect for her pink accented nails and earrings. Surprisingly ,he had even gotten the faintest most alluring whiff of strawberries and cream that he couldn't place. Not her usual scent. Something alphas like him catalogued frequently, scent patterns. He had a feeling she was hiding a whole personality this entire time right under their noses.

If she was hiding her appearance and her scent, what else could she be hiding?

#chubby reader #bts x plus size reader #bts x reader #eventual smut #bts x chubby reader #bts x curvy y/n #bts x fem reader #bts x omega #alpha bts x omega y/n

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chaisshitposts · 6 months

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𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐝 '𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

FULL DISCLAIMER.

yes the challenge name is corny, I don't care 😡 anyways, the challenge that I am about to propose does include things involving the the void, however, it is not centered around the void, because we as master manifesters are able to manifest drastically outside of it. this may be for everyone, but it's not for quitters. this is a lot to read, apologies in advance, but I recommend you read this in it's entirety anyways!

DESCRIPTION.

For this challenge, we will be combining a variety of methods to change our realities for the better, anyone can participate at any time. This challenge has no 'finish date' like other challenges, however, we will have a check-in a week after our start date to take note of progress. I do not believe that time limits should be put on things that we desire, however, it can motivate consistency and holding ourselves responsible on our goals and accountable of our own progress.

GOAL.

The main goal surrounding this challenge is shifting our mindsets towards obtaining our dream lives as well as keeping a mental diet that works in our favor. What I often find with these manifestation challenges are that folks give up too early on their goals when they see no movement in regards to their /main/ goals they are constantly seeking proof from, it's important to remember that time is simply a manmade illusion and that we are all different in various ways which is a beautiful thing we must remember. And there is always movement with our manifestations, even if we can't consciously see it.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Just like one would do when constructing a void list, create yourself a list of things you desire, as well as affirmations you want to be true. Doesn't matter how long the list is or what words you use or what language you use. Just make a list. You can include things about your dream life, dream apartment, dream financial situations, how often you enter the void, how quickly you enter the void, self-concept, mythical things, desired appearance, any kind of revision, superpowers, supernatural events, personality changes, drastic health changes etc, whatever you like. When creating your affirmations please remember to use past tense (always/used to/ have been) or present tense (right now/currently/ right this moment/ right this second/instantly/immediately). Make your affirmations/afformations/askformations as detailed and as long as you want, your subconscious always remember each and every detail. I'd also recommend throwing in some manifestation rules for yourself.

EXAMPLES.

I love my body.

My skin is perfect in every way and will always remain perfect with everything I do.

I've always been pretty.

I always have hella money in my bank account.

Why am I so lucky?

Why do I always enter the void instantly after just thinking about it once?

Everytime I fall asleep, I always wake up in the void.

I am a master at lucid dreaming and can lucid dream whenever I want just by affirming for it once.

I love how long, shiny, and healthy my hair always is.

Everytime I breathe I get more and more handsome.

Why am I so good at manifesting?

Regardless of everything, I can manifest anything I want instantly after affirming for it three times and it instantly conforms in the 3D.

I have my dream bedroom right now with blue walls, hardwood floors, a wardrobe filled with clothes from my y2k pinterest board, my ideal gaming set up, and an LG touch flat screen TV.

I can shift realities as easily as I can breathe.

The more I obsess over my desires the faster they conform in the 3D.

Even if I have negative thoughts or doubts, I can still manifest anything I want instantly.

Everything works in my favor, the law is always on my side.

I already have my desires, every thought that affirms the opposite is an illusion.

Whatever I say works, all techniques and methods work instantly for me.

Doing nothing works, and doing everything works when it comes to manifesting.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Give that list a name. Any name ya want, doesn't matter. Ya could even just call it your 'Void List.' My own personal list has two names 'All That I Desire' and 'Void List'. Ya could also call it 'Dream Life,' 'I Want,' etc.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Create an affirmation that suggests you have everything on that list. Here are some examples, but do not use these to limit any other ideas you may have or what affirmations may sound most natural to you.

I have everything on [insert name list].

I manifested everything on my list instantly and easily.

I effortlessly have everything on my list.

Everytime I breathe something from my list manifests instantly.

I have my dream life.

I already have everything I want. Everything in my life is perfect.

I already have everything on [insert name list].

Regardless of everything, I have everything on [insert name list].

Isn't it wonderful?

I literally have everything on my list right now.

Everything on my list has already manifested.

My personal affirmation: Regardless of everything, I have All That I Desire.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Use Psych-K to affirm this affirmation for 10 minutes (at least), or just affirm for ten minutes without Psych-K. This can be done multiple times through each day, don't limit yourself to just a single session if you don't want to, do whatever makes you feel fulfilled. I would recommend trying to do this at least once per day.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Outside of Psych-K or your focused affirming, I want you to use this affirmation whenever you think about anything you desire, whenever you have doubts about anything, whenever you have negative thoughts, or you can just robotically affirm this throughout the entirety of your day. It's okay to have opposing thoughts, but you need to ignore them, you cannot give them anymore attention, do not entertain them, and affirm your desires. Your umbrella affirmation is your backbone, it is your guardian angel. And if you have moments when you don't think you can stop those spiraling thoughts, take your umbrella affirmation or any other affirmation that benefits you and say it aloud with authority, over and over for 2-3 minutes. You can't say something aloud while simultaneously thinking another thing. Go RIGHT for your affirmation, we don't care about the old story anymore.

The most important thing for this step is to stop yourself from thinking the opposite of what you desire, and it's okay if you have a negative thought or two, but quickly catch yourself before you can spiral or fall back into the victim mentality. Remind yourself— no matter if you have negative thoughts, you always get what you want and everything's going to be okay. It's important to be gentle with your thoughts but also assertive when learning something new.

With robotic affirming, feelings don't matter at that time, it's simply for saturation purposes and eventually the feelings will develop on their own with robotically affirming. And if you're like me, you might just wanna flood your head with robotic affirmin' so you can stop negatives and doubts or whatever from even having the chance to come to the surface. However, if needed, feel free to affirm with authority, attitude, sass, or whatever makes you feel more powerful.

The more you repeat, the more likely you will repeat the affirmation without even realizing. I often find that robotic affirming often leads me to waking up and that affirmation is the first thought I think, that's just how saturating it can be. And with robotic affirming (affirming all damn day or at least when I remember to) and a decent mental diet, manifestations will start popping up on that very same day.

TIP: Feel free to look over your list whenever you want, as many times as you want. And if you have moments where you wanna get specific, just refer to your list and affirm that particular affirmation that you want to become true.

TIP: Just woke up? Affirm. Eating? Affirm. Have break time? Affirm. Have a moment to chill? Affirm. Taking a shower? Affirm. Using the bathroom? Affirm. Doing your make-up? Affirm. Getting dressed? Affirm. Getting ready for work/school? Affirm. Watching something you're not really paying attention to on TV? Affirm. Watching YouTube videos? Affirm. Affirm. Affirm. Affirm. Affirm.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐒𝐈𝐗

(Optional) If applicable, and if you have trouble with robotic affirming or if ya just don't feel like it, try out recording your affirmation and looping it. There are multiple applications to be used such as Self-Pause and Parrot. I often do this myself using my bluetooth earbuds with the volume at a low enough level to hear them but not loud enough to distract me from other things. And because of who I am, I will often put overhead headphones over my bluetooth headphones to listen to music or audiobooks (that's a lot, ik but its like listening to subliminals but you can change what you're watching/listening to). Or you can play the looped affirmation at a very low volume on speaker from any kind of device while going about your day. And just because you're looping your affirmation in the background, it does NOT give you permission to affirm the opposite of your desires, you need to hold yourself accountable for the thoughts you are thinking. You control your thoughts, your thoughts don't control you.

If you do all of these things, monitoring your inner thoughts, and your inner conversations, you are bound to see or feel changes around you as well as inside of you, that's the law. Things change according to our own assumptions and how strict we are with our conscious thoughts. This way, not only are you simultaneously changing your thoughts about the void, but you are also manifesting what you want to change with the void in the first place simultaneously. With this in mind, you manifest outside of the void, a lot of things on your list, and when you do consciously wake up in the void, you'll be able to manifest the rest just by saying you've got everything on your list. It's foolproof with guaranteed success as long as you continue to hold yourself accountable and remain consistent.

Addressing Some Potential Doubts About The List Method or Why This Challenge 'Might' Not Work

Some of you may be wondering, how will my subconscious know what's on my list and how will it associate everything on my list with the name of the list that I give it? The subconscious remembers everything you do, even things that you don't consciously remember. It's constantly taking notes on everything that's said which is why, precisely, it's important to watch what you're thinking as well as what you're saying aloud. You know exactly what you mean when you're referencing certain things. And think of it like this, you are already aware that the void is within us, and when you're doing this challenge, you're constantly feeding this new information into the void that's already inside of you. The only thing you need to do is correct your conscious thoughts to think in favor of your desires. Also, there are various perks that come with this challenge— you're able to manifest all types of things all at once so you don't need to limit yourself to changing one thing at a time, the affirmations and desires in your list are immediately saved into your subconscious and all you have to do is repeat the umbrella affirmation you chose, whenever you feel particularly doubtful/negative about a certain subject you can easily go back to reread what affirmations you wrote OR you can just continue robotically affirming your umbrella affirmation, and finally, you are also practicing detachment from your goals because you've pretty much wrote them down, and may have consciously forgot about them, but kept affirming that everything on your list has already manifested. And yes, you may have goals you are consistently checking for in the 3D, but with this challenge you force consistency and saturation of the mind.

TIP: if you have certain affirmations on your list that involve shifting, the void, or anything like that— i.e. "If I say an affirmation 3 times in a row it instantly manifests and conforms in the 3D." Feel free to try it out during the challenge, but do NOT, I repeat, do NOT get discouraged if it does not grant your desired results immediately. Try to be unbothered and go back to affirming your umbrella affirmation. But if you can't do that and you end up having a moment where you're sad or pissed off, give yourself a second to feel that emotion and then I want you to be stubborn and go find that affirmation you want to become true and repeat it to yourself with authority for 2-3 minutes, say it aloud or in your head, whatever makes you feel it. After that, congratulate yourself for not giving up, because who knows, maybe your manifestation did manifest in the 3D but it's a little delayed and will appear later that night or even the day after.... Don't sell yourself short. If you want something badly enough, I know you are willing to do whatever it takes to get it.

TIP: Feel free to combine this with the lullaby method, SATs, mediation and anything else you can think of.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍.

It's okay to start this whenever you wish, but procrastination is our worst enemy, start right now. Have fun, get excited, shit's about to change in your life, I guarantee it. Make your list, choose your umbrella affirmation, affirm like a maniac, build your foundation, and make life easier on yourself. Results are guaranteed.

If you have any questions in regards to anything in this post, feel free to send in an ask, or if you want an immediate answer feel free to dm me with your questions! I will try and help the best way I can.

#psych k #void state #law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #manifestation challenge #manifestation method #void method #law of assumption void #robotic affirming #list method #psych-k #SoundCloud

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starberry-cupcake · 23 days

Text

Things were happening too much. Gideon "Griddle" Nav, Chapter 30

I'm gonna have to split these up because there's so much going on.

previously, in gideon the ninth:

this happened

currently, having finished chapter 34:

well, I am exhausted and I'm just reading this

"gideon can't catch a break" should be the subtitle of this book

we literally can't finish a world-shattering disaster, we're onto the next one

the skeletons can't clean the blood fast enough

so, palmolive has a plan

palmolive's plans are like my cousin playing d&d, he talks as if the plan is bulletproof but then you hear him and it's some looney tunes shit

they work more frequently than not, which is infuriating but also moves things along

I feel like I'm constantly arguing with this guy in my head

palmolive's plan is to use the mind reading thingy harrow leveled up when they won against the first boss to show her mentally how dulcinea's key was so that they can break in that door

there are 2546 things that could go wrong with this, but he says he's super sure

he's not, in fact, super sure, but it works

camilla, my qp wife, has the poker face of the century

they look at the room and find some stuff, pins in a board, necromancer notes, the fact that the skeletons aren't constructs, you know, the usual

oh and that teacher and the other dudes are all super dead

which, we all kinda knew that

the fact that the old man didn't have a heart attack at this point is prove enough he doesn't have a beating heart to begin with

I'm gonna say, I love learning book lore and understanding how things work in said lore, but this book is making me feel terribly dumb

I don't know if it's a language barrier, the fact that Gideon doesn't understand the stuff herself and she's the narrator or what, but I feel so dumb sometimes reading their explanations

the gist of it, I believe, is that they don't know what's powering them to do what they do...or who

they can't really delve into it because a fire alarm goes off

I haven't blamed dulcinea for things yet but you know how I feel about her, they check on her and she's still alive, so she's still a threat in my book

they fix the alarm but they can't really delve into it because the Second has murdered Teacher (he wasn't alive but he kind of was, you know how it is) and ratted them out to the Emperor

but Teacher says "one of them" can't come back, which makes me think this isn't as simple as they think it is

the second is a goner btw

they were a goner the moment they thought they could take on Camilla The Everything, love of my life

but they can't really delve into it because mayonnaise uncle and duracell bunny nephew tell them the third have opened up abigail's body

they can't really delve into that either because palmolive figures out that abigail had a key inside her body and the third have gone through the door it opened

the third is like when you have a dog that's constantly making noise and then, for 10 straight minutes you don't hear them, so you just know they've done something bad

so gideon, harrowbean, palmolive, my qp wife, mayonnaise uncle and duracell bunny nephew all go to confront the third

yandere simulator twin is bloody and cryptic in the middle of the room

I could go on a tangent and talk about the madwoman archetype in victorian literature and how she's a representation of the 'lucia' archetype (no relation to me), dulcinea of the 'ophelia' and maybe regina george twin could be a closeted 'jane'

I'm not going to, though, you're welcome for that

so regina george twin is crying in a corner (gideon is emotionally doing the same, probably) and chad is dead on the ground

get wrecked, asshole

well, he's not dead-dead, nobody in this book is ever dead-dead, this is the hotel california of space

yandere twin has absorbed chad's ghost like piccolo and kami sama in dragon ball (rip akira toriyama)

she says she's figured it all out and the whole test was so a necro would soul-fuse with a cav, one flesh one blood one end one bed, I forgot how the oath went

I don't think she's figured it out because we're not ending this book yet

palmolive also doesn't think so

very important note: there's writing on the wall (literal and metaphorical) again saying "you lied to us" and it's the same writing that was featured before and we still don't know what that's about

so the eighth goes berserk and mayonnaise uncle wants to fight yandere twin for slurping chad's soul

duracell bunny nephew goes like "I'm not sure about this" and that was the moment I knew he was toast

I have already established I feel dumb reading the explanations but, for what I can understand, what the eighth does is that the necro detaches the soul of the cav and makes him astral project elsewhere for a time but there's always a tether to bring him back, if that is broken or he drifts too far he can't come back but other things could go into his body instead, or something like that

which is what happens

I thought that the recent dead had, because gideon says there were six people in him, and we've got 6 dead (protozoa, the unknown corpse, the 2 teens and the bride and groom), but idk

all this happens after yandere twin fights using chad's moves and some magic body jelly

this is body horror territory, there are tongues coming out of orifices that should not have tongues and goo flying all over the place

the eighth is dead at the end of it, yandere twin and her inner chad are gone and regina george twin is crying because she wanted to be the one absorbed, which I guess makes sense considering she was training with swords

you know, I had my suspicions that maybe she wasn't a necro after all, but harrow distracted me when she said she must have been a good one

so now we're down to: gideon, harrowbean, palmolive, my wife, regina george twin, yandere twin w/inner chad and dulcinea my mortal enemy

and whoever it is that's coming in after the second contacted whatever number there was in the space phone tree

also, protozoa was one of the two bodies that were cooked earlier on, we still don't know who the second is

there's more we don't know than what we do know

see you on the next one, if you're not yet tired of me

#luly reacts to tlt #tlt #gideon the ninth #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth spoilers #long post

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hyunverse · 1 year

Text

combing hyunjin’s hair when he doesn’t have the mental capacity to do so is a love language.

the silence which engulfs the room once he walks in speaks volumes. a distraught look etched on porcelain face like a melancholic sculpture, lips unmoving. at the sight of you, hyunjin wills himself to utter “hey, my love,” before seating himself in front of the vanity.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. he was supposed to be by your side hours ago, to celebrate your wedding anniversary. he made a reservation weeks ago, a plan well constructed written in the pages of his journal. yet, it’s as though the world holds a vendetta against him. out of all days, his boss just had to conduct an important meeting he could not get out of today. a few hours prior to your supposed date, he called you, raged and saddened to inform that he wouldn’t be able to make it. “i’ll come home as quickly as possible and i’ll make it up to you,” he had told you on the phone.

hyunjin’s promises are never empty ones. as soon as he sits on the vanity, he attempts to fix his messy hair, black locks which cascade above his shoulders all tangled from the amount of times he ran his fingers through them. with a wooden brush, hyunjin attempts to brush his untamed hair. he tugs the comb through tangled knots, face scrunched in pain.

“god, just work already,” you could hear him mumble from the bed. soon, you see him hitting his head with the comb, stressed whimpers escaping from his pink lips.

“jinnie,” you say, standing up from the bed to approach him, “you’re being too harsh on yourself, baby.”

“this is — it’s all stupid,” he grunts.

you hum, gently taking the wooden brush from his hands. he looks up at you, brown doe eyes gazing into yours softly. you melt at the sight.

“come, i’ll do it for you.”

you get to work then — untangling each knot in his hair the softest you possibly could, mumbling an apology everytime you hear him hiss. if hyunjin was a cat, he’d be purring at every touch. his head moves towards you, eyes threatening to close from the sensation of your fingers going through his locks.

once his hair is detangled, you shape them with the comb. hyunjin watches you intensely through the mirror, feeling all his stress slowly dissipate because of you. his love, tenderly caring for him — a doting look on the prettiest face, humming to his favourite song. hyunjin feels as though he’s the luckiest man in the world — like everything else in the universe feels so miniscule.

"all done," you mumble, setting the comb down on the vanity table, "does it look good for you, darling?"

for the first time today, a smile forms on hyunjin's tired face.

"yes. thank you, my love," he replies, taking both your arms to wrap it around his own neck. the reflection in the mirror is what he used to see in his dreams — you, with your arms wrapped around him, chin resting atop his now neat head.

you sway a little, placing kisses on his cheeks which cause him to let noises of delight.

"hey, why don't we celebrate tonight indoors? we can make some ramyeon and watch that show you've been wanting to watch."

he tilts his head backwards, looking up at you. he blinks, and you have to suppress a chuckle at his cuteness.

"but i promised to take you out..."

you shrug, "it's fine. we can't have a cute dancing session if we celebrate in a restaurant anyway, right?" you wiggle your eyebrows.

a second smile appears on hyunjin's face today — and it will continue as the night passes by.

#hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin oneshots #hwang hyunjin oneshots #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin drabbles #hwang hyunjin drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 9 months

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 4: Temporary Fix]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, crepes, mental health struggles, the Cookie Monster pajama pants are removed...😏

Selected Chapter Quote: “I will push you off the Eiffel Tower.”

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“Our father never cared about us,” Aegon says at the rooftop bar in Kansas City, a full year before you meet Aemond, a full year before you know him as anything other than a face to be printed on t-shirts and keychains like profiles stamped into coins at a mint, things to be acquired, traded, hoarded, lost. Aegon is swirling the ice cubes in his Salty Dog with a green plastic stirrer shaped like a pirate’s sword. He’s glowing from his sunburn, but he glows from within too; you have the sudden and distinct impression that he’s made of weightless luminance, slice a vein and he’d bleed daylight. A year later, you’ll find yourself thinking that if you cut Aemond, storms and rogue waves would come pouring out.

“I’m so sorry,” you offer, knowing it will not help. But it can’t hurt either, unlike those platitudes that well-meaning but ignorant people like to besiege him with: Of course your parents love you. I’m sure they did their best. You’ll understand how hard it is when you’re a dad someday.

“I figured it out pretty early on. How much he preferred Rhaenyra. How I was the antithesis of everything he could have wanted in a son.” Aegon shrugs; it can’t be changed, it’s like trying to stop the rain. He sips his Salty Dog. Ice clinks; he licks his lips. “It took Aemond a little longer. Helaena was always with Grandpa and Daeron was mother’s favorite, but I remember Aemond trailing after our father like a duckling, asking him about history and books and whatever else, just desperate with this need to be noticed, to be loved. If my father was leafing through a biography at the kitchen table, Aemond would spend hours on Google trying to come up with a fact he hadn’t read yet. If my father mentioned a movie, Aemond would watch it over and over again until he had the lines memorized. I remember one Christmas, Aemond wanted the Helm’s Deep Lego set because my father liked the Lord of the Rings. Then he kept asking Dad to help him put it together. ‘We’ll do it this weekend.’ ‘We’ll do it after I get off this conference call.’ ‘We’ll do it tomorrow.’ ‘We’ll do it for your birthday.’ Never happened. Well summer rolled around and I guess Aemond figured he might as well just do it himself. So he stayed up all night putting that fucking Lego castle together and left it on the kitchen table where my father couldn’t miss it. So the old man comes downstairs the next morning for breakfast and we’re all sitting there with our waffles and orange juice, and Aemond is trying not to act too proud but he is, he’s literally shaking with impatience for Dad’s praise, even a crumb, even just a few words, the maple syrup bottle was trembling in his hands. And my father strolls into the kitchen, glances at this meticulously constructed replica of Helm’s Deep—I mean it’s like a sculpture in a museum, it’s goddamn perfect—and he gives this little snort of a laugh. He says: ‘Wow, look at that.’ And then he sits down at the table, opens his biography of King George V, and never mentions it again.”

This moment is real but it isn’t. Sitting outside in the warm, windswept Missouri midnight with a popstar you’ll never see again (an incorrect assumption) and stories you have no right to hear (so you believe).

Aegon takes another sip of his Salty Dog. “Not me,” he says with a puckish, sad half-smile. “I was never going to beg for someone to want me. I go wherever, I’m with whoever. No strings. No anchors. Nothing stays the same except the band, and that’s what bought me my freedom to begin with, so I don’t mind it so much. Me father is disgusted by me. But this is who I am. And I’d rather force him to watch me torch his legacy than break my back trying to earn love that was given away long before I was born.”

“Do you think that’s a part of why you have no interest in settling down?” you say. “I mean, commitment is a two-way street. And if you commit to someone, you have to trust that they’ll commit to you back. That they love you now, sure, but also that they’ll keep loving you. Maybe that’s something that’s difficult for you to accept. That someone could love you for more than an hour, a night, a day.”

He taps his Salty Dog against the tabletop, considering you, perhaps even marveling: wind in his blond hair, blood in his cheeks. At last he asks, teasing: “What are you, some kind of therapist?”

“Well, actually…in a year from now…” You feel uneasy assigning such significance to yourself—it feels inevitably pretentious, over-confident, unearned—but you can’t help returning his smile. “I sort of will be.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re laying in your bed with the French doors that lead out onto the balcony wide open. The breeze—sunny and warm and smelling of the bakery next to the hotel, croissants and baguettes and half a million different sorts of pastries—breathes in through the semi-transparent linen curtains, a great inhale, a sighing exhale. You can hear footsteps and laughing on the sidewalk outside. The tourists are a cross-section of humanity, with languages from across the globe: a sprinkling of Portuguese here, Arabic there, Mandarin and Hindi and Russian. When the wind flutters the curtains aside, you can see the Eiffel Tower across the Seine. You should be out exploring Paris, but you’re not. You can’t seem to get out of bed. It’s been almost one week since the fight in Reykjavik. You don’t speak to Aemond and he doesn’t speak to you, and everyone knows this but they don’t know why. Not the whole story, anyway. They caught snippets through the sliding glass door, but they didn’t hear what Aemond said to you.

You’re just a groupie. You’re just a slut.

And now Aegon’s words come back to you too: Whoever you are when you’re in high school…that’s sort of who you are forever, you know?

You pinch your eyes shut and roll onto your side away from the open balcony doors. Earlier you had gotten up, showered, deliberated leaving your room…and then immediately put back on your pajamas and crawled into bed. You have no idea where Aemond is now. He mopes around, he avoids you, he disappears on his 1960 Gold Star for hours, he takes notes in white ink, he takes calls on his iPhone.

There is the sound of a key—not a card, but a real, brass key, old and worthy of preservation just like the hotel—jangling in the lock of your door. Aegon steps inside. He’s FaceTiming someone in extremely poor Spanish.

“Adiós mi amor! Sí, te extraño. Claro que sí. Te extraño mucho. Vale, adiós. Hablamos pronto.” He hangs up and slips his iPhone into the pocket of his neon yellow cargo shorts. He’s wearing matching Crocs and a black Comet Donati band tank top. He pushes his aviator sunglasses up into his hair. “Hey.”

“Hey. Who were you talking to?”

“Camila Cabello. But she can wait.” He kicks off his Crocs and walks over to the bed, looking down at you quizzically. He tosses the brass key back and forth between his hands; Criston keeps the second copy of each one, so Aegon must have borrowed it from him. More likely, he thieved it. “You okay, Stargirl? You look stressed.”

“I am stressed.”

He grins, an eyebrow raised, sunburn on his shoulders. “Anything I can do to help with that?”

And you remember what he said to you back in Kansas City last June, a lifetime ago: I don’t think my worth is determined by who or how I fuck. I don’t think yours is either.

Aegon would never call you a slut. And even if he said it, he wouldn’t mean it in the way Aemond did. It wouldn’t be an insult, a belittlement, a curse. You watch him as he stands in the golden afternoon light, caring for you, wanting you in a way that is pure but not innocent. Do you want him too? Sure; Aegon’s beautiful, and you already know you have chemistry, and more than either of those things he is safe. But he’s not the one who keeps you up at night. He’s not the reason you thought, fleetingly and poisonously as you swallowed your birth control pill this morning: What a goddamn waste.

“Actually,” you say, peering up at him, your lips curling into a drowsy smile. “There might be.”

“Yeah?” He’s a little surprised but very enthused.

“Yeah.”

He whips his sunglasses out of his hair and sets them on the nightstand next to your souvenirs: the Colosseum pencil sharpener, the alabaster Apollo, the fighting bull refrigerator magnet, Portuguese soap and Austrian chocolate, the moose snow globe, the silica mud mask, the stuffed comet, the Eiffel Tower keychain you bought yesterday here in Paris, and if that’s cliché then so be it. The mattress shifts when Aegon climbs over to you, pushing up your oversized Jonas Brothers t-shirt. He touches his lips to the softness of your belly, bites lightly and playfully, gazing up at you through his shaggy hair as he works his way down to the waistline of your Cookie Monster pajama pants. And suddenly, you’re back in Kansas City a year ago, feeling the comforting, harmless heat of him in the downstairs bathroom of a rooftop bar, drenched in glowing florescence like moonlight, your back to a red wall and his mouth all over you, first above and then below, coaxing the darkness out of your veins like a shot of penicillin cures sepsis. He’s antivenom, he’s white magic, he’s a spell.

“You sure?” Aegon asks now, pausing as his fingers unravel the blue drawstring on your pajama pants like the bow of a Christmas present.

You reach down to knot a hand in his hair, wanting to be closer to him, and he smiles, knowing what you’re going to say before you say it. “I am so fucking sure.”

A resistless tug and your pajama pants have vanished. Aegon positions himself between your thighs and buries his face in the thin strip of fabric that still separates you, black lace you didn’t buy while thinking of him. Aegon inhales deep and slow. “Oh God,” he moans. “You smell just as incredible as I remember.”

His thumbs slip beneath the lace and whisk it away: the coolness of sudden air, the warmth of his tongue. You gasp, drowning in the best kind of sea, waves that cover splintering piers and razor-sharp barnacles, currents that erase memory. It’s exactly like it was before. It will always be this way with him, you know, you feel in your blood that carries all the same elements as his: iron, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen that builds DNA, hydrogen that ignites and burns. And just like that red-walled night in Kansas City, you are amazed by how quickly the ecstasy blooms in you, wispy and yet unbearably powerful, clearing thoughts and uncoiling muscles.

“Good girl,” Aegon murmurs with your wetness dripping from his lips, watching your face as he slides two fingers into you; his own eyes—murky blue puddles that hold few secrets—are entranced, rapturous. “Now come in my mouth, baby. I want to taste all of you again. I want to drown in it. Come in my mouth, can you do that for me?”

You can, and almost immediately: he plunges his fingers into you as he strokes you with his tongue and the rush is bliss yet superficial somehow, sunbeams on wave crests, without the kind of miles-deep tragedy, pining, promises that poets like to write about. Aegon notices the towel you’d draped over the desk chair after your shower and reaches for it to wipe his face with, but you stop him, drawing him to you by his tank top; and you drag your tongue up his chin and over his lips, tasting yourself on him, licking him clean. Then you take his fingers into your mouth and suck them until he looks like he’s going to pass out, like he’s going to forget how to breathe.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and he kisses you just like he did a year ago, with an intense sort of need and his hand against your face, his flesh and blood hot and pressed to yours, palm lines on your cheekbone. He wants you in a way that is unburdened by pasts or futures; and who is anyone to condemn that? Perhaps that is the most painless form love can take.

And as the high dissipates, fog burned away at noon only to creep back in the next morning, Aemond returns to you: his words, his wrath, his flawed yet flawless face. You feel unexpectedly, overwhelmingly low. But this is not the time or place for tears; Aegon is still here.

Now I have to get him off too. Now I have to repay him. That’s fair, right?

“Just do it.” You fling one arm across your face as you look towards the balcony, breathing in Paris and daylight, spreading your thighs wider for him, anticipating the faint pressure-pain that will blossom into pleasure as his body melds with yours. “It’s fine. Go ahead. Just fuck me.”

But when your eyes drift back to him, Aegon still has his clothes on. He sits upright and traces the line of your jaw with his fingertips, studying you with uncommon quietness. “No,” he says softly. “No, I don’t think so. You look sad.”

You nod, unable to trust yourself to speak without your voice breaking.

Aegon sighs and flops down beside you on the bed, pulling you against him, whispering as his fingers twist in your hair: “Come here. Shh, shh. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t help.”

“You helped, Aegon.” Just not quite enough.

He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek, and then he looks at you expectantly. “Are you finally going to tell me what he said? That night in Reykjavik? I heard you screaming something about Missouri, but I don’t think that’s what fucked you up so bad.”

You hesitate as you lie together in the sunlit stillness threaded with distant footsteps and passing cars, Aegon twirling strands of your hair, fondness and familiarity and longing that he is politely trying to ignore. Beneath his neon yellow shorts, he is rock hard.

“Now I’m really curious,” Aegon says, smiling has he kisses your forehead again, entangled with you like tendrils of grapevines, morning glory, ivy. “Aemond’s fucked up too. He’s been lying on his bedroom floor and listening to The Script. He hasn’t done that since he and Shelby split.”

Shelby, you think desolately, flinching. “You warned me about Aemond. You told me he was full of demons.”

“Yup. I’m glad I can’t read minds. It’s gotta be like Poltergeist in there.”

But everyone has a few skeletons in their closet, don’t they? Bones that won’t stop rattling. Teeth that gnash and crave. “He called me a slut.”

Aegon pulls back, brow furrowed. He looks at you, trying to decipher which nerve Aemond hit. It is not a word that Aegon considers to be derogatory.

“But it wasn’t really what he said, it was how he said it, like…like…like because of what I’d done with you a year ago, I didn’t matter anymore. Nothing about me mattered. That he could never respect someone like me. That I had deceived him into thinking I was someone worth wanting.”

Abruptly, Aegon leaves the bed. He grabs his sunglasses off the nightstand and pads across the hardwood floor in his bare feet, steps into his Crocs, slides his sunglasses over his eyes, fluffs his blond hair that hangs in chaotic waves.

“Aegon…?”

“Come with me,” he says, nodding towards the door. He pulls a piece of cotton candy flavored Bubble Yum out of his cargo shorts and tosses it into his mouth. “Right now. Put some clothes on and let’s go.”

“Go where?”

Aegon does not elaborate. He only repeats while chomping noisily on his gum: “Let’s go.”

You rush to the bathroom and are ready in five minutes: flip flops, tousled hair, a flowing turquoise sundress you bought yesterday while shopping at Hermès with Baela and Rhaena. “Okay, seriously, where are we going?”

“Out,” Aegon says simply. You follow him through the doorway and down the corridor; like a bloodhound after evidence, Aegon tracks laughter that drifts through the hallway to Daeron’s room. The youngest Targaryen brother is playing Uno with Jace and Baela; Daeron has just made Jace draw four.

Aegon smacks Daeron’s shoulder and demands: “Where is he?”

Daeron is startled. “Huh? What? Who?”

“Aemond. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Aegon smacks Daeron again. “Where is he?!”

“I don’t know!” Daeron wails.

Mercifully, Baela intervenes. “Luke and Rhaena said they were going to the Eiffel Tower. Maybe Aemond went too…?”

“Cool,” Aegon replies. And when he sails out of the room, it’s not just you that goes with him; Baela, Jace, and Daeron file after Aegon as well, chattering conspiratorially. Aegon doesn’t wait for the elevator. He races down the grand staircase to the lobby: white marble floors and Oriental rugs, velvet armchairs and chandeliers, butlers scuttling and women hauling poodles around on taut leashes. Aegon strides past all of it without any interest. You follow him into the street outside and then across it, dodging taxis and limousines. Aegon believes crosswalks are optional. Next he locates the closest bridge over the Siene and traverses it.

“Are they gonna fight?” Jace asks Daeron excitedly. “You think they’re really gonna fight?!”

You plead as you hurry across the bridge, riverboats and swans gliding by below: “Aegon, I don’t want you to say anything to him.”

“I’m not going to say anything.”

“I don’t want you to shout anything either.”

Aegon peeks back at you, smirking wickedly. You know him too well. His pace picks up as he exits the bridge; next comes the vast stretch of gardens that surround the Eiffel Tower, strewn with picnicking tourists, fountains, ferns, lilies, roses, shrubs and trees and waddling ducks.

Jace gasps, euphoric: “Oh my God, they’re gonna fight!”

“Do you really see that ending well?!” Baela hisses back. “Aegon has to be on stage tonight! That’s not going to happen if Aemond snaps him in half like a KitKat!”

“Aegon, you can’t fight him,” you say, petrified. Aemond would win. Easily. Everyone knows that.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Aegon, please!”

“What the hell happened?!” Baela puffs as she jogs up beside you, clutching your arm, bewildered and alarmed. You shake your head. Too long a story, not one you wish to share, not one you entirely feel you have a right to disclose. You’ve only told Aegon, and how is that going to turn out? You don’t want people to hate Aemond. You don’t want to alienate him from the band any further. That might seem contradictory given his recent disregard for your own wellbeing, but it’s—however regrettably—true.

“This is going to be so fucking epic,” Jace says. “Wait, do I have time to get popcorn? I think I should grab some popcorn. Wait, wait, there’s a crepe stand right over there, just give me five minutes. Aegon? Aegon?! Man, please, just postpone the beatdown for five minutes!”

“I hope you can sing Aegon’s parts too,” Daeron tells Jace. “I don’t have them memorized.”

“Cregan can do it.”

“Cregan is going to flay you alive if he sees you encouraging this.”

“He can’t sing all our parts,” Jace replies sensibly.

Aegon battles his way to the front of the long line of people waiting to purchase tickets to go up into the Eiffel Tower. They grimace and jeer at him, hurling swears in a myriad of languages. When he reaches the ticket counter, an aghast employee begins to implore Aegon—“S'il vous plait, Monsieur, vous devez attendre votre tour!”—until she gets a better look at him. Her mouth pops open; her sky blue eyes go impossibly wide. “Oh mon Dieu…”

“You know who I am, right?” Aegon says impatiently. “Yeah, you recognize me. Okay. I need to get up there right now. Me and my friends. What can I do to make that happen? I have lots of credit cards. I can also sign your arm or tits or whatever. What do you want?”

The employee settles for a selfie with Aegon, Jace, and Daeron. Daeron smiles dazzlingly and poses with two thumbs up. Jace gives Aegon bunny ears. Then the five of you receive your tickets. This time, Aegon is willing to wait for the elevator; it’s over 600 steps to the second floor alone, and you’re all already winded from the walk here. Aegon gets off at the first level, does a lap around the tower—tall glass barriers and metal cages around the balcony, a café and a gift shop—and then reboards the elevator to ascend to the next floor. The second level is more open. There is a railing around the edge of the walkway of course, but it only comes up to your waist. Next to one of the tower viewers is who Aegon is searching for: Luke, Rhaena, Cregan, Criston…and Aemond. He’s wearing dark jeans, a black Calvin Klein t-shirt, vintage Adidas sneakers like the ones Freddie Mercury had at Live Aid, sunglasses to shield his damaged eye from photographers, and a fanny pack. He’s biting into a Golden Delicious, round and shiny; juice glistens on his lips. None of them have spotted you yet.

You hear Luke ask Aemond: “Bruh, this is really embarrassing. You’re worth like $100 million. Why are you eating apples and pecans out of a fanny pack?”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find vegan food in Paris?”

Criston spies Aegon just as he’s closing in. He reads the fury on his face, his outstretched hand. “Don’t—!”

Aegon thrusts his palms against Aemond’s chest, hard, hard enough to force him back a couple of steps towards the railing. “Apologize,” he orders.

Aemond looks at you—for a moment, only a moment—and then back at Aegon. “For what?”

“You know what you did. Apologize.”

Everyone has gathered around. Criston’s dark eyes dart between Aemond and Aegon. He has a grip on Aegon’s shoulder, but he hasn’t dragged him away yet. He doesn’t know what this is about, and though he would never admit it…he’s intrigued. Cregan hovers close by; he lights a cigarette, taking advantage of Criston’s momentary preoccupation. Baela and Rhaena are gossiping in hushed voices. From behind his black sunglasses, Aemond stares at his brother, the wheels in his mind spinning. He doesn’t hit him, though he easily could. He doesn’t seem to have the spirit for it.

“Whoo!” Jace shouts, pumping his fist in the air. “Fight, fight, fight!”

Daeron mutters to Luke: “Are we taking bets?”

“Um, no?!”

“Right now,” Aegon tells Aemond, and shoves him again. “I mean it. I will push you off the Eiffel Tower.”

“Whoa, illegal!” Jace hoots. Cregan hooks a hand into the collar of Jace’s polo and yanks him back. “Hey, referee abuse over here—!”

“I will break your fucking arm,” Cregan growls.

“Okay,” Jace says. “Got it. No problem. I’m done now.”

“Apologize,” Aegon commands again, as if you’re the only people here: him, you, Aemond.

You are mortified. “Aegon, please don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says. He’s looking at you again, and this time he doesn’t turn away. You wish you could see his eyes: windows to the soul, however clouded they might be. It’s the first time he’s spoken to you since Reykjavik. The gravity of it—his voice, his steady gaze, the gut-punch realization of how much you still want him—knocks all the words out of your skull. You sweep them up like a child collecting spilled coins in cupped hands.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Aemond’s tone is benign, calm, like he’s already rehearsed this and has just been waiting for the opportune moment. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was speaking out of anger. It was impulsive of me, it was indecorous.”

What the fuck? Indecorous…? Who uses words like that in casual conversation? Incurably pretentious Aemond Targaryen, that’s who. “Thanks, I guess. You must spend a lot of time with your thesaurus.”

“Well, I write lyrics, so.”

“Yeah.” You wait for Aemond to add the most important part: that he was wrong about what he said, that it wasn’t true. But he doesn’t go there. He only apologizes for speaking it into existence, for vibrating the air with its treacherous molecules. “Okay,” you tell Aegon. “I think you got what you wanted. Can we go now?”

“Sure.” Aegon slaps Aemond across the back and gives him one final glare, swift but cutting.

“What’s a thesaurus?” Daeron whispers to Luke, who shrugs.

“Some kind of dinosaur…?”

“That’s alright, boys!” Jace says, clapping his hands. “Walk it off! Take a breather! Plenty of time for Round 2 later!” Cregan bends one arm behind his back. “Ow—!”

“No smoking,” Criston snaps, ripping the cigarette out of Cregan’s mouth and stomping it into ash.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, after soundcheck, eating dinner in the gardens under the lengthening shadow of the Eiffel Tower, dark stripes that swallow up daylight like bathwater sucked down a drain. Everyone has a crepe that’s rolled up in wax paper, as Europeans serve it…everyone except Aemond, of course. He’s sitting by himself under a 200-year-old sycamore tree and gnawing morosely on a plain baguette that’s as long as his own forearm. His iPhone rings; he checks who it is and then silences the call. Luke goes over to sit with him, dripping whipped cream from his banana and Nutella crepe all over his white shorts speckled with sailboats. You keep trying not to look at Aemond. Each time you see him is like poking a bruise; it’s nothing but pain, but you can’t seem to stop.

“Oh wow!” Baela cries, beaming as she scrolls through her phone. “The Paris Opera Ballet is performing Romeo and Juliette this season!”

“Neat!” Rhaena says. “Like right now?”

“Yeah. We could catch a show before we leave next week.” She turns to Jace. “Baby?” And when he ignores her, she rubs his shoulder, her voice honeyed. “Jace?”

He groans. “Really? Ballet?”

Baela frowns. “I think it would be fun.”

“I think you can go without me.” Jace points to Aemond, grinning. “Take him, he likes archaic things. Hell, he is one now.” New lines appear in Aemond’s brow, but he gives no other indication that he’s heard this.

“You can’t spare one afternoon for me?” Baela says; and her words have turned from honey to battery acid. “Are you fucking serious? Do you know what I’ve given up for you?”

Jace sighs heavily. “I knew you were going to make this into a thing.”

“Me?! You’re the person who’s being unfair here, I’m asking for one afternoon—!”

“There’s literally no reason why you can’t go with someone who won’t feel like they’re being tortured for three hours.”

“Torture? That’s what my life’s work is to you? Torture?!”

“Well now I definitely don’t want to go anywhere with you if you’re going to act like this—”

“Act like what, like I want my boyfriend to occasionally show even a vague interest in something I care about—?!”

As they go back and forth, everyone else stares down at their dinner, actively dissociating.

Baela asks you: “You want to weigh in on this?” It’s not really a question.

You take a cagy bite of your baked apple crepe. “Um, honestly, I don’t really have much experience with couples counseling.”

“Great. Now’s your chance to acquire some.”

“Uh…” You eat some more of your crepe, slurp your citron pressé, a sort of do-it-yourself lemonade. Baela waits. Jace smirks at you, attentive but not for the right reasons. “Well. I guess what I can say is that it’s important for both people to have their interests valued and their needs met. So for every activity that Jace chooses, there should be roughly the same amount of time spent on something that Baela wants to do.”

“Yeah but I have a lot less free time,” Jace says. “Since…you know…I happen to be in a world-famous boy band in the midst of their third global tour.”

Baela pitches back: “Exactly, which has completely taken over my life, so I think if I could get just one fucking afternoon where you show me some minuscule amount of appreciation then that might be kind of nice, you know?”

“Jace,” you say gently. You can see on the periphery of your vision that Aemond is watching you, once again hidden behind sunglasses that you know he wishes he didn’t feel the need to wear. “It sounds like this is really important to Baela.”

He sighs again. “Baela, Baela, ballerina,” Jace muses, somewhat affectionately but without respect. “Okay. We’ll see. We might have time tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Baela agrees; but already she looks defeated. And she is not a woman who defeat comes naturally to. She’s been worn down by weeks, months, years of the same rote disappointment. She glances at a street vendor who’s selling falafel. “Hey,” she says to Rhaena. “Go get us some wraps.”

“Me?” Rhaena peers nervously at the falafel cart. “What if he only speaks French? Or some other language I don’t know?”

“Then point to the sign, you’ll figure it out,” Baela replies testily.

“I’ll go too, Rhaena,” you offer. “And you can order but I’ll stand there with you and help if any charades need to be done. Will that make it easier?”

“Sure,” Rhaena says. “Okay. Deal.”

And when you return ten minutes later, along with all the other food you have one order of plain falafel: no yogurt sauce, no wrap. You bring it to Aemond, who is stunned. “What’s this?”

“It’s vegan. Falafel is vegan. So here, your dinner just got a little more exciting.”

“Well…thanks.” He takes it with tentative hands.

“That’s so thoughtful of you!” Luke says cheerfully. “Do they have falafel in Kansas?”

“Missouri,” you correct. “And not really. But I ate a lot of it when I was at UChicago.”

This captures Aemond’s interest. “You went to UChicago?”

“Yes, Aemond. Shockingly, liking sex does not make women stupid.”

His iPhone rings: Mr. Brightside. Less than ideal timing. He rejects the call.

“Who was that?” Criston yells over.

“No one,” Aemond responds irritably.

“Your mom?”

“No, Criston.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She wasn’t the one calling, Criston!”

“Okay but I’m just asking, how is she doing like in general…?”

Back at the hotel, Comet Donati is getting ready for their first show in Paris: drinks in glasses, white lines on tables, hair and makeup, cigarettes and pills. You soak in your massive jacuzzi tub and stare up at the ceiling wondering: What am I doing here? What the hell am I still doing here?

But the thought of actually boarding a plane back to Kansas City is terrifying. Never seeing Aegon again? Never seeing Aemond again? Never seeing any of them except on YouTube or Spotify? You don’t want to leave their orbit. You don’t want to zoom off to the other end of the solar system just yet.

You wrap a towel around yourself and mosey out into the bedroom to get dressed. He’s there inspecting the souvenirs on your nightstand, chuckling and pushing them around with his knuckles, wearing a sequined blazer and skin full of ink: not Aegon, not Aemond, not Cregan, but Jace. You squeal, startled, and clutch your towel tighter around yourself. Unfortunately, it’s a very small towel. A very very small towel.

“These are neat,” Jace says. “So I collect tattoos and you collect souvenirs. We have so much in common.”

“We have exceptionally little in common. What do you want?”

He smiles, but never quite kindly. “What do you want?”

“I want you to take Baela to the ballet,” you say. “And I want you to get out of my room now.”

He turns all the way around to face you. He flings your moose snow globe from Stockholm into the air and then catches it, again, again. “Do you really?”

“Yes, Jace.”

And for a minute, or two, or what feels like forever, he doesn’t move. He just stands there staring at you, not moving any closer but not leaving either. Not listening to you. Not hearing you because he doesn’t want to. And you think, your heart hammering in your chest: At what point should I scream for Aegon or Criston? Will they hear me? Will they help me?

“Alright,” Jace says at last. He sets your moose snow globe back down on the nightstand, roughly, with a loud clunk. Then he walks across your room; but before he disappears through the doorway, he throws you a brass room key. Instinctively, you move to catch it, almost dropping your towel in the process. You snatch it back into place just in time. Jace is amused. Perhaps he planned it that way. “Aegon left that lying around,” Jace says, meaning the key. “Maybe you should be more discriminating when choosing who you give it to.”

“I didn’t give it to him. He took it from Criston.”

“Sure he did.” And finally, Jace leaves, as unwelcome as a funnel cloud or a hailstorm.

Aemond spends the concert in the shadows: pacing, taking his notes, ruminating over his many grudges. You spend it in the front row with Baela and Rhaena, wearing the neon yellow gown you found in Reykjavik. You try not to scan the arena for glimpses of Aemond. You fail miserably. Comet opens their concert with an interesting choice, an upbeat cover of Third Eye Blind’s How’s It Going To Be. When you ask Rhaena about it, she says it was Luke’s idea, which in your experience means it was almost certainly Aemond’s, or at least one that he enthusiastically endorsed. Daeron begins, peppy and animated, strutting across the stage:

“I’m only pretty sure that I can’t take anymore

Before you take a swing

I wonder, what are we fighting for?”

Aegon is next, characteristically a little sloppy, a little shaky, yet getting colossal cheers:

“When I say out loud

I want to get out of this

I wonder is there anything

I’m going to miss?”

Cregan’s voice is deep, sensuous, inviting yet with an edge like a blade:

“I wonder how it’s going to be

When you don’t know me?

How’s it going to be

When you’re sure I’m not there?”

Jace is technically the best singer, rich and smooth and nearly always pitch-perfect:

“How’s it going to be

When there’s no one there to talk to?

Between you and me

‘Cause I don’t care…”

And Luke leads the harmony as guitar notes pluck out of the monstrous speakers:

“How’s it going to be?

How’s it going to be?”

Aside from the cover, the setlist is the same as it’s always been since you joined the tour in Rome…but you’re experiencing it in a new way. You are needled by jealously every time you wonder what woman, moment, day, night inspired one of Aemond’s songs; you are nauseous with envy for everyone who’s ever been able to touch him. When they perform A Girl Named After A Car—which had previously always struck you as fun, light, unserious, perhaps satirical—you are consumed by a specific conspiracy theory. After fighting it for half of the song, you Google two words with your iPhone: Shelby car. Sure enough, there’s a vintage Mustang model called a Shelby. It’s gorgeous. It’s perfect for Aemond.

“Great,” you mutter to yourself.

“You okay?” Rhaena asks.

“Yeah,” you reply, slamming your phone back into your purse. “I’m awesome. I’ve literally never been better.”

“You don’t look awesome,” Baela says, smiling. “That’s okay. I’m not so awesome either at the moment.” She takes your hands and starts spinning you around the floor. “We can be hot bitter bitches together.”

It’s tradition for everyone to hang out after the concert, but you’re in no hurry to get to Jace’s suite; you certainly don’t want to be one of the first people to arrive. You don’t want to be alone with him. You walk very slowly, taking a detour to touch up your hair and makeup. As you are wandering a quiet section of the hallway, you observe that Aemond’s door has been left ever so slightly ajar. You peer inside to find it empty…but his notebook is on his nightstand.

No way, you tell yourself. No no no. Huge violation of privacy and respect.

“Oh yeah?” you object, barely audible. “And what would you call what he said to me?”

You go to the notebook and flip it open. Matte black pages slip beneath your fingertips.

“Just the first page,” you swear to yourself. “That’s all. Then I’m leaving.”

There’s a song written there; or, rather, partially written. He’s only worked out a verse and the chorus so far. Your eyes skim over it with lightning-flash quickness, cognizant that you cannot allow yourself to be caught. At the top of the page is one word in pale gleaming ink like pearls, opal, moonstone: Magic.

(Ver1) You walk into the room and I think:

How am I going to get you out of me?

Are you an infection, a lethal connection,

Or are you a fire to burn me clean?

“Nice,” you breathe, with hushed awe you wish you didn’t have.

(Chorus) Are you a witch or are you a spell,

Is loving you gonna be heaven or hell?

Black cats and white salt, ladders and doorframes

I think of magic every time you look my way

There are drunken, giggling voices and the sound of doors opening and closing in the hallway. You scurry out of Aemond’s suite and proceed to Jace’s before anyone thinks to come searching for you.

The room is thick with label executives and hangers-on, smoke and music; Watch by Maisie Peters is playing. She’s a friend of the band. You’re reasonably sure Aegon has hooked up with her, or at least aspires to. Speaking of Aegon, he is currently flitting around with Cregan. He stops briefly to say hi to you, a chilled emerald bottle of Kronenbourg 1664 in one hand, white powder on the other. He’s there and then he’s gone again. He might as well have been slingshotted to the other end of the galaxy. Criston is standing by the open balcony doors and talking to Daeron. Jace is at the bar laughing loudly—obnoxiously, hyena-like—with some mid-twenties guys you don’t recognize. Baela is glaring at him from one of the couches, seated next to Rhaena and Luke. But when she sees you, the rage vanishes from her face. She waves you over rather frantically.

“Look, I know this probably isn’t going to help your situation, but I just wanted to let you know that I am really, really hoping you’ll be willing to stay with us a little longer—”

“Yes! Totally!” Luke seconds, nodding.

“—And it’s not like we’re going to forget about you or prefer her over you or anything—”

“No, definitely not,” Luke says.

“What are you talking about?” you ask them. “Prefer who?”

Rhaena grabs your hand and squeezes it. You follow her eyeline across the room to the opposite couch, a mirage through warm smoke and icy dread. And you think: I should have known. I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course it would be here—in this city of Instagram models and Hallmark-card romance—that she would reappear like the moon growing large again after fading to a sliver, everything back in its rightful place, nature restored to harmony.

Sitting beside Aemond—on his good side, his unscarred side—is Shelby.

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #Aegon Targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #Aegon Targaryen II x reader #Aegon II Targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader

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elysiansparadise · 5 months

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hi!!! I'm in love with your posts, they are so interesting, informative and nice to read, also beautifully written!! <33

can you please describe mercury in the first house? i couldn't find it, so decided to send ask. thank you so much 💓

sorry if i have mistakes, english is not my first language

Hello, my love! Thanks for your sweet comments, it's nice to see you around. And of course I can talk about it. 🤎

Mercury in the 1st house

You can notice that sparkle of curiosity that adorns their beautiful and inquisitive gaze, one that holds a soul ready and willing to learn a wide variety of things and that seeks to know and explore as much as possible. These people are very adaptable to all kinds of circumstances and things, they may have experienced many changes since they were children, so it is easy for them to adapt to all kinds of rhythms. They stand out for their intelligence and it is very likely that they are people who express a certain part of their identity through the hobbies they practice or their skills. They can be very restless people, either mentally, physically or both. They are interested in knowing how things work around them, the people who accompany them and, above all, themselves, since they have a preference for topics that help them get to know themselves better. Something very common with this placement can be a nervous or anxious nature, as well as the tendency to overthink things. If you make tense aspects to Saturn or Pluto, they can have a somewhat fatalistic way of thinking about life.

They are people who are easy to talk to, you can talk about any type of topic with them and it is very likely that they know a little about various different topics, which makes them interesting people and the conversations are long and pleasant. Although they have a wonderful and often outstanding mind, they can frequently become distracted or dissociate. They can also jump from one topic to another and speak with great passion and joy when they like something, which can quickly catch the attention of others. They are quick thinkers and can find solutions to problems very easily. They say what they think and are very authentic when it comes to expressing themselves. They prefer to be frank and honest when expressing themselves. These people may prefer one-on-one conversations to speaking in a large group. Likewise, they are more interested in deep conversations than small talk, although they are not bad at it, they prefer meaningful topics. They are very observant people with themselves and others, they quickly perceive changes no matter how small they may be. They always look for a reason for things, both for events and the actions of others [and even themselves]. They self-reflect very frequently and seek to deeply know the person behind the mirror, they want to improve and decipher every part of themselves.

Initially they do not seem to be very talkative, since the Mercury energy makes them spend a lot of time wandering in their heads, however, once they gain confidence and feel comfy with you, they will not stop talking and asking questions that allow them to get to know each other well. They are people who captivate you when they speak, make you smile unconsciously, motivate you and encourage you. They speak with passion and purpose, they listen carefully and are interested in what makes your heart race. Their favorite topics of conversation are personal ones, hobbies, interests, goals, aspirations or dreams, or significant experiences. They may enjoy reading or watching videos in their free time, as they have a need to keep their mind active and entertained, as they are prone to getting bored easily. They can work in the communication area or even the creative area, as they may have manual skills such as drawing, sculpture, painting, cooking, construction, among others of the style.

#astrology #mercury #mercury in the 1st house #1st house #astro note #astro obsrvation #mercury in the 1st #mercury in the 1h #mercury in 1h #mercury in 1st #birth chart #natal chart

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bitterpotionn · 8 months

Text

Johnny Slaughter - Streetlights

This is a bit different than what I usually write, but I hope you enjoy it. Another long one, I can't help myself. Title is a WIP, let me know if you have any ideas.

As always any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome!

Warnings: Dub-con, sex work, Johnny is obsessive/stalkerish, misogynistic language, Johnny shames reader, virgin Johnny, kidnapping, unsafe sex, throat grabbing

Her heels clicked as she made her way down the cracked street. Dim streetlights attempted to light the way, although they didn't do much. The air was unusually chilly, especially for a Texas night. She stopped underneath one of the streetlights. She started at her shadow as she pulled out a cigarette. Tonight was a long night. Endless customers. Her head hurt, all she wanted was to go home and sleep it off. Only two more blocks until she was home.

A loud engine broke the steady silence. A white truck made its way down the empty street, slowing down as it spotted her. Pulling up beside her, the window rolled down.

Her heart felt heavy, she was tired and sick of working tonight. She hoped he would just move on. He didn't.

"Hey darlin'" his voice was smooth. She squinted to get a better look at him. He was young, maybe a little younger than her. His hair was longer, framing his sharp features. His grin wide.

She leaned onto his rolled-down window and gave him a weak smile. "Hey doll, you lookin' for some company?" her rehearsed line, she can't even remember how many times she's said that line tonight. Her cigarette burned, neglected in her hand as she spoke to the man.

He chuckled a bit and nodded. "Get in" he said simply leaning back in the seat. Her eyes shifted down to his crotch, his erection very visible. She stood up fully, taking one long drag of her now-wasted cigarette, before stomping it out on the ground. She made her way to the passenger side door and got in. Not looking back once.

He stared at her the whole time. His eyes almost bulged as he licked his lips. He stared at her thighs as she sat next to him. She broke him out of his trance, "So hun, where did you wanna go?" He quickly looked up into her eyes. "Uh...right." He swallowed hard as he shifted into gear. "I know a place"

As they drove slightly out of town she stared out the window, making a mental note of every turn, just incase. The ride was relatively silent, she could hear his deep breaths beside her. She noted how nervous he seemed, his hands fidgeting slightly on the steering wheel.

After about a 10-minute drive he pulled up to some barn on the slight outskirts of town. Her heart started to race. "Is this your family's property?" she asked looking over at him. He gave a sheepish grin, "Yeah, figured it was more...uh private" with that, he got out of the car, rushing over to open the door for her.

She hopped out and looked around. It wasn't too out of town. She's been to much weirder places with a customer. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile, urging him to lead the way.

He made his way to the barn, opening the barn doors, revealing a realtively tidy area. The dirt flooring was covered with hay. There were some lights that hung from the ceiling, she was shocked it even had electricity. He led her near the back, a lantern and blanket were laid out, along with some sleazy porn magazines. "You come here a lot I take it?" she asked scanning the area. "Yeah sometimes..." his words trailed off.

She turned to him and smiled, pulling him toward her by his belt. She was eager to get this over with so she could go home, she wasn't completely dreading it. He was definitely an upgrade from some of her regulars of tonight.

He fidgeted a bit as she did this, his hands awkwardly gripping at her sides. She looked up at him and led him down on the blanket. She laid on her back as he hovered over her. His breathing picked up at his stared at her, his eyes wide.

She frowned a bit and helped him with his pants, revealing his cock. She shimmed out of her skirt and spread her legs a bit, looking up at him. She was waiting for him to just take the initiative but he didn't. He was just awkwardly staring at her, his cock in his hand.

She let out a small hum. "How about we do this?" she flipped around and laid him on his back, so she was on top. She gave him a small smile, noticing his nervous eyes. "Are you okay hun?" she asked rubbing his shoulders.

He shrugged slightly "Yeah" he looked up at her. "I...I haven't done anything like this..." he said his voice slightly quiet. His eyes shifting every which way to avoid her gaze.

It suddenly all made sense to her now. Sure, she's had her fair share of inexperienced clients but never a virgin. She felt a small thud in her heart. "Honey we don't have to do this if you're not comfortable I-" his voice interrupted her "No! I want to" he sat up and grabbed at her hips pulling her close to him. "C'mon..." he was eager, almost like he wanted to just get the whole virginity thing over with.

Her eyes widened at his sudden movement but she just nodded. She took ahold of his cock, giving it a couple of pumps. She reached over and grabbed a condom from her jacket pocket, sliding it down on him. His eyes shifted as she did this, letting out a low groan at the contact. His legs shook.

She looked up at him, giving him a reassuring smile as she slowly sank down on his cock. He groaned out loudly and held onto her waist tightly, his eyes squeezing shut. Her mind went blank as she went through the motions. She kept steady by gripping his shoulders as she bounced up and down on him. He was panting and letting out small groans as she worked him.

It didn't take long before he had a death grip on her waist, thrusting up into her. His thrusts became jagged as he let out a final moan, finishing inside the condom. He didn't last long and she was slightly thankful for that. She got off of him and smiled at him. He was still trying to catch his breath as he stared at her, sweat beading on his forehead.

After a bit, he started to get dressed again, and she did as well. They made their way back to his car as he drove her back to where he picked her up. They didn't talk much during the ride. Once he parked he opened his wallet and handed her a 50 dollar bill. She gave him one last smile before going back to her rehearsed lines "I hope I see you again soon, honey" she got out of his truck and walked down the sidewalk. He stalled a bit, watching her before taking off.

Weeks passed and Johnny became a regular for her. She didn't mind it much, he was usually a pretty quick and easy client to deal with. However, she noted how with each visit he became more and more sure of himself, but that was expected. After all, he was gaining more experience with her. It makes sense he would become more natural with it. He was honestly a refreshing addition to her usual client list and he wasn't hard on the eyes. He was quick and didn't stick around to talk much. But tonight was different.

She gave him her number after a few visits. It made it easier to meet up with regulars. She was at her house, painting her nails when she heard the phone ring. She got up and walked up to her analog phone, sitting on her kitchen counter. She picked it up, "Hello?"

"When can I see you" Johnny's voice was quick and eager. "Well hello to you too" she laughed a bit, leaning on her counter. "I'm free tom-" his voice cut her off "No I need to see you tonight"

Her eyes widened at this, he never sounded so eager before. Sure he was a regular and saw her at least twice a week but he was always relatively cool and collected. "I...I don't know Johnny it's late and I-"

"I can give you extra" he said, cutting her off once again. She let out a sigh and rubbed her temple in annoyance. A little extra would be nice, it would mean she wouldn't have to work this weekend. "Oh alright...I'll meet you at our spot okay?" she said biting down on her lip. "Okay I'll see ya there" he hung up.

She let out another sigh and laid her head back. This shouldn't take long, it never did with him. So she walked into her bedroom and began getting ready.

A chilly breeze hit her as she stepped outside her apartment. She shivered a bit and pulled her jacket snugly, trying to savor the warmth of the furry interior. Just when she was about to begin walking the two blocks to their meeting spot, she heard the familiar roar of his truck. She didn't have much time to react before he pulled up beside her, rolling the window down.

She quickly walked up to his truck, her eyes wide. "Johnny...how do you know where I live?" she asked her voice laced with confusion and concern. "Don't get upset darlin', I saw you walkin' in one day...I just figured I could save you the walk time" he gave her a toothy grin.

She stared at him for a bit, analyzing his words. Was he lying? No, why would he? It makes sense he would've seen her enter her home at least once, it was a fairly small town. With some hesitation laced in her voice she responded, "Okay" she walked over to the passenger side door and got in, looking over at him.

She noticed this difference in him. It was hard to describe but she could just feel something was...different. He was giving her the same stare and smirk that he always gave her but this time it was, almost colder. Like something sucked the warmth right out of him.

He started the car and made his way to their usual spot in the barn. She stared out the window and tried to place the difference in him. His posture? His voice? His tone? Her thoughts were racing 100 miles per hour when the passenger door opened, revealing Johnny waiting for her. She must have been so lost in thought she didn't even notice the truck stopping.

She tried to clear her thoughts as she took his hand and followed him to their usual spot. She watched his walk, he was sauntering. It was bizarre. It was almost like he gained the confidence of a playboy in a matter of a week. She has seen him at his most nervous, hell she took his virginity, but she never saw him this sure of himself.

He stopped at the blanket and turned to her smirking. "I thought we could maybe try somethin' different" he said, his hands finding their way to her hips, swaying her a bit. "Oh yeah? Like what?" she asked looking up at him. "Ya know, like I take charge this time"

She paused for a second. Every time they've had sex so far, she was always on top. It was almost a routine for them since their first night together. It was a nice change of pace for her.

"If you're sure that's what you want, Johnny" she said simply, nervously fidgeting with her hands. He snickered a bit and laid her back onto the blanket. He stared at her for a second too long before pulling down her top, exposing her breasts. He palmed them, pinching and tugging at him.

She lay there, confused. He had touched her there before, of course, but this time it was almost like he was analyzing her. Exploring her in a way that surpassed just quick squeezes like in the past. Her eyes drifted up to meet his, only he was hyper-focused on exploring her body, every inch of it.

"Johnny...honey...can we get to it?" she said softly, trying to catch his eye. His eyes darted up to hers, narrowing ever so slightly. "I'm paying you, right? I can get started whenever I want" he snapped, his tone harsher than usual. "I mean, right" she said, staring at him in disbelief. He's never so much raised his voice at her before, now he's talking down to her. She didn't like this.

After a while of him poking, squeezing, and tugging at her. He decided to undress them both. He was gripping his cock in one hand lining himself up with her entrance. As he pushed into her he spoke up. "Have you ever watched somebody die?"

Her eyes widened at this. She was a bit overwhelmed with feelings, he just entered her and he was asking her that? Was that supposed to be a joke? She let out a nervous laugh as she stared up at him, "What?"

His right hand gripped her waist as he started thrusting steadily into her. "Have you?" he asked, a small groan quickly escaping his lips as his hips moved against hers. Was this his attempt at pillow talk? "No" she answered simply, her hand gripping the blanket beneath her, still adjusting to his thrusts.

His hand squeezed her waist and rubbed up and down her sides, his eyes locked onto hers. "I heard you're never quite the same after, do you think that's true?" his words were slow, paired with a toothy smile. His thrusts never once faltered.

"Johnny cut it out..." she mumbled, breaking eye contact, opting to stare at the ceiling behind him. She was very uncomfortable at this point, his increasingly heavy thrusts didn't help as she tried to focus on something else, desperate for him to just finish.

He didn't say anything after that, just releasing small groans and grunts as he came to the edge. Ultimately collapsing on her with heavy pants.

He lay there for a second and looked over at her wide eyes. He pulled out of her and cleaned himself up. "I was just messin' around" he said with an annoyed tone, like she was dumb for not realizing it sooner. She shakily stood up and nodded "I figured as much but honey you can't be jokin' around like that with people. Someone might take you serious..." her words trailed off as she gathered her belongings.

He let out a huff as he reached for her hand. "But you understand right? I can be myself with you?" He gave her a sheepish grin. She squeezed his hand once before pulling hers back "Of course you can" she said softly before turning to the door. "I really need to get back, it's late" He stared at her for a second before nodding. "Sure"

She standing outside a local grocery store. Reading the newspaper. "ANOTHER WOMAN MISSING; POLICE BAFFLED" her eyebrows furrowed as a chill went down her spine. These kinds of stories worried her, she didn't have the safest job and the police didn't care to help people like her. She made a mental note to cut back on how many times she went out to work.

She was reading intently when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She gasped loudly and quickly turned around, only to be met with Johnny. She let out a sigh and placed her hand over her heart "Johnny you scared me half to death" she said taking a deep breath.

He chuckled "Sorry bout that...." he bit down on his lip as he stared at her. Since that night she was cautious around Johnny, she couldn't help but notice his increasingly frequent run-ins with her. He was always near, she always chopped it up to it being a small town, but she wasn’t so sure now: She let out an awkward laugh, placing the newspaper back on the stand. His eyes followed her hand and he let out a chuckle, reading the headline. "Gettin' mighty scary out here recently..." he leaned against the side of the building, watching her reaction.

She let out a strained smile and nodded "Sure is" her eyes shifted as she stood there, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation.

Before she could think of an excuse he spoke up, "Ya know I've been meanin' to ask you something for a while now" he placed a hand on her waist. "Why don't you let me take you out, like on a real date"

Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at him, this wasn't good. She tried to maintain a healthy separation with her clients and letting them take her out without pay was a big boundary cross. "Honey...I'm not sure that's a good idea..." her words were soft, she was trying to avoid upsetting him.

He didn't let her denial break his stride, "We've been seeing each other for a while now-" she interrupted him "You've been seeing me, Johnny..."

He went silent, his mouth forming a straight line as he stared at her. "Now you know that ain't true, you said it yourself, I can be myself around you. Give me a chance" he said reaching for her hand.

She winced a bit and frowned. "I don't know Johnny...this doesn't seem healthy..." He let out a groan and rolled his eyes. "That don't matter to me, c'mon, one date" he squeezed her hand.

She stared at him and gave a slight nod. "Okay...one date" He chuckled and leaned down, kissing her. She gave him a half-kiss back before pulling away. His hands rested on her waist, he swayed her every so slightly back and fourth. "You free now?" he asked grinning at her.

One date turned into many. Each date ended with him deep inside her. She didn't know why she continued to agree to the dates. He was so hard to reject. She didn't know if she felt bad or was just scared. This night was wrapping up the same way they always did, them sitting on her couch watching some channel on her TV. She sat rigidly in his lap, his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, her legs laid across his.

After a while, he spoke up. "Are you still workin'?" he asked. The question made her turn to him, her eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah" she said simply, staring into his eyes, though he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were still fixed on the TV. "I don't want you doin' that...stuff...anymore" his voice was laced with disgust. "It's not right now that we are together" he finally turned to look at her.

"You say, stuff, as if that's not how we met" she snapped back, her eyes narrowing. "I need to make a livin' Johnny, I have bills to pay" she moved off of his lap, offended at what he just said to her.

"Then get a real job, not whoring yourself out to every man. You're mine" he growled out, pulling her back in his lap. She scoffed and pushed off of him. "Johnny cut that out! How can you say that, you came to me for months. Did you forget that?" she stood up and glared at him.

"That-that was different" he said, standing up to match her stance. "Oh yeah how? Johnny, you were a nervous virgin when you first came to me, now that you've had a drop of experience you think you can just own me?" she crossed her arms, she knew that she shouldn't have brought that up but she didn't care she was angry. His eyes widened in fury as he rushed up to her, grabbing her neck, and pushing her against the wall with a thud. "You think you're the only whore I've fucked hm?" he slammed her against the wall again "You just got me started darlin', you know those girls goin' missin'? Who do you think did that?"

She gasped in pain at this sudden force, wincing out with each slam to the wall. "Y-you're crazy!" she managed to shimmy from his grip and shuffled back away from him, her eyes wide in terror.

He turned to her and slowly walked after her. "C'mon don't make this difficult baby" he tried to grab her. She hit his hands away "Johnny please just leave...I-I won't tell anyone" he laughed at this "You think the cops would believe you?" he reached out and grabbed her arm shoving her down on the ground. He kneeled down and got on top of her pinning her down. Despite her kicking and struggling he was able to overpower her.

"Now you listen to me, slut" he hissed out, grabbing her face "I ain't gonna kill ya as long as you do what I say. I own you now. I don't care how much you beg or scream, it's no use. No cop is gonna believe a whore" he snarled at her shaking her face.

She let out a loud whimper as tears streamed down her face. "Why..." she tried to look away from him but he kept moving her face so she was staring directly at him. "I got better for you baby, I couldn't be a nervous little boy anymore, I had to show you how a man acts. I had to practice, those girls were just practice but I think I'm finally prepared for you, baby, this was all for you"

He stroked her hair and stared at her. "You're gonna come back with me, alright?" he said kissing down her neck. She whined and tried to shake him off. "C'mon don't be like that...you'll fit in just fine" he nuzzled at her neck and grinned at her.

The long days were the hardest part when she got to Johnny's place. He lived on this farm with his family but had his own small camper on the outskirts. He explained to her that he bought it so they would have more privacy...how thoughtful of him.

She sat at the booth table inside of the camper, staring out the window at the fields of sunflowers. Johnny was out, she didn't bother to ask where he was going. She could sometimes hear the blood-curdling screams from the house, she put the pieces together. She hadn't met any of his family, he didn't want them to know about her. She felt so trapped, her entire world was Johnny. He was usually always around her, she would only get a few hours a day to herself. She didn't have anything to do, she would normally just stare out the window to pass the time, thinking about what she could've done differently. She can’t even remember how long she’s been there. A couple days? Weeks? Months? Time passed at a painful pace here, she didn’t even know what day it was.

The sun was setting over the horizon. Streaks of red, orange and pink lined the sky, like paintbrush strokes. He has been gone most of the day, she found herself getting worried. He wouldn't just leave her here to rot right? He always had the door locked but maybe she could break a window-

The sound of keys jingling interrupted her thoughts. She turned to the door and watched Johnny enter, clearly agitated. He slammed the door shut and angrily kicked his boots off. She just stared at him, her eyes wide. He turned to her and gave her a look "What?" he snapped.

She quickly shook her head and looked back out the window. She heard his rustling around before he squeezed in beside her, putting a heavy arm around her shoulders. He leaned her into his chest and sighed, petting her hair. She felt like a dog.

She stared straight ahead as he stroked her hair. He smelled like grass, sweat and cigarettes. She decided to break the silence "Are you feeling okay?" she asked softly, being sure to place her hand on his chest, stroking absentmindly. He sure had her trained like a dog at this point. He grunted and shrugged "Those kids are a pain in my ass" he mumbled, assumingly referring to their victims. She just nodded in response. "But not you darlin', you've been a good girl" he kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter.

His hands wandered like they always did. Squeezing at her thigh as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. Whenever he got home he was always all over her, it was worse the days he came home upset, like he wanted to take his frustrations out on her. His hand slipped under her loose pajama shorts and palmed at her clit through her underwear. Letting out a small whine, she gripped his forearm.

He chuckled and glanced outside, the sun was nearly set at this point. The loud chirp of the crickets could be faintly heard. He suddenly stood up and pulled her up alongside him. "I bet you're feelin' all cooped up huh?" he snickered, taking a firm grip on her hand. "Why don't we go outside and watch the sunset?" he didn't give her time to reply as he led her outside, grabbing a blanket before they exited.

The warm air hit her in the face. She took a deep breath in as she closed her eyes. She always cherished the moments she could have outside. Though when she was outside, Johnny was not too far behind. She didn't have much time to enjoy the air before Johnny pulled her closer to the sunflower field, laying out the blanket. She knew what this meant, his chivalry was a facade.

He sat down on the blanket, his legs spread out. He patted his lap. She obediently sat down between his legs, leaning her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I missed ya today..." he said staring straight ahead at the sunset. His hands wandered down to the front of her pants, he used one hand to yank them down, exposing her fully. He rubbed at her clit. She let out a small whine and squeezed her eyes shut. He didn't waste much time until he slipped two fingers into her. Pumping them at a steady pace. "This is your reward, baby" he whispered in her ear, nibbling on her earlobe.

The "reward" was short-lived as he pulled his fingers out from her, instead opting to lay her on her back. He kissed up her chest and met her lips, kissing her deeply. After a while, his hands reached down to his belt, unbuckling it while staring at her intently. She opted instead to look directly up at the sky.

He sucked on her neck as he stroked his cock along her wet slit. "Why don't you beg for my cock, darlin'" he hummed out, grabbing her chin to force her to look at him. She whined a bit "Please Johnny...I've been a good girl..." her face heated up in embarrassment, after all he did to her, here she was begging for him.

He chuckled "You have been a good girl" he gripped her waist as he pushed into her. Her eyes widened as her back arched a bit off the ground. She always found it hard to adjust to his size, despite how many times they've had sex so far. He started thrusting at a steady space, dipping his head down to bite at her breast, giving her small hickeys all over, his way of marking her.

She moaned out at each thrust, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, her eyes squeezing shut. He kissed up her neck, his eye flicking up to stare at her. “You’re driving me crazy, baby” he chuckled and moved his hand to grip her neck gently, his thumb stroking away the stray tears running down her face.

She moved her hands to hold onto his forearm. Her eyes brows furrowed as she felt the familiar warm sensation spread across her body. He groaned out “Fuck!” He thrusted harder into her, desperately chasing his high. “My good girl” his thrusts became jagged as he came deep inside of her, letting out a low moan.

She wasn’t too far behind, gripping his arm tightly as she came undone beneath him. She leaned her head back, panting as she stared at the now star-filled sky. He chuckled and kissed her forehead, pulling on both of their clothes. “C’mon baby, I’m hungry” he pulled her up and held her hand as they made their way back to the camper. She looked behind her once, she saw the faint glow of the family house in the distance.

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