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divineecelestial · 11 months

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Pretty Girl [ 2 ] — Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie doesn't like when other guys talk about his girl. You think he's stupid because you're not his girl. He proves you wrong.

Word Count — 2.8k

Warnings — Graphic depictions of sexual activity, kinda mean!eddie, enemies to lovers banter, thigh riding, light face slapping, dirty talk

Part One

18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI

The old metal of the trailer creaked as the door slammed closed. With a wavering hand squeezing his blood-stained nostrils, Eddie glanced away from his reflection in his mirror and poked his head from the restroom doorway. His eyebrows furrowed as he recognized the quick and light footsteps approaching him.

He had practically pleaded with Dustin to not make any more phone calls. He was already embarrassed, more exasperated with the number of times he’s had to stuff his nose with clean tissues, and didn’t want to deal with the scolding and teasing from his friends. Thankfully, none of them had arrived, but, of course, you weren’t like any other person he’d ever met and drove over. If things were different and he wasn’t squeezing his nose with blood seeping beneath his fingernails, he would have paid more attention to the fact that you were there for him. But, stupidly of him, he didn’t think about that. “You came?” He asked, his voice nasally as he squeezed his nose firmly.

Your eyebrows furrowed together with obvious confusion as you neared him. “Of course, I came. Dustin said you needed me.” Now, that wasn’t something he could easily disregard. He wasn’t even sure you knew you had said those words, far too concerned with the pile of bloodied tissues in the corner of the room. You came because he needed you. You pushed his hand aside, carefully tilting his head back and he wordlessly complied. “What happened?”

Now, this was where things became awkward. Roughly an hour ago, Eddie saw something he definitely shouldn’t have. From across the hallway, he watched you. This wasn’t anything new, he could watch you for as long as he could if given the chance, but what was new was the guy across from you. He keeps telling himself he isn’t jealous, couldn’t possibly be. The words overspread his thoughts, suffusing every crevice and space of his head as he watched the spectacle. Maybe, just maybe, if he said the words enough, he’ll eventually believe them. He had to. There isn’t any reason for him to be internally seething with jealousy. You weren’t his. But, God, watching you smile like that because of some random guy was more than enough to have him become nauseous. Seriously, he could feel revulsion bubbling within him.

After you dismissed yourself with a small wave and watched with unfamiliar wrath as this prick motioned for his friends to check you out as you walked away and made a bet on who could fuck you first, he came to a final and startling conclusion. You were his. And that ass these dicks were checking out was definitely not theirs, only his. You ascended up the stairwell and he caught the faintest glance of beneath your skirt. Yeah, that ass and you were only his.

He explained some of what happened and he couldn’t restrain the pleased smile as the concerned softness on your expression deteriorated and was replaced with the familiar annoyance. “You can’t fight people just because they were talking to me.” You sneered.

He removed the small tissue from his nose. “Of course, I can,” He said casually, unbothered by the possessiveness he was displaying. Your glare hardened. “I know you’re mad at me, but you look so good right now.” You did. The sheen of your lipgloss was reflecting from his bedroom light and your hair was styled just how he liked it.

If you were nerved by his words, you didn’t show it. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.” Even though you were pissed with him, nothing new, your honey-laced words rejuvenated him like a gulp of fresh air. Those butterflies fluttered inside him, threatening to tear through his skin and fly amongst your aura.

He smiled boyishly. “You look really beautiful in this skirt, by the way. It really suits you.”

His bloodstained fingers gingerly plucked at the bottom of your skirt, lifting the fabric teasingly before dropping it. “You are infuriating.” You said through clenched teeth.

“And you are quite possibly the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

There was a flash of something in your gaze and he wouldn’t have even caught the change if he hadn’t been mesmerized by the color of your eyes. You blinked and it was gone. “What the hell were you even thinking?” You didn’t know why you even asked. This moron obviously wasn’t thinking.

Another lovesick smile. “You’re all I think about.” His finger caressed the skin above your knee. “You care about my well-being, gorgeous?”

You visibly swallowed. “No, not at all.” You said and you weren’t even convinced by the declaration.

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconvinced as well. “Oh, really?” He asked.

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes, really.”

Eddie’s dubious stare remained on you as he thought for a moment. “You might be able to lie to everyone else and have them fooled, but I can always tell and you’re lying right now.”

You crossed your arms across you chest and chuckled humorlessly. “So you think you know everything about me now?” You didn’t know how to feel about being seen so clearly.

He leaned further back against his bedframe and you despised that he behaved with such a casualness, an obvious nonchalance while you were straining to remain as stoic as you could manage. “No, I do know everything about you and I know deep down you like me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t like anything about you.” You lied straight through your teeth, your glittering eyes glowing with a wave of irate anger reserved solely for him. You knew you were lying because there was a different layer of him you were discovering every day and you hated it. you hated that he wasn’t as terrible as you initially thought he was.

“Tell me more.” He demanded, slowly looming closer to you.

“I’m not flirting with you,” You clarified, “This isn’t some dirty talk.”

His face was disconcertingly close to you and even though you pretended the close proximity disgusted you, you didn’t move. “You’re right. This is better.” And for a moment, neither of you said something. “I never noticed your eyes were this pretty.” He could see you; the depths of your eyes illuminated beneath the light, each shadow accustomed to the shadows and darkness glistening on display for him. Small wrinkles creased by your eyes as you softly smiled, a tenderness reserved for him at that moment, and damn, he swore his breath was yanked from his lungs at the sight. “Don’t look at me like that.” He suddenly said.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“The way you’re looking at me, it’s turning me on.”

Your expression transformed into disbelief before glancing down at his crotch, merely a few inches away. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

He grinned shamelessly. “Can you blame me?” He asked brazenly. “Look at you.” Truth be told, if it was regarding you, it didn’t take much at all for him to get hard.

You refrained from expressing how much you like this. “It’s been less than fifteen minutes and you already have a boner. Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

There wasn’t any hesitation as he answered. “Absolutely.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop distracting me.” You pushed his head back again, closely examining inside. The bleeding had stopped and there didn’t appear to be any visible fractures. He would be okay with some ice. “So what were they even saying?” You asked, referring to moment that apparently started everything.

Eddie stiffened, hardly noticeable. “Doesn’t matter. I took care of it.”

“If it’s about me, I deserve to know.”

A moment passed and then another, and he didn’t answer. You were going to ask again in a much more demanding and firmer way when he suddenly sighed heavily. “They were making bets on who could fuck you first.” You could the admission burn his tongue like acrid poison.

Your breathing hitched as you processed his admittance. “You were defending me?” You quietly asked. This definitely made things worse for you. The reason he was starting fights, bruising his knuckles with dark redness and scrapes and scratches, was because they were talking about you. Eddie Munson was defending you in his own perverse way.

“Obviously. You’re not up for grabs. You’re mine.” The way he spoke with careless possession shook you to the core. It was as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And you supposed to him, it was.

Your walls were slowly tumbling and crashing down. Fix it, your brain screamed. “I’m not yours.”

He smirked and it was almost devilish. “Not yet.”

“Not ever.” You corrected, choosing to ignore the fire coursing through you.

That insolent smirk never dwindled. “I see you’re still pretending you aren’t madly in love with me.” He said with sweet amusement.

Any and all snarky remarks were stolen from you as his hand gently touched your thigh. So soft. So tender. Fucking fix it, your brain screamed. “I hate you.” Was all you could pathetically manage.

His touch was so simple, feather-light, but it left fire trails on your skin. “If you hated me, you wouldn’t have let me cum for you.”

Another observation you couldn’t find a response for. “A mistake that’s never happening again.”

His hand moved upward, so slow you were restraining yourself from shoving his hand beneath your clothes. “You liked it. I know you did.” He said and you despised knowing this was nothing but the truth. He was confronting you, teasing you because you couldn’t deny it. If you really didn’t like watching him stain his clothes with cum, you wouldn’t have allowed it to happen. You would’ve punched him, reported him, done anything other than spread your legs and tease him. You didn’t like it, you loved it. “I bet you touched yourself when you got home.”

You did. You touched yourself with your fingers until they ached, came with muffled screams as you shoved your face into a pillow until your vibrator’s batteries died, and you even used your showerhead. Hearing him moan and whine like a pathetic boy was fucking filthy and you were soaking through your panties by the time you stepped inside your room.

He took your silence as admission. “Fuck, you really did, didn’t you?” He could feel the warmth radiating from beneath your skirt, teasing his fingertips. If he wasn’t hard enough earlier, he was now. He twitched beneath his jeans. “Sit on my lap.”

Don’t do it. “You’re delusional if you think I’m gonna—”

“Don’t be a fucking brat and sit on my lap.” Your brain was losing and you were thinking with your body—your body that was craving him like he was some addicting drug. Without another word, you slowly crawled to him and plopped down on his clothed thigh like you were always meant to be there. You could feel him throbbing against your clit. He was big and thick. His eyes closed for a second, processing what was happening. This was a slice of heaven served to him on a golden platter. “Get yourself off on my thigh, pretty girl. Make a mess for me.”

And just like that, any delusion you might’ve had that you were capable of turning him down, was flushed down the drain. “What?” You asked breathlessly. In that moment, he could’ve demanded you kiss his sneakers and you would’ve fluttered your eyelashes at him as you did so.

He gripped your face with a firmness that might’ve made you whimper if you weren’t so shocked. He squeezed your cheeks with one hand, forcing your lips into a teasing pout. “Rub that pretty pussy on my thigh and make yourself cum.” He wasn’t asking. This was a demand he knew you were going to do for him.

You released a wavering breath as you began to move against him and you could hear your arousal clinging against his jeans. This was embarrassing. But not to him. He was probably sick enough to lick your juices from where you’d been rubbing. “Suck on my fingers and keep those pretty eyes open. Look at me, baby.” His fingers that weren’t tainted by his own blood were inside your mouth and you eagerly sucked, licking and kissing them as if they were his leaking cock. Your lips were flushed as you hollowed your cheeks and he watched you drooled on his fingers with heart eyes. “You are fucking beautiful. Let me see those pretty tits.”

There wasn’t any hesitation this time as you lifted your blouse, displaying your breasts and pinching yourself. Another twitch from his cock and he jerked his hips, earning a soft moan from you. “I could cum just by looking at them, pretty girl.”

You removed his fingers from your mouth. “Call me that again,” Your voice was soft, breathless, and laced with a vulnerability he’d never heard from you before. “Please.” Desperate. Needy.

The arrogant smirk on his pink lips was annoying and you wanted to sit on his face so you wouldn’t have to see it. “Aw, you like being called my pretty girl?” There wasn’t any thoughts floating within your mind. All you could think of was the liquid lava moving through your bloodstream as you rubbed your clit against his cock faster. You only nodded. “I thought you hated me? But look at you, drooling for my cock.”

It was pathetic because you were drooling. You were never going to hear the end of this. He slapped your cheek lightly, pleasantly stinging. His touch didn’t hurt, it never did, but it did get a message across. “Let me hear those pathetic sounds. You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you not make any noise.” He was going to memorize and repeat this moment for every time he spit in his hand and jerked himself off. He needed to hear you. He was losing his composure and there was another slap. “I’ve been wanting this for years so fucking moan and say my name.”

“O-Oh, my fucking God, this feels so fucking good.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, quickening your pace. Your facade of disgust and hatred disappeared. “Fuck yes, Eddie!” His hands gripped your waist, fingers dipping into the skin of your ass, and he pushed you down harder against him. “Just like that. Just like that.”

His warm and erratic breaths brushed against your jaw. The softness of his lips kissing and sucking as he moaned against your skin. “Come on, baby, make me cum. You can do it, just keep rubbing that pussy on me. Give it to me.”

His mouth moved against your breasts, kitten-licking your peaked nipples before sucking. Something inside you snapped and there was nothing but blinding pleasure, strong enough to steal the moans and air from your throat as you chased your pleasure. Your eyes closed before there were smaller and quick slaps against your cheek. “Look at me when you cum.” His calloused hand slowly drifted to your throat, a firm and shaky grip.

His body twitched and squirmed beneath you as he whimpered against your chest, tongue swirling against your nipple and his hand squeezing the other. Your movements slowly came to a stop and he released your breast with a playful pop.

His fingertips gently caressed the softness of your cheek, lingering a moment longer on each mark coloring her skin. You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand as you closed your eyes. You listened to the hard and quick patter of her heart, to each slow and deliberate breath of his, and the rustling of the leaves outside. And you swore if you listened closely enough, you would’ve heard the thumping beneath his chest. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else,” He whispered, a thought escaping his quivering mouth before he could even process his own voice. You ruined him, tore out his thumping heart with your manicured nails, and devastated him—a devastation he craved, needed like the blood coursing through his veins. He would’ve bruised his knees worshipping the floor you stepped on. You had undoubtedly ruined him and he couldn’t do anything about it but thank you.

In a daze, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pressed your glossed lips against his. He couldn’t breathe. You were kissing him, drunk from your orgasm, bare skin against his thick cock, and he couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He didn’t move. He didn’t kiss you back. At the lack of reciprocation, you pulled away.

The softness of your lips lingered on his, a ghostly remnant of a daydream he’s had for as long as he could remember. His eyes slowly fluttered open, shock swirling in the pools of darkness. His breathing hitched as he forced himself to breathe. Slow and steady. But he couldn’t because he swore he could almost still taste you. Outside, inside the community and neighborhoods of Hawkins, no one would’ve guessed Hawkin’s It-Girl kissed him, your sweet perfume entangled with his cheap cologne. That’s something nobody could’ve predicted, including himself. Well, and that you rode him until you made yourself and him cum.

Your hair cascaded across your skin as you tilted your head, trying to decipher the gleam in his eyes. Your lips were flushed as if you’d been gnawing on them, and you almost pouted at what you thought was rejection. Disappointment colored your expression and you scooted away from him, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence of the room. “I’m sorry I kissed you.” You stood from him and straightened your clothes, readjusting them. “Let’s just forget about it.”

And you were out the door before he could explain that he literally couldn’t talk or function because his dream girl made him cum so hard he was seeing stars.

Shit.

Taglist — @eddiesguitarskills @twihard08 @twilight-love-nochu-main @names-were-taken @definitelynotecho @sidthedollface2

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 10 months

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Three Four, That’s the Magic Number - Hangman

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog is 18+ Only!

Warnings: (Unplanned) Pregnancy; (Failed) Vasectomies; Humor; Suggestive Language; Marital Disagreements; Threats of Kicks to the Balls; Female Reader with No Description, No Y/N, Second Person POV, Use of "You"

Summary: You thought that three kids was it. But apparently your husband, Hangman, didn't have as successful of a vasectomy as you initially thought.

Master List

Holding your head in your hand, you tried to quell your sudden nausea as your husband continued to drive you and your family across town to the Bradshaw family home for a Dagger pool day. Your head was pounding and you swore that your body was naturally swaying on its own and your kids fighting in the back seat was not helping your mood.

“Hey!” Jake barked when your son kicked the back of your seat, causing all three of your kids to jump. “Sit down and apologize to your mama right now, Charlie.”

“Sorry, Mama,” Charlie mumbled out quietly.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied softly, still feeling out of it.

“If you three don’t stop fighting, we’re not going to the pool,” Jake warned your three kids. Coming to a stop at a red light, he turned around to shoot them the classic ‘do not test me today’ look that your kids knew to not test. “So, if you want to go to the pool and play with your friends, you’re going to stop fighting. Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy,” the three of them chorused together.

Turning to shoot you a concerned look, since you hadn’t looked like yourself for what felt like days now, Jake started driving again when the light turned green. Pulling into the Bradshaw driveway, you slowly got out of your seat and moved to pull your kids out of the back. Jake grabbed the food and took Liam and set him on his hip so that you could walk in without any extra weight.

The Bradshaw house was packed with the Daggers and their families. The years since the uranium facility mission had only made the Dagger relationships stronger and even though they didn’t all live near each other anymore, they made efforts to get together when they could. Especially with a lot of their kids being around the same age.

Your three kids quickly joined in the activities with the other Dagger babies, letting you get a brief moment of peace. You and Jake stepped out into the backyard with Jake resting a concerned hand on your lower back, as if he was worried that you’d collapse on him.

“Are you sure that you’re fine?” Jake asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I probably just need to eat and drink some more water. That’s all.”

“Go sit down. I’ll grab you something.”

Jake reluctantly parted from your side and headed inside again while you made your way over to where Phoenix and Payback’s wife Dana were sitting by the pool. The direct sun caused your head to pound once again.

“You look horrible,” Phoenix commented, causing you to sigh and drop onto a chair.

“I feel horrible,” you muttered, shifting the umbrella over to block the sun.

“Are you sick?” Dana asked, sitting up.

“No. I don’t have a fever or anything like that. It’s probably just some stomach thing or just me being exhausted.”

“You’re nauseous?”

“Only sometimes,” you replied with a shrug, lying flat on your back.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

“No,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes and blinking slowly. “Liam’s still sleeping in our bed most nights and he usually kicks one of us awake. Mostly Jake, actually.”

“Eh, Hangman probably deserved it,” Phoenix muttered, shrugging her shoulders.

“Love you too, Phoenix,” Jake muttered, arriving on the scene.

He offered you a plate of food and a cup of water. You took the offering from your husband and shot him a small smile. In return, Jake leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“Thanks, baby,” you told him, smiling softly.

“You’ll let me know if you need to go home, right?” Jake asked you, shooting that look that he always did whenever you over-exerted yourself.

“Yes, Commander Seresin,” you replied sarcastically, shooting him an exasperated expression.

“We don’t need to be here for your foreplay,” Phoenix stated from behind Jake, causing Dana to burst out into snickers.

“Daddy!” Annie called, causing Jake to immediately spin around to see her standing on the steps of the pool with Bob right beside her. “Come play in the pool!”

“I’m coming, Princess!”

Jake peeled off his shirt and handed it over to you. Shooting you one last concerned look, Jake headed over to join Annie in the pool. You folded his shirt up and set it beside you before reaching for your water.

“How long have you been feeling ill?” Dana asked as you sipped at your water. “Jake seems pretty concerned.”

“About a week,” you replied quietly, reaching for the food that he brought you.

“You made an appointment?”

“Not yet. But I’m worried that he’ll make one for me if I drag my feet anymore,” you stated honestly, popping a grape into your mouth.

“Are you telling me that we’re in for another classic Hangman freak out?” Phoenix sighed, taking a long sip of her beer. “I haven’t had enough drinks to deal with that yet.”

“I think that Annie’s keeping him distracted for now,” you responded, smiling as Jake tossed Annie up in the air and caught her. Annie squealed as Jake pressed a kiss to her cheek and tossed her in the air again. “She’s got him wrapped around her finger at all times.”

You moved to eat some crackers and cheese, keeping everything lighter and stomach friendly. But when your caught a whiff of potato salad that all seemed to be for nothing. Plugging your nose, you quickly set down your food and sipped at your water to try and keep your stomach from rolling dangerously.

“Do you need Jake?” Dana asked, sitting up.

“You look like you’re going to throw up,” Phoenix added, sharing a look with Dana.

“I’m fine. And stop looking at me like that or Jake is going to notice.”

“I’d make that appointment soon,” Phoenix told you honestly. “Not much gets by him. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“No, you’re right,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair. Staring up at the umbrella over your head, you sunk a bit more into your seat. “I’ll make the appointment.”

~~~~~

“Any allergies?” the nurse asked you.

“No, none,” you replied, sitting up on the exam table of your doctor’s office.

“Any changes to your medication?”

“Nope.”

“When was your last period?”

“I don’t know, probably three weeks ago or something like that,” you replied, not entirely sure. You hardly kept track of it anymore at this stage in your life.

“And any chance that you could be pregnant?” she asked, causing you to shake your head.

“My husband had a vasectomy.”

“But are you still sexually active?”

“Yes.”

“In the last few months?”

“Yes.”

“Then, we’ll need you to take a urine test,” the nurse assistant replied, pulling out a plastic cup from the cupboard. “It’s standard procedure.”

Reluctantly, you took the cup and headed down the hall to the bathroom. After what felt like twenty years, your doctor finally entered your exam room.

“How are we doing today, Mrs. Seresin?”

“I’ve been better,” you replied, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Yes, I understand that.”

Your doctor asked you a series of questions, did a quick physical exam, before returning to the computer in the corner of the room. Typing in your answers and some notes to herself, your doctor turned back to you.

“Well, I think with all of your symptoms and your test results, there’s one clear cause of your illness—you’re pregnant.”

“That’s funny,” you laughed off, but your doctor remained serious.

“Mrs. Seresin, you’re pregnant. Your urine test came back with clear results. Based on your hormone levels, I’d put you somewhere around six to eight weeks.”

“But my husband got a vasectomy,” you insisted, as if that changed anything. “There’s no way that I’m pregnant.”

“Do you use protection with him?”

“No,” you replied, as if it were obvious.

“Might I suggest making an appointment with your obstetrician?” your doctor spoke softly, causing you to sink into your seat.

~~~~~

Making dinner that night, you swore that you weren’t seeing or thinking straight. Your doctor’s words kept echoing around head and stole any smidge of sanity that you maintained. Your kids were running around causing a ruckus as they always were and Jake still wasn’t home, which only added to your inner turmoil.

You hadn’t told Jake about what the doctor told you. It didn’t feel right breaking that kind of news over the phone or text. And frankly, you were torn between stressing about Jake’s reaction to your news and wanting to have the upper hand so that you could jump out strangle him the second that he got home.

“Daddy’s home!” Charlie called, setting off a chain reaction.

You looked up to see the kids run over to the door to greet Jake. Trying to not get too caught up in how excited the kids were to see their dad, you focused on getting the table set up for dinner. The door swung open and Jake stepped inside, immediately dropping his bag and holding out his arms.

“You’re all here for me?” he teased, pulling your three kids in for a hug and kiss. “Well, aren’t I just the luckiest guy?”

Sniffling, you set down the plates full of food for the kids before turning back for the kitchen to get started on the dishes. Jake usually did them after dinner, but you just needed to do something to steady yourself. Jake released your kids, telling them to go and wash their hands, before turning to you.

“Hey, Mama,” he greeted you, playfully tapping your ass. Wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you away from the dishes, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder and then your neck. “How was your day?”

“Oh, I just found out some news,” you replied, seemingly calm.

“What kind of news?” Jake asked curiously.

“The kind that will have you sleeping on the couch tonight,” you stated, a bit more aggravation seeping into your tone.

“What? What’s wrong?” Jake questioned, confused and looking a bit like a kicked puppy with your harsh tone. But that look wasn’t going to do him any favors today.

“You didn’t keep up your end of the deal.”

“Honey, what deal?”

“The one where you promised to not knock me up with another one of your heavy, always late, big-headed children!”

“Wait, you—you’re pregnant?” Jake breathed out, inspecting you closer. “Really?”

“I could easily knee you in the balls right now,” you warned Jake, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I need to since your ‘vasectomy’ clearly didn’t work!”

“What’s with the air quotes?” Jake asked, grabbing your hands. “Honey, you were there.”

“Not in the operating room.”

“Were you supposed to be?”

“Jacob,” you warned him, shooting him a look to shut up.

“Mommy, Liam was trying to eat the soap again,” Charlie complained, causing you to look away from Jake.

“For the love of—Liam, what did I tell you about eating soap?”

“I got this,” Jake told you, turning to walk over to the bathroom. “Just . . . sit down and breathe.”

Jake walked off to grab Liam while you scrubbed away at the dishes again. Charlie sat down at the table, closely followed by Annie and then Jake carried out Liam and sat him in his chair. Turning to see you still erratically scrubbing at the same pot, Jake sighed and approached you. He called your name, but you didn’t look up.

“Honey,” Jake tried again, “let’s just eat and I’m sure that you’re exhausted and probably just want to shower and go to bed.”

“I made an appointment with my obstetrician and with your urologist,” you replied, changing the subject on your husband.

“My urologist?”

“About your ‘vasectomy’,” you stated, adding passive aggressive air quotes again around vasectomy. “It’s in a month.”

“When? I have a bunch of—”

“—I already called your secretary and picked a time that fits into your schedule.” Turning to shoot your husband a look, you wiped off your hands on a towel. “You’re going.”

You stormed past him, leaving no room for argument. Jake winced and watched you walk over to the dinner table with your three kids. And although you looked just about ready to rip his head off and could very possibly read his thoughts, Jake couldn’t help but think about how much better the dining table set would look with six chairs instead of five.

But he wasn’t going to talk about that right now. He wanted to wake up tomorrow morning.

~~~~~

Jake sat on the exam table while you paced around the room with your arms folded across your chest and your purse in the optimal position to swing it and whack your husband. You were already starting to show and your appointment with your obstetrician was the week before. You and the baby were perfectly healthy despite the fact that you were in ‘advanced maternal age.’

Your husband slept on the couch after that appointment too just because you were feeling spiteful about that.

Jake was still dressed in his uniform, on a short break from work to attend this appointment. He met you at the doctor’s office while Dana Fitch invited your kids over for the afternoon. And although he tried to brighten your mood by promising to grab dinner on his way home and maybe something extra, you face was permanently screwed into a frown since you arrived at the office.

A knock on the door caused you to stop pacing and turn as the urologist slowly stepped into the room with a kind smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. Seresin. How are we?”

“Pregnant,” you stated bluntly.

“Yes, I heard. Congratulations,” the urologist replied somewhat awkwardly before taking his seat. “Though I’m assuming you’re wondering how that’s possible.”

“You read my mind,” you responded calmly and not at all sarcastic.

“Well, I should inform you that you’re not the first couple to have a pregnancy after a vasectomy. While it’s not common, it can still happen.”

“And in this case?”

“I’m not entirely sure without any additional tests,” the urologist replied honestly. “And in this case, I think that starting with a sample is the best course of action. Once we have those results, we can discuss whether or not another vasectomy is necessary.”

“Another one?” Jake asked quietly.

But he instantly tried to bite back his words when he caught the way that your head snapped around to shoot him a glare.

“Oh, that must be so inconvenient and painful for you to have to deal with,” you drawled sarcastically, causing Jake to wince.

“Sorry.”

You left the room to let Jake talk with the urologist privately and to check in on the kids. Glancing at the door to make sure that you were in fact gone, the urologist turned to Jake.

“I’m not trying to overstep and cause any trouble but we often ask men in this position if there is any possibility of them wanting a paternity test,” the urologist offered, causing Jake to chuckle.

“Not necessary,” Jake replied, laughing off the absurdity of the urologist’s suggestion. “Just some strong swimmers. That’s all.”

~~~~~

Jake headed out to the parking lot to see you sitting on a bench in the shade of the building, furiously typing away at your phone. Approaching carefully, like he was approaching a wild animal, he slowly sat down beside you.

“They’ll call me back with the results in a few days,” Jake stated, causing you to nod and put away your phone. “Are you okay?”

“I still want to kick you in the balls,” you stated, shooting your husband a look.

“Have I mentioned that I greatly appreciate your restraint?” Jake offered, causing you to scoff. “Honey, I can’t read your mind. Please just tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I just . . . I can’t believe we’re those people,” you sighed, holding a hand to your head.

“What do you mean by those people?”

“You know, those people. Those couples who were dumb enough after having three kids to not know what birth control is. Those couples that can’t keep their hands off of each other and just fuck around like a bunch of animals and there’s evidence for all of it! I mean, who sets out planning to have four kids?”

“Baby, who gives a shit about what other people think about us?” Jake replied seriously, grabbing your hand. “It’s none of their business about how many kids we do or don’t have. And I’m not going to apologize to anyone for maintaining a healthy sex life with my wife after three kids. Are you?”

“No,” you huffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Of course not.” Pausing for a moment, you turned back to Jake. “I kind of rubbed it in stupid Gina Denison’s face that we’re still banging a few days ago.”

Gina Denison was one of the moms of Charlie’s friend group. Her husband was a tool and looked like he hated his life every time he showed up. And Gina was always so flirty with Jake, grabbing his arm and complimenting him on everything, that you contemplated kicking your son’s soccer ball straight into her face.

“She did look pretty glum actually,” Jake mused, rubbing your knee.

“Good.”

“Then what’s there to worry about?” Jake asked, causing you to sigh.

“There’s the whole bedroom situation first of all. Unless we want to turn the guest room into the nursery, the kids are going to have to share.”

“We’ll just convert the playroom upstairs. Easy fix. A new coat of paint and moving some things around and we’re fine.”

“And we can only fit three car seats into the back of your truck.”

“Then we’ll take the other car for family outings,” Jake pointed out softly, rubbing your knee again.

“And Liam’s still coming into our bed most nights. What happens when I’m eight months pregnant and there’s no room?”

“I’ll have a talk with him about it,” Jake offered, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“You’ve talked to him about it a hundred times already. What’s changed?”

“I have my ways.”

And by ‘his ways,’ Jake was quietly referring to the fact that when you were heavily pregnant, you snored. Loudly. And now Jake had never told you that when you were heavily pregnant you snored because he wasn’t an idiot. It was like complaining about how uncomfortable the chairs were in the delivery room. Only a fucking selfish pathetic loser complained about that stuff to his pregnant wife.

And he already had a slip up with the whole second vasectomy thing in there and he was trying to quickly recover from that.

Turning to you and gently cupping your cheek so that you turned to him, Jake leaned in and rested her forehead against your own.

“Honey, you know that I’m here, right? You don’t have to go through this alone and you don’t have to hold all of the stress about it. We’re fine. We have the money. We have the space. We have the extra hands if we need babysitters. And for anything else, just tell me about it. I’m here for you and our four babies. Anything you want, you let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed softly, pressing a kiss to his lips. Smiling up at your husband through your eyelashes, you suddenly grew serious. “I want you to get another vasectomy.”

“Yeah, I thought you were going to say that,” Jake sighed, wincing a bit again.

~~~~~

Jake was turning forty this year. The big 4-0. And it only seemed fitting to him that he got to have his four kids by his side for this birthday. But since it happened to fall on a random Tuesday that Jake had to work, you and the kids just put together a small party for him. You cooked him his favorite dinner and the kids gave him the card that they made for him. And then it was time for the cake.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday Daddy, Happy Birthday to you!” you and three of your kids sang along.

But little baby Hazel, who was about a year and a half now, was more focused on trying to touch the cake with her finger than singing. Jake smiled and grabbed her hand, shaking it to distract her long enough for you to take a photo.

“Alright, time to blow out the candles!” you called, holding up your phone to take the photo.

“On three,” Jake instructed your kids. “Ready? One . . . two . . . three.”

Your four kids, who were all seated or standing next to Jake, blew out the candles with him. You snapped a few quick photos before putting your phone away. Jake started clapping, causing Hazel to giggle and clap along too. You quickly grabbed the cake and cut it up. Passing around the slices of cake, you smiled and pressed a loving kiss to your husband’s lips.

“Happy Birthday, Jake.”

“Thank you, baby,” he returned, shooting you a wink.

Your kids talked excitedly with Jake about the upcoming weekend. Jake’s parents were flying in for his birthday and you were going to take a short vacation as a family. Jake listened and talked intently with your children before it was time to start the bedtime routines. You and Jake worked together to get Hazel and then Liam and then Annie and Charlie all ready for bed.

And once the kids were all asleep and tucked away for the night, you grabbed Jake by the hand and pulled him into your shared bedroom. In about three seconds flat, you had Jake on his back and straddled him.

“Happy Birthday,” you grinned, pressing a set of needy kisses to his lips.

“Are you my present?” Jake asked coyly, kneading your hips with his hands.

“Sure am, Cowboy,” you replied, pulling off your shirt and tossing it onto the floor. But before you kissed him again, you quickly cursed and got up to lock the door to your bedroom. Smiling apologetically at Jake, you quickly hopped up onto the bed again. “Don’t want to risk the kids walking in on us.”

“It’s my birthday. Tonight, you’re mine. All mine,” Jake agreed, pulling you in for another kiss.

And with assurance that his second vasectomy was successful, you happily started on your birthday gift for him.

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2-dsimp · 2 months

Note

Can I request Yandere siren venti angst (like with a reader whose trying to hunt down mermaids and sirens for their scales ) for the Mytherials event, if you have time

A Sirens scales———————————

Yandere siren! Venti x hunter reader

————————————～—————～——————～———————～

【Cw: yandere tendencies, imprisonment, delulu venti, toxic relationship, slight angst】

————————————～—————～——————～———————～

“Oh honey it’s a virtue of mine to value freedom, but where do you think you’re going?”

Venti cooed, his lax feature’s sharpening into a grimacing smile as he noticed his darling chipping at the chain which encased their ankle.

“ The only way to the surface is to swim through this lagoon and I don’t think you have the lung capacity for that”

His head was peeking out from the watery surface of the underground lagoon. And he swam fluidly towards the spot where he held you captive surrounded by a shimmery circle of his blue iridescent scales.

“We had a deal… And this wasn’t part of it. I didn’t sign up to be your damn cave decoration”

You spat, a look of scorn apparent as you couldn’t help but berate yourself for being so dumb as to break monster hunter rule 101: To never trust the words of a siren, lest they drag your soul to depths of hell. But you were desperate for the money since you had a sick friend to take care of.

“Awe sweetheart don’t demean yourself like that. You’re no decoration but my lovely mate after all”

The siren purred as he emerged fully from the body of water to cast a wet hand against your cheek. Admiring you in your entirety, his touch that was gentle soon became all consuming after hearing your adamant rejection.

“What’re you talking about? I never agreed to become your mate. Just let me go home.”

You retorted as you continued to make work of the chain. While actively shying away from his slimy touch. The stark scent of sea salt made you nauseous.

“Don’t say that. You are my mate sweetie. Weren’t you the one to say that you wanted my scales to begin with?”

Venti tried to rationalize with a small chuckle as he started to apply pressure when he cupped both your cheeks. Sharp nails dug into your damp skin while he directed your gaze to his crazed ones.

“So why are you trying so hard to deny it?”

He asked, his voice was hollow as he stared deeply into your eyes with wide blown slits. You had to have known what accepting his scales would entail. So why couldn’t you understand that you guys were meant to be? He gave you his scales did he not? So why, were you trying so hard to constantly reject his advances.

You didn’t need to go back to the surface. Not after all the struggles you’ve told him about with your stay up there. What kind of lover would he be if he were to allow his precious human to be exposed to the dangers beyond his reach.

“Oh I know what’s holding you back! It’s that friend of yours isn’t? What’s his name, Ah it’s şçæřämœćħè right?”

Venti begrudgingly sounded out his name in clear distaste and didn’t know whether to laugh or sneer from how you immediately perked up at the mere mention of another man’s name. He couldn’t help but feel an envious bout of jealousy boiling deep within his gut. Well at least he knew what his priority should be, if the only thing tethering you to the surface was your friend then perhaps he could remedy that.

“Well rest assured your pretty little head darling! I’ll make sure to take extra care of him so sit tight I’ll have to make some trips”

In the end sure he did twist his words a little when he struck a deal with you, who seemed to be down on their luck. Promising you his scales in exchange for your prized company. Since he’s always been enamored watching your daily pathetic attempts at capturing a siren.

But he did uphold his end of the bargain did he not? He made sure to pluck out his scales and pile them around you enshrouding you in their glimmering shine. So it’s only fair that you start acting like a proper mate for him since he’ll be expecting a cave full of his guppies in the future.

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revehae · 2 months

Text

secret stalker

pairing ↠ bff!stalker!jaemin x you

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, stalking

summary ↠ there’s one room in his apartment that your best friend never allows you to enter. one day, while you’re having a sleepover, the chance for you to find out what’s he’s hiding finally arises. but you realize exactly why he doesn’t want you there.

wc ↠ 1.1k

a/n ↠ this is a repost!

don’t like it, don’t read.

there’s a room in your best friend’s place that no one’s allowed to enter - not even you. while you’ve always been curious as to what he could possibly be hiding, you never thought too much of it, brushing it off and joking, “what’s in there, a red room?” you wanted to know, but you never pressed. it was probably for your own sake. in the nicest way possible, jaemin was as unique as they came and he simply did things differently. and then, the letters started. first it was one. you were a little worried, but you thought someone was trying to play some evil prank on you. and then one became dozens until they began to pile up in a stack inside of your room, filled of rape threats and the anonymous writer’s endless twisted fantasies. by then, you were terrified. and of course, you told the most trustworthy person in your life - your best friend, jaemin. he seemed genuinely surprised when you told him - and arguably upset - and vowed to protect you from whatever dangers lied in the world around you. with jaemin around, you felt safe. your best friend’s embrace alone relieved you of the burden that was your biggest fears and worries.

one night, you’re having a sleepover at jaemin’s place. considering you felt unsafe whenever you were home and especially when you were alone, you slept at jaemin’s more often than not. in the middle of the night, you woke up to get a glass of water, but on your way to the kitchen, you realized something: the door to the forbidden room was not only unlocked, but ajar. and your temptations got the best of you. you glanced around a couple of times, making sure that the coast was clear. jaemin was fast asleep. as long as you left everything the way that you had found it, he wouldn’t notice anything. so with reluctance, you tiptoed to the room, and pushed the door open. when you stumbled inside, what you saw made your stomach churn. the room was filled to the brim with pictures of you, some clearly taken without your consent and in very illicit circumstances (like when you were changing clothes in your bedroom). there was a journal filled with words in handwriting you had come to recognize fairly well over the past few weeks, detailing things the writer wanted to do to you and his activity lately. more specifically, how he had been stalking you for ages now. before the letters even started. your hands began to tremble as you held the notebook, and you came to a realization that made you feel nauseous: jaemin was your stalker. or your “secret admirer,” as he had so kindly deemed himself in the journal.

“tsk. didn’t i tell you not to come in here?” you turned around instantly, seeing jaemin leaning against the doorframe with a twisted grin on his lips, arms folded across his chest. “you finally figured it out. shame you just had to find out this way. i wanted it to be a surprise.” jaemin stepped closer to you, and with every step forward he made, you took one backwards. he didn’t rush, taking his sweet, precious time to corner you. after all, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to escape him anyways. “get away from me!” you shrieked, trying to push him away from you. to no avail. he simply pinned your hands above your head, watching you cry and uselessly squirm against the wall with a mocking pout on his face. “now, now. that’s no way to talk to your best friend. i’m going to protect you. i would never hurt you, sweetheart,” he crooned, voice gentle as always. but there was another presence in his tone, too. something completely unfamiliar. then, he added, “unless i have to. don’t make me have to hurt you, okay sweetie?”

you gulped, terrified. never in your life had you ever been scared of your best friend up until this particular moment. he was sweet, gentle and loving. when you were frightened half to death over the letters that you were receiving, jaemin held you and sang soothing words into your ear. you would never expect that your stalker would ultimately be your best friend of all people. but here he was, and the control he had in a situation where you were utterly powerless was alarming. given the nature of the letters he had written for you, you were filled with dread. when you didn’t respond to his question, only breathing heavily as more tears flowed down your cheeks, jaemin grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. his voice was a little darker, “i said, okay sweetie?”

when you nodded, jaemin smiled and began to drag you towards the bed in the room. he pushed you against the bed and you squealed, but he didn’t stop, beginning to peel at your clothes. when you tried to stop him, he simply pinned you down and taunted, “ah, ah, ah. no fighting me.” before you knew it, you were being cuffed to the bed, and jaemin was placing duct tape over your lips. god, you were being loud. the last thing he needed was his neighbors becoming suspicious and calling the cops. “you made me do it,” jaemin said disappointedly, shaking his head. then, he continued his ministrations, removing your clothes from your body as you muffled vehement protests. “you know,” jaemin began, tugging your shorts down your thighs. he cupped between them when he was done, “this is supposed to be your room. i haven’t finished it yet because i didn’t think you’d find out so soon, but that’s okay. you’re gonna be good for me, right?” your underwear joined the pile of your clothes on the floor, and when jaemin caught a sight of your cunt, he let out an almost animalistic sound. it wasn’t long before he was forcing himself inside you, unable to resist the urge. he leaned over your face, licking the tears away and laughing when you grimaced in discomfort. “my pretty, pretty baby,” he sighed softly. if it weren’t for the situation you were in, you would have thought he sounded sweet. “we’re going to have so much fun in this room together, i promise. aren’t you glad you found out? now we can be together.”

together. you didn’t like the way that he said that word. and yet, all you could do was lie there, being taken advantage of by your best friend that you had trusted with as much as your life and dreading learning what his definition of fun was.

#jaemin smut #nct dream smut #na jaemin smut #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #tw: noncon #tw: stalking #revehae fics

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rashomonss · 2 months

Text

A HUMANS WRATH

Part XV

previous part

taglist: @miridiums-writing, @zerchila, @aeongiies, @xmoogx, @coffeeandtealol, @food-lover9000, @l0diluvs, @vichsy, @valeriele3, @entolomaeden, @acaribeau, @arcayia, @jessiegerl, @capricorn-anon, @crescentworld, @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r, @chumbinhoeba, @chaos-n-kindness, @strawberryfire17, @zenxvii, @misscaller06, @luminarysol, @simpinginthecorner, @your-next-daydream, @bontensbabygirl, @crxwned-mxnarch, @ibtisam-aran, @mochicurls21, @rxsehxney, @xpixie, @ihatecorns, @hello-gloomy, @lunarloathsome, @crazytacokoala, @levia-chan, @bunny-masks-blog

a/n: hey y'all!! yay i finally updated haha….im so sorry it took so long if you’ve been keeping up with my other posts you’ll know that february was not good to me haha

also i wanted to let y’all know that we’re finally reaching the end of this story!! i plan on only making a few more chapters then i believe that’ll be all!

lastly thanks for all y’all’s patience and continued support I love reading every one of y’all’s comments and theories, it means the world! love y'all ♡

warnings: violence, fighting, angst

express just how you feel, don’t bottle it up anymore

“MC how are you? Even though I previously saw you everyday I’ve missed this you” Diavolo said with a bright smile as you joined him for breakfast. No thanks to Barbatos’ constant pestering.

You gave him a polite smile and nod as a response. It was easy enough to come up with a basic answer that you were fine, even if that wasn’t the case at all.

However as he ranted on about missing you and what activities he’d enjoy doing with you after he finished his paperwork you couldn’t help but feel nauseous.

After all he dislocated your shoulder the other day and now he was acting as if everything was perfectly fine?

Even if it was another version of him it was still him in a sense, which filled you with unease. If that version of him could do something that significant to you without so much as a thought then you had every right to be worried.

Is this how the other version of you felt?

Is that why they hated being touched by any demons?

Another hearty laugh broke out sending a chill down your spine. It reminded you of when he cornered you in the hallway as you tried to escape.

“MC are you sure you’re feeling okay? You look a little pale?”

You went to nod but your body betrayed you. A new wave of nausea washed over you and you felt bile rise up in your throat.

“MC…?” Barbatos questioned as he moved closer to you when you ignored Diavolo’s question.

Your fingers gripped the soft tablecloth as you tried to ground yourself. If anything you refused to lose your stomach in front of them.

Both demons looked at each other worryingly and Barbatos went to place a hand on your shoulder for comfort. Immediately you jolted in response and slapped his hand away as a sensation of fear became present in the pit of your stomach.

You had no idea where it came from, much less why you were scared when the butler reached out to help you. But you did know one thing, you didn’t want anyone touching you.

“Don’t touch me!” you yelled.

Your tone of voice startled him and Diavolo but mainly you as well. What was going on with you?

You never acted like this before, even when staying in the other timeline for so long. So why now? Why was everything anyone was doing so triggering you in any sort of way?

“I apologize…I didn't mean to upset you, I only wanted to check if you were okay,” Barbatos replied as he backed off. Even though he didn’t bother showing it, he was clearly worried about your current mental state. It appeared to be out of control ever since you returned. Which was another point he’d have to bring up with him later, since many instructions weren’t followed.

“…I’m…heading back to bed” you replied as you swiftly stood up and made your way to the door.

“But…you just woke up” Diavolo said softly but you were well out of range for his voice to actually reach you.

With a sigh the butler looked to his lord then to the floor. Maybe they weren’t the right demons to welcome you back after being gone for such a decent amount of time. It was better if you were around demons you were used to, ones that were comforting.

So he picked up his D.D.D and quickly called the first demon that came to mind.

___

Seven bodies rushed towards you faster than you could process and some large beautiful roses were shoved in your face as you tried to process everything that was going on.

All seven of your demons began talking at once and exclaimed how much they had missed you.

“Oh MC! I can’t believe you’re back, I’ve missed you so so so terribly” Asmo cried as he clung onto your shoulder.

“Hey let go of them!” Mammon yelled in your ear as he tried yanking you away from Asmo.

“Stop pushing” Belphie groaned as he hugged your frame from behind.

“Mammon stop yelling so loudly” Levi shouted out as he was hugging you from the same side Asmo was.

The other three demons who weren’t suffocating you were also arguing with their brother as they clung onto you. Yelling and shouting could be heard from all around you as you stayed in place watching all seven of them yell back and forth like children.

It was too overwhelming. The yelling in your ear, the way one would hold you tighter if they got mad, the way four of them were putting all of their body weight on you was too much for your liking. And the fact the other three were aggravating the four who were holding onto you.

You felt so suffocated.

You were suffocated in your own timeline due to your willingness to indulge all of the seven demons you lived with.

You were suffocated in the other timeline because you decided to show some demons some kindness they hadn’t experienced for a very long time. Look where that got you. A dislocated shoulder and some unresolved issues that you refused to acknowledge.

You were suffocated with the prince and his butler. They always were on some type of schedule, and when you didn’t follow what Diavolo wanted at that very second, you would never hear the end of it from Barbatos.

Why was everyone so demanding?

God forbid you do something for yourself for once.

You struggled in their grip and tried to get their attention to possibly settle down. The constant loud yelling was getting you more agitated by the minute and frankly you were getting a headache.

Just as you were about to speak someone yelled over you and a fight between two of them broke out. Since you were absolutely fed up with it you shouted for all of them to shut up and pushed them off of you.

Each of the seven demons shut their mouth in an instant and the prince and butler looked at you with a worried expression. Due to that being the same tone of voice you used with Barbatos earlier he knew that something was obviously wrong.

Diavolo then spoke up for you as he walked over to the brothers. “Don’t mind them, a lot is on their mind right now especially since they’ve dealt with so much physically and emotionally these past couple days. So please give MC some space to relax”

You in turn shot him a glare. “I’m perfectly fine. However I don’t appreciate it when someone is screaming in my ear and putting all their weight on me while others are fighting in the background like children”

“How about you head back to the House of Lamentation. A lot is on your mind MC, it would do you good to go rest in a place you’re comfortable and familiar with” Barbatos then added trying his best to ease the tension in the room and change the topic as well.

With a nod you departed with the brothers about fifteen minutes later for a silent trip to the House of Lamentation. Each of them were too worried to bother you so they all left you to do your own thing when you all got home.

However Mammon was still going to try to comfort you in his own way.

“Hey MC, ya wanna hang out and watch a movie? I got a few in my room and we can relax” he asked with a soft smile as she walked up behind you.

“Thanks but I’d rather rest right now, maybe later” and before he could even finish you were off.

It was odd, during any other time you would’ve enjoyed hanging out and relaxing in his room like you used to but as of now you really wanted to just be by yourself.

So quietly you made your way to your room and when you opened the door you were absolutely applauded by the way it looked.

Everything was everywhere and the decorations you had of you and your demons were ripped and taken down. Clean clothes were piled onto a chair and your bed was an absolute mess as a few shits and things littered the floor.

However you were too tired to take care of it at the moment. Due to how emotional exhausted you were a nap sounded lovey so you plopped down and in minutes you were out.

___

Around late afternoon you had walked into the kitchen to grab a snack since you didn’t exactly have much of an appetite after everything that had happened in the past two days. Surprisingly enough two demons were already occupying the kitchen when you arrived, one gossiped and the other listened even though he was believably bored.

“MC” Satan said with a smile, he was very grateful that someone showed up to stop Asmo’s rambling.

With a nod you dug through the fridge and grabbed something to eat and walked over to the two hesitantly.

“What are you both talking about?” You asked after they stayed silent and smiled at you.

Amso was the first to perk up and tell you. “Well we were just talking about some new gossip about this one actor and her husband, some people we know and you…well the other you”

“The other me?” You asked

“Yeah the one you switched with remember.” Satan added.

You nodded and then looked at them before responding. Just how did the other version of you act? Were they like the other Barbatos said? Angry, stubborn, and everything. Did they treat your demons like how they’d treated theirs? So many questions ran through your head at once, but you opted for only asking a basic one.

“So just how was the other version of me?”

“They were a bit intense at first…no I take it back they were really intense at first, but in reality they only wanted one thing in the end then they finally were content” Asmo said as he reapplied some lipstick to his lips.

“Really what did they want?” You asked, now interested in the other versions' motives.

“They just wanted an apology. After Belphie gave them an honest heart to heart in the planetarium they finally calmed down and we were able to be civil with them” Asmo explained.

“Yeah and they even started opening up a bit, although they were exactly like you so learning about what they liked was cute since we already know what you enjoy” Satan added with a smirk.

You tuned out the rest of the conversation they were having with you as you focused on the said “apology” Belphie gave the other version of you.

So it was true and they weren’t lying when they talked to you previously in the attic. Somehow that ticked you off even more.

“Oh yeah and we’re so sorry you had to go through all that crazy timeline stuff dear, I bet it’s been so exhausting huh?” Asmo asked as he rubbed your back.

“Uh huh” you replied and then brushed him off as you excused yourself out of the kitchen without another word, causing the two demons to look at you with a slightly confused expression.

Silently you paced around the house for a bit as you rethought about what the two of them said. With a sigh you ventured into the common room and stared at the fireplace. So you were worth a basic sorry but not one that took responsibility for all the damage they caused you?

It’s not as if their words actually meant anything. Honestly if they had been keen on sweeping the whole incident under the rug then why even offer the other version of you an apology?

They did it to better help them heal?

Bullshit.

What about you?

How come they could do that for anyone else other than you?

When you’ve helped them so much.

Your rage and jealousy had been bubbling up inside you for so long that it finally reached its breaking point.

If anyone was supposed to receive any words or actions of their forgiveness it should’ve been you and you were tired of pretending you didn’t deserve anything less than that.

In a rage you trashed the common room as Asmo and Satan watched in horror since they just happened to walk by.

They rushed to try and stop you but you used your pact to stop them in place as you broke everything in sight. The sound of yelling and glass breaking alerted all the other demons in the house and soon the rest of them watched in awe as you demolished anything in your path.

Mammon ran to you as you ripped the roses they all bought for you and tore them to shreds right in front of them. When he reached you he grabbed you by the arm and you shoved him away and yelled at him in response.

They all just kept getting in your way, it was so unbearable.

As the six demons froze in place due to their activated pacts you picked up one of the large vases Lucifer loved and proceeded to lift it up to throw at them.

“This is all your fault! Look at what you’ve done to me” you screamed out to the six demons standing in front of you. Your cry was not one of just anger, they could sense the sorrow in your voice. The way it cracked and longed to just be healed.

You wanted someone to comfort you and the ability for someone, anyone honestly to just acknowledge what had happened to you. Maybe then if they did you could finally feel like your feelings were valid, rather than unnecessary and pointless.

Fresh tears fueled by pure anger and frustration fell from your eyes as you got ready to swing the vase at the six of them. That was until the youngest brother rushed in front of his brothers and spoke.

“This is my fault MC, please don’t take it out on my brothers” Belphie said as he stepped in front of the six of them, shielding them with his body.

“No it’s not just your fault. It’s all of your faults. Don’t feel too special Belphie, you're not the only one out of your brothers who has tried to kill me.” you spat out.

“Each of you have threatened to end my life at least once ever since I’ve been here, and believe me I haven’t forgotten a single moment of it. Unlike before I continued to ignore what happened just like all of you but I’m fed up now.”

The seven demons looked at themselves then back at you and sighed.

“MC we’re truly sorry, you know we-“ Lucifer began.

“I don’t want your apology. It means nothing to me anymore. Especially since you can go and hand it out to whoever now” you replied swiftly, cutting him off in the process.

“Then if I truly can’t make you believe me I’ll show you.” Belphie then said quickly.

“And how do you expect to do that?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your body.

“Take it out on me.”

“Excuse me?”

“All of your anger, everything you’ve had building up. Punch me, hit me, choke me, do whatever you need to do so that you don’t have to feel this way. I know my apology means nothing to you, and believe me this is much more selfish of me to ask you to do this but I want to make it up to you MC. Even if you’ll hate me for the rest of your life I want you to get the closure you deserve. I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you. For as long as I live”

Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at him in shock. You hadn’t expected him to actually respond like that, much less take responsibility for everything that had happened.

“Belphie-!” Beel began, he was still standing back with the others, but the worried look on his face was apparent as he watched his twin pour his heart out to the person they both cherished.

Belphie shook his head at his twin then looked back towards you. “I promise MC, I’ll show you how much of a better demon I can be. So go ahead”

The six demons behind you watched as you slowly approached the youngest hesitantly. Surprisingly enough he still had the same soft smile on his face as he watched you come closer.

Then you swung.

With a swift punch to the face, right on the nose Belphie stumbled back and grabbed his face as a small drop of blood pooled out.

You swung again.

And again,

And again.

As you watched the youngest fall to the floor you continued. And for some odd reason you didn’t feel bad about how beat up he was beginning to look.

Instead you finally felt a form of closure for the first time.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me angst #demon brothers #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me levithan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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c-rowlesdraws · 3 months

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browsing twitter for longer than a few minutes gives me radiation poisoning these days, and it’s worse in the evening, in the hours when the dark feelings creep in anyway. So even though I’m really apprehensive to talk politics on my art blog (I mean, if the backlash to a hyperbolic post I made about a famous youtuber is this bad, posting about politics would turn my activity page into a window to hell), I have to vent some of my feelings or that radiation damage will just keep getting quietly worse. And a fair number of people read this blog, and seem to like things that I create and say, so for what it’s worth, I want to say some things I hope people will think about.

Someone I really admire tweeted recently about how hopeless they feel. They said that after many years of fighting for social change, they had no fight left. They said they were too exhausted to vote in the upcoming US presidential election. And I tried to understand where they were coming from, because this is someone I look up to. But I can’t. I understand feeling burnt out. I feel nauseous and heartbroken and scared, thinking about the situation in Palestine and the situation in my country. I understand that it seems like there is no good leader to rally behind.

But I can’t tap out. I can’t give in to hopelessness and say, “I can’t choose. I’m tired and I’m done”. When a choice is between maintenance of an imperfect society with incremental steps towards better things, and cranking human misery and suffering enthusiastically up to 11, I’m going with the former. We are all tired every day. But voting is not physically difficult. Even if you are tired, you can do it. There is a day where you go to a building, and you fill in a bubble next to a name, and you go home. They even give you a sticker. I said voting isn’t hard, but actually, it’s very important to say that for a lot of people in the US, voting is hard to access, and for some groups, impossible. It is made difficult on purpose, by people—Republicans, it’s fucking always them, I don’t know why I’m using vague language—who want to disenfranchise as many people as they can. If voting was really a useless gesture, if it really meant nothing— they wouldn’t be working so damn hard to stop poor people and immigrants and prisoners and folks in general from being able to do it.

If you hate Biden, god, fine, whatever. But he is going to be the nominee of the political party made up of judges and politicians that, for the most part, believe that climate change is real and ought to be mitigated, that the US should not be turned into an evangelical christian theocracy, that firearms should be regulated, that businesses should be regulated, that healthcare should be more affordable and accessible, that people should be able to get safe abortions, that trans and all lgbt people deserve to live their lives, and that asylum-seekers shouldn’t be shredded by concertina wire trying to cross the border. The wheel of social change is huge and fucking heavy and sometimes it looks like it isn’t moving at all. But we can feel it move if we all push together.

I caught a Trump ad on the radio the other day and it was some of the scariest shit. “Trump will bring order to chaos,” it said. “He will ban travel from terrorist countries, and end the disastrous open-border policies allowing illegal migrants and deadly drugs like fentanyl to flood into our country.” The fucking anti-muslim travel ban. It’s back, baby. That was the exact phrasing: terrorist countries. If Biden’s foreign policy with regards to the Middle East is frustrating and despair-inducing already, Trump’s would be a catastrophe. The Republicans think Democrats are soft on terrorism. As much as anyone with a conscience is horrified by the US’s continued passivity with regards to Palestine, this motherfucker getting back in office would bring greater horror. I’m really sure about it. I don’t know what that part of the world will look like next fall, but I’m confident that if this dumb bloodthirsty motherfucker regains office, there would be absolutely no hope of public pressure swaying US foreign policy towards “less murder”. Protesting against war and genocide or for any progressive or civil rights cause would become even more dangerous. I still think about the woman who was run over by a car at the protest in 2017

…I’m rambling. I can’t help it. But I don’t want to just ramble unproductively. I should end this with something I hope makes sense to people snd can’t be easily dismissed, even if you already disagree with something I’ve said. I want to say how I genuinely feel.

I believe that imperfect activism is valuable, because it is better to show up and stand in solidarity with other people fighting for a more just world than to not show up at all. I believe all activism is in some way imperfect, because activists are people, and people are imperfect. That is to say, one middle-aged woman who showed up to a DC protest wearing a hand-crocheted pink pussy hat, who maybe hadn’t been to many (or any) protests before but who felt fired up about this one, was worth ten of the smug “real leftists” sneering about her on twitter. Maybe more than ten. Your own activism will be imperfect. But keep an open mind— to your own learning and to others’. Doing “the bare minimum” (and, ugh, what a discouraging phrase) is still doing. We have to encourage everyone who feels drawn to fighting for social good. We have to link arms with one another and be strong. Even if you think the person next to you is a lame-o liberal, if they believe that (for example) trans people deserve access to gender-affirming care and should not be smashed flat into fruit-by-the-foot and sent straight to hell, they are your comrade.

Be wary of people who self-identify as Cassandras and unheeded prophets, especially if their messages consistently emphasize how everything is garbage and the world can’t be saved. If someone is telling you that only they understand how uniquely horrible things are, that no progressive or leftist political philosophy is viable except for the specific one they adhere to, that no news or media sources are worthwhile or even trustworthy except for the small handful of ones they endorse… I won’t say to stop listening to them or following them, but I’d recommend listening to other people, too.

Do your own reading about issues that are important to you. Read many people’s words, watch videos, think about what you believe, and how those beliefs have changed over time, and stay open to being further changed. We are all constantly learning and shaping ourselves, and teaching, and being shaped by others. All of us are tired. But we can hold each other up.

I don’t have a rousing call to action. Just the same things many people are already saying that I’ve felt encouraged by, in a grim sort of way: protest and donate when and where you can, support political candidates on the local and national stage who do support policies you agree with, who could do real good. It feels very hard right now to be hopeful. But we all have to live in whatever future comes eventually— so I think we have to still participate, and that means things like voting. We are all tired. But we have to keep going. There is, ultimately, no sitting out. People who opt out of voting still must live under the social climate and policies imposed by the person who gets elected, and who they endorse and empower and appoint, and who those people empower and appoint, and so on.

This post doesn’t have a good conclusion. I didn’t write it thinking about what would make for a satisfying structure in general. But if you read it, then thank you for reading.

#us politics #catie talks

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corollaservant · 22 days

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The Host // Chrollo x f!Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Chrollo likes you, you remind him of someone he knows. Better yet, you might just be her. He's hosting a show tonight and you're starring in it.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation/coercion, knives, oral and penetrative sex, psychosis/schizophrenia, stalking, 1 insensitive rape remark, Sarasa mentions (Chrollo's childhood friend), spoilers for the manga, would add more but it kinda ruins it.

A/N: inspired by Phantom Troupe's flashback in the Succession Contest arc + brainrot + my eternal love for Chrollo, played intentionally with the verb tenses // wanted to try something different.

The party. That’s right, you were at a party, a drink in your hand and your friend with you. Where was the party? A sharp pain pierces your cranium and you wince. What ever happened to your friend? You decide you can't show empathy at present time.

It was commonly assumed that memory followed a chronological sequence, that the human brain could recall memories exactly like they unfolded but in all honesty, memory recalling happened in fragments for most. The party. Your friend. The colors of the light. A man.

A man. Who was the man and what were you talking about, you try to think but it’s kind of hard when you can’t see, you’re blindfolded and tied to a chair. Earthy odor, smells like soil, you note. Not that this takes you far. You had definitely been drugged, you felt weak and nauseous (it was a wonder the stills popped in your head) eyes so tightly folded, the little shapes and colors from the pressure increasing your fatigue, your heart palpitating. Was this date rape? You couldn’t touch yourself to find out but you felt intact. This was also not a date. Then why the abduction and ropes? To offer something, you think. But you didn’t have much to offer for the record. You try calming yourself down but the thought only stresses you further. Fuck, how long was this going to take?

Chrollo never did things without reason. Never talked without it, stole without it (debatable, but they were in need), never acted without it or killed without it. You being there was no mistake, he was wondering how you felt at the moment, not very familiar with human emotions, they all seemed wary, he thought, so he often brushed them off, not caring enough to dig deeper. Chrollo listened, he never talked. He could sit through a Troupe meeting actively hearing the members, knowing fully well when stupid proposals and ideas were spouted as they all patiently waited for his final word. He didn’t mind, he thought it was funny how people unraveled without him trying. His decision on you, he had to admit was made on impulse. He didn’t mean to drug you. He didn’t mean to abduct you. Unlike you, he remembers details. Him and the Troupe were in a club (silly to assume for entertainment, a stolen prize now decorating the heist gallery in one of the Troupe's hideouts) when he saw you. You weren’t far, a couple inches away, drinking clumsily and conversing with a person he presumed was a friend by the proximity of it. You had her eyes, he thought. Of course he could see perfectly in the dark, well, he could pretty much use any of his senses to a higher extent, he wouldn’t be a Specialist after all. Your wide eyes gleamed, they squinted when you couldn’t listen. To make matters worse, you had your hair in pigtails, loosely falling down your shoulders, long hair divided by two black hair ties. Just like hers, he thinks. Now, Chrollo is not sentimental, he really isn’t, but the optic parallels cloud his judgement and he wants nothing more but to be by your side, to reminisce the part of him that died a long time ago. He can’t cry, not unless he has a reason- he does nothing without it, but feels touched merely by your presence. Once the decision is finalized, he makes a move.

‘’Excuse me, miss’’ a voice rings behind you. A tall man with dark brown hair and a gloomy set of eyes holds out your house keys, you always shoved them in your pockets, as you considered it safer than your purse, not directly attached to your body.

‘’T- thank you’’ you stammer, you’ve had a couple of drinks as the club lights hit on your face making you stumble against him, the guy behind you dancing so carelessly you’re being pushed left and right either way.

‘’Be careful’’ he smiles as he extends his arm to hold you upright, a mournful look on his face as he walks away. The keys. The man. The drink. Dark. There is no memory of what happened after.

It’s the same voice you hear entering the room, was it even a room? The sounds echo as if you are in a cave.

‘’Finally, here you are darling.’’ he smoothly says as you scream the first thing that comes to your mind ‘’What the fuck do you want?’’. Your voice rips through the ‘cave’ but you are certain it makes no difference. Whoever this is, doesn’t worry about the helpless sounds you’re about to make.

‘’Darling, please don’t yell, I’m right here.’’ the voice of the man inches closer, as the blindfold is being removed from your hurting eyes. Your heart races when you see him in all his glory, ominous stare and a tattoo decorating his forehead (did he have this at the club?), blue orb-shaped earrings, a peculiar attire that reminds you of a Victorian vampire- a long coat with feathers all the way down his ankles and some funny boots. His calm expression while supposed to be relaxing, just increases the nausea in the pit of your stomach, he seems familiar with such processes. As for the place, it isn’t coming to your aid either, you can’t recognize what this used to be (a warehouse? a prison? an actual cave for outcasts in the city suburbs?). You feel the known sensory feeling well up in your eyes, it’s starting to become serious.

‘’W-what to do you want?’’ you utter, unable to scream, well you could but see no point.

‘’Are your hands in pain my darling?’’ his eyes look over your tied wrists with concern as he flinches looking at the knot. ‘’I told Feitan to go easy on you.’’ ‘’Well.. he just never listens.’’

‘’What do you want from me?’’ you cry out, since is he not responding to your questions. You want to scream and beg him to let you go, he didn’t assault you so what does he even want? You had no use to a person, as far as you knew, an unessential addition to people’s lives.

‘’My sweet darling..’’ he murmurs as he prolongs the sentence, his words making the bile rise in your esophagus and travel to your mouth, your nausea from the drugging never really went away.

What sick game is this?

‘’Please excuse the sudden change of heart after our brief encounter at [ ]. I was hoping you can understand that I wanted you here today for a very special reason.’’ he starts and your heart’s thrumming, as you silently beg him to get to the point. You want out of there immediately.

‘’Please!’’ you yelp frustrated ‘’ just tell me.’’

‘’How about I show you? Hmm?’’ he responds, his velvety voice making you gag. ‘’Shalnark!’’ he calls and a blonde guy (boy?) makes an appearance holding a.. tripod and a digital camera, which he sets right next to him, adjusting the tripod’s legs and connecting the mounting head with the camera.

‘’Everything's set up, anything else boss?’’ this guy literally beams as your eyes widen, was this a perverted farce? What did the guy mean with fucking boss?

‘’W-what is this?’’ you yelp but ‘boss’ has his a attention directed at the blonde guy.

‘’Think you’re forgetting something, Shalnark..’’ he playfully scolds the boy and the boy’s eyes light up as if having a sudden godlike revelation.

‘’You’re so right, boss!’’ he widely smiles as he exits.

‘’W-what are you gonna do?’’ you are crying, indescribably anxious as you can't think straight – the psychotic simulation suddenly makes you wish it would’ve been a date rape.

The boy comes back and this time he is holding a wireless microphone, which he passes to the ‘boss’, his name unknown and not your concern at the moment as he wordlessly leaves you once again to his mercy.

‘’Now, sweetheart’’ you flinch at the choice of words, ‘’I would like for you to hold this right here.’’ he tells you indicating the microphone ‘’I’m gonna untie you, please think carefully of your next move’’ he says as he comes close to you, removing the ropes and freeing your bruised wrists. Your eyes flicker, should you try this? He knows. He sees you. He is a Specialist after all, he has a reason. The split second your left foot is turned towards his right side, a wide knife with a sharp blade is pressed to your neck, while you’re being headlocked to his sides. This happens so fast you hardly have time to comprehend it.

‘’Sweetheart’’ he sighs. ‘’The knife’s not just sharp, it’s also poisonous, so please behave.’’ He goes about it as if he deals with things like that daily, you feel your legs trembe and almost snap but he lifts you up and places you back to your initial spot. What kind of a psychotic freak has a poisonous knife on them? And why are his reflexes so fast?

‘’Will you please hold this, darling?’’ he patiently asks again, as he hands the microphone over, your hands shaking and you take it, eyes wide in fear.

‘’Now’’ he smiles. ‘’We’ll go over the script, oh..it’s been such a long time since I’ve done this!’’ he exclaims looking.. happy?

He hands you over a paper with a language you can’t understand and small dialogues, you take it it’s a German variation, as there’s these funny dots over the vowels but also has some incomprehensible words and you can’t make the distinction. On the bottom there’s this image of some superheroes with cleaning devices, one holds a broom, the other one a mop. Nothing makes sense and you feel exhausted as you try to negotiate a way out. Maybe he is just a freak who wants a stupid script played out, maybe it’s that. Maybe you will be able to be free, to see your cat again. Maybe. Logic has left you, but you don't seem to notice.

‘’W-will you.. please ..let me go.. after?’’ you whisper, ready to hear the worst when he simply replies:

‘’My precious, of course! Please grant me this favor and I will set you free immediately, I ask for you to forgive previous gestures on my behalf, it just happens that they mean so much to me’’ as you suspiciously eye him up, this is not a time for bargains or reason so you’ll comply to the freak’s needs.

You start reciting as he cuts you off. ‘’More passion, my angel, you need to say it aloud, shout out the line!’’ and you sniff, what a fucking weirdo.

He makes you retake the incoherent dialogues multiple times, cutting you off, correcting you, shouting at you for not waiting for his part. Of course he assigned himself the leader role, must've been some god complex, no wonder from a perverted mind like his.

It is around the middle of the play, when you mispronounce a word that he seems agitated as he approaches you. He slaps your face with malice, an ominous stare, his eyes burning as you let the microphone fall from his hand’s impact.

‘’You mispronounced this, she’d never do that.’’ he spits and you start feeling a new round of tears forming in your eyes, who she is and what you had to do with her not making any sense in your mind. You start sobbing as you mewl out brokenly.

‘’I-im sorry, we..w-we can redo this, please..’’ and he stares at you, the same pitiful expression on his face. He doesn't look upset though, all that pent up anger left him, the more he looks at your pretty eyes, how could he stay mad at you? You were after all the person he used to care for the most. A veiny hand approaches your now disheveled pigtails (pigtail in actuality, as one hairtie had fallen off during your abduction) and his fingers twirl around it. His lower half close to your face as you look up at him. He is absentmindedly staring at your hair when he kneels down to your height.

‘’I’m sorry’’ he smiles. ‘’Would you forgive me, my darling?’’ his breath fanning on the red mark and your parted mouth. Tears are staining your cheeks as he swipes his thumb to 'clean' you. The proximity gives you chills, his composure remarkable and you hesitantly avert your eyes as you gulp.

‘’Y-yes, sir’’ you whisper, ‘l-let’s continue this’’ you were eager to be let free, eager for this twisted game to end.

‘’No, we shall not occupy ourselves with my play anymore, Sarasa.’’ he tells you.

Sarasa? Who the fuck is this and what did you have to do with her?

You didn’t like the new proximity, it made you anxious, his hands were cupping your jaw as he stood up and tightly grasped the loosened pigtail.

A prominent bulge was decorating his pants and while you tried to avert your eyes, you couldn't help but notice it. His finger grazed over your lips as he slid one in your mouth, observing you from above the whole time, a sigh escaping his lips when he heard you gag.

‘’Suck on it...’’ he orders, ‘’please, darling’’

There was no plea in this tone, just authoritative command. You did as asked and he readjusted his legs. You guessed what was coming and you wanted this to be over, there was no escape but if sucking him off meant you got to be free you’d be more than willing to do that.

He unzips his pants, sliding them down together with his boxers as his cock springs free, he is probably the biggest you've ever seen and you feel anxious thinking of him in your mouth. He must’ve noticed because he chuckles and approaches you. You were about to shut your eyes and start the lewd act when he stepped aside and tied your wrists behind your back again. Left with your mouth hanging open, a victim to his merciless desires, he put his fingers in your mouth again. Your saliva coated the digits, which he removed and placed cautiously on his cock, stroking himself to the sight of you, stricken with fear and quivering, his good Sarasa, how he had failed to protect her, as he continued to jerk himself off in front of you. The scene is lewd, his naked torso protruding over his ridiculously oversized feather coat, his cock oozing his precum and making wet sounds coming in contact with your saliva and a tormented face – his head's arched back and slow ‘’im sorry’’s exit his mouth. You feel a sting in your core looking at him and the vague bile you had in your throat makes you audibly gag. How can you be thinking like this right now? But your body isn't run by your superego, your moral compass doesn't dictate your body’s instincts as your legs are unconsciously brought together to alleviate the pain.

He is getting himself off, glancing at you, knowing you drink him in and his strokes become faster when he suddenly touches your lips with his thumb and parts your mouth only for an angry cock to slam against your throat without a warning, thrusting in and out of you. He hisses and grabs your head to push your mouth and nose all the way down, he wants his release and wants it now. You can't breathe or shout or protest in any way, only wiggling your tied hands and crying out in pain, which comes off as groans that reverberate on him and he crumbles, falling apart, moaning and shooting all his release down your throat. Snots and tears fall on his cock and he slowly removes himself.

‘’What a mess you made, darling’’ he sighs, composure quickly regained.

You were responsible for this?

‘’I hope the camera is still on, because I am intending to punish you, Sarasa’’ he said. ‘’You only had one line, my angel, one line in the entire play and you couldn't make it. You know how much this upsets me?’’ his voice almost breaks, the whole ordeal messing you up even more.

You seriously couldn’t understand him at all, you wanted to get out, your throat already hurting from his penetration and fearing for the next part. You knew it would involve sex and shuddered at the realization he would have to touch you..down there. The thought that you had been wet up until he came in your mouth, the fact that he would soon enough know this, the fact that you had been involuntarily aiding his mission by complying to his cruel needs made you feel vile but you had no time to process that as you felt two arms cutting the ropes quickly, letting you free from the chair you were tied to.

You jump up before realizing it, you’ll run you think (you really don't have time to think, you act solely on instinct) but his agility prevails once again, fast reflexes have your neck choked as he grabs you from behind, the knife with the black handle against your artery as you halt.

‘’This was my last warning, sweetheart, please comply before it’s too late.’’

He is dragging you back, forcing you to turn around, his cock still free and semi hard, was he seriously turned on again by your futile attempts for freedom?

What a sick person he was.

He languidly sits on the chair with his coat draping and touching the floor as he positions you on his bare lap. You draw a sharp breath, as you feel him under you, a disgusting cock rubbing your clothed entrance as he sighs and pulls you in an embrace. He smells like cedar, you think, cedar and sweat as he brings his lips to yours, connecting them softly. You keep them shut, your eyes open and he knows it because he quickly pulls away. ‘’Darling, why don’t you kiss me?’’ he murmurs. You feel a sharp blade trailing down your spine, his knife moves to your sides and pokes at the flesh as he brings his lips close again. Your skirt reminds him of hers and it makes him desperate for closure, he'd protect her better this time, he thinks as his stiff cock touches your panties connecting your heat to his and making you softly whine, sounds you can't control. ‘’Please..’’ he whispers as you connect your lips to his. You let yourself get lost in the moment, your freedom is close but the more you think about it, the more anxious you become and his sadistic tendencies leave no space for slip ups. His mouth devours yours, as it clashes against you, his tongue overlapping yours, of course he'd be in control, while the knife rests on your lower back. You start grinding down his length, hands digging at the roots of his hair as you feel yourself lubricated against your will, you wanted this to be over, that’s what you tell yourself.

With a hand behind your back holding the knife and the other one free, he decides to feel your silky softness, test it for himself, his good girl, how obedient she is under his touch, how eager to be punished for her wrongdoings. He teases your entrance, as he smears the wetness gathered around, you choke on a moan, your still functioning conscious and pride making you want to stay silent but that's impossible with a hand around your clit, a finger sliding with ease inside your walls, curling up and poking inside you. The knife also doesn't leave you with another choice.

‘’I want you to call out my name’’ he hums as he continues his rhythm, you are slowly coming undone on his fingers.

‘’W-what’s your name, sir?’’ you manage to breathe out in between thrusts, you’ve been trying to simultaneously fuck yourself on his fingers, the pressure building up steadily within you.

‘’Chrollo’’

What a funny name.

‘’P-please..Chrollo’’ you whimper, it's when he decides to remove his fingers from you.

‘’Oh, Sarasa’’ he sighs, ‘’you’ve misbehaved enough today, I really wanted to punish you, you know?’’

‘’N-no, p-please, Chrollo’’ you purr his name. At this point calling you Sarasa doesn't even bother you, you got accustomed to it some time ago.

Something in the way you hum his name makes his eyes flicker and he wordlessly drops the knife behind him, as he squeezes his cock to line up with your entrance.

‘’Don’t think I don’t have other means to restrain you, darling’’ he mutters and pulls you down on him, giving you no time to adjust to his girth, the head slamming against your insides as you let out a lewd moan.

‘’S-sir’’ you moan, as you're sucking him in, taking every inch as best as you can given the circumstance, you are dripping down his length, as large palms viciously grope your behind, smashing your hips down his pubic bone. Your pretty face bouncing atop him, wide eyes (oh these eyes) looking at his now fully darkened ones and he watches his pretty girl come apart, soft moans leaving your smudged lips, pigtails now fully disheveled as your hair bounces freely on your delicate shoulders. He observes your mouth, how beautiful it looks each time it curves and smiles at him, each time you’d tell him ‘’Look at what I found!’’ excitedly, a tape among the junk, a broken toy– you were his favorite companion. Chrollo feels himself jerk within your walls, you're trapping him inside and he won't last long.

‘’Come for me, please’’ he hisses, pushing your hips in a way that has your clit touching his groin, you are gripping his hair fervently as you let out small ‘f-fuck 's (involuntarily, you convince yourself) and rock yourself on his length.

He is inching you closer to your relief despite your disdain and you can tell he is there with you, parted mouth leaving shaky, pleading blabbers, as he grabs your hair and twists it in his palm, tugging at it harshly. You are forced to throw your head back so it gives him the opportunity to assault your neck, sucking and biting on it, the sensation tingling and arousing as you come apart, an orgasm taking over you.

‘’C-chrollo’’ you sing, pleasing him and making him groan and cum once again inside you, your core spasms and tightens, clit pulsating and muscles taut as he thrusts upwards to fill you up as much as anatomically possible, his cum seeping from within onto his thighs. He's marked you his twice and doesn't think he'll ever forget.

‘’My good girl’’ he exhales shakily, ‘’my precious, little girl’’ he continues, rubbing your back, as your weight falls on him, the knife tossed behind him looks at you and you shut your eyes.

Chrollo lets you go. He doesn’t order you a ride or have the blonde guy escort you. You have to walk 45 exhausting minutes to find a bus stop and even then, you hardly recognize the area.

Chrollo leaves for the next 6 months, not communicating anything to the rest of the Troupe, people overestimate their closeness. He replays your video every night while he’s away fighting and earning (stealing) abilities, your beautiful, expressive eyes haunt his dreams, Sarasa would like you if she met you. Sarasa would make friends with you. Sarasa, you. What's the difference?

He comes back only to find you sleeping, so peacefully he rejoices at the sight. Absolutely perfect and innocent, he tainted you and you didn’t even care? He smiles. He tells himself you're a bad girl for sleeping with your doors unlocked, just like Sarasa liked to wander on her own and look where that got her. Maybe the door wasn’t unlocked, it’s something he finds irrelevant now. He had kept his promise, he thinks. You should be grateful he’s honest.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #tw dark content #hxh fanfic #yandere chrollo #chrollo hxh #sarasa hxh #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo smut #chrollo x you #tw psychosis #tw dubcon #tw noncon #corollaservant

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corazondebeskar-reads · 5 months

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you know you never stood a chance - epilogue

you know you never stood a chance series

epilogue: maybe light a candle

series masterlist | prev chapter

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Joel hasn't come home yet. (this takes place about three years after the end of the main story.)

Warnings: established relationship, angst, christmas in the apocalypse, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2, mentions of breastfeeding (not as a fetish), found family, poor communication, oral (f receiving), postpartum depression, possibly violating child labor laws by using a baby as a plot device, pls remember I am playing fast and loose with both canon and the timelines lol

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Christmas Eve.

Or, at least, according to the council. You’re not sure if anyone is really sure what the date is anymore.

But for all intents and purposes, maybe it’s Christmas Eve. The holiday is a thin, moth-bitten version of its former self, but you’ve never been the holly-jolly or the religious sort, so Christmas Lite suits you just fine.

Maria had invited you and Lulu to the mess hall for a big meal and activities for the kids. It was less of an invitation than an expectation, but you stayed home anyway.

And maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe she wanted you there for the same reason you didn’t want to be there. She’s fucking tough, maybe the strongest person you know, but she has to be feeling Tommy’s absence today, too. It isn’t Aléjandra’s first Christmas, but likely the first one she’ll remember, which is worse.

But it’s more than it just being Lulu’s first Christmas. It’s that Maria had made a point of telling you that Ellie would be there.

You prepare to watch her leave for the night. The light pours in the window when she opens the shed door, and you know she can see your shadow haunting the living room.

You want Ellie to meet her sister. You dream of it nearly every night. But there’s no way in hell you’re doing it without Joel. It’d break his heart. You like to think she knows, at least. Someone (probably Tommy) had to have told her.

So when she climbs the steps instead of walking past, you freeze. Her knuckles rap against the wood, and you close your eyes. You can’t. You need to, but you can’t.

“Maria asked me to remind you that you promised to come by tonight,” she calls through the door.

She knows you can hear her. She knows you choose not to respond (but she doesn’t know you bite your lip so hard to resist that it bleeds).

It would be wrong. But the ache is so strong you’re convinced it must be a physical wound.

She leaves.

“There goes Ellie,” you tell the baby, as you always do. “She’s got places to be, but she loves you very much.” The guilt of keeping them apart makes you nauseous.

Maybe it isn’t true yet, but you think it is. You think, despite everything, despite the anger she harbors for Joel (and a fragment of that for you), that she already loves her sister. Even if she’s only the shadow of a sister spied through dark windows and across the street.

You wonder if she knows her name. Tommy had started the whole “Lulu” thing, and though it had grown on you now, it made you suspect he hadn’t thought to mention she had a real, full name.

Luna Luann. Luna, for Ellie, and Luann for Joel’s favorite tía, the one who smuggled them chewing gum and taught Joel his strong right hook when the other kids were picking on Tommy.

You’d take this secret to the grave, but you hated the name Luann. But when he brought up the suggestion, he had talked about her for nearly twenty minutes, and so you love the woman despite her name, just for the way she brought a little more of Joel out.

You thought they’d be home by Christmas. You’re trying not to worry, but worrying’s one of the things you’re good at. It doesn’t help that you’re still struggling. You’ve been told it’s normal, but these last two weeks with Joel gone have been so hard.

She’s cutting a tooth (her very first), and you can barely catch a break. You sleep when she sleeps, but it’s never enough. A few neighbors have been bringing casseroles still, and it’s the only reason you’ve been eating.

So, you think it’s probably understandable that you crumble after you watch Ellie walk away and Luna starts to cry. The lights are out except for the single candle in the front window. You keep it lit all night in case Joel comes home. A beacon.

If you had a widow’s walk, you’d be haunting it. But you’re not a widow—couldn’t be, you’re not even a wife—and he’ll be fine. He’ll come back.

Joel always comes back.

It might be Christmas Eve, and you’re slumped against the wall of your living room, crying in tandem with your infant. There’s nothing wrong, you checked. It’s so much worse that she’s probably just picking up on your mood.

You orbit around each other that way. She is the sun that you and Joel revolve around, but his absence has sent you both off balance.

The sun might be the more accurate comparison, but you usually like to say Lulu, your Luna, was your moon, and Joel was the sun. He disagrees. He says he’s the rock, and you are her light.

It was profoundly beautiful, but none of the concepts held up to the reality. The truth was that you were a constellation, but without Ellie, you made no recognizable form. Sagitta with one feather, an arrow that can never fly true.

When you settle down to sniffles and the errant tear, Lulu has fallen asleep against your chest. You creep upstairs and lay her in the crib squeezed between the bed and the wall.

The room was plenty large, and part of it had been set up as a nursery. But after she was born, you spent each night on the floor next to the crib.

Joel hadn’t been having that. After the first week, he sat you down and asked if you’d be able to sleep in the bed if she was next to you.

And then he just… built a second, smaller crib. One that fits right up against your side of the mattress. It was low to the ground, so all you had to do was reach down, and you could feel her little chest rise and fall, or scoop her up to nurse her in the middle of the night. She’ll grow out of it fast, but by then, you hope you’ll feel secure enough to move her to the big one just across the room.

You had been embarrassed. Didn’t want anyone to know. After all, mothers had been putting their children to sleep in different rooms for ages. But you weren’t afraid to tell Joel, knew if there was anyone in this town that understood, it’d be him (and Maria).

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with keepin’ your baby close,” he said, as gruff and blunt as always.

When Joel comes home, he finds you that way. On your side, arm dangling into the crib with Lulu’s tiny fingers wrapped around your own. He sat down and gently tapped your shoulder, trying not to disturb the baby.

“What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?” he whispers when you stir. You blink up at him through sore eyes, then smile softly, sending his heart skittering.

“You’re home,” you say, extracting your finger and sitting up to reach for him.

He wraps you in his arms, lets you burrow into the nest of his broad shoulders. “M’sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, chasing the words with a kiss.

“Tommy okay?”

��Yeah, he’s good. Just hit some delays on the way home. Bridge was out. I thought y’all were going to the party?”

You don’t answer right away. You know he’ll feel bad. That he does feel bad, that the guilt eats a little part of him each day. All he wants is his girls all together.

“I was,” you mumble, feeling the tears prick with a vengeance. “But Maria said… Maria said that Ellie would be there.”

Joel’s arms squeeze you a little tighter for a moment. “Y’know I don’t want to get in the way of you talkin’ to her.”

“I know. But after last time… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, anyway.”

“She’ll come around,” Joel says.

It reignites a new round of self-hatred, that he’s sitting here consoling you. After all, she had spoken to you after their fight. Sat down and told you she wasn’t mad at you, that she knew he probably didn’t even tell you.

And he hadn’t told you, hadn’t clued you in, trying in his foolhardy way to spare you the burden of the lie. And you were mad at him for it; you’d had your own spat after.

But you weren’t mad he did it. Not one bit.

He can tell you don’t want to keep talking about it, and that’s fine by him.

“You miss me, baby?” he murmurs, a teasing brush of his lips over your neck.

You roll your eyes. “Oh no, did you have to go two weeks without gettin’ laid?”

He chuckles, dark and raspy, as he reaches to cup your ass and squeeze, smirking when you gasp.

“And you’re tellin’ me those little fingers were enough for your greedy cunt? Like ya ain’t droolin’ for my cock right now?”

You whimper. He’s right. Two weeks is too fucking long for either of you.

He tugs you properly into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, before he just stands up and carries you into the guest room across the hall. It’s not ideal, but if you leave both doors open, you’ll be able to hear Luna if she wakes.

“How’ve you not thrown your back out?” you grumble as he manhandles you.

He tosses you onto the bed, already peeling off his clothes and pointedly ignoring you.

He’s halfway through tugging his jeans down when he stops and looks at you. “What’re you doing? Let me see ya, sweetheart.”

You’ve long gotten over how easy you are for him. You only hadn’t stripped yet because you wanted to work him up. “You can see me just fine. Or do you need your glasses, old man?”

He takes the bait, shaking his head, before looming over you and running his hands down the sides of his old shirt you use for a nightgown. He barely grazes your breasts, just brushing the tips of your hardened nipples and grinning when you whine.

“Up,” he orders, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

You lift enough for him to pull it off and flop back down. It’s your turn to smirk as he watches the way your tits bounce with deep hunger.

And then he fucking rips the along the side of your panties and pulls them off, throwing them to the floor.

“Hey!”

“Shut up, you can sew ‘em back.”

“I’ve already sewn that pair twice, Joel. You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

“Is that so?” Suddenly his breath is hot against your cunt, and you clench around nothing.

“Uh-huh,” you moan as he runs one finger along the seam of your cunt. “‘Cause you’re a menace.”

“Only for you, darlin’.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Let me do a survey around town.”

He shuts you up by sliding two fingers right into your cunt, the stretch almost too much. Almost. But you don’t really notice because he buries his face between your lips, and any sassy remark comes out in a desperate cry.

He pulls away and gives you a warning look, head tilted. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, thick fingers clamping down and digging into your cheek. It makes you moan, but it also muffles it, so it works out fine.

“If you want your turn, you gotta be quiet. Otherwise, I’ll just have mine and shut you up proper.”

You choke down the moan dredged up by the thought of his cock down your throat and make the saddest pleading eyes you can muster.

He rolls his, shaking his head, before he goes back to your neglected clit.

You’re close, so close when you hear it. You pat Joel’s head, sitting up. “Was that the door?”

The shift is immediate. Three years in town has allowed Joel to relax somewhat, sometimes, but he slips back into it in an instant. He pulls back, brow furrowed, squinting like it’ll help him hear better.

It comes again, louder this time, insistent enough for him to pick up. A firm knocking.

There’s a pause, but Joel’s already on his feet, pulling his clothes back on. He tosses your shirt over as he ducks out of the doorway and you’re slipping it over your head when whoever is outside grows impatient.

Rapid, furious banging rattles the door, and you dart across the hall to shut the bedroom, but it’s too late.

Lulu starts wailing immediately, her little face scrunched up, nose wrinkling, and tears pouring out faster than a faucet. You scoop her up and soothe her, cradling her as she finds solace for her hurt feelings and empty stomach.

Joel goes downstairs, partly to shut up the racket but mostly because the sound fills him with dread. When he opens the door, it flings wide, and the tirade begins immediately.

Ellie storms in, already yelling. “—could you? What the fuck is wrong with you? You won’t even let her come out for fuckin’ Christmas because she might see me?”

You’re going down the stairs as soon as you hear her voice, but she stops yelling when she sees you on the landing.

“It’s not his fault,” you say, face hot with frustration and raw hurt. You hate the way your eyes water.

“Like hell, it isn’t. Maria said you were going to come, that one of you might actually have the balls to tell me you had a fuckin’ baby, and—”

“And I decided not to go, Ellie. Joel wasn’t even home. He didn’t know.”

Lulu has started to cry again, distracted from nursing by your ire. You murmur apologies, kissing the little tuft of dark hair on her head, and try to coax her back to your breast.

Ellie’s eyes are wide, and feet planted, ratty sneakers dripping filthy snow across the floor. Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the tiny, ruddy creature who finally agreed to return to her meal.

“Hey, Ellie. We had a fuckin’ baby,” Joel says after the silence hangs for a minute too long.

The bark of laughter that bursts out of her looks like it hurts, but she can’t fight it. The tension dissolves into absurdity and then tears.

Ellie sits on the ground instead of the perfectly nice sofa to her left. You come down the stairs and sit beside her.

You look up at Joel, and he nods. You wish he’d come sit, but he’s too afraid to break the peace. “Would you like to hold your sister?” you ask Ellie, keeping your voice low and steady.

“Can I? I mean… what if I break her?”

“She’s pretty tough.” Lulu is done eating, just suckling for comfort, so you pry her off your breast and tug your shirt back up.

Joel takes her without thinking, leaning her against his shoulder to help her work out the air.

Once she gives a satisfactory belch, he thrusts her at Ellie, who’s startled enough to take her without thinking about it.

You all hold very still. Except Lulu, who is blissfully unaware of the strife and coos up at her big sister. She bats a little hand at her face, smacking her nose in an attempt to grab on. Ellie laughs, and her smile, her perfect smile that you haven’t seen in a year, breaks out.

You can’t help it; you start crying. Ellie looks up in alarm, but Joel shakes his head, moving closer to rub your shoulder.

“It’s not you,” he says solemnly, “it’s just hard, after.” He gestures at the baby.

“It is you,” you say, and Joel scrubs a hand over his face with a soft groan. “It’s—I’m sorry, I just—”

Ellie’s looking like she might make a break for it. She tries to hand the baby back to Joel, who refuses.

You get ahold of yourself. “It’s not bad, Ellie. I’ve just been waiting for this since she was born.”

Ellie softens and then scowls. “Then you should have told me. You should have told me you were pregnant in the first place. I said you could talk to me.”

“No, I couldn’t,” and you pause as she shoots a dirty look at Joel. “No, not because of him. Because I would have done the same damn thing, so you may as well hate me too.”

“What?” She seems genuinely shocked, which you don’t have the patience for.

“I would do the same damn thing. If I had been there, there would have been nothin’ in the fuckin’ world keeping me from getting to you, Ellie. Nothing short of death. Not then, not now. I’d do it for her, too.”

The room is stifling, and Joel hasn’t even lit the hearth yet. Your breath comes out in little puffs, and every one of you has wet, devastated eyes. Even Lulu, who looks like she might be the first to break into tears.

Ellie looks down and sighs. “So, Lulu, huh?”

“Actually,” Joel says, and chances a step closer, squatting down. “It’s Luna. Luna Luann. Tommy’s just an idiot.”

Ellie’s a smart kid. You can see the moment it clicks—the way she looks up at Joel with something akin to hope. It fades quickly, but you know he saw it, too. His own staggering heart, heavy with love unspoken, is betrayed in the way he has to fight a smile, choke down the relief. Maybe, just maybe.

Maybe next year, you’ll get a tree.

thank you all so, so much.

*title from "Alone This Holiday" by The Used

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us smut #you know you never stood a chance series

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year

Text

Garden of Secrets [16] - Ambrosia

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: There are many ways to feel better after nightmares.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, slow burn, nightmares.

Word Count: 5100

Series Masterlist

But of course, after a couple of nights of complete peace, nightmares came back.

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped into your pillow, your heart pacing in your chest, the fear still making you nauseous. You sat up in bed, trying to catch your breath and wiped at the tears with shaky hands, your throat hurting as you tried to swallow the lump in it.

You were alright.

And you were definitely not in that hellhole your parents called home.

Pushing the covers off of you with a sigh, you looked around the room for a moment, your heart still beating too fast. You knew trying to go back to sleep would be futile, there was no way you could calm yourself enough to fall asleep at least until the dawn broke.

And as the clock on the wall told you, the dawn was at least three hours away.

You got up from the bed and walked to the door before pushing it open and peeking your head out. As suspected, all members of staff were in their beds so you went back into the room to light up the oil lamp, then stepped out of the room, holding it carefully so that you could see where you were going. The half open door of Benedict’s room got your attention and you squinted your eyes to see inside but there was no sound or sign of him.

Perhaps he had left to wherever Lady Whistledown said he kept going before you two got married, or perhaps to his mistresses. You tried to ignore the way the mere thought made your stomach drop, that uncomfortable bitter taste spreading over your throat but you shook your head at yourself.

You weren’t going to be that person. This marriage was a sham and he was free to do whatever he wanted.

You made your way down the hallway but before you could so much as a take a step downstairs, the light coming from the room at the end of the hall caught your eye and you tilted your head, confusion furrowing your brows because you remembered what that room was.

His studio.

Oh.

Well, it seemed that you weren’t the only one awake.

You felt almost guilty for thinking he was off to his mistresses when he was right there, apparently working on his art and you nibbled on your lip, fidgeting in your spot. He probably did not want to be disturbed but you were curious to see what exactly he was doing, not to mention you really didn’t want to be alone after your nightmare. Dragging the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip, you looked down at the dancing flame in the oil lamp before shrugging your shoulders.

If he did not want your presence, he could just tell you.

You walked across the hallway to reach the room and as soon as you did and saw him inside, your heart started beating even faster than it was before.

Of course night clothes were supposed to be more relaxed than formal attire but you were beginning to think that at this point, Benedict put on clothes merely to taunt you and send that fire through your veins. The half open shirt let you take a peek at his muscular chest, the rolled up sleeves showing off his strong arms, and the suspenders over his dark trousers was hanging down at his sides, making you gulp loudly. He was perched on the stool, his whole attention on the painting in front of him and he was completely oblivious to your presence which let you run your eyes over his figure, from his handsome face to his strong body—

And you had made innuendos and criticized Benedict’s appetite for nightly activities with his mistresses.

Hypocrisy was not a fun thing.

You rolled your shoulders back, forcing yourself to focus and cleared your throat to signal your presence, making him turn his head.

“Y/N,” he said after a beat, letting out a breath and you smiled slightly.

“Hello.”

“Hello—I didn’t even hear you, you move very quietly.”

You nodded. “Uh… yeah, it’s a childhood habit.”

He tilted his head, that small smile playing on his lips. “You and Josie used to play hide and seek?”

The nightmare flashed before your eyes and you bit inside your cheek.

“Something like that,” you said and lingered by the door, then nodded at the canvas in front of him. “Are you—is that going to be me again?”

Jesus Christ, what kind of a question was that?

Unlike you, Benedict was not fazed by your arrogant question at all, only a bit surprised but he quickly recovered.

“Not this one,” he said and pointed at the other canvas that only had the half of its background with the brush in his hand. “That one will be you.”

Your head shot up in surprise and you stole a look at him to see whether he was serious or just jesting but he looked completely genuine. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to ignore how his answer had caused a fluttering in your stomach.

“I’m only here because I’m too lazy to start a fire in any of the other rooms,” you lied through your teeth and stepped inside. “I’ll stay here a while simply for that reason but that—that means nothing.”

He repressed a smile and motioned at the room. “Of course.”

You made your way into the room to put the oil lamp on the small coffee table, then sat down on the sofa to grab a book off the table so that you could shuffle through it. Your eyes skimmed the lines and you turned the pages, frowning slightly.

“Half of these are just not good.”

Benedict let out a chuckle. “Which book are you looking at?”

“Great Artists in History,” you read the title out loud and made a face. “Debatable.”

“Which painting?”

You held up the book so that he could see the page better and he raised his brows.

“Really?” he asked. “You don’t like that one?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just think your paintings look better,” you pointed out and he looked taken aback for a moment, that soft light glimmering in his eyes even in the dim-lit room.

“You flatter me.”

“I’ve never done that Benedict,” you told him, “I speak the truth.”

His smile was gentle on his lips. “I suppose we will see if the Royal Academy of Arts share your feelings on that.”

“You want to get into the Academy?”

“If I can.”

“I think you can,” you said. “And I think around a century, you will be on one of these books and people will have no idea you doubted you were as good as these artists here— and my spirit will tell your spirit that I told you so.”

He let out a laugh. “Oh is that right?”

“Mm hm—I mean honestly…” you turned the page and held up the book again. “This man was called one of the greatest artists in history and his work looked like that and you worry about the academy?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That man was also one of the founding members of art academy in Italy.”

You frowned and took a look at the page, then turned to him, holding onto the back of the sofa as you rested your chin on the smooth wood.

“Do you have any idea what I would do if I had half your talent?”

He tilted his head, curiosity etched in his features. “Tell me.”

“I would rule the art world,” you said. “Obviously under a male pseudonym, and I would not give anyone else a second of my time and when the academy contacted me, I would just make them beg me to attend there only to reject them.”

That coaxed out a laughter from him and you bit down a smile, then shrugged your shoulders again.

“It’s a good plan. That’s what I would do if I were you, too bad I cannot paint at all.”

“Have you tried?”

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head. “I cannot even draw anything. One time I tried to describe a certain type of rose to Josie by drawing it, and she thought it was a daisy.”

Benedict pursed his lips to contain his laughter and motioned at you.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“I’ll show you how to paint a rose,” he said and you eyed the canvas in front of him, then shook your head again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Your stomach churned painfully. “I’d…I’d mess it up.”

“No you won’t,” he said. “I promise you, you won’t. We’ll just try it and if you don’t like it, we will just stop.”

You bit inside your cheek, your eyes searching his. “And if it ruins your painting?”

“It will not ruin it.”

You shifted your weight before you got up from the sofa and he stood up from the stool.

“You cannot blame me if it ends up looking terrible,” your voice came out as a demand and he shook his head.

“I would never,” he assured you and you gulped down, then approached him. He held out his hand so that you could take it and he helped you to sit down, then placed the brush in your hand and went behind you.

You could feel how stiff your muscles were as your whole body tensed up, that nervousness spreading through you. You held up the brush, trying your hardest to keep your focus on the very intimidating scenery in front of you—it looked to be a house in the middle of a garden in the mountains, a beautiful landscape you would have admired if it were any other time. Benedict’s hand brushed over your wrist to level it with the canvas but your nightmare flashed before your eyes, making your hand twitch. Benedict immediately pulled his hand back.

“Sorry, I figured it’d be easier—”

“No it’s…” you paused for a moment. “It’s fine. You can hold my hand but not my wrist.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, your body still tense. “It’s just that uh, I broke it when I was little, it didn’t really heal right.”

Benedict hissed in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, doesn’t hurt unless it’s really cold,” you said. “So are we going to paint or?”

“We are,” he said and his hand engulfed yours so that he could dip the brush in paint, then took it to the canvas so that he could guide your movements. His other hand rested on your waist, almost burning your flesh beneath the soft nightgown.

“Relax your hand a little,” he murmured, letting out a noise of approval when you did as he asked. “And your wrist.”

Alright, you had not thought this through.

The warmth of his body right behind you was almost pulling you into a haze along with his irresistible scent tickling your nostrils. You closed your eyes for a moment before you opened them again to see him guiding the brush in your hand over the canvas.

“And you don’t have to really press it that hard, just very slowly…” his low murmur caressed your ears and to be honest at this point, you had no idea whether you were painting a rose or a house or a goddamn planet. All you wanted was to turn around and press your lips to his, those tingles between your legs coming back with their full force, making it so hard to even think about anything else other than him but you bit at your tongue, forcing yourself to focus.

“And those are the petals right there.”

You blinked a couple of times as you gawked at the rose in the garden full of green, and let out a breath.

“Wow.”

“See? I’d plan how I’m going to rule the art world if I were you, you certainly have the talent for it.”

A giggle escaped from your lips. “No you painted that, not me.”

“You’re the one holding the brush.”

“You’re holding it with me!” you retorted and he hummed.

“Every great artist starts from somewhere,” he stated. “Do you want another one?”

You nodded fervently and he chuckled, then started guiding your hand again, making your head spin from excitement. Your heart was beating in your ears as you watched the brush strokes on the canvas, then licked at your lips.

“Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” he muttered and you swallowed thickly.

“Why did you…” you trailed off, stealing a look at the other canvas. “Why would you paint me?”

He dipped the brush in the paint again before guiding it back to the canvas.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he answered as if it was the simplest question in the world. “How could I not paint you?”

Your heart beat got even faster as you bit on your lip, not even aware of just how relaxed your body was while you stared at the finished rose. Your back was resting on his chest, his hand over yours and for a moment it felt so good that it almost caused you pain to pull away from him.

“I um…” you cleared your throat and slipped down to get up from the stool before putting the brush back on the table, then you turned around to look up at him. “I should go I think.”

“Alright,” his voice was low as your eyes captured his and for a moment, you could only stand there and admire his handsome face, painfully aware of just how close you two were standing. If you only pushed the stool away, you could—

You could not.

You were not going to do that.

You averted your eyes from his and stepped away from him to grab the oil lamp and he let out a breath as if trying to pull himself together. You walked to the door and offered him a curt smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” he said softly and you left the room, making your way to the end of the hallway and closed your eyes for a moment, leaning back to the wall. Your hand shot up to your chest to feel your heart pacing and you heaved a sigh, biting at your lip.

Then opened your eyes and started walking to your room, fanning yourself with your hand.

“Aw Clover, I’m so glad you decided to visit!”

You gave your aunt a big smile and handed her the lavender bouquet, and she gasped before taking them from you.

“You’re the absolute sweetest.”

“Far from it,” you said as you kissed her cheek and went to your uncle. “And don’t think I forgot bringing you a gift.”

“Oh I get flowers as well?” he asked as you pecked his cheek, then held up the small package.

“A new handkerchief for your glasses,” you said proudly, “The shop owner said these were specifically made for that purpose.”

His jaw dropped as he opened the package and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you dearest,” he said, putting the handkerchief into his pocket. “I must admit, I’m glad you’re happy in your new home and that you live close by but we do miss you terribly all the same.”

“I miss you too!” you said as your aunt asked the maids to bring some tea and biscuits and you sat down. “Is Teddy here by the way?”

“With Josie,” your aunt said. “Apparently Andrew has bought him a pony.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“When he said he would, I didn’t take him seriously,” your uncle mused. “But apparently he was not jesting.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“I mean who wouldn’t love Teddy though?” your aunt said. “He’s an angel.”

Your uncle nodded. “He really is,” he said. “So when are you and your husband coming for dinner?”

Your head shot up and you blinked a couple of times.

“Oh we haven’t…are you inviting us?” you asked and they exchanged glances, wearing the same smiles.

“Since when do you need an invite? It’s your house,” your aunt said as your uncle nodded.

“And you’re always welcome, but yes we are officially inviting you and Benedict for dinner sometime.”

You swallowed thickly. “I’ll ask,” you said. “I’m sure he’d love it as well.”

One of the maids came carrying a tray of tea and biscuits and your aunt tilted her head, stealing a look at your uncle who seemed to have gotten the clue because he stood up from the sofa. You thanked the maid and turned to look at him.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to go over some papers in my office,” he said. “Make sure to see me before you leave hm?”

“Of course,” you said and he kissed your aunt’s hand, making her smile before he left the drawing room.

“I really missed you,” you told your aunt and she raised her brows, still smiling.

“Did you?” she teased you. “I would have thought you didn’t have the time to miss anyone.”

A fire spread over your cheeks and you shifted your weight. Your aunt and uncle -just like the rest of Benedict’s family- were convinced that you two were having a quite busy honeymoon. Now it made sense that your uncle had left the room, because of course your aunt wanted to ask questions to make sure you were…

Content.

You made yourself busy with reaching out for your tea cup to take a sip.

“Auntie…” you whined and she let out a laugh.

“We’re both married women and we both know what I am talking about, Y/N.”

Half of you was beginning to wish that you and Benedict had consummated your marriage for the sole purpose of not feeling this uncomfortable while lying to everyone.

And the other half of you was thinking consummating your marriage would not be such a terrible idea after last night, after feeling that fire upon him just standing that close to you, his scent in your lungs, his hand over yours—

“Aw, look at you!” your aunt had apparently taken the abashed look on your face as the result of good nightly activities and you hastily put your cup on the coffee table, then took a deep breath.

“Benedict is…”

Handsome.

While you knew you couldn’t possibly say that, it still made you pause. Benedict was incredibly attractive and you certainly wasn’t the first or only lady in the ton to think that. Judging by how in demand he was among ladies before you got married -and even now, you were guessing- it was no wonder you felt this way.

But this desire was beginning to cloud your judgement.

The good news was that you hadn’t had those nightmares after you had gone to sleep last night, but the bad news was that you had had another dream that made you wake up quite breathless for a completely different reason. Just imagining him like that was enough to send those sparks through you, and you could barely look Benedict in the eye this morning because of that.

“Nice,” you ended up saying. “He’s really nice.”

“Then your first night was not unpleasant as you thought it would be?”

You nibbled on your lip and shook your head.

At least that wasn’t a lie.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “Honestly, the way you two look at each other…It’s so obvious you’re madly in love.”

“No we don’t,” you paused. “We don’t look at each other like that in—in public.”

“Oh you don’t even realize it do you?” she asked. “Honey, you two look at each other like you cannot see anyone else in the room.”

Of course you two weren’t looking at each other like that. While it was true that you often felt like Benedict was the only person in the room whenever he was within your sight even in the crowd, you were certain that your aunt was talking about your pretense, nothing more.

“That’s love,” she insisted. “And it is absolutely the most beautiful feeling in the world.”

You swallowed thickly and took a sip of your tea.

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, love. It really is an interesting feeling.”

You had excused yourself right after the dinner and gone straight to your room. Not only were you so incredibly flustered by how you kept remembering your dream from last night if you so much as looked at Benedict, you were also very sleepless and in need of some rest.

And yet, all that exhaustion was apparently not enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

You jolted awake in bed, gasping for air, your eyes snapping open into moonlit room. You could feel your whole body shaking and a sob escaped from you, making you take a deep breath in hopes of calming yourself down but it was no use. You pressed your palms into your eyes as you sat up in bed, your jaw clenched so hard that it almost hurt your whole head.

That lump in your throat felt like it was growing bigger as your nightmare flashed before your eyes and you lowered your hands, trying to stop the tears by blinking fast. You pushed the covers off of you and swung your legs over the bed but the fear was rushing through your veins so fast that for a second you felt as if your legs would give in if you so much as tried to stand up. You frowned to yourself and slowly got up from bed, then shook your head at yourself.

Jesus Christ, you needed to pull yourself together.

You wiped at your eyes again and walked to fill yourself a glass of water from the jug on the table, then downed it in huge gulps. It didn’t seem to calm you down as much as you hoped you would but it was still better than nothing, so you took another deep breath and checked the clock on the wall.

Midnight.

Of course.

You lingered in your spot for a moment, biting at your lip then walked to the door to open it, then looked outside. There was no sign of any movement or light in the house, and Benedict’s door was closed so it meant he was sleeping. You stepped back into your own room and stole a look at the door connecting your room to Benedict’s, the one you kept locked. You approached it and leaned in, trying to pick up any noise but there was none.

After last night, after having seen Benedict and sharing that moment with him in the studio, you had been able to sleep without any nightmares.

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat, then before you could change your mind, you unlocked the door and knocked on it.

“Benedict?” you whispered but of course there was no answer. You tried to ignore the nervousness bubbling in your stomach and closed your eyes for a moment, let out a breath, then opened your eyes again and half opened the door.

You could make out his sleeping form in the bed under the moonlight so you licked your lips and tried again.

“Benedict!”

That seemed to have woken him up and he rubbed at his eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice coming out as a rasp and he sat up in bed and just like that, your mind stopped working in an instant.

He was naked.

Well, half naked but it barely made any difference. You thought your whole face—your whole body—caught fire as your eyes raked over his muscular torso, that familiar throbbing between your legs coming back in its full force. He looked like a perfectly made sculpture, and for a moment you couldn’t hear anything because of the blood rushing in your ears, desire roaring through you.

“Are you alright?” his voice shot through the haze and you snapped back to your senses, thanking darkness for concealing your hungry gaze.

“Y-yeah, were you-” you stammered, trying to pull yourself together. “Were you sleeping?”

Great. As it turned out, seeing Benedict half naked managed to turn you into a goddamn idiot.

Benedict paused for a moment, then cleared his throat, running a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah but it’s okay,” he assured you. “What happened?”

“I was just wondering…” you gulped down and motioned at the door. “If I um—if I can keep it open for the night? Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

You leaned sideways to the doorframe and nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

You paused for a moment and nodded again, biting inside your cheek.

“Yeah but I can handle them,” you said. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask that. Sorry about waking you up, I’ll just…keep it open for the night.”

“Or you could—” he said in a haste as soon as you took a step back into your room and you turned around to look at him better. “You could sleep here.”

Your heart skipped a beat, nervousness and excitement melting into each other until you had no idea what you were feeling and you pulled back slightly, your hesitation making him sit up straighter.

“Just sleep,” he added quickly. “I swear to you. Just… I don’t think you should be alone if you’re having nightmares.”

You stood there in complete silence for a couple of seconds, your thoughts like a storm in your head before you took a deep breath and licked your lips.

“Just sleep?” you asked and he nodded fervently.

“Just sleep, I promise you.”

You shifted your weight, then went back into your room to grab multiple pillows off your bed. You made them into a pile and gathered them into your arms, then made your way back into Benedict’s room, barely able to see where you were going because of the pillows in your line of sight.

“Y/N, I have pillows here,” he said, rushing to help you and you shook your head.

“No I know,” you said, trying your hardest to keep your focus on the bed as he took the pillows from you, then placed them on the bed.

Dear God, he looked so good.

“Then?”

You forced yourself to look up at him. “Huh?”

“Why are you bringing them with you?” he asked as he sat on the bed and you licked your lips, then started putting the pillows right between where you and he would be sleeping. Benedict tilted his head.

“Ah.”

“So that we…” you trailed off, still forcing yourself to keep yourself busy with the pillows and Benedict chuckled.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have the pillow counterpart of Great Wall of China on my bed,” he commented and you shrugged your shoulders, pulling back when all the pillows were placed between you.

“See? So that we don’t accidentally cross into each other’s space.”

He nodded slowly. “Would you like to put a sword there as well?” he asked with a small grin. “Like Tristan and Isolde?”

“I never really liked that story,” you answered, your whole face still on fire while you tried your hardest not to gawk at his naked torso and he hummed.

“Why?”

“I don’t like annoying protagonists.”

“They were in love.”

“Eh, it’s the same thing,” you pointed out. “Everything aside, it’s simply not realistic.”

“Well, myths aren’t exactly known for their accuracy to real life.”

“No one dies of a broken heart,” you insisted and stole a look at his muscular body, then gulped loudly. “Any—anyways, I’m going to sleep now.”

You laid down and casted a glance to the pillows which were so high that you couldn’t even see him if you wanted.

And you really, really wanted it.

You frowned, reprimanding yourself in your head and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the bed dip on the other side as Benedict laid down as well. You stole another look at the pillow wall to your side and nibbled on your lip.

“Benedict?”

You could almost hear his smile. “Hm?”

“My aunt and uncle want us to attend dinner in their house sometime.”

“That’s nice of them. When?”

“When are you free?”

“Whenever you want me to,” he said and you licked your lips, turning in bed to run your fingernail over one of the many pillows between you.

“Thursday?”

“Of course,” he said and paused. “Oh, my mother invited us as well by the way. Whenever you want.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She reprimanded me for not telling you today.”

You frowned and sat up so that you could see him. “Reprimanded you? When exactly did she invite us?”

He gave you that charming lopsided grin. “Like three days ago—”

“Benedict!”

“We’re technically in our honeymoon,” he said, still grinning and you shot him a look. “Just let them wait before they question us about literally everything, because in case it has escaped your notice, my family tends to be quite chaotic.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, trying not to melt at that handsome grin.

“You need to tell me these things,” you insisted and he held up his hands.

“My deepest, heartfelt apologies,” he said. “But seriously. They can wait.”

“No they cannot,” you shook your head. “Besides, I quite like your family, chaotic or not.”

A soft light glimmered in his blue gaze and you looked up at the ceiling.

“I just need to make a plan because if we go to their house for dinner, we should invite them within a week,” you said. “Same with my uncle—just clear out your schedule for dinners this week, alright?”

“As my lady wishes,” he said and for a moment it hit you just how married you two sounded but contrary to what you would expect, the thought didn’t fill you with dread. On the contrary, it sent a strange warmth through you and you frowned slightly, then took a deep breath and slipped deeper into covers. You turned a little so that you could face the pillows to your side and bit on your lip, running your fingertips over the silk pillowcase. There was some movement on the other side and for a moment you imagined him doing the same, facing you even if you two couldn’t see each other.

“Good night Y/N,” his voice was soft and a smile curled your lips, that warmth rushing through you again.

“Good night Benedict.”

Chapter 17

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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callsigncherub · 10 months

Text

Summary: Think I like you best when you're just with me and no one else.

Your friendship with Bradley was questionable after you both decided to become friends with benefits. What happens when you realize you've fallen in love with him?

Warnings: Angst, fluff, a teeny amount of smut.

Word count: 2409 words

The dynamic between yours and Rooster’s friendship was confusing to most people, including yourself. You were his best friend, and he was yours.

Initially, that’s all it was, and you were happy with that. But, somewhere over the last two years you’ve both spent together back at TOPGUN, the line between friends and lovers became blurred after a particularly heavy night of drinking whilst celebrating a successful mission with the squad at the Hard Deck. At the time, you and Rooster had both agreed that it was a one-time thing that wouldn’t change your friendship, because it didn’t mean anything.

And how wrong you both were.

Because suddenly, its 3am and you’re pulling Rooster into your apartment in a heated kiss, the buzz from the alcohol you’ve both consumed burning through your veins as you’re undressing each other in a mixture of lust and urgency, inevitably falling into bed with one another.

And you love it. The praises he’s mumbling against your neck in between placing wet, hot kisses over your pulse point as you come undone on his fingers, gripping his hair as if your life depended on it. Or the way he cradles your face in his hands and whispers about ‘how fucking perfect you are, his girl taking his cock so well’. But soon after you’ve both collapsed, fucked out from the night’s activities, you find yourselves sharing meaningless pillow talk about a future that doesn’t exist, looking at each other through eyes so intimate and familiar. Eyes that felt like home.

But somewhere along the line you fell, hard and fast at the thought of what you could be and all the things you wanted to last with him. In the moments, you were fast for him, and in all of the nights you spent together, tangled in the sheets, covered in sweat, and panting heavily, you gave him everything. It felt like every inch of your body was his, every breath of your soul belonged to him, and every beat of your heart was made for him. Making love soon became falling in love.

The hardest part of suffering the consequences of this viscous cycle of fucking and immediately pretending nothing had ever happened was that whilst you wanted all of him, all he wanted was your body. Nothing more, nothing less. But no amount of warning in the world could have prepared you for that familiar nauseous feeling in your stomach that you’d get waking up in the morning alone.

You often find yourself thinking about the way you feel when his eyes look directly into yours as he calls you baby, especial to his somatic pleasure only, and you desperately try to hold him close, to savour the way his body feels against your own. But it makes you wonder if you’re enough for him, or if your sole purpose is to make him cum. He’s not yours to keep and that makes you feel the guilt of breaking your rule. No feelings. This doesn’t change anything, We’re still friends. Best friends. But somewhere along the way, boundaries washed down the drain and the memories you shared began to slip away and fade into nothing.

And that’s how you’ve ended up sat in your car, in the parking lot of the Hard Deck gripping the steering wheel so tightly you have borderline cramp in your hands, trying your hardest to catch your breath whilst hot tears carve a ruthless stinging sensation down your cheeks.

“You’re jealous.” Phoenix said, patting you on the back and handing you a beer. She followed your eyes to where you were burning holes through the back of Rooster’s head whilst he was chatting to one of the girls who worked behind the bar.

“What are you talking about? I am not.” You defended yourself, but not once did your eyes move, still trained into a scowl, forehead aching from the frown that’s been etched into your features for the last 20 minutes.

“Look, I’m not judging you, Aries, but I really think you should tell him how you feel because its obvious there’s something going on between you two.” She huffed, wishing one of you would just bite the bullet and admit your feelings for each other. She knew there was something going on with You and Rooster, everyone did, they could see the mutual pining, the tiptoeing around one another. Everyone felt like they were watching a continuous game of catch and release – maybe, one day, you could both find the courage to tell each other how you really feel about each other.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood to have my feelings hurt anymore tonight, Nix.” You mumbled, downing your beer, and turning to face her. “He’s my best friend, and if that’s all he’ll ever be then I’m happy with that. In don’t want to lose him over feelings I’ll eventually get over.” About to turn back to the bar, ready to order another drink and continue to drown your sorrows pathetically for the rest of the night, the bile that rose up in your throat and the tears prickling the corners of your eyes at the sight of Rooster with his arm around said girl was enough of a sign to tell you it was time to go home.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head home for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You announced quickly before grabbing your things and rushing out the door, heading straight for your car.

“Wait! Don’t leave, this isn’t worth it. Trust me you just need to talk to him.” She called after you, but you never looked back.

It was in that moment that Phoenix immediately saw red, she’d had enough, and, in all honesty, the squad had placed a $50 bet on who was going to make the move first. And not only did she want her money, but she also wanted to spite Hangman who had been droning on for months about how “Roosters to pussy to admit how he feels.” So, before her brain could catch up to her actions, her legs carried her over to where Rooster was now stood on his own at the bar after his date for the night had head home.

“Hey Nix, where did Aries go? –“

“Shut up Bradshaw, whatever is going on between you and Aries, you need to talk about it. You need to tell her how you feel.”

“I really don’t feel like getting rejected tonight, Phoenix.”

“Funny, she said a similar thing to me, right before she left because you were too focused on blondie to notice she was even here.”

In that moment, Bradley new he’d fucked up, bad.

You couldn’t be mad; Rooster was never yours to begin with and he deserved to have fun – she was a pretty girl, and she wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was all innocent enough. But you couldn’t help but wish you were her with his arm around you laughing and having a good time. And you felt more shame than anything that you’d even put yourself in this position in the first place, that you’d ever let yourself get this hurt over something you could have controlled in the first place.

The thing is, Rooster often spent his nights wondering what it would be like to have a future with you in it as more than just his best friend. He wanted you and only you, but he’d never found the right time or the right words to say. So, after a night well spent with you, he’d often find that as much as he wanted it, sleep never came. And as you lie there, bathed in the dim glow of the moon, eyes closed peacefully, and chest rising and falling at a steady pace, he would take the time to admire just how beautiful you looked. And in doing so, couldn’t help the ache in his chest when he realised just how badly he wanted to call you his. You’re completely unaware of your surrounding and he laughs to himself as he watches your body curl into him, and your hand placed on his chest twitch every so often. Soon after, one-night blends into another day and he’s sure to smooth your hair over and place a kiss to your forehead, before gathering his things and leaving quietly, making sure to lock your door on the way out.

He didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way, but now that you’ve left the bar and he knows you’re upset with him, he feels all the more disappointed in himself for not telling you how he’s felt since he laid eyes on you on your first day back at TOPGUN. Instead, he thought that if sleeping with you was the only way he could be as close to you intimately enough to feel like you were his and he was yours, then maybe it would make him feel better.

You eventually wiped your eyes, and the drive home was a silent one filled with the frequent sounds of your sniffling. Parking your car and heading into your apartment, you slumped down on your bed and continued to cry until you physically couldn’t cry any longer. Then you looked in the mirror at your now ruined makeup. “Your pathetic, stop crying, this is your own fault.”

Meanwhile, Rooster was already in the Bronco, driving as fast as he could to your apartment in a desperate attempt to make sure you were okay and hopefully tell you how he felt. Because in that moment, where Phoenix handed his ass to him earlier on in the night, he knew that nothing, even potential rejection, could upset him more than knowing he was the one to hurt you tonight.

“Fuck Aries, pick up the phone, please.”

You were about to grab a glass of water before heading to bed when a loud bang on the door startled you and you nearly dropped the glass in your hand. Placing it down on the counter, you huffed and opened your door to reveal a very sympathetic looking pilot staring right back at you. Stuck in two minds about slamming the door in his face or moving to let him in, you chose the latter option and locked your door behind you.

“Can we talk?” Rooster mumbled, leaning against your kitchen counter, heart breaking at the sight of puffy eyes and a tear-stained face looking up at him.

“Sure.” You said, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

You gestured to your sofa and sat down at other ends. An awkward silence filled the room, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole as you realised you were sat there in one of his old UVA shirts that you’d stolen from him a while back. Even though he’d seen every inch of your naked body, you felt too exposed and the chill coming in from your open window sent a sheen of goosebumps over the exposed skin of your legs.

“Phoenix told me you left, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Rooster mumbled.

“You could’ve called me for that, you didn’t have to come all the way here.” You bit back, shocked at your sudden outburst.

“I did Aries, you didn’t answer.” He said, taking a in a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face.

You moved to grab your phone from you purse that you’d thrown onto your coffee table in a fit of frustration once you’d arrived home and saw that you did, in fact, have about 20 missed calls from him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t looking at my phone. Is there anything else you wanted to say because I’m really tired and just want to go to bed.” You sighed; already done with the conversation you’d hoped would turn out differently.

You weren’t really sure what happened next, but all you could feel was Roosters lips on yours. He pulled you into his lap, stroking your sides as you relaxed into the kiss – your body was on fire, melting against his own as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in further. But before anything could progress, he was gripping at your sides and pulling you off of him.

“Aries” he panted, “This isn’t what I’ve come here for. And that’s when the tears immediately sprang back to your eyes.

“What have you come here for then Bradley? Because every week you’re here and not just to talk. I don’t know what the hell you want from me anymore and I can’t do this!” And that’s when the floodgates well and truly opened. “One moment you want me and the next you’re with someone else. All of this has been a mistake. I feel like I’ve lost my best friend.” You whimpered.

“No, no Aries, I’ve come here because I love you! I fucking adore you and I hurt you. I hurt you by not telling you how I felt, and I let you leave tonight because I was too busy trying to find yet another distraction because there’s no way I was going to ruin our friendship if you don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I’m sorry that it took Phoenix twisting my balls about it before I said anything. If you think I’d ever want anyone else when I have you then I’ve failed in showing you how much you mean to me.” He sighed frustratedly, reaching out to take your hands in his own.

“I love you too. I didn’t think you felt the same way, I didn’t want to tell you and ruin our friendship” You whispered as he pulled you back into his lap and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. “Wait, Phoenix spoke to you?”

“Yeah.” He laughed “She didn’t really talk to me, more like yelled at me in the middle of the bar.”

“Oh my god” You burst into a fit of giggles, silently thanking Phoenix.

“So…How about I take you out tomorrow night hm?” Bradley said tilting your chin up to look at him, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I’d like that.” You hummed, grinding your clothed core over the growing tent in his jeans.

“K sweetheart. I love you.” He moaned, picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom.

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Taglist:

@aistash

@minichrismd

@ishipdabands

@ishipit1420

@roosterscockpit

@roosterforme

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