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slasherbvnnie · 1 year

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Until We Found You | Part IV

Welcome back! This time we have the second ghostface smut. Part V will be out later tonight, but no smut! Just some pure angst and fluff. As always, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Oral female!receiving, Overall smut

Part I Part II Part III Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

Word Count: 2673

You had a good five seconds on campus before someone finally noticed. Before you even made eye contact with her for the first time that day, Tatum let out the biggest gasp she had ever made and grabbed your shoulder. “And who did you spend your night with,” she asked as you immediately blushed, covering up your hickey with your palm. “None of your business, tate,” you said as Stu laughed and put his arm around Tatum’s waist. “Maybe Randy finally got his shot, I mean with how scared you must be about the killer, maybe he offered some protection for you,” Stu joked as Billy laughed.

“Don’t get the dork all worked up, Stu, you might put one too many ideas in that perverted brain of his,” Billy said as Randy rolled his eyes. “I can confirm it was not me, sadly, one of us actually has a job instead of living off student loan refunds,” Randy said as the group put their attention back on you. “Well, whoever mauled you better show up at the mall after class today. I wanna see who gave you that, you know, to vet them or whatever,” Tatum said as Sidney nodded. “Yeah, and then we’ll get on their case for mauling you,” she added, making you laugh.

Your day was mostly spent around nervously tiptoeing around the girls questioning you on who you spent the night with. You had talked to other people on campus that didn’t include your little friend group but had never shown interest in them, so they questioned you on any and every one they knew to see who it was. “Okay, what about the guy who almost hit you with that football last week, Kyle? Kit? Kaleb.” Tatum recalled, “Kevin, and no,” you answered simply as Sidney took a stab at it. “Nah, it has to be Oliver,” she suggested, making you pause and show a gross look. “One of my biggest bullies in high school? No thanks,” you shrugged as Billy turned his gaze to you, Stu looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

“Bully?” Billy questioned as you nodded. Throughout most of school you had been bullied, not really by one group in particular but there were enough to only leave you with Casey as one of your only friends until senior year. It stopped when college came around, no one cared enough to bully someone they spent one hour a day with. “Yeah, he always bullied me, ever since second grade. At first everyone thought he liked me because they thought being mean to someone was how you showed a crush but after this one time he faked asking me out in high school just to stand me up, it came kinda clear he hated me,” you explained with a little bitter laugh, going silent when you noticed the awkwardness.

Billy’s face was stone cold, but you could tell in his eyes that he was angered. “It’s fine, I’m over it now, but yeah, definitely not someone I would let sleep with me,” you said as you looked away, not noticing the glance that Stu and Billy shared. “Is he still a dick to you?” Stu asked as you laughed, “I guess? I dunno, I find it more funny that he’s still got a grudge against me for some reason, but at least he doesn’t try to pull my hair anymore,” you said jokingly.

“How about we go in there?” Tatum suggested as you and Sidney both shared a laugh, “what? You have a mystery date and you might want a cute outfit for Billy sometime,” Tate said as you and Sidney looked to each other before looking at the boys. “How about you two run off for a bit instead of being giant pervs, we’ll meet up again at the food court,” you suggested as Billy and Stu were quick to agree. Their rapid head shakes made you all rile up with laughter, smiling and heading into the store together.

“Sooo, what’s your mystery dates favorite color?” Tate asked as you smiled, “I don’t know actually, that’s a good question,” you hummed as you looked at the different choices of lingerie that lined the store. “I think they like any color really,” you said as you spotted a red laced set, it was a bralette styled top that had strips running down the side to connect to the underwear. Sidney noticed where your eyes lingered and laughed, “they’re kinky, huh?” She joked as you laughed and nodded, “really,” you agreed. You picked through the outfit to find your size, wondering if ghostface would like it, you guessed they probably would enjoy the blood red color of it.Later that night you were in your bathroom, glad that your parents had left to have dinner at your grandparents, which they did very hesitantly given the incident a few days ago. When you reassured that with all your friends only a few blocks away and access to cars, as well as the marvelous creation of phones to dial 911, they let you be.

You found yourself looking in the mirror as you checked yourself out for the 100th time in the lingerie you had bought. You blushed and wondered if your masked killer would enjoy the outfit, running your hand slowly across the lace fabric. You heard a noise from outside, quickly throwing on a tshirt- one you didnt care about if ruined again- and pj shorts before heading out into your bedroom.

You peeked over your window to see nothing, frowning to yourself before sighing and taking a seat on your bed. But when you were met with the back of the costumed body looking over your vanity you let out a small scream, making them turn to you. “Jesus christ you scared me!” You yelled at them before relaxing, “no window climbing this time?” You asked as they shook their head, continuing to look around the room. You noticed their little glances around the room, curious as to why they were studying it. They turned towards you once more, walking over to you and looking you over. They were less aggressive than last time, using two fingers to tilt your head up to them. Their fingers were warm, which caught you off guard, just yesterday they were cold to the touch.

“There’s two of you?” You questioned, their demeanor changing quickly as they grabbed your chin. “I-I don’t know who you are, i swear. It’s just- y-your touch…” you spoke quickly, trailing off as their grip loosened. “The last one was cold, kinda felt like a corpse,” you said jokingly, “and you’re warm…plus you keep looking around like you haven’t been here before.” You said to them, their touch going back to just gently holding your chin up. They moved away from you, going back to your vanity and grabbing a small black bag, bringing it over to you. You blinked in surprise, looking up to them before they gestured to open it. You reached into the bag, pulling out a piece of paper that was torn, giggling at the words that were printed onto it. ‘Sorry about the last guy :(‘

“See? I would have figured it was two of you anyways,” you said as they shook their head. You smiled, reaching back into the bag and looking at your two new Carrie shirts. One was in the style as your previous one, the other a different one but still in the correct size. “I didn’t think I would actually be treated to a new shirt,” you admitted, hearing a chuckle from them. You didn’t say it out loud, but your heart was filled with joy knowing these two masked killers, regardless of not knowing them, were being so kind and caring towards you. You swooned, noticing how different the two seemed. The other one scared you a little, not really knowing their true intentions, but this one seemed so much more gentle and sweet with you. “I um, I also had a little surprise for you,” you said, noticing how they perked up at your words.

A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked up to them, adjusting yourself before sitting up on your knees. “but you’ll have to take my clothes off first to see it, mr. ghostface.” you whispered out, which made them grab you by the waist and lay you down on the bed. They didn’t take out the knife, instead their hands darted to the hem of your shirt and lifted it up to reveal the red lingerie underneath. A small groan left them as they quickly worked on taking off your shorts, making you giggle at the rush in their actions. You let out a little whimper as they groped you, aware now of how unintentionally strong their grip was. They squeezed your breast that was covered in the lace, their other hand roaming up and down your side. The lack of their touch made you whine out, pouting up at them before they moved to grab the final thing from the bag. A new blindfold, one dedicated just for you. They were quick to tie it, making sure you didn’t see through it by waving in front of you.

All you heard was a little thump of the mask and them struggling to take their gloves off before you heard the rest of their clothing thump to the ground. Before you could even take in a breath you felt their hand already cupping your core, their lips attacking the part of your breasts that were left uncovered from the lingerie. They roamed around before their lips were now on your neck, creating a new hickey right above the old one. You moaned softly, a shaky hand reaching to grab their arm.You could feel their muscles contract and tighten at the touch but when you made no movement to touch elsewhere, they quickly calmed down and continued their lust filled attack on you. They teased you over the lace panties you wore, their smirk growing as you let out little huffs and moans. The bed lifted, their frame no longer causing it to dip and your hand was left holding nothing, a small pout made its way to your agitated frown as their touch left you. After a moment you gasped, feeling their hands spreading your legs apart as they placed gentle kisses onto your inner thighs.

It was the first time you felt the blade, but they didn’t trail it across your skin like the other, instead they used it to make you exposed to them. Another whine left you, “you owe me a new outfit again, this was brand new,” you whined, they responded with a nip to your inner thigh, not doing anything else before diving into you.Your back arched on impact, their tongue on your clit as they spread you open with their thumbs. “fuck,” you moaned out, your thighs closing around their head to lock them in place in pure instinct. They were skilled at this, eventually finding the perfect pace that had you shaking and squirming. Every time you tried to shimmy up and get away from the pleasure, their large hands wrapped around your thighs from behind and pulled you back down onto their face. You weren’t even aware of how many minutes had passed before your thighs were shaking, only being held up by their grip. “Wait, fuck, you’re-“ the breath was knocked out of your lungs as they entered their middle finger into you, their pace matching that of their tongue as they thrusted it in and out of you.

A loud moan left your lips as you came, whines and whimpers erupting from your chest as their ministrations didn’t stop. “Please, please, ‘s too much,” you pleaded, clawing at your bedsheets as they just hooked their arm around your thigh and pulled you down back onto their face once more. It was practically like a scene from the Exorcist as you came again, your back arching off of the bed as you nearly let out a scream from all the pleasure. This time they slowly pulled away after you came down from your high, lapping at you one last time before pulling away and hovering over you. Your chest heaved as you did your best to catch your breath, smiling softly at the gentle kiss they placed onto you. You felt them snake their hand into yours, making you giggle as they wrapped their fingers in the spaces between your own. A smile curled onto their lips when they heard your laugh, growing even wider when you let out a moan as their free hand went back to your entrance. They still held your hand as they pulled back a little, your legs spreading more as you felt them running their tip along your slit.

At every swipe to your clit you let out a moan, gasping when they entered you. Within a second their lips were attacking your neck again, earning whines and moans from every bite, lick, and thrust that they tortured your body with. The pleasure was dizzying, you had never really gone so many rounds with someone before, the recovery time was practically nothing with how fast your climax was building up again. They were more gentle, their free hand roaming over the bralette you still had on, teasing your nipples over the fabric as they littered your skin in love bites. You were already regretting Tatum’s and Sidney’s teases about them tomorrow but for now, you accepted your fate.

Their pace was quick but managed to hit all your sweet spots, their hand that held yours was gripping you so tightly their knuckles turned white, which only brought you closer to the edge. Their free hand found its way to your clit again, rubbing it in time with their thrusts to completely overwhelm you. Your orgasm washed over you hard, the seconds felt like they lasted a lifetime as you did your best to come down from your high, but their continued sloppy thrusts didn’t help one bit. A loud whine left you as they came, biting into your neck to cover up their moan. They pulled out slowly, letting go of your hand and kissing you once again. Unlike the other ghostface, they laid down in the bed with you, pulling you against their chest. You accepted the invitation, resting against their chest and listening to their heartbeat as you recovered from your orgasm.

“Next time…do- uh,” you spoke softly, a bit shy to get your thoughts out into words. You felt their fingertips tracing your jaw, relaxing as their thumb ran over your lips. “Do you think the both of you could come by next time? You- uh, you don’t have to but…” you trailed off as they kissed you, feeling their head move in a nod. You smiled, heart fluttering with excitement knowing both of them would be alone with you. “And don’t forget the new lingerie set, please,” you requested with a little laugh. It was an hour later, ghostface gone and you freshly showered and dressed in your pajamas again.

Your phone rang, seeing Sidney’s caller id and answering quickly. “Hey, have you seen any of the police cars pass by?” She asked as you looked out your window, “no, how come?” You asked as Sidney sighed. “Oliver, the neighbors said they heard screaming and shit breaking and when police got there they said he was dead,” she said as you frowned. “Do they know if it was the killer?” You asked, “yeah, neighbors said they saw him running off. They tried going after them but they couldn’t catch up.” She told you, you sighing and shaking your head. “That’s so creepy…” you said, thinking back to the conversation you all were having earlier that day. You couldn’t help but wonder if ghostface was stalking you, if they already knew you and your past.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #scream au #poly!ghostface x female reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream #scream1996 #billy x stu x reader #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #poly!ghostface smut #smut #fluff #angst

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pedgito · 3 months

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MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Five: Mr. Miller

Chapter Summary: Years later, you find yourself with choices that feel impossible. And of course, Joel Miller is there at the root of them. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (formerly), time jump, joel is a successfully published writer, reunions, drinking, semi-public sex in a bathroom, m!oral, unprotected piv, job proposals, ambiguous endings

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Word doesn’t travel, thankfully. It’s handled swiftly, quietly. Mostly be the discrepancies of Joel, who allows himself to take the full responsibility—for you, for him, and definitely not for Tess.

You’re not sure what expels in the office after you leave that night, other than the gradually rising voices of the troubled couple and Joel–he sounds tired, exasperated, done before Tess can get a word in edgewise. But, you don’t linger much longer.

Joel, however, can’t seem to grasp something to anchor him down, feeling himself slip into a quiet rage. Tess forces the ultimatum on him that night. Either he owns up to, tells her everything, or she would make the divorce hell. He knew she was capable of being vindictive, but he never thought it would be aimed at him. And he knew it all boiled down to him never forgiving her own undue and unjust actions. A bitterness that lingered, festered, and now that she had caught him in his own mess, like he had to her, it was too poetic for her to let things go.

Joel resigns a few weeks later, your interaction minimal—he doesn’t even speak directly to you anymore. He feels like he’s being watched, judged, under constant scrutiny. The reality was that no one knew what had transpired, but it felt louder than ever. The rest of the year is quiet and dull, but you manage.

And the months that follow, they’re fine. But, the spark you had for literature then, even if slightly skewed by Joel and his nefarious obsession with you, never really returns.

The divorce comes several months later for Joel—it isn’t quiet. It’s messy, it’s difficult. Despite his willingness to comply with Tess’s conditions over his pseudo-fling with you, she goes back on her word. Eventually though, he cuts his ties and moves on. And it shouldn’t freak him out that he sees your face in his mind every night after nearly a year of knowing you, but it’s the way he’s memorized every detail about you that paints itself in vivid pictures.

Eventually things get easier and you move on, but Joel can’t bring himself to forget.

He leaves a voicemail on the day of your graduation, a couple years passed, and he still knows—he memorized the day and even if it was without intention, he still feels the pull. To explain or apologize. Something.

He can’t explain why he’s so hung up on the moments he shared with you until the words begin to pour out. And you find yourself curled up on your bed the night of graduation, exhausted mentally, emotionally, physically—but then you see his name on your phone and you break.

You press play on the voicemail and place the phone on the bed.

‘I really…don’t know if you’ll even listen to this. I don’t expect you to, but I wanted to apologize. I manipulated a shitty situation to my advantage to forget my own problems. The shit going on within my own marriage. That wasn’t your fault…and you’re young. I shouldn’t have entertained it and I did. I liked the attention. The attention you gave me and it was wrong. If you ever want to…I don’t know, talk things out? I would like that, but I understand if you ignore this completely. I would too. A long, drawn out breath that delves into a sigh. Uh, congratulations on the graduation. I’m sorry this took so long for me to say. Yeah…anyways, goodbye.”

The abrupt ending is bittersweet, rolling your eyes at his tone. It’s clipped, void of emotion. He’s masking and you can hear it. It only pisses you off further, unable to believe the genuineness in his message or tone so no—you don’t give him the chance to talk it out. And Joel Miller fades from your mind from then on, a distant and bitter memory.

Three Years Later

Working at a local publication company in Austin was never the plan, but it was the fastest thing you could grasp after graduation and several failed internships later—and the money was decent. You had an apartment in the city, close to work, and an easier turnaround time when you needed to get something to the office on an emergency or whim.

You were a lower level employee, editing and working around the simpler marketing for author’s that—most of the time, you didn’t even know the name of. You were meant to take the brunt of the work before it was delivered to the actual team of publication for everything that they didn’t want to handle. Which often included lunch as well, daily, coffee orders every morning, and tasks that felt never ending.

But the one time you did receive a break was the publishing parties. Authors would throw a nice party for the team and a long, never-ending list of connections that led for it to be more of a schmoozy get together than anything.

You went for the alcohol, the food, and the entertainment.

Which, thankfully—they all proved to have a ton of.

So, it should be any other Friday when you walk into the bar downtown, filled to the brim with patrons and company people who were there in attendance and support of the author, who you still had yet to meet. You’d been working on the book for months now, getting small snippets of things to correct and proofread when you weren’t running around to fetch things, but sometimes the curiosity is really just too much.

You grab a drink first, sipping on the sweet mix of liquor and syrup as the people filter in and spread, conversing in a low hum that quickly divulges into a cheer as someone makes their way through the door. They’re muffled by the crowd, loud pats of congratulation and claps that aren’t entirely necessary—but everyone had been anticipating the book to be a best-seller in record time. A book of delicate poetry, beautiful and thoughtful. It was something that brought you back to a time long forgotten, sitting in your bed during your freshman year of college, flitting through the recommendations of a professor that had nearly disappeared off the face of the earth.

So, when your eyes land on Joel Miller as he pushes through the crowd, the pit in your stomach grows and swells to an unbearable size.

He’s different in every way but still inexplicably him—he seemed softer, relaxed. His hair was grown out and curling over his ears and down his forehead, curls tickling against his skin and he sported a full beard, more than he ever allowed himself while he worked as your professor the interim year he was there, patchy in places you don’t realize until he comes closer, still unaware of your presence.

You recognize the suit, though—he’s worn it a million times, week after week and it feels too overwhelming now, knowing you both had left things unfinished.

Your intentions then weren’t the same as now and you’re almost positive he could say the same—even if you did keep your vindictive streak to get things you wanted, Joel was the only person who had managed to push you in a way that brought out that side of you.

You turn on your heels as a woman catches his attention, smiling brightly and too touchy to be considered a stranger, your back facing him now. You wave and smile at a few passing co-workers, also giving a small murmur of congratulations to Joel before you feel a hand on your back, half ready with your hand balled into a fist before you hear his voice over your shoulder.

It’s a soft whisper of your name, irreverent fondness in his tone, “How’s the open bar?”

He’s folding a jacket over his arm as he squeezes into the small space between you and another person, palm flattened out against the bar as he awaits your answer.

And for once, you don’t have anything to say.

Your mouth opens once, twice, before quietly snapping shut.

Joel breaks out into a slight smile, “I saw your name on the guest list—I just thought I’d say hi.”

“I didn’t—” You take a shallow breath and press the half-empty glass against the surface, “I don’t usually know anything about who we’re working on publication for, if I had known…I just—”

His hand is a gentle press against your clothed arm, curling around your bicep, “Hey—no harm, no foul. Did you…like my book, at least?”

You chuckle softly, “Uh—yeah, of course. I think that goes without saying. I almost got fired for not providing enough notes when they asked, but I didn’t feel like anything needed to be changed.”

Joel smiles brighter, but his lack of response is palpable.

He nods, pointing at your drink, “Take advantage—seein’ as it’s paid for.”

And you feel the moment fleeing as he turns away for a brief moment and orders his own drink, thankful for the short moment of calm as he didn’t have to constantly talk shop, so your curiosity gets the better of you. You didn’t know when you would ever see him again now that he was standing in front of you—unfinished business and all.

“How are things?” You ask—it’s a vague question that without your past would seem harmless. But, Joel understands. He spots the worry in your brow where it creases subtly in the middle and he chews at his bottom lip, taking the drink that is slipped into his hand.

His ring finger is still bare and he raises the hand up, curled around the glass with eyes that peek over the rim, squinting at your playfully, feigning innocence.

“Good,” He tells you when brings his drink down to his chest, “Uh—some roadblocks trying to get back into writing but…it’s been alright. And Tess, she’s—I don’t really know how she is but we also haven’t spoken in over two years. Last thing I heard was that she was getting engaged.”

Your eyes widen by the sudden influx of information, surprised by how forthright and open Joel was being, “Oh—that’s…good? For her, I guess.”

Joel chuckles softly and raises his eyebrows in response, agreeing with the uncertainty in your statement. You had grown so accustomed to his small quirks and body language that it was coming back to you in waves, like they had never left. But, the booming voice of a few men on the other side of the bar grab Joel’s attention and he looks slightly disturbed of his peace but offers a quiet apology before leaving you alone, left to process what the fuck was happening.

For someone you haven’t seen in a few years, it shouldn’t make you feel so at ease in their presence and you hate the way it lingers and aches the moment he leaves. The same push and pull that you felt so long ago, it’s overwhelming.

You finish your drink quietly, watching the warm, orange sky morph into nightfall and you attempt to slink out quietly, having had your fill on alcohol and surprises for the night. And the activity in the bar had only ramped up more in the lingering time—but the fingers around your wrist stop you, stretching through the crowd as you spin slowly on your heels.

“Follow me?” Joel asks lowly in the space between you when you turn to him, difficult to hear under the roar of the crowd but he nudges his head in a far off direction and you nod, feet moving before your brain can process.

Joel yanks you gently into a small, unisex bathroom with a stall in the corner. It’s big enough that you can rest against an opposite wall while he presses up against the door, looking slightly flushed from the alcohol but calm—it’s strange seeing him now, outside of the setting of his work.

Also, time had passed and he’s grown and processed things in the interim.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask about you,” He begins—Joel had only wanted a quiet place to talk to you, bothered by the idea of you the entire night for more than a few reasons, but most importantly, he just needed to know, “how…things have really been?”

“I graduated, but I’m sure you know that,” You tell him, his gaze trailing down as he remembers the half-assed message and apology he left you, “got a job after way too many attempts and failing and I’m living in an apartment here in Austin, it’s a few blocks away from the publishing company. It’s not bad—I thought things would be easier. But… I can’t complain. I mean, I could—there’s really no point, though.”

Joel’s nostrils flair in amusement as his chest vibrates with a laugh, hands tucked behind him as he leaned against the surface, suit jacket having disappeared…somewhere. Now, it was the tight pull of his chest under his shirt, the gaps in his buttons covered by the long stretch of his tie.

You cross your arms gently, one leg hooking over the other as you lean the weight of your shoulder into the wall similarly, the cold breeze of the unheated bathroom brushing against your thighs and you were silently cursing yourself for wearing such a short skirt in the biting cold weather at the end of fall, rolling into winter with a force.

“I can see that hasn’t changed.” Joel comments slyly and you squint your eyes in his direction, wondering his angle. Truthfully, he didn’t have one.

You roll your eyes momentarily, biting away the smile that creeps onto your face as you look away briefly, distracted by the buzzing, overly luminescent light above your head. The tension between you two had never left, that much was apparent.

“So, how has single life been?” You ask, feeling silly at the way you word it, but given his openness to tease you so easily, you felt the need to do it back.

Joel begins with a subtle warning of your name that has you huffing out a laugh of indifference.

“What?” You say in playful defense, “It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer it.”

Joel shakes his head fondly, though the bitter memories begin to flood back.

“I’m not your student anymore,” You point out, “it’s not like you’re breaking any rules by talking to me. It’s been…years, Joel. I think we’re both different people by now.”

Were you? That was entirely debatable.

“It’s been fine.” Joel gives you as little detail as possible, which is a telltale sign that he was masking, but you can’t ignore the way his eyes drag over your figure even if for a brief second.

You nod in response, not pushing the topic any longer.

“So, what’s this about?”

Joel makes a small noise in question and you tilt your head accusingly, lips pursed into a sneaky smile.

“I was on my way out,” You tell him, “now I’m here—with you. So, what’s the deal?”

“I wanted to catch up,” Joel admits–though it’s mostly a lie, “is that a crime?”

“Mmm, but here’s the problem,” You counter him, “you’re not really doing much talking. You ask some lame, basic question to cover up whatever excuse you had to get me in here. Seriously, Joel—what’s up?”

Joel sighs, chin touching his chest as he stares at the floor, “Still so goddamn stubborn.”

It’s like a trigger, soles patting against the ground as you approach him. His gaze pulls up slowly, first at your feet, then your chest, until he lands on your face. Delicate fingers press against his chest, his arms falling to his side as you press in closer and trace your fingers upwards, brush against his jawline.

You grin at the way Joel swallows tensley under your gaze, opposite hand wrapping into the length of his tie and pulling him into you, pressing your lips against his without another thought.

This kiss was new, different. Like pressing lips against a stranger with a renewed interest, not entwined in the throes of his divorce and a shitty marriage that kept him tied down and riddled with guilt, he kisses back with a force, boring conversation long forgotten.

Deft fingers turn the lock silently, a faint click of recognition as Joel leads you toward the empty stall with roaming hands, coat brushed down your shoulders and draped over a nearby hand dryer as he huddles you into the small space and watches as you pull away briefly to lock it with a giddy smile, lip pulled between your teeth as the lock slips into place and he stares at you openly, an unhinged hunger behind his eyes that he attempted to keep it bay so long ago.

“I have an idea.” Your voice is creeping suspicion in Joel’s mind and he sees your smile soften, an undertone in the wait as your fingers stretch along the expanse of his neck, leaning into him fully as he presses against the opposite wall of the stall, faces only a few millimeters apart as you breathe into him, noses brushing gently.

“That sounds like trouble.” Joel admits, your eyes dilating under his gaze as your excitement reaches your eyes, skin wrinkling slightly at the corners as you laugh.

“I don’t know,” You reply airily, “I think you’ll like this one.”

Joel’s game, eyebrows raised in question as you descend slowly—for anyone else, offering up a blowjob on the floor of a shoddy, questionable bathroom, you’d immediately decline and foremost, wouldn’t even offer. But, this was Joel.

The Joel that, despite years of time between his company, still culminated at the forefront of your mind all of the sudden. Fleeting memories, things that threatened to remind you of him, a bitter afterthought. But now, it was sweet—tangible and finally within reach. You were seizing the opportunity to close things out, even if you knew you would never see him again.

And damn his months of unintentional abstinence, Joel is unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants at an embarrassing speed with the assistance of your eager hands, instantly cradling your head as you wrestle with the few layers of fabric before his cock is heavy in your hands and hardening with even the minimalist of touch, his mouth hung open slightly as your tongue press flat against the underside of his cock, tracing along the jut of a vein that leads to his head, circling as you pull taut at his shaft and reacting openly to the tight squeeze he gives to your jaw, eyes falling shut with a gasp as he urges with silence for you to put him out of his misery and take his cock into your mouth.

Enough teasing. He knew you were both far beyond that.

There’s a lightness to your movements, inhibitions slightly skewed. You suck at his cock greedily, hollowing out your cheeks and allowing your hand to cover the length of his shaft that your mouth can’t reach and the hand that isn’t cradling your face is pressed against the stall door for leverage. There’s a crease in his forehead from how hard he’s scrunching his face up, willing himself to focus albeit how overwhelming you are in the moment and then you’re speaking to him, needy and soft.

“Look at me Joel,” You plead, tip brushing against your lips as you kiss the head and take him once more, bobbing your head slowly as he opens his eyes, and that familiar heat sets in his gaze, “there’s nothing to worry about this time—it’s just us.”

His hand is a soothing touch against your jaw, slowly trailing until his palm is cradling your head, “That’s—hm, that’s the problem. Don’t have much time.” Oh, right. This was his party after all.

“Riiiight,” You reply snarkily when you pull, feeling the gentle squeeze of his fingers against your neck as his hand settles there and rests, “guest of honor and all that, I suppose.”

Joel wasn’t letting you go that easy, though. He pushes you away gently and helps you rise to your feet, a slow progress of crowding you against the corner adjoining the stall door and the wall and his fingers slip under your skirt, digging into the supple skin of your thighs and he breathes, takes in your scent as he buries his face into your neck and he groans, so soft you almost don’t hear it. Almost.

“You still like fucking college girls? Or was that a one time thing?” You tease, earning another less than gentle squeeze before his hand is traveling down your center and over the wet fabric of your panties, covered with your slick and you moan out—guilty, and he settles with pulling them to the side for quick access, dipping a finger inside of you and chuckling at how familiar it feels, walls squeezing around the digit and you huff, “Dirty old man, Mr. Miller.”

“Just one. Annoying little brat that she is.” Joel admits, his stiff cock prodding at your thigh as he slips another finger inside of you, your grip tightening against the fabric stretched over his shoulders, head banging deftly against the surface behind you as you moan, “And just so we’re clear—don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

It never really fit him anyways.

“Got it.” You reply softly, staring at him half-lidded as his thumb brushes over your clit and he’s so close—right fucking there, dick pressed against your thigh but he won’t cross that line, not unless you ask. Luckily, you’re selfish even under a time crunch, “Joel—need it.”

“Need what, baby?” His breath is hot against your ear as he mouths at your skin sloppily, fingers leaving you empty as they rub collectively over your sensitive clit, “Such a beautiful way with words, let me hear you say it.”

“Fuck—” You breath rough, a sharp breath, “your cock, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Fortunately, Joel’s never been more impatient as he pulls your thigh up and over his hip, his fingers holding the fabric of your panties to the side as he presses inside of you steadily, selfishly watching your reaction as he splits you open—a stark difference from the first time. He was disconnected, emotionless, trying to prove a point. But, this was so much more.

It was everything he couldn’t say before.

“Stop—stop that,” You laugh softly, fingers gripping over the edge of the stall as he Joel fucks into you with sharp, precise thrusts. He was searching, determined that no time was wasted, but still admiring the catch of a gasp or moan in your throat every time he hit a particular spot inside of you that rendered you nearly speechless, “stop looking—at me like that.”

And Joel has the gull to smirk, lip pulling between his teeth as he angles you back and hikes your thigh up a fraction and that—oh, that was perfect and your grip slips and falls to his chest, wrinkling the fabric under your tight grasp as he leans in, lips pressed unmoving against your own as he thrusts into you wildly, the deafening sound of skin against skin and noises breathed into each other’s mouths.

“Touch yourself, baby,” He pleads and you thought the first time was a one off, a slip of the tongue in such a heated moment but it rings in your ears and warms your body with a faint buzz of adoration and allowed yourself to feel special and reserved only to him for that moment, “come with me?”

You reply with a shaky nod, feeling his hand guide yours between your bodies and settle over your cunt, rubbing over your clit in quick and determined circles as he spoke soft praises against your skin.

Good girl, sweet thing, look so pretty like this while you’re taking my cock.

And you’re hit with an immense rush of emotion as you come around him, his thrusts faltering in time with your cunt as you squeeze around him, “Fuck—I’m gonna come, gonna—” He pulls his hips back slightly but you’re reeling him back in with your heel, offering a small head shake.

Inside, you plead wordlessly.

It does him in—hand grazing over your breasts, tongue dipping into your mouth as he squeezes at the flesh and snaps his hips one last time, coming inside of you with a long, drawn out groan that precedes a long moment of silence as you both come down in synchronized breaths.

Joel hasn’t moved either, cock still buried inside of you but slowly softening.

“Work for me,” He says suddenly, head resting against the wall as he looks at you, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his fingers massaging the sore muscles in your thigh, “please?”

Your brow furrows tiredly, “What?”

“Come and work for me,” He asks once more, “I can offer you a job.”

“Joel, that’s—”

You whine softly at the loss of him as he slips out of you, but silently thankful for your achy muscles—and you think Joel will leave it at that, but he’s taking your face between his hands, urging you to look at him, “Look at me and tell me you’re happy there.”

You swallow a lump in your throat and look back at him, the words perched on your tongue.

You couldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

“I saw your name weeks ago—” Joel removes his hands and redresses slowly, watching as you adjust yourself to a more presentable manner, despite the feeling of his cum dampening your panties even more than they were before, “thought I was fuckin’ hallucinating.”

Still, you’re not sure where it’s coming from. Three years of silence and now this, his cum dripping down your legs and a proposition that sounds far too good to be true.

“I need an assistant,” He admits, “Someone to help me keep track of all this shit. Everyone I’ve hired, it just doesn’t stick.

You unlock the door behind your back and file out, watching Joel stuff his shirt back into his pants with a little too much force, shifting from heel to heel as he walks, “So, you’re desperate? And you thought fucking me would help your chances?”

You’re teasing him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Immediately, his head snaps up, eyes full of concern that you misconstrued his intentions and he knows he’s fucked up again—again. He fucks up everything.

“I’m fucking with you.” You crack a gentle smile and his hammering heart slows.

“I need someone who won’t bullshit me about my writing,” Joel tells you, “real—honest feedback. Someone that knows me.”

Your hands fall behind your back, fingers interlocking as you step toward him again, playfully kicking your foot out at him, “So, the whole blind worship thing, kissing ass—it’s not for you? Because…that can be arranged too, I don’t mind.”

He says your name in warning and you pull back with a soft laugh, “I can give you a bigger picture tomorrow, after…all this. We can work things out. You can sign an official contract. I’m not trying to play you on this.”

And maybe history was repeating itself, something Joel refused to acknowledge.

“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” You ask, allowing Joel to adjust the flap of your jacket over your chest as you slip it back onto your body, “Teacher…student…boss…”

You don’t have to fill in the rest. Joel’s pointer finger trails up the center of your chest, nudging at your chin and pulling your attention in, lips parted slightly.

“I can keep things professional,” Joel lies, “can you?”

You mouth a silent no as you shake your head and his thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to write a few stipulations into the agreement.”

“I never said I agreed,” You retorted playfully, “did I?”

“Suppose I’ve got a bit of convincing to do then,” Joel smirks, “—is your number still the same?”

You shrug innocently—of course it was and truthfully, Joel never had the thought to delete it. Letting it gather dust in his contacts, finger hovering over it from time to time. Wondering.

“You still have my email,” Joel laughs at that, barely, cracking a gentle smile, “send me the details—I’ll let you know if I’m interested.”

“And if there’s any way I can sweeten that interest—”

You lean in mockingly, eyes looking over his facial expression, clearly amused with himself as your nose brushes against each other and you speak into the quiet space between you both.

“Keep it in your pants, alright? I’ll consider it.”

Joel couldn’t let you slip through his fingers, not again.

But, you knew you were doomed from the moment he set eyes on you.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #professor!joel miller #miller's girl #my writing

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meetmymouth · 11 months

Text

you, me, teddy, and baby

an extra from the series ‘theadora’. read everything here!

notes: talks of pregnancy/pregnancy tests. read the last part of theadora HERE !!

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you… Happy birthday dear Teddy, happy birthday to you!

Harry lowers his phone just enough to call for Theadora. “Make a wish, T!”

“Harry, fix the candle,” she says, making Harry turn to her as Thea looks between her parents. “The ‘five’ looks crooked.”

This makes everyone in the room laugh, and Harry does what he’s told– but not before rolling his eyes.

She knows he doesn’t mean it, and she knows they’ve been really stressed recently, between Thea having problems at school and a couple of leaked songs from Harry’s old albums.

It’s been peaceful, though, being a family. She knows what everyone’s saying online– knows what they’re talking about, but she stopped caring a long time ago. As soon as she stopped looking her name up, or Harry’s, things have been a lot easier; life, together, as a family, has been easier.

They still have ups and downs, like most couples do, but they manage. She knows whatever happens, Harry has her back– their backs.

He’s been off tour for a while, and they spent most of their time travelling as a family. They went to all the places Harry has been without them by his side, ‘I want to experience it with you two’, and when they came back to London last year, he finally asked her to move back in– officially. They renovated parts of his house, and Theadora got a new bed, and a whole different room. She picked what colour she wanted for her walls, her furniture, and after countless tantrums over rugs and chest of drawers, she couldn’t have been happier with her new bedroom.

“You Styles’ can’t go a day without glitter, can you?” Jenny laughs into her glass of wine, and Y/N turns her attention to her– she’s admiring the jumpsuit she’s got on.

She smiles. “I’m not a ‘Styles’, remember?”

“My bad,” Jenny grins. “Would be nice though, no?”

Y/N hums. “Maybe.”

She takes a sip from her own glass, but the taste suddenly feels too bitter on her tongue. Deciding against drinking more, she places it on the table behind her, and excuses herself to walk towards where Harry and Theadora are standing, surrounded by friends and family.

Thea is talking about her favourite friend in Year One, and Harry nods along, turning to the group around them with a proud smile.

“And,” Harry notes, “She got the trophy for lining up beautifully this week,” he adds, squeezing Thea’s cheeks with both hands.

The five-year-old grins, and Y/N doesn’t have the heart to correct Harry, ‘it’s for the whole class, H, not just Teddy’.

She joins the group, but Harry’s arm finds her before his eyes do, and he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, squeezing her hip. He presses a kiss on her temple, and she smiles.

“Hi,” she squeezes the hand on her hip, and her own hand finds the top of Thea’s head, ruffling the curls.

Thea looks up, and smiles, big teeth reminding her of Harry’s, and she matches her smile, squeezing her warm cheek.

“Hi, cutie.”

“Can I stay at auntie Gemma tomorrow?”

“It’s a school night, Teddy,” she smiles.

Thea’s smile falls. “But daddy said I could,” she mutters, lips pursing.

Y/N looks up at Harry, and she almost laughs at the face he’s pulling.

“Well,” she begins, squeezing Harry’s hip. “Daddy should’ve asked mummy as well, yeah? We’ll talk about it tomorrow after school, yeah?” She strokes the side of her face. “How’s that sound?”

.・゜

Tea. Lots of tea and fruit pastilles.

Harry watches from his side of the bed, glasses on– hand holding a novel. He looks puzzled, eyebrows raised and his mouth parted as she devours the last of her fruit pastilles.

“Y/N?” Harry calls, voice wavering between worried and amused.

She looks up, cross-legged on the edge of the bed. “Yes?”

“Fruit pastilles at eleven o’clock at night?”

A raise of her eyebrows, and he knows he’s fucked up.

“So?”

He clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

“What the fuck, Harry?”

“Babe, what–”

“Stop watching me– stop watching me eat and drink,” she throws the empty bag at him, and he dodges it even though it falls nowhere near him. “You’ve been watching me all night– watching my every move.”

“Babe,” he lets out a surprised laugh. “What? I haven’t been doing that…”

“Mhm,” a vigorous nod. “You have! Are you calling me fat?”

“Look,” Harry places his book on her side of the bed. “I’m sorry. I just– I know you don’t normally like eating stuff before bed, it makes you uncomfortable; that’s why I’ve– never mind. I would never, ever call you fat,” he shakes his head.

He walks over to her, arms wide open as he wraps them around her, and she lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words ushered against his warm, naked chest. She places her hand where his heart is. “I’ve been really awful lately, I know.”

“You haven’t,” he whispers into her hair. He kisses below her ear, earning a giggle from her.

“You can be honest.”

“You haven’t been awful. Just…”

She looks up, eyebrows raised.

Harry continues. “Just… on edge?”

“Hm.”

“Come on,” he sighs, kissing her nose. “Let’s sleep.”

She nods. “Be back in a sec, need to pee.”

She watches him nod, and walk over to his side of the bed and open the duvet properly before getting in. He’s placing his book on his bedside table when she’s closing the door to the ensuite.

She doesn’t know what possesses her to reach the pregnancy tests at the bottom of the small storage box where she keeps her useless stuff in. She knows she was extremely moody and she ate things she wouldn’t normally eat when she was pregnant with Theadora.

Opening the package, she takes a deep breath, and sits on the toilet. It takes a few seconds to do her business, and she waits with the test in her hand before she can wash her hands.

Her period has been late, she knows, though it’s never been regular for her. Couple of days late meant nothing usually– at least for her.

The hidden tests have been on her mind since yesterday, though she hasn’t been up to it until tonight.

The test forgotten by the sink, she thinks of the possibility of being pregnant again. She knows Harry wouldn’t be upset, though she can’t help but feel anxious over the possibility of him not being ready, or even worse: what if he only wanted one?

She knows he loves Teddy, and she knows he loves children, but were they ready for it all over again? Especially now that things have been so good between them…

“Y/N?” Harry knocks on the door, and she jolts forward, as if someone’s pushed her into the sink.

It’s when she remembers the pregnancy test, and she grabs it, holds it up, and her eyes begin tearing up at the result.

Another knock, and the door is pushed open, revealing Harry.

“Are you okay? I was worried when you didn’t answer,” he murmurs, clearly sleepy.

When she doesn’t answer, the stick hidden in her palm, Harry takes a step towards her, and he places his hand on her cheek.

“Baby?”

“Harry,” she murmurs, tears running down her cheeks. “Harry.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt– did you fall? I didn’t hear anything–”

“Harry.”

“What? What’s happening?” He looks around, then searches her face. “You’re scaring me.”

“Harry,” she says, for the final time. She places the test on the counter, and watches Harry’s gaze fall where it lays on the grey marble.

“What is that– is that...”

“Yes.”

He looks up, eyes glimmering. “What– you’re– when? What’s it say…” he whispers, but he doesn’t reach for it– perhaps, he’s scared, too.

Oh God, she thinks, he hates me.

“I–”

“Oh my fucking God, Y/N,” she looks up from her socked-feet, and watches Harry analyse the stick.

His eyes are wet, lips wobbly like the time Theadora fell and grazed her knee, but despite all of that, his green eyes are so shiny– they glint under the mellow light of their bathroom.

“Baby,” he looks up, trying to find her wavering gaze. “Baby, look at me– did you look? Did you see?”

“Harry…”

“What? What is it?”

She lets out a sob, the anxiety and the after-taste of the fruit pastilles becoming too much. “I’m pregnant.”

Harry lets out a choked laugh. “Why– why are you crying, oh my God.”

Oh my God.

“Are you angry?”

“What? Fuck– come here,” he places the test on the counter, and grabs her cheeks. He presses kisses all over her face. “Are you– are you upset?”

“I don’t know– you–” she shakes with another sob, but laughs at the same time.

“Y/N,” he places his hands on her shoulders. “Are you upset? Did you– do you not want this?”

“I do– I do. Fuck– I don’t even know why I’m crying!”

“Ah,” Harry looks around. “I love you, I love you so much and I’m so, so happy about this. Baby, look at me– look,” he grabs her chin, and she looks up, meeting his gaze. “I’m so happy. You make me so fucking happy. And– whether you want this or not, it doesn’t change anything. I love you. I love our family.”

“Stop–” she pinches his hip. He screeches. “Stop saying shit like that!”

Harry laughs harder, and he hides his beautiful face into her neck. “Why,” he asks, another laughter bubbling in his chest. She likes the sound. “Why not– I’m so fucking happy, fuck…”

She looks up at him, hands wrapping around his waist. She holds him tight. “Are you?” She asks, voice small. “Are you, really? Do you– want this?”

“Fuck– of course, I do. Are you mad? Look at me,” fingers pressed to her chin, he makes her look up again, and their eyes meet. “I love you so much,” he whispers, lips touching with every syllable. I love you, love you, love love love you, he whispers.

She asks to go to bed, but Harry reaches for her hand, and intertwines their fingers. Just before they leave the ensuite, Harry falters, and grabs the pregnancy test, holding it tightly in his palm.

They sit on the bed, shoulders touching, and she leans into his warmth. “Can’t believe you’re holding that– like that,” she mumbles, voice muffled into his naked skin.

He turns to her, and lips touch her forehead. A kiss, then another one.

“Why– what’s wrong with that, that’s my child.”

“I peed on that thing, H.”

“Fuck,” he laughs, holding the stick up to inspect it. He lets out another laugh. “I don’t care.”

She shrugs, kissing his warm shoulder. “Plus,” she says, and grabs the stick, placing it on his bedside table. Harry watches intently, but his breath hitches when she grabs his big hand, and places it on her tummy. “Your child is in here, not in that bloody stick, you silly sausage…”

When she looks up to inspect his gaze, he’s got tears in his eyes. It’s as if he’s just hearing the fact that she’s carrying his child– his second child.

“This is crazy,” he whispers, though she thinks he’s thinking out loud more than anything. “You– they’re in here,” he rubs her belly, then looks up at her, eyes teary. “Wait, are you– do we need to take another one?”

She hums. “What?”

“Another pregnancy test? What if– what if that thing’s broken? I can’t– fuck, I want this so bad, I think I would be depressed if it turns out to be a scam.”

She lets out a laugh. “A scam? No– I don’t think– why would you say that now?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, even if it’s not real–”

“–Oh my God, stop it, Harry.”

“I want this so much,” he whispers, and kisses the side of her neck. Another kiss, then he moves up to her chin. “I love you– I want this baby.”

“It’s like you’re the one pregnant and not me.”

He pouts. “You know what I mean.”

“Not really,” she whispers. “Can we get in,” she means the bed.

He nods.

They get in, but Harry can’t stop looking at the test on his bedside table. Just before she sighs and tries to cuddle into him, ready to start another conversation about the potential-pregnancy, Harry straightens up in bed, and grabs his phone off the charger.

She rolls her eyes. “What are you doing now?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, though she hears the camera shutter going off.

She lets out a laugh. “Did you just take a photo of it?”

“Mhm.”

She smiles, and gets comfortable in bed. “Come here, you silly man,” she whispers, hand reaching to touch his naked hip. He moves easily into her hold, and lets her hold him close to her chest.

They look funny, she knows, Harry’s big body folded so he fits into her smaller hold.

They kiss lazily, the kiss getting heated when she travels her hand down his toned chest, until it reaches his joggers. He’s hard– and bare underneath his joggers, so when he lets out a whine, she squeezes him harder over the material of his joggers.

He moans her name, eyes shut, but she reaches and presses an open-mouth kiss on his stubble-covered chin. She sucks the skin, and grabs the band of his joggers, pulling them down just enough so that his hard, leaking cock is out. The tip is a beautiful shade of pink, precum glistening the smooth, shiny skin of his tip.

“Fuuuuuck.”

“I want you to come on my face,” she whispers, thumb swiping against the tip. She squeezes, and he groans, both at the request, and the way she’s squeezing his needy-tip.

“Suck me, then,” he says, teeth gritted. “Come on, baby, give me something.”

She moves her head down, and kisses the tip, licking the wetness before opening her mouth wider. She finally takes him into her mouth, his cock feeling hard and heavy– and so warm inside her mouth, and it makes Harry whine, hips bucking up when she licks the underside of his cock. Humming around his thickness, Harry grabs her by the back of her head, and supports her movement, helping her take more of him– just like she knows he likes.

“You’re so fuckin’ good,” Harry murmurs. “Taking me so good.”

She bobs her head up and down, the velvety walls of her mouth feeling snug, and so warm around his cock. She sucks him in her mouth, can feel him watching her every move as she places her other hand on his balls, squeezing them gently which earns her a throaty moan from Harry. She looks up, finding his gleaming eyes.

It’s a silent conversation they have between them, and he knows.

He does, because he begins moving his hips, fucking into her mouth ever-so-gently as his other hand, the one that’s not wrapped around her hair, travels down to her chest. He squeezes her boob over her t-shirt, then moves it under her chin, wanting to feel her warm skin against his palm rather than the feel of cotton.

He squeezes hard, her nipple hardening under his touch, and she hums around him, which leads him to buck his hips in a more practiced manner, fucking her mouth harder than he was.

“I’m gonna cum,” he mutters, words tasting familiar, and she squeezes his balls once more, fondling them, playing with them before she goes deeper, feeling the tip touching the back of her warm throat.

She sucks him harder and more determined than she was before, and when he tweaks the pebbled nipple between his thumb and index, she takes him out of her mouth, knowing he’s close.

Harry watches her like a hawk, “Want me to cum on your gorgeous face– make a mess?”

Her hand continues her slow strokes, and she nods, squeezing the tip exceptionally hard.

“Fuck,” Harry chokes out, and he comes.

He holds himself at the base, their hands touching as white, sticky stripes coat her face–cheeks, lips, and chin–and she grins at his aim, tongue already peaking out to get a taste.

“Fuck me–”

She hums at the taste. “Love your cum.”

“Jesus– did you just suck me dry after peeing on a stick,” Harry laughs, chest rising up and down, trying to calm down after his high.

She laughs, and gets on her knees, walking backwards on the bed.

“I guess,” she gets on her feet, and walks into the ensuite.

She washes her face, and grabs two face cloths that she uses to take her makeup off. She wets them, and walks back into their bedroom, spotting him laid against the pillows, cock still out, soft against his thigh.

She laughs, and gets on the bed, Harry’s eyes finding hers. “You’re disgusting,” she says, wiping him in between hisses from him.

“Mmh, I love you, too.”

Y/N lets out another sigh, and kisses the top of his head. He looks up, eyes still shiny.

They find their old position in bed, Harry against her chest as they snuggle. Y/N lets out a content sigh, and kisses the top of his head. He looks up, eyes shiny.

“I’ll call Jane tomorrow,” he says, quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the stillness of the room. “To make an appointment.”

“Okay.”

“Are you– you’re happy, right?” He rubs the skin under her boobs from under her t-shirt.

“I… am. I’m a bit– you know, nervous,” she smiles, eyes closing, almost falling victim to sleep.

She feels him nod, his soft hair tickling the side of her neck. He hums then, “That’s normal, yeah? No matter what happens, you know you’ve me, right? And Teddy.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I do. You, me, and Teddy.”

A silence falls over their tired bodies.

Harry breaks it. But not before travelling his right hand down to her tummy, stroking the warm skin there before he presses his face into her chest harder. She smiles, eyes still shut.

.・゜

Harry wakes up before her, and he smiles sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of her sleep-warm neck much like Thea would do. He hugs her body closer, and wonders what time it is– and if Thea is about to wake up. It can’t be that late, he thinks, judging by the light outside.

He’s sweaty– they both are, but Harry doesn’t care, and snuggles into her body more as if it’s possible, given their position.

He watches her sleep, eyebrows and jaw relaxed, her chest rising and falling peacefully. He attaches his lips to her clothed-chest, and kisses where her breast is. Totally innocent, and he knows she’s waking up– her breathing changes.

He smiles when he notices she’s refusing to open her eyes. A smile is threatening to appear on her beautiful face, though Harry doesn’t stop the way his hand is travelling down, until it reaches the bottom of her t-shirt. He lifts it up, revealing her naked stomach, and he moves his own body downwards, lips puckering to place a kiss where her belly button is.

“Psst,” he whispers into the skin of her stomach, and he smiles when he notices her muscles tighten– clearly trying not to move. “Anyone in there?”

In the dead silence of their bedroom, Harry strokes her skin, and taps his index finger just above her belly button. “Are you in there?”

“Harry…”

“Shh.”

She matches his tone. “What are you doing?” She whispers, hand resting on top of his head, messing with his already messy, sleep-tousled curls.

“Just, morning chat,” he bites his bottom lip, and presses his ear to her stomach.

He waits, and waits, until his eyes widen at the gurgling noise coming from inside.

He looks up, their eyes meeting.

“Don’t be stupid,” she cuts him off, when she notices him opening his mouth to get a word in. “I’m hungry, and probably need to poo.”

He laughs into her tummy, and kisses the beauty mark there. “You’re a disgusting woman.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, stretching.

“So,” he straightens up, and kisses her cheek. Then her nose, then her lips. “Morning.”

“Mmh,” another kiss. “Good morning.”

“Coffee and yoga before Teddy wakes up?” He asks, gaze hopeful.

“Ugh.”

He smiles, and opens his arms so she can snuggle into his body, clearly not wanting to get up yet.

“I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes…”

She looks up. “And vanilla ice-cream?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

They kiss lazily as the coffee brews, both dressed in a soft jogger set, and she bites his bottom lip just before turning her attention back to their coffee. They drink, do some stretching and Harry guides her through some yoga moves, and they move to their spacious sofa. She places herself in front of him, leaning against his chest as they sip from their second cups.

It’s not long before Thea wakes up, and they prepare breakfast together, Harry cutting up fruit while she boils the egg. She makes a quick pancake batter mixed with veg for Thea, and Harry prepares their own breakfast, humming to an Eagles song coming from the speakers.

They eat, Harry records Thea while the five-year-old acts like she’s on MasterChef, and then, Y/N places their dishes into the dishwasher as Harry cleans their mess off the kitchen table.

“Jane messaged back,” Harry comes behind her, and snuggles into her, placing a kiss on the back of her neck.

Hours later, they’re inside the private clinic in East London, and Harry intertwines their fingers while they wait for Jane to see something.

They don’t understand what’s going on, and with every shape appearing on the screen, Harry holds his breath. He thinks this is it, this is our baby, and it makes Jane laugh, seeing the focused look on his face.

“You took the test yesterday?” Jane wants to confirm, as she clicks something on the keyboard.

Y/N hums. Harry squeezes her fingers.

“Well,” Jane presses one last key, and they both look up at her. “Congratulations,” she smiles, placing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re five-weeks pregnant.”

Her bottom lip starts trembling, and she feels a sharp pain– clearly Harry squeezing the hell out of her fingers. She looks up, tears in her eyes, and it’s funny how they give each other the same look.

The same look they shared five years ago.

Jane leaves, and Harry sits next to her legs, hand never leaving hers.

“Baby,” he whispers, lips already puckered as he chases hers.

They kiss lazily, her hands around his neck, touching the hairs there before she pulls away, and Harry presses his forehead against hers.

“What’s wrong?” He says, voice laced with worry. He notices the look in her eyes. He knows it too well. “What’s wrong, baby– hey.”

“Harry…”

“What is it?”

“Please don’t leave us,” she whispers, shame and heartache clear in her voice. It’s timid, her touch on his chest, and Harry surges forward. He kisses her– hard.

“Never,” he whispers. “I’m never leaving, you hear me– look at me, Y/N,” he says, and she looks up, looks into his teary eyes. “I’m not leaving. I’m not. Never.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He nods, kissing her cheek before his hand drops to her sticky and cold stomach. He strokes the skin, and leans in to press a kiss where he thinks their baby is. “I love you– I love you so much, and I love Teddy so much,” he pauses, and looks up at her. Hand still on her stomach, he whispers, “And I love them.”

They pick Thea up from school, and she talks about her day, the drawing she made in Music because Mr Anderson is gone, I think he’s dead.

“I’m sure– I’m sure he’s not, sweetheart,” Harry says, voice trembling a little as he eyes Y/N. He mouths a what the fuck, and they hold their laughter while Thea goes on and on about her day.

They come home, Harry bathes Thea–more like they stay in the tub for a long time because they’re both kids who love to play with bubbles–and Y/N calls them downstairs when the food’s ready. It’s a simple pasta dish, because she knows Thea loves it.

“Did you give your book back to Mrs Bea, Teddy?”

Thea looks up at Y/N and nods. “Yes. She gave me another one. It’s about a zog. It’s really not fun.”

Harry chuckles, closing his mouth when he almost chokes. “Why, Teddy?”

“I don’t care about zogs, daddy. And,” she reaches for more warm bread. “This book is super easy. I can read it in two seconds. I can read harder books.”

“Two seconds, really?” Y/N asks, reaching to ruffle her damp curls.

“Mhm. Zion timed me. Two seconds. Maybe a bit more.”

“Okay, bunny.”

“I’m also thinking of sleeping in your bedroom, mummy. You and daddy and me,” she nods, clearly to herself, and Y/N shares a look with Harry.

Harry beats her to it, though. “Okay… why? Is everything okay in your room?” He asks, putting more pasta in his mouth.

Thea shrugs, turning her fork in the bowl. “Yes. I just feel lonely,” she looks at Y/N. “Mummy, you have daddy. Daddy you have mummy. And me,” she notes, tone higher. “I have no one to cuddle at night.”

“Oh,” Y/N chuckles.

“You can sleep with us tonight, Teddy,” Harry agrees, his hand finds Y/N’s thigh under the table. He squeezes gently.

When they’re settled in bed, the three of them, Harry reads her a few pages of Five Minutes’ Peace, and they snuggle under the duvet.

Harry turns to Y/N, looking at her over Theadora’s head of curls. They have a silent conversation before Harry clears his throat. He closes the book, and places it on his bedside table.

She gets it.

“Teddy,” she whispers, stroking her cheek.

She looks up.

“Your dad and I want to tell you something,” she says, watching the child nod.

Harry turns to his side, and kisses her forehead, waiting for Y/N to continue.

“What do you think about having a little brother or sister?” She asks, and Harry knows she’s nervous.

He is, as well.

Theadora hums.

“Now?” She asks, folding her arms over the duvet. She looks cute, lips pursed in thought.

She doesn’t sound upset, or angry.

Harry smiles at the question.

Y/N looks up at him, though he lets her do this on her own.

“Yeah– would you want that?”

“I think so… when is she coming here?” Theadora asks, eyes on Y/N.

“Um, nine months,” she says, smiling at the way she’s referring to the baby as ‘she’.

“Wow,” Theadora whispers, the time-frame sounding like an eternity. “Is she in your belly, now?”

She clears her throat, not expecting the question, nor the look she’s giving her. She’s looking down at her stomach, and Harry’s hand finds Theadora’s curls, stroking the side of her face.

“Yeah,” Y/N whispers. She nods.

“Wow.”

Harry can’t wait any longer. “How does that make you feel, Teddy?”

“I guess,” she says, biting her pinky into her mouth. Y/N watches with her lip trapped between her teeth. “I guess I want her to be here now. Maybe this week. I can’t wait that long,” she huffs, making them both laugh.

Y/N looks up with tears in her eyes, meeting Harry’s gaze.

“They need to stay inside mummy’s tummy so that they’re healthy when they’re born, T!” Harry laughs, kissing her cheek.

“They? Are there two?”

Y/N smiles. “One, but we don’t know if it’s a girl, or a boy.”

“I want a girl.”

“You want a sister?” Harry blows a raspberry into her neck, earning a shrill scream from her.

“Oh my Gosh,” the small child exclaims. “If baby is a girl, I can give her my dresses. And,” she gets one leg out of the duvet, clearly feeling hot. She turns to Harry, hands finding both his cheeks as she squeezes his face. “I can teach her your songs.”

Harry smiles, tears welling up in his eyes. “Of course.”

Y/N laughs, having always loved seeing Harry and Teddy interact.

“Maybe she can come to your concerts and watch you with me,” Thea thinks out loud, hands now playing with Harry’s cross necklace.

“Well,” Y/N chuckles. “She’s going to come wherever we go, Teddy,” she smiles, stroking her back. She presses a kiss on her neck.

Thea turns to her, and snuggles into her body, hand still around Harry’s necklace. “Everywhere?”

“Yeah. She’s going to be your little sister. Like best friends.”

“Okay… she’s coming to Nana’s, too? And Grammy’s?”

“Yes, Teddy.”

“Okay, well, I need to talk to Nana and Grammy,” Thea murmurs, sleep clearly taking over.

“Oh?” Harry smiles, kissing her nose. He fixes the duvet around her, and watches Y/N press her own ‘goodnight’ kiss to her chubby cheek.

It’s silent after that, and they both watch Theadora sleep, before Harry’s hand finds Y/N’s tummy under the duvet.

He rubs her tummy for a while before she places her hand over his, and they share a look.

“I guess she’s happy?” She whispers.

“I think? Though,” Harry gets comfortable, now laying on his back. “The last comment had me worried,” he laughs quietly.

“Which one?”

“How she wanted to ask my mum and your step-mum about the baby.”

She lets out a gasp. “I need to call them first thing in the morning,” she whispers, turning to her side. She strokes Thea’s arm, and finds Harry’s loving gaze. “She’s such a gossip, she’d tell them before we did.”

“I love you,” Harry smiles.

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you,” he closes his eyes.

She lets out a snort. “Stop thanking me for silly things,” she pinches his hand, and he smiles harder, eyes still shut. “I love you so much, you’re such a great dad.”

He opens his eyes at that. “Am I?”

It’s a constant worry for him, she knows.

“You are,” she says, hand cupping his cheek as he leans into the touch.

They stay like that for a while, and the last thing she remembers before falling asleep is Harry’s warm hand finding her tummy once again.

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rewritingcanon · 1 month

Note

What would you say are your more controversial opinions about the hp characters?

ohhhh okayyy. i feel like my opinions on a lot of the characters aren’t controversial because i dont feel super strongly towards anyone in any negative light but here are some i could think of at the top of my head:

i’m glad the malfoys faced more extreme backlash after the second wizarding war. a lot of people in the fandom seem to be very sympathetic towards draco and scorpius for getting dogpiled with the brunt of it (which yeah, it sucks, especially for scorpius) but the prejudice makes complete make sense to me. if i was someone who didn’t know scorpius’ character, and had someone from my family get killed in the second war due to death eaters or something— seeing the malfoys still be wealthy and walk around freely without any jailtime, i would be bitter too. they’re hated on but they’re still one of the richest families ever, so they’ll live LOL

another anon has asked about this and i haven’t responded to them yet but when i do i will link it here for my reasons. basically: the best character in the cursed child is harry potter. i think the way they wrote his character and ptsd carried the play. it was def his story, not albus’.

i do think dumbledore has some aspects of him that may be considered morally gray, but mostly i dont think he is. he does everything for the good of the world, and his complete selflessness leads him to sacrifice anything for it— even himself and the people he loves, when necessary. i completely understand why people wouldn’t agree with his methods though.

james potter isn’t a sunshine character he’s a dickhead. fans of him made him a golden retriever character to be more palatable for modern times. i like him the way he is: an asshole and then less of an asshole 👍 this is what true stanning looks like

pansy parkinson is racist and out of all the female side characters, developing HER is so questionable from fandom

harry had questionable descriptions about a lot of male characters to make people think he could be a little 🏳️‍🌈 there was bill, there was sirius, there was cedric. but draco is not a part of that list. harry was not feeling draco whatsoever throughout the series but drarry shippers cling to that one ‘obsessed’ line

furthermore, harry rejecting draco’s offer of friendship wasn’t a sad or a ‘what if’ scene. draco was being a classist piece of shit and harry didnt want to fuck with that, there isnt any way in any timeline he wouldve accepted draco’s friendship.

slytherin sucks just generally lol. people want so bad to pluck anti-heroes out of a series that was written specifically with the mind to make all the characters suck.

hermione and ron’s drama isn’t as toxic as people make it out to be. yes, this includes the time hermione sent birds after him. people act like its the end of the world but she was tackling puberty and the end of society soooo i give her a pass to tweak out.

mostly every harry potter character has horrific names. like literally mostly everyone. even the name harry potter 🙁

movie romione wasn’t that bad LOL

severus snape’s ‘redemption’ or whatever was so ass. he bullies kids for five years and then everything is chill because… true love? on harry’s mum? are you kidding me 💀

weasley family angst goes hard but people (especially percy stans and some ron&ginny stans) acting like they’re the most toxic family to walk the earth make me want to rip my hair out and eat it. molly loves her kids guys shes not evil. jesus.

genuinely trying to think of more but i can’t right now…. maybe i will reblog and add to it. i feel like most of my opinions aren’t that controversial though 😭

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am3ricanh0rrorwh0re · 1 month

Text

Don’t Be A Prude ☆

Warren Lipka × virgin fem!reader

summary: You recognize Warren at a house party

warnings: nsfw, smut with little plot, unprotected p in v, implied oral (fem receiving), slight choking, smoking, soft bondage,

You take a drink from your red solo cup, feeling the burning of your drink wash down your throat. Everyone else at the party was enjoying the music, the drinks, the sexuality of it all. Girls were grinding against guys, or other girls, guys were doing kegs or fingering the girls grinding on them. You were the only one sitting out, aside from the stoners.

“Hey,” A guy said, handing you a blunt, which you were forced to take reluctantly. “Take a hit and pass it, beautiful,”

The guy in front of you looked hauntingly familiar. His dark, curly hair, pale skin, chocolate eyes. It all looked like someone you’d seen before. But then again, a lot of people looked like him. You took a hit of the joint, feeling yourself choke on the bitter smoke as the roll pressed against your lips. You almost drop the joint as you coughed. The man pats your back softly, trying to ease the tension in your chest.

“Woah there, tiger,” He chuckled, taking the joint back. You look up at him, panting softly. “You look…vaguely familiar. whats your name? Wade? Wyatt-?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Close. Warren. Warren Lipka” He smiled down at you, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans after he passed the joint.

You gasp softly, immediately recognizing him. “Warren! ‘Widdle Warren ‘Wipka!” You tease. You always used to say his name in a baby voice in 8th grade. Now, years later, you still did. “We used to hit joints under the bleachers!”

“Fuck yeah, Y/n! I knew I recognized ya’!” He smiled, your comment earning a high five. You just realized how hot he was. His curly hair, toned figure, bulging….hard-on?…was it the weed? You decided to not mention it.

“Hey, uh, there’s this room upstairs. It’s quieter than down here, so…wanna go up and find it?” Warren shouted over the music, holding his hand out for you. You nodded, taking his hand.

———————————————————————————

“C’mon, princess,” Warren teased, wrapping his hands around your waist as he pulled you down onto the bed. “Warren!” You giggled, leaning into him as you both fell onto the bed.

“So…” He asked, lighting a joint as you sat next to each other on the bed. “See anyone you like here? Besides me,”

You shake your head, taking the joint from him. You take a puff of the smoke, holding back a cough. He wrapped a hand around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. “Wha-? Warren, what are you-?”

“Shh…” He chuckled, sliding two fingers between your thighs. He dragged his fingertips along your throbbing, clothed cunt.

“Warren, I’m- I’m a virgin,” You chuckle nervously. You weren’t nervous of Warren, or of the game he was playing. You were nervous about your feelings. What were you feeling? You’d never felt it before. You’re currently hardening nipples, your wet pussy, both foreign feelings.

“You’ll be fine,” He unbuttoned your jeans and you bucked your hips, pushing them down to your ankles to help him. He started stroking your cunt through your panties, ultimately feeling the wet spot. Warren himself was soaked in pre-cum.

“So you’ve never seen a dick before?” He snickered, fluttering his fingers over your clit. You let out a soft, shaky moan, grinding yourself against his thigh.

“N-Never,” You shook your head. He laughed as he watched you grind yourself against him. “You’re eager, aren’t you?” He smirked.

Warren lifted you off of his lap with a groan before laying you down on the bed. He climbed over you, pulling off his belt with a grin spread over his face. “You’re okay with this, right?” He asked. You nodded, a beaming smile washing over your face.

He took your wrists in his hands, wrapping his belt around them tightly before pinning them over your head with one hand. He pried off his shirt and jeans, positioning himself between your legs. His free hand drove back to your pussy, his fingers pressing against your panties.

“Mind if i take these off?” He smirked smugly, slipping his fingers into the side of your panties. He felt around, his fingers dancing between your sensitive folds, making you writhe and moan under him. He pulled his fingers away with a smile, taking his hand off your bound wrists.

Warren pulled off his boxers, his throbbing cock springing out from underneath. It hit his torso, beads of pre-cum dripping down his pink tip. You gasp softly, looking at his length. You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself.

“You got three options,” He started playfully. “You can suck it, let it go in you, or i can tease you and all that shit,” He smiled down at you, pumping his cock a little. You shrugged. You really didn’t know what to expect, but as long as it was with Warren, you were fine with it.

“I-I’ve never done this before..” You admit again. Warren smiled compassionately, putting one hand back over your tied wrists. The other hand went to your pussy, his fingers grazing that small bud once again.

“How about this?” Warren chuckled. He took his cock, pumping it softly as he pressed it against your folds. You moan softly, feeling the small drops of pre-cum leak down the outside of your pussy. He holds his cock in one hand, stroking it up and down your entrance, pushing in no further than the tip.

You writhe softly, your breathing spiking. He took his left hand, bringing it down from your wrists to your neck. His strong hand wrapped around your neck gently, his fingers digging in a little. You gasped from the sensations, clenching your bound hands into tight fists. He pushed in a little deeper than the tip, making your whole body shift up. You let out a slightly pained moan.

“Hey, that’s normal..” Warren cooed, moving his dick in and out of you slowly. You nod, your breathing stabilizing as you looked up at him. His face was twisted in a look of concentration, still holding his 7 incher with one hand. He continued moving slowly, adding inch by inch each time.

“You’re doing good,” He groaned softly, throwing his head back. “Other girl’s I’ve fucked haven’t gotten to 6 inches. You got the whole seven,”

“Y-You liar,” You manage to choke out. “You’ve never fucked another girl,” You chuckle breathlessly, struggling to get out of the belt handcuffs. Not because you wanted out, but you wanted to touch him. Suddenly, he thrusted deeper and faster into you.

“Watch your mouth, kiddo,” Warren scoffs, starting to move a little faster.

“W-We’re the same age, dingus,” You whine out. Your legs shake as Warren starts to move faster. Both of his hands go directly to your body, one playing with your clit while the other cups your cheek. His fingers danced around your clit, flicking the bud softly while he moved faster.

You suddenly felt the white-hot feeling of ecstasy wash over you. You let out a loud moan, your body arching upwards. Warren hadn’t finished, but watched with a smile as you convulsed, her eyes rolling back into your head. Beads of cum dripped from your pussy, and Warren noticed automatically.

“Why don’t I help you clean that up?” Warren smirked, licking his lips.

#warren lipka x reader #warren lipka smut #virgin reader #imagines #warren lipka imagines #warren lipka oneshots #evan peters oneshots #american animals imagines #american animals oneshots

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

Text

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 22

@javelinbk I’ve got another one for your “Paul McCartney doesn’t touch other men” compilation.

They’re really just going to keep goofing off with each other until the bitter end, aren’t they?

Who is this?? She’s gorgeous and I’m obsessed with her eye makeup.

I wonder if there’s a *reason* John broke randomly into “Run for your Life”. I’d actually feel better about that song if it was secretly about Paul, though I'd never considered it.

That face!

I’d actually love to know what Ringo and Billy were talking about that prompted that hug, though! I’m sure it must’ve been just so cute!

John saying “Okay Jim” to Paul. Reminds me of that quarrymen story where John called Paul that. Such an awkward nick-name, considering John hated Jim. Like I know Paul’s first name is James and all, but it’s just weird. I wonder if he called him that often and why and how Paul felt about it.

It’s physically impossible for two people to actually love each other that much and break up. I just. It’s not real. I can’t process it.

The fact that Paul wore a suit again, though, and plays standing. An example of Paul doing what makes him feel good whether it’s cool or not. He feels professional and put together in a suit and standing for the “performance” of these softer songs, so that’s what he’s going to do. I guess Ringo’s in a suit too, and tie. I just didn’t catch it at first because his tie and shirt are such a fun purple.

John focused on Paul for the entire song of “Two of Us” and Paul very purposely avoiding eye-contact. It’s like a much less painful, but still awful, reverse version of the strawberry fields moment.

The silly fake German. Paul’s “Ein Schwein, fille naught rhine.” Reminds me of John’s “Un. Du. Ein schwein hickle pickle” in front of “I Don’t Wanna Face It” which also used a very similar riff to “coming up”. IDK they’re just always talking. Always logging away every little eyelash flutter. Every meaningless thing means something with John and Paul. I know. I realize I’m fully certifiable.

“Are we supposed to giggle in the solo?” “Yeah.”

Paul’s just purposely ruined what’s probably like the five-hundredth take of Let it Be with his drunk uncle voice, and this is George. No matter how much he might want to stay annoyed at them, he never can.

I wonder when exactly John goes from “I think that was rather grand. I’d take one home with me.” on Let it Be to, “Yeah, he was just trying to write another bridge over troubled water. Could’ve been Wings.” When exactly did the meaning (dead mom says not to fight for your relationships) sink in that made him hate the song?

I love that we end on Paul saying, “we’ll do one more.” I love that there’s never a tied-up, clean-cut ending for the Beatles. There’s always a “Her Majesty” tacked on after “The End” to leave room to continue on.

#get back #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #Thanks again everyone for all the support on these :)#40 days from now Paul and Linda get married #48 days until John and Yoko have their turn #232 days until John tells Paul he wants a divorce #434 days until Paul announces that they're over

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whumpsoda · 2 months

Text

Coming Back to Bite You Part 1 - Swept Up

Masterlist

Finally putting this out there, hopefully I continue it :) updates will probably be pretty slow and gradual!

cw: vampire whumper, kidnapping, hypnosis, alcohol use, mention of death

———————————————————————

He was going to throw up.

Marshall gripped the can of beer in one calloused hand, taking an aggressive swig of the beverage, still cold droplets of liquid dribbling over his fingers. His throat bobbed with each continuing gulp, and his stomach churned in a boil of acidic bile. The bitter taste of alcohol coated his mouth, swishing off his tongue and dancing down his throat, until he realized he was going to choke. Marshall’s moist lips released the can with a weak gasp.

He lazily dropped it to the concrete with a clang, the last sip of liquid slipping And seeping into the cracks of the concrete. With a groan he dug his trembling hands into the skin of his flushed face, bits of dried and cracked blood still crammed in rings underneath his crooked nails.

The sour smell of gore still tainted his runny nostrils, infecting the scent of his several tossed away and half finished drinks. Begrudged tears pricked at his eyes, leaving his vision glassy and wet as he desperately tried to wipe them gone.

He should’ve be used to it. Five plus years of vampire hunting experience should’ve prepared him, but it didn’t. It never did.

Marshall choked back a soft sob, brushing at his face roughly in an attempt to rid the tears stained with embarrassment. He didn’t know why he did it. Why he had for five years, and why he continued to. Why he still didn’t quit after seeing yet another young newbie die a gruesome death at the hand of a monstrous creature, with nothing to do to stop it.

How pathetic.

“Something wrong?”

His limbs froze rigid, the sharp, close words cutting through the nightly silence. He shifted, gaze meeting with that of a small woman seated neatly beside him.

Her face was shadowed by the light shining upon her back, but he could still clearly see her soft grin and glittering eyes.

“Um,” he sputtered, gears turning to catch his mind up with his mouth. “Leave, leave me alone.”

She grinned, eerily soft and sweet, tilting her head a smidge. The essence of a mother speaking to her child. “I’d love to help.”

Help? Puzzled anger bubbled bigger in his belly, only strengthened by her audaciousness. “I said,” he snarled, face twisting and seething, his crooked teeth bared in likeness to that of the creatures he was trained to kill. “Leave me alone.”

“Driving home?”

Marshall groaned, sickly, taking a peek at his tattered old truck sitting in the empty lot. His vision shifted, rolling down to the can he’d placed beside his foot, previously filled with alcohol.

He gritted his teeth, grabbing the can once again and lifting it to his lips as the stranger watched. “Yeah? So what?” He spat, taking a petty sip.

The woman sighed, her smug grin never so much as faltering. “Just thought I’d remind you.” She huffed, holding back a chuckle.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” Marshall grumbled, glaring sharply at the stranger. She simply giggled, dripping with condescension, waving him off. Was it so hard to get five minutes to himself?

“Oh, you are very funny, dear. A bit temperamental as well, I see.” She chuckled again.

What was her problem?

That was it. It was not the time. The stranger obviously didn’t have anything better to do than irritate someone crying in the middle of nowhere covered in grime and vampire blood, and seemed to be having a good time with it. Marshall, on the other hand, was no short of seething.

He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his cheeks of sweat and tears and adjusting his coat. Without another word he stepped to leave.

To his surprise, shocking strength wrapped around his wrist, holding him back and leaving him unable to walk off.

“Oh, please don’t go. I didn’t mean to upset you. Sit back down with me, won’t you?”

Marshall stared back in bewilderment at the woman firmly clutching his wrist. What? Confusion was boggling him, poking at his brain. Was she crazy? Who was she to think he would follow her request? After she’d been practically taunting him when he was obviously distressed?

Though-

He paused. He had meant to snap another insolent response, but nothing came out. Why did he-

His vision swiftly glazed over blurry, fogging up his eyes as they turned glassy and unfocused. Marshall wobbled in his spot, legs buckling and shivering with weakness. The ground spun under him, dizzying his head and coating his mind with wretched nausea. His fingers reached out for something to grab, something to stabilize him.

He needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit-

He lazily stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet, plopping right back into his seat. This time, he was a smidge closer to the woman. Marshall’s head lolled into his hand, catching himself from such dizzying disorientation.

Why was he… back on the bench? Was he not just about to leave? Was she touching him?

Lightly she rubbed in circles over his back, a motion he almost took no notice of. “Sorry about that, dear. It’s alright now.”

“I… what…?” Marshall slurred, his mind still a thick sludge that desperately gripped the walls of his, hopeful not to slip further into befuddlement.

He… he’d felt similar. Before. Marshall knew the sensation well, the sensation of his brain slipping through his fingers like water, liquified and stolen right out from his own control. Stomped to mush.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no-

“Very pretty rings you have. Mind if I take a look?” She held his hand between both of her gloved ones, fingers trailing over silver that glimmered in the light.

“Um…”

Not waiting for an answer, the stranger swiftly slipped each ring off each finger, holding them oh so carefully. “Very nice. Very.” She inspected them for a moment, right before turning and tossing them in a garbage bin behind her.

With widened eyes he sputtered, lazily trying to claw for them a second too late. She swept right back into his personal space, forcing him to retreat back with distraction. “Hm. And what might that be?”

She pointed to his pocket.

To his wooden stake, a necessity for vampire hunters.

It couldn’t be-

“I- you, that’s-”

Before he could so much as react, she slipped it right from him with her impossibly quick and nimble hands. “A wooden stake? Silly, silly.” She tisked, ignoring his growing concern and tossing it to the floor. It rolled a few feet away, and with drowsy, draped eyes Marshall watched it crawl out of reach. “You won’t be needing that.”

Please, no-

“You! You- you’re-!” Voice rising with muddled heat, his brain’s realization was catching up with his mouth.

Oh, God-

“Relax. I’m just here to help you. Calm down, dear.”

“N-no… you’re-! Get off me!” He swiped at her outstretched hand, feebly slapping it away.

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have let a vampire so close? How? He’d been so distressed and out of it from that nights job he hadn’t even noticed. What a fool, what a fool, what a fool.

He recoiled, jumping right off the bench and running. With his brain already such a mangled mess he nearly fell over, only catching himself with one hand and pushing himself back up.

His steps were slow and drowsy, swaying arduously and dramatically on his weighted feet. Nonchalantly the stranger stood behind him, taking her sweet time to catch up.

“Go-! Go away! Go away!” he hollered, stumbling around in a growing daze toward his truck, slipping over nothing several times. Her follow persisted. “Go away!”

Her vampiric aura strengthened by the second, taking hold of his susceptible mind and pushing him back into a distant, fuzzy haze. His words were tumbling and quieting, his movements gradually decreasing.

“N- no… no… leave…! Go…”

Soon enough subtle fingers trailed swiftly down his spine, stopping him in place. “Shhh, shhh… relax, dear. Just allow your limbs to go all numb and sleepy.”

His shoulders buckled, jaw falling slack under the immense weight of hypnotic force. Even still, infected by disgusting pleasure, his stomach tensed with sour acid. “Nooo…”

She walked around him, meeting his gaze with sweet, mind melting eyes. “I know you must be scared, little one. My apologies for messing with you, I just couldn’t help it. I’ll be nice now, okay? So be a good boy and just sleep.”

Easy. She’d overpowered him, so easily. Five years of practice and he’d lost just like that. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. How could he not hate himself? How could he not detest the world for such a fate he never deserved? Five years of service and he was going to lose his life at the hands of a vampire?

He’d been so careful.

“Just calm, oh so calm. Your mind settles, all sleepy and exhausted. Just let go for now. I won’t hurt you.” She soothed, cupping his face in her palms.

“Nuh… no… go…”

He didn’t want to let go. He had to escape. He wanted to escape. He wanted…

He wanted…

“Let… go…”

She smiled, warmth spreading through his belly, a blissful, distracting sensation that scattered any coherent thoughts clawing to the edges of his mind. “Good, good. Let go, dear. Just for a bit. You’ll have a very nice nap, okay? It’s all dark out here, which means you must be very tired. And nighttime means you sleep, doesn’t it?”

Marshall yawned, head lolling and body melting. He’d like a nap. He’d been working so dreadfully hard, he deserved one, did he not? A nap would be just wonderful.

“Aw, how cute. You’re so drowsy. Just falling asleep right in my arms, huh? Lovely. An easy catch, weren’t you?” He hummed in agreement, her words flowing through one ear and out the other. He was swiftly floating into unconsciousness, head gradually falling forward into his chest. “Shh… so very relaxed, sleep just holding your putty like mind in it’s hands. Just let go to the call of sleep and exhaustion. I know you want to, dear.”

It was strange, how delightful it felt. He’d been enthralled before, but never so deeply and thoroughly. His brain never so overridden. Why had he ever fought it? Why had he ever rejected such heaven? Marshall couldn’t so much as think of an answer.

Or, think at all, really.

Placing the kind pressure of her hand on the back of his neck, she easily guided the exhausted Marshall’s slick with sweat forehead into the nape of her neck.

“Good boy, good boy. Just let all your worries go. I tried so hard to make this easy on you, I know how easily fussy you humans can get. But everything is fine and calm. Calm and sleepy. Sleepy and relaxed. The darkness of the night makes you oh so exhausted and ready for bed.”

He shivered from the sound of praise, as well as the vampire stroking down his arms and stirring more pleasant feel as he drifted, brain coming to a stop. It felt better than it ever had to fall asleep. He smiled, and so did she. Even in the middle of winter, he’d never felt so pleasantly warm.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” She whispered sweetly, rocking him gently like a small child into an entranced sleep. “I’ll take great care of you, dear.”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump

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#Coming back to bite you #Whump #whumpblr #whump story #vampire #vampire story #vampire whumper #whump writing #my writing #Marshall oc #Evangeline oc #Vampire hunter #enthralled #hypnotized #hypnosis #hypnosis whump #hypnotized whumpee #kidnapping

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tojikai · 2 years

Text

Permanent Mark VIII: Lengths

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mention suicide, insecurities, self-destructive reader

Series Masterlist

How far will you go? How far can you go?

“Hey,” Suguru greeted Satoru as he sat on a pool chair beside him, pouring himself a glass, “I wanna punch you, you know that?” Satoru sighed at him, looking down as he shook his head. Suguru doesn’t know why Shoko hadn’t landed a slap on him yet, but he figured that you probably also told her not to make a deal of it anymore. Like you always do when it comes to Satoru. He watched as Satoru looked away, busying his eyes with others as they had fun around the pool just to avoid Suguru’s gaze.

“I know, Suguru, and I’m sorry,” He sighed as he downed his cup, face twitching at the bitter taste. Suguru doesn’t know what to feel about all of it anymore. He knows that you also made a mistake but then again, every time he remembers how hard it was for you just to stop thinking about Satoru all those days, he understands why you did it. It was a five-year relationship that had been taken away from you without notice; of course, you’d long for him. It’s impossible to not give in when all this time, all you’ve been craving is him. It frustrated Suguru in more ways than one, but he has to be honest to himself.

“You should be. She blames herself for it.” Satoru’s eyes widened at his statement; worry was painted all over his face as he sat up in his chair, “I was the one who kept kissing her.” He breathed out, thinking of any way he could ease your mind and heart about it when he cannot even get close to you. After the day he asked you to go out on a date, all of his calls went straight to voicemail, and you replied only at night when you’re already about to sleep. As a result, Satoru settled down on giving you flowers and gifts.

You accepted them but not him.

“You know she fucking misses you. You literally breached her walls, Satoru. And now, you’re after her again. Do you think she gave in because she wanted you back in her life? Do you really think she’s stupid?” Suguru was leaning closer to him, whispering with clenched teeth. Satoru knows that you mean it when you said that was the last time that it would happen. But he has no plans of giving you up. He knows that you only accept his gifts out of politeness that he doesn’t even deserve to get from you after what he’s done, but he wanted to show that he’s true to his words of earning you back again.

”It’s not like that, Suguru. I know that she only gave in because she was caught up in her emotions, and it might seem like I was only taking advantage of it, but believe me, Suguru, I just couldn’t help myself. I’ve denied how much I miss her and when she was within my reach again, I just couldn’t let myself let her go. I knew that I had to get her back.” Satoru explained, turning to face his friend as he desperately tries to prove how he truly feels for you. It hurts him that even his own best friend lost trust in him, but he couldn’t really blame them. After all the shit that he pulled on them and you over the course of two months, it would be hard to get their trust back.

“Well, good luck on that. Because she wants nothing to do with you anymore.” Satoru felt a pang on his chest as Suguru stood up from the chair. It didn’t shake his determination but thinking about how he probably really lost you for good this time is just too agonizing for him. “Are you…” Satoru started as Suguru walked past him. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing when he saw his best friend stop from the corner of his eye, “You and Y/N are just… just friends, right?” He tried to sound as calm as possible. He only wants to know; he doesn’t want to start a fight. He trusts your words more than anyone, but he wants to know if Suguru still thinks of it like that too.

“Yeah. I’m looking out for her. Friends help each other, right?” Suguru looked back at him, but Satoru remained unmoving. “I help her a lot, Satoru,” Suguru added as he walked away, not bothering to wait for his answer. Satoru exhaled harshly, taking his lip between his teeth and trying to get his thoughts straight after what he heard. Satoru doesn’t really know what to feel about how Suguru stated it, but he doesn’t have the right to react violently to it. Not anymore. All that he can do now is take every word you and Suguru say in a very literal sense so as to not burn the top of his head from thinking too much.

If he loses you, he won’t only lose his mind. He’ll lose his heart; he’ll lose it all.

Satoru grew up with only his mother and grandparents by his side. He has contact with his dad and meets with him every now and then. He left when he was 6 because he just couldn’t work it out with his mom, but he never really got into a relationship again. He always asks him about her and sends her gifts whenever he feels like it. Satoru found it weird that it was never a regular thing but more like his dad keeps taking a step forward and then back.

He asked his father about it once, but all he said was he’s simply being civil. Satoru believes that maybe his father still loves his mom, but he just doesn’t know what to do with her. Her mother can be stubborn, too headstrong, and rarely goes back on her word. Satoru never really suffered from the situation because they’re still present, but still, he wished that they stayed together for his sake.

He used to think that these had nothing to do with his state of mind right now, but after all the events, he realized that maybe he just took after his dad. He doesn’t want to use it as an excuse, though. He thought that if he could take after his dad, then he could also be like the person who carried him for 9 months and raised him. He wanted to be resolute. He knows that his parents' situation isn’t really the same as his with you right now, but he figured that these values should apply if he’s going to work for your trust and your hand. Knowing that you don’t even want to breathe the same air as him hurts. But giving you up hurts more.

He fears the day you officially lose every love you have for him. He fears the day when not even every other beat of your heart speaks his name. He fears the day you just shut him out instead of tolerating his futile attempts. He fears the day you see him as nothing more than a stranger who once held your broken pieces in the palms of his freezing hands. But when that day comes, it would also mean that you are finally healed from all of the misery he had made you go through.

He wants you. God, he fucking loves you. But would he really refuse to give that freedom to you?

—————————————————————–

“Did you really take Plan B?”

You took in a shaky breath as you looked up at Shoko. She was looking at you with wide eyes and a pale face. If the color drained from her face this fast, you’re also sure that yours is slowly getting drained out of your body, because you wouldn’t be feeling so lightheaded if it’s still normal. You fell on your bum as you put a hand on your forehead. You couldn’t be pregnant. You took it, and you’re sure of that.

“Is this your way of telling everyone that you’re getting back with him, Y/N?” Shoko accused; disappointment was crystal clear in her harsh tone even as she held your arms gently to help you sit on the closed toilet. Your vision is still spinning, and your stomach clenches every now and then. You shook your head as you pursed your lips before inhaling sharply through your nose. Your shoulders won’t stop shaking, and you don’t know if it’s because of the sickness or how nervous you are.

“No, Shoko. I wasn’t—” Before you could even finish your sentence, Shoko was already cutting you off with a slightly louder voice as she crouched down in front of you. “Then why would you lie about taking it?!” It wasn’t loud enough to be heard outside, but the way she said it was sharp enough to make you flinch. Her brows bumped together, and her mouth was turned downwards. It was rare for Shoko to show so many emotions, but that’s how you know that she’s really unhappy with your actions. But you could also tell that she was worried by how she ran a hand over her face as she took a deep breath.

Looking at the distressed look on your friend’s face made you realize how your problems with Satoru drained them. You know how much these people sacrificed and are still sacrificing for you, yet here you are messing around. They know that what Satoru did was wrong, and that’s why they didn’t hesitate to take your side. And what did you do? You slept with him after being left in the same room for not even half an hour. You made your friends look like a fool by the person you made them believe they were protecting you from. It’s all starting to make you feel sicker than you already do. You were dragging them along with you all this time.

“Y/N? Y/N?” You heard Shoko call out your name as she lightly shook your shoulders. You didn’t even realize that you were spacing out. Your fingers are starting to shake, and your stomach feels like they are doing flips. The sweat on your forehead is cold, and you don’t think you can still stand. The beating of your heart felt like it was coming from your head. You shook your head at Shoko as concern took over the gutted look that she previously had.

“I-I took it, Shoko. I swear. I wouldn’t lie about it. I-I’m sorry, Shoko. I-I really—” You started to panic as all thoughts of how you let the people who helped you down barraged your mind. They’re going to leave you now, too. Shoko would give up on you, and Suguru, who has stayed with you and did everything he could for you, would finally break and leave too. “Calm down. Y/N, calm down.” Your vision keeps blurring and clearing up. It’s almost as if you were slowly losing consciousness, but your beating hard is fighting to keep you up. You did

“Breathe. I’m here, Y/N. I’m sorry I snapped, okay? We’ll take a test at my clinic. Calm down.” Shoko tried to talk to you as calmly as possible, but inside her head, she was already thinking about how all of this would affect you. She already knows that you’re thinking about how you’re probably taking all of them down with your issues again. Shoko might be pissed at how easily you gave in to Satoru, but she can’t really blame all of it on you. She can’t invalidate your feelings and emotions like that. Yes, it was wrong to be an accomplice in cheating, and you know that. She thinks it’s unnecessary to penalize you further for a mistake that you’re already punishing yourself for.

“Come on, can you stand up now? Let’s get you dressed.” She wrapped her arm around your waist to help you stand up, letting you grab her hand with your freezing ones. Shoko prayed that it was only a false alarm. She knows that stress and hormonal changes can mimic pregnancy symptoms, and there’s nothing more that he wants right now but for it to be just that. She thinks babies are great but to be honest, Shoko doesn’t think it’ll be easy for you to conceive safely in this state.

“I know I took it…” You whispered to yourself before letting Shoko help you change. Is this why you’ve been feeling sick every day? You thought it was just your body reacting to stress because you’ve never really worked before, never had to handle and think of papers, never had to come home late and exhausted from such unfun things. You thought the accident, your mistakes, and the pressure that you’ve been feeling ever since you decided that you’d want to properly talk to Satoru about completely cutting things off between the two of you are just too heavy for you to keep bottled and are just begging to be finally released.

Not once had it crossed your mind that you might be carrying a life inside you.

“He told me you accepted his date proposal once; what was that about?” Shoko still has her doubts that you really took plan B. Not only because she doesn’t trust you due to what happened between you and Satoru but also because she’s suspicious as to why you’d suddenly agree to meet and chat with Satoru when you already rejected him countless times. She’s wondering what it is that made you accept it.

“I thought it would be a good chance to have a proper talk with him about how serious I am with my decision to end everything between us.” You heard Shoko sigh at the statement. You know that it was stupid since Satoru is not really showing any signs of giving up. Shoko also told you that it’s not really needed since you already made it clear, and Kento said so too. You see, he caught you snarling at your phone when you excused yourself to take a call.

“Boyfriend problems?” He asked you as he tapped a pen on the short stack of papers in from of him. He was leaning back on his chair with his suit jacket off, and you can’t help but notice his arms with his rolled-up sleeves. You shook your head as you sat down, sighing exasperatedly while pushing your hair away from your forehead. You’ve constantly been losing your cool on Satoru nowadays, and you’re starting to ask yourself if you’re really starting to hate him for real this time.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You answered him, massaging your nape as you closed your eyes. You can’t believe that you can be easily fatigued now. You wondered if it’s a change in your body brought about by the accident. “Let me guess. He wants you back?” Kento leaned forward, taking off his glasses as he smirked at you. You bit your lip as you thought of a way to explain it better to him.

“He’s…trying to court me again. So yeah, like that but not directly or forcefully. He’s working for it.” You looked down at the papers on your desk, trying to process what you sounded like when you said that. You probably sound like you want him back. And Kento confirmed that by asking, “So, you wanna give him a chance?” You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, so you simply shook your head.

You already made up your mind that you’re not taking any of his advances anymore. You only agreed to meet last time because you want to officially close your door on Satoru. There’s no reason to be thinking or having any second thoughts now. This is for your own good. There was a moment of silence before you took a deep breath and cleared your throat. You sat up straighter on the chair.

“No. I don’t. That’s why I was upset when he called, right?” You told Kento confidently, and you almost got pissed at the small smile tugging at his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his expression. He started stacking up the papers in front of you as he looked at you occasionally with a small, playful smile. This dude, you thought as you let your lips part, waiting for him to finish tapping the side of the papers on the table to tidy them up before clasping his hands in front of him.

“Then block him.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it took you back a bit because that’s one thing that you refused to do. It’s not like you find pleasure in all the attention that Satoru’s giving you all day, every day, but you just think that it’s difficult to do, especially when the man is doing nothing but tell you kind, sweet, and caring words. Well, that, and asking you out on a date every now and then, but still, you don’t want to be that type of person. You’d rather reply ‘no’ for as long as you can instead of making him look stupid. You don’t hate him enough to do that.

You hate what he did, but you cannot hate him.

“Nevermind. He’ll probably use another number to call you again.” Kento shook his head while you were thinking of a good response to his suggestion. He’s right, though. Even if you block Satoru, you’re sure he can always use another number to reach you. “It’s not that bad, really. Not the stalkerish type of thing.” You gulped, leaning back on the swivel chair. “I already told him ‘no.’ Our situation got really complicated, and he wants to make up for every fucking thing.” You gritted your teeth as frustration took over you, not realizing you just cursed in front of your trainer. “Sorry,” You whispered, and you only heard him chuckle, making you sigh in relief.

Kento is a really great company; he might seem like the ‘oh-so-serious’ type but not so much when you get to spend time with him. You understand why your Mom entrusted you under his care. He’s responsible and strict when it’s about work. He can easily get you into a mindset where all you see and care about is the job in front of you and how you have to get them done so, you could have a precious time of rest later on. Truly admirable.

“I kind of stood him up the last time he asked me out on a date. But only because I forgot.” You still feel bad about it. You didn’t mean to keep him waiting, and you definitely didn’t want to get him soaked by the rain. You feel terrible for not even offering to let him dry up in your apartment, but it’s for the best. You can’t afford to make the same mistake you made the last time you were alone together.

“So, you still agreed. Don’t give him false hope, Y/N.” Kento clicked his tongue, putting a hand behind his head as he leaned back. He’s such a hard-working person, and it’s very rare for you to see him so relaxed in the office. It was nice, and it calmed you because he felt like a new person to trust outside of your circle of friends with Satoru. “Don’t do that. Just say no.” He looked at you with kindness, offering nothing but guidance.

“I wanted to talk to him about something. Seal the deal, you know. Make it clear that it’s over.” You fiddled with your fingers as you thought of how you initially said the words out of frustration. When you got to think about it later that day, you wanted to take it back, but then it hit you that it could be a closure date instead. As if 'closure sex' isn’t enough. The voice inside your head whispered, and you clenched your teeth, breathing in and out through your nose. You’re still angry at yourself for letting it happen.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you already made it clear with a no. Agreeing to a date with him just might lead him on, Y/N. And it's crueler than rejecting.” Kento sighed, shrugging as if unsure of the piece of advice he had given you. It made you wonder if he’s ever been in a similar situation before. You don’t really see any signs of him being in a relationship. Most of the time that he accepts a call, it’s from someone higher in the company. You don’t see him texting anyone either.

Tired of thinking, you just nodded and sighed heavily, pursing your lips as you stared at the unfinished papers in front of you. Maybe it’s really better to just say ‘No.’ Just reject his advances, thank him for the gifts but make it clear that whatever you and he had before is never happening again. You love Satoru, but thinking about how he recklessly left you in the cold makes you feel like locking yourself up at home and drowning yourself again. You can’t be like this forever.

“How many weeks has it been since something happened between the two of you?” Shoko took you out of your trance, handing you fresh garments from your bag to change into. There was a full-body mirror inside the bathroom, and you couldn’t help but stare at your stomach. There are no changes in it. But then again, it’s only been a month, and you’re not even sure if you’re pregnant yet. It’s not surprising for it not to show yet if it’s really the case.

“Four, I think.” You sniffled as you got dressed as quickly as possible while guarding yourself not to slip. Shoko was fixing her things, too, and you could tell that she was just as nervous as you. It made you feel scared because if you were really pregnant, what were you going to do? Will you tell Satoru about it? Suguru will think you lied to him about taking the pill, and that’s the last thing you want him to think of you.

“Don’t be scared.” You put on your shirt, blinking away your tears before they even start to pool in your eyes. “You said you took plan B. Don’t be so nervous.” She added, but you know that she’s just trying to calm you down. Both of you know that Plan B’s can fail, too, but you don’t want to think that it was what happened. You can’t afford to be crying now; you’re tired of this already. You have to be strong for yourself, and if what you and Shoko thinks is proven correct, then you also have to be strong for the baby. Your baby.

“Shoko,” You turned to her, letting her wrap her arms around you as you cried softly on her shoulders. You just can’t hold it in anymore, and you think it’s better to let it all out here rather than let everyone outside see. You’re not just afraid of what the results will be, but you’re also scared to lose these people who have been with you through it all. You’re afraid that they’ll finally give up on you. “It’ll be fine, Y/N. We’ll be with you.” Shoko wanted to scold you, but how could she when you’re already breaking down like this? She knows better than to leave you in the middle of it all.

“Let’s go, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay.” She wiped your tears and kissed your forehead before getting all her things and leading you out of the bathroom. She waved at Mei mei and the others, quickly making an excuse for your sudden leave, but of course, it won’t go unsuspicious to Suguru, who’s now making his way towards the two of you. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Satoru sitting up on the pool chair too. She can’t afford to have him know of it yet. It’s not even confirmed, he’d only want to go with you, and Shoko’s sure that it would cause tension and stress to you. She puts a protective arm around your waist as she waves at the group.

“What’s going on?” Suguru whispered when he reached the two of you. He knows you wouldn’t just suddenly leave because you want to go to a salon appointment with Shoko. It’s not impossible, but you were just having fun. Why would you suddenly leave? “Are you hurt anywhere?” He gently took your elbow, checking for anything wrong, but you were quick to shake your head, flashing him a smile.

“You can’t tell Satoru yet.” Shoko answered for you, and that’s when Suguru’s face changed, looking at your friend with concern before turning to Shoko, “We’re going to the clinic. Just follow us there. I’ll explain later.” Suguru can’t think of any matter at the moment that Satoru can’t know about. He’s basically out of your life now, so anything that concerns you is not within his scope anymore.

“The clinic? Are you sure you’re fine?” He turned to you, pulling you a bit to check again, but Shoko tapped his wrist, quickly not to get the attention of the others before slightly shaking her head at him. It left Suguru no choice but to nod. Your eyes landed on his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down when he swallowed. You refused to look up at him, still thinking of an explanation just in case Shoko’s assumptions were right. You don’t want him to think that you fooled him.

Saying your goodbyes to your friends for the last time before leaving, Suguru moved out of the way to let you and Shoko pass. Now he has to think of a way to get out of here without making it suspicious. He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about letting a bit of time pass before getting ready to leave. He grabbed his bag and decided that a stick or two should be enough before he goes to the clinic.

“What happened to Y/N?” Satoru stood up beside him as he lit up a stick. Suguru knows that he’d ask questions, and of course, he knows that it’s about you. “Didn’t you hear what Shoko said? She’s got an appointment at the salon.” Suguru did his best to make it seem like it was really where they were going. It’s Shoko’s first sentence to him when he asks about what happened, so it’s obviously the most important.

“At this hour? It’s almost 5 pm.” He murmured, turning away from the smoke. “It closes at 9,” Suguru answered confidently, thanking the Gods that the location of his tattoo shop is near the salons. He’s definitely right about this one. Hearing Satoru says ‘Oh’ was a relief to him because he didn’t know what else he’d say to him if he asked questions further. Just a bit more. He thought to himself as he bounced his leg, impatient for a bit of time to pass.

—————————————————————–

“Fuck.” You stared looked at the three tests in front of you. All positive. “How could it be? I took plan B, Shoko. I swear.” You heard the door to Shoko’s clinic slam open, and you already knew that it was Suguru. There were heavy footsteps before he appeared in the doorway with a worried look on his face. His eyes darted to the three tests lined up on the table. His eyes darted to Shoko before you.

“This is what’s happening? What’s the result?” He breathed out heavily, walking towards you with large strides. He hugged you to his side before looking over to the tests. Shoko could swear that she could almost see the color fading away from his face. His eyes were blown wide as they looked at his friend. He heard you sniffle at his side, putting his bag on the floor beside the table. Of course, the tests are yours.

But why the fuck are they positive?

“I didn’t lie about the Plan B, Suguru. I swear I took it. I wouldn’t lie to you and Shoko.” You wept, putting your face in your hand with your elbows on your knees. Suguru crouched down beside you, eyeing Shoko, who was also looking accusingly at him. He knows that she will interrogate him about this later, but right now, he’s only worried about you. How are you going to handle this? Even if they were with you, it’s only natural for you to be scared of what’s going to happen.

“I know. Stop crying. It’ll be fine.” He wiped away your tears, attempting to soothe you even when he himself was panicking. He knows that you’d have to tell Satoru about this. It’d be unfair to hide it from him. “Suguru, I’ll talk to you.” He looked up at Shoko, who only offered you a small, comforting smile before walking out of the door, beckoning him to follow.

“Stop worrying. That’s not good for the baby.” He kissed your forehead before following Shoko, leaving you to stare at the tests. Suguru knows just what Shoko is going to ask him from the look that she gave him earlier. From all the time he spent with you, it’s expected that anyone would be suspicious. Shoko was present too, but he stayed with you more because his line of work isn’t as demanding as Shoko’s.

“Is it yours?” was the first thing Shoko asked him when he closed the door to the room that was separating him from them. Shoko was aware of Suguru’s real feelings for you and that’s why despite trusting him, she still wanted to ask him about it. “You know, It’d be better if you say yes. It would be an easier mess to fix. You know how fucked up things with Satoru are already.” She chuckled a bit, probably trying to make the situation lighter than it really is. She took a seat on one of the couches and crossed her arms, worry etched all over her face even as she tried to hide it by acting calm. Suguru could see where she was coming from. He knows that Satoru would want to keep it if it’s his; that’s one of your life goals with him. Something he ruined when he chose to run away with someone else.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” Shoko asked more directly this time, and it only made Suguru gulp which is obviously too audible because it made Shoko snap her head towards him, eyes wide and lips ajar. “Something really happened? While I was away? You guys…” She stood up from the chair, covering her mouth. Of course, it’s shocking. Both you and Suguru swore to everyone that you’re just friends. Which you are but…with more involvement. But you’re definitely not in a relationship. You were just drunk and he was tipsy. He doesn’t see a reason to not help you when you were begging that much and looking so ravishingly good too...

It started when he called you to ask what you were doing, wondering maybe the both of you could crash at Shoko’s place after a movie. You answered the phone and said that you were already drinking, so he rushed over, worried that you might not keep it in moderation again. It’s been a while since you drank, and he made sure to tell you that you shouldn’t do it when you’re alone. He knows how messed up one’s thoughts can be when they’re drunk.

“Join me. We’ll go to Shoko’s tomorrow.” You giggled as you walked toward your bed, a movie already playing on the large television mounted on the wall. It’s not good for a friend to think this way, but you’re literally free-balling it in front of him. He had to pull down his shirt as he threw his keys on the small chair to sit on the bench at the foot of your bed. You hand him a glass reaching over as your shirt hangs low on the neck, making him look away.

It’s not unusual for you to hang out like this. Shoko’s used to all of this, too, but right now, you only have one layer of clothing, and Suguru could tell that you’re already close to telling stories from when you were still living under the same roof as your mom. You’re more careless with your movements and probably even more so with your thoughts. He’s seen you drunk many, many times, but it’s different this time. He downs a whole glass whenever you do something that makes a part of his jump. He just drank his third one when you whined about a thread on the hem of your shirt bothering you.

“Suguru…” You slurred, cheeks flushed as you lay down on the bed in nothing but your oversized white shirt and tiny sleeping shorts that barely covered your ass. It’s not something Suguru would say to you, and it’s not something that a ‘friend’ should pay attention to, but how could he not when you’re looking at him with soft, gleaming eyes and glossy lips? Your hair is messy, yet it only makes you more inviting than you already do.

You’re fucking hot, and he can’t believe that he really risked it all and came over.

“Can you bite this?” Suguru gulped, keeping his eyes on the TV so as to not look at you. You’re making it harder for him. “What?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. If he stands up now, you’d definitely see what he’s been hiding. When he heard you whimpering, he finally turned around, seeing you with one of your legs stretched out and the other folded. The thread that you were mewling about is wrapped around your finger as you tried to pull on it.

“Alright, let me get a scissor.” He spoke, thanking the heavens that his brain was still working properly. He quickly got up to get one and came back just as fast but not before telling himself that he cannot let anything happen between the two of you, no matter what happens. No matter how painful it is. He took in a deep breath before entering the room again and sitting next to you and pulling the hem of your shirt to cut it, breath hitching when it exposed your lower stomach.

“By the way, when are you gonna tattoo me? I've been busy with work, so let’s schedule it on… weekends!” You put down the glass on top of your bedside drawer, pulling your shirt up further. “It should be here, right?” You pulled your shirt over your stomach and exposed the underside of your breast, tracing where the tattoo should be. Suguru could still remember the day Satoru ruined your tattoo session, and the events that came after only angered him more, so he just hummed and nodded.

“If only Satoru didn’t barge in that day.” You scoffed, pouting and turning to him and pulling him down to lay with you. Suguru quickly threw the scissors at the bedroom bench that he was sitting on earlier, letting you drag his body down with the light touch of your fingers tips on his shirt-covered chest. He pulled the blanket over his lower half, still wary of the growing tent on it every moment that passed. He closed his eyes shut, reminding himself what to do and what not to do.

“Say Suguru, would you have helped me if I was as frustrated now as I was back then?” You spoke in a soft voice, almost as if you were luring him into you. But Suguru’s sure that it was just how he always hears you. And that’s why he can’t say no to you. “Yeah, I’ll make you a warm bath to take away your frustrations.” You laughed at his answer, throwing your head back until they came down as giggles.

“You won’t help me deal with it?” You turned to him, speaking directly to his ear while he tried to keep his focus on the movie playing, albeit with a slightly blurry vision. He only hummed and cleared his throat, feeling you trace figures on his arms. You moaned lightly as you got up, ready to pour yourself another glass, but Suguru was quick to grab you by the waist, pulling you down on the bed.

“I knew you’d do that. I haven’t even drunk much. I’m just exhausted from work, you know.” It’s true; he could see that it’s still a bit more than half full. He’s drinking, too, so he wouldn’t say that you consumed all of that. But still, that’s more than enough than what he’d like you to drink. After not drinking for a while, he wondered if it was possible that your tolerance had lowered.

“Would you touch me if I ask politely?” Suguru was taken aback by your statement. Not once have you asked him something like that. “You’re drunk. Go to sleep.” He quickly answered, moving to grab the covers, but you lightly placed your foot on his arm, halting his movements as you adjusted yourself, not tearing your eyes away from him. You traced his tattoos with your toes, with your pointer finger on your lips, and Suguru could swear that he could feel every thought leaving his brain.

The skin of your thighs, how those shorts hug your hips and waist, and how your hardened peaks poked through the thin fabric of your shirt; he’s sure that you’re dead set on making him lose his mind or killing him with your eyes. He could hear his breath hitch when you lowered your foot, parted your legs, and invited him in. How could Satoru fucking trade this sight for anything else? He gritted his teeth, both anger and frustration making their way into his veins, and he gotta be careful not to fuck them out on you.

Suguru closed his eyes tightly, realizing the thoughts that just ran through his head. Yes, he likes you, but he’ll never admit that. You’d probably want to go back to Satoru someday. You’d probably make your way back to each other again, and that would break him; God, that would fucking kill him, but it’s been destroying him for five years now, so what’s stopping him from letting it obliterate his heart more?

A night would be enough, and he’d let you crush his heart by running to Satoru again.

“What do you want?” It felt like it wasn’t himself talking. His mind was hazy and he’s almost seeing double. He’s sure he’d have to sleep in another room because there’s no way he can drive in this state. You bit your lips at the lowness of his voice, feeling it send vibrations to your core. A whimper escaped your lips as Suguru positioned himself between them, not touching you. He sat far enough to watch you try to grind yourself on the bed, begging for friction as you arched your back, panting for his touch. There were small whines escaping your lips as you reached out to him, asking him to come closer with your sinful eyes.

“Touch me, Suguru. No one else would do it.” Your voice echoed inside his head, repeating the words. It sent his body moving closer to you, letting his forehead rest on yours as you cried out softly, feeling the bulge on his pants. It wasn’t long before he was claiming your lips, his tongue dancing with yours as you tugged on his hair, careful not to mess it up. Your other hand was gripping his shirt, obviously asking him to pull it off, which he gladly obliged, throwing it somewhere in the room. His hand found its way under your shirt, fondling the soft flesh of your breasts. He caught your breathy moans with his lips as he played with your buds before pulling away again.

“Just a touch,” He spoke, raising a pointing finger in front of you when you tried to go after him. It was more of like a reminder to himself than to you. That this is about you and not him. You lied back down on the bed, pulling another pillow under your head to make sure that you can see everything that he’s doing. He tried to ignore how your hips raised, aching for his touch as he watched you push your shirt up to expose your chest. You’re really not helping with the battle going on inside his head. You've made it seem like there’s no other way but forward.

His fingers danced on the skin of your thighs, climbing their way up to your heat. He traced on top of your mound, looking up at you for permission before proceeding to cup it in his large, warm hands. You rubbed yourself on it, rolling your hips which made Suguru furrow his brows as he restrained himself. He’s aware of your nature, but he’s never been left alone with it. Thinking about it now, he doesn’t know how he’ll manage if he was to have you to himself every night and day.

“Please, Sugu. Don’t tease.” You sobbed, looking up at him with glassy eyes. Suguru clenched his jaw before pushing the fabric aside, exposing your womanhood to him. He almost went insane at the sight. He ran a finger on your slit as if testing the waters and gathering your essence on his fingers before rubbing on your nub. Your breath hitched at the contact, relaxing your body as you closed your eyes. Gradually, he started to put more pressure on it, making your pants turn to whimpers and to moans.

“More, Suguru. Please.” You pushed the fabric more to the side, giving him more room to roam his fingers on. He traced your hole, making you whine as you pushed yourself more on his hand. He pushed one digit inside, slowly before curling it, making you cry out loud. It was music to his ears. He wonders how angelic you would sound if he wasn’t only using his fingers. He’d probably hear it even in his dreams. His head is spinning and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or if it’s because of you; both are intoxicating.

‘How fucking stupid are you, Satoru?’ He thought as he panted slightly, thinking about how his friend has all of you but still chose to turn away. He growled lowly as his finger in and out of you, eyes flickering between your heat and your face while relishing in your cries of pleasure and the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. Oh, how he wishes to hear it every night. He wondered if this was all he’ll ever be. ‘A helpful friend.’ You have no idea what he’ll do for you. What he wouldn’t give to make you love him as much as you love his jerk of a friend. But right now, he’s just thankful that you’re not screaming out Satoru’s name. He’d understand if you would, but he’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t.

Adding another finger in as his thumb applied pressure on your pearl made your eyes roll back as you gripped the sheets underneath you. What a sight. He wished that he could capture it, but it wasn’t his. It stings, but the way you clamp around his fingers is soothing the pain. The way you release yourself for him as you reach your high, chanting his name like a prayer, and the way that your arched your back and rolled your hips are taking away the throbbing ache in his chest.

This is enough for him; how you reached out your hand as he pulled away was enough for him.

“Your turn,” You smiled up at him with tears of joy, wetting your lashes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He shook his head and pushed the hair out of your face. “No, you go to sleep. I’ll take care of myself, Y/N.” He kissed your lips once more, savoring the taste, fearing that this might be the last time that he could ever feel it against his. He ignored your whines of protests as he pecked your forehead before fixing your clothes and pulling the covers over your body.

Not long after, sleep took over you. You looked so beautiful, but he had to leave. Before you pull him in any further, he has to leave. He has to stay like this for now. He can’t love you when you’re obviously still in love with someone else, and the both of you know that. To be perfectly honest, Suguru’s firm on not sleeping with you. Satoru’s still his best friend and is currently pursuing you. Even if you’re rejecting him, it’s still not right for Suguru to step in between.

To feel something towards you is one thing but to act on it to satiate himself is another.

“You touched her? When was that? And you were drunk. How sure are you that nothing happened after? God, you two.” Shoko tapped her feet on the tiled floor as she bombarded him with questions. Suguru was sure that nothing happened because the next day, you even apologized to him about it. Now that he thinks about it was that sudden need caused by the pregnancy? You’ve never initiated something like that before, but you were also never drunk around him before that. He doesn’t know if it’s the hormonal changes or just plain alcohol that made you do that.

“I can’t remember exactly when, but I think it’s a bit after she told me about what happened with Satoru. And I’m positive that nothing more happened after that. You know I wouldn’t do it, Shoko.” Suguru sighed, prancing around. He knows that you didn’t sleep with anyone either. You won’t hide something like that from them if you think someone else could be the possible father.

“You two never told me about that.” Shoko looked at him pointedly, offended that it was never shared with her. “Why would we do that?” Suguru rolled his eyes at her, running a hand on top of his hair. “She needs to go for a check-up if she was already pregnant at that time. She drank.” He’s genuinely worried about the child’s well-being. He doesn’t know what you plan on doing with it, but he knows that he would love it.

“The risks are low since she’s just in the first semester, not even 9 weeks in, but yeah, just to be sure. “ Shoko sighed before standing up. “Plan B’s can fail, right?” He asked as they made their way back to the room where you were in. “Yeah, it can. Since morning-after pills are intended to delay ovulation, they are ineffective during this time. Plan B will already have failed if ovulation is already taking place. That’s most likely what happened.” Shoko explained, but all Suguru needed was that yes. It was dead silent, and Shoko didn’t know if she should be thankful that you were not crying anymore or scared because they didn’t really know what you were thinking about. You were staring calmly at the tests with a protective hand over your stomach.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked as she stood behind you, gently massaging your shoulders to soothe whatever worry it is that you might be feeling. “I gotta call Satoru.” You whispered as you turned around, wrapping your arms around Shoko’s waist as she rubbed your arms up and down. That just confirmed that you never had intercourse with any other man than him. She knows that you’re still scared, but she’s thankful that you know what to do. Initially, she thought that you might want to hide it from him. She’s proud that you’re not thinking of it. Even if Satoru was a jerk, he’s still the father.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone else, so it couldn’t be anyone else.” You whispered as you pulled away, looking over at Suguru, who was already staring at you with soft eyes. “He was worried before I left. He can sense that something was wrong.” He nodded at you, watching you grab your bag to look for your phone. Suguru could tell that you were planning on keeping it, but to be honest, he doesn’t know if it’s the best idea. All they could do was support you whichever way you want to go, as long as it’s good for you.

“I texted him to go to my apartment.” You put the phone back in your bag with a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment just to let your brain absorb a little bit more of the situation in front of you. “Let me drive you home.” Suguru sighed, also grabbing his things which he dropped earlier. He’s unsure whether it’s okay to leave you alone with Satoru, but this is a matter that you have to settle together. He just has to stay alert and watch his phone just in case something wrong happens.

“You don’t want us to come with you?” Shoko leaned back on the table as she thought about how Satoru might take the news. She knows that he wants you. But what about the baby? He better man up for this since he’s the main reason why it happened. It wouldn’t have been such a problem if he didn’t betray you. It wouldn’t have been a problem if he didn’t break your heart for something he was not even sure about.

“Yeah, it’s fine.“ You gave Shoko a small smile just to put her mind at ease. Thanking her, you and Suguru left for your apartment. There was a comfortable silence as you leaned your head back on the seat, closing your eyes while you thought of a way to break the news to the father of your child. You and Satoru talked about kids before, and he’s not opposed to the idea. But the situation is different now, and you don’t know if his words would stand the same.

“God," Suguru sighed as he pulled up in front of your apartment building. , turning to you before placing a hand on your stomach. You leaned your head on the car window, looking at his hand, “There’s really something growing in here.” He said it like he’s still in disbelief. You are too but you can’t lose your mind, not when it’s not just you anymore. You spotted Satoru's car parked across it, and the nervousness that you weren't feeling earlier suddenly made its presence known, spreading from your chest down to your fingertips.

The warmth from Suguru's hand as he took yours calmed down the cold, fading just as your flesh was about to shake. "Just call if something wrong happens, alright?" He placed a kiss on your knuckles as you sighed deeply, nodding slowly and catching his eyes on the rare view mirror. The adrenaline was making your blood thicker than it already was, and you wanted to just get this over with to figure out what your next step should be.

You stepped out of the car, waving him goodbye before turning to walk inside the building. Now that Suguru isn’t there to tranquilize your nerves anymore, you found it hard to even press your floor number on the cold buttons of the elevator. Satoru’s already here, and his car outside confirmed it, probably pacing back and forth in front of your door from the curiosity as to why you suddenly called him here when you’ve done nothing but avoid him these past few weeks.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asked you, rushing to you the moment he saw your figure walking down the hallway. The way he checked on your body, almost turning you around to see if you were injured anywhere, made your heart squeeze. There was a slight pang in your chest at how gentle his hold felt around your wrist, in contrast to how he carelessly shook your shoulders back then. You wondered if he completely forgot that he loved you during those moments. Was the difference between you and Rie so apparent that when he saw her hurt, his first thoughts were how insecure you must be?

Remembering everything, you quickly stepped away from him, tears easily pooling in your eyes but quickly blinking them away at the thought of the purpose of calling him here. You’re here to inform him, not to fix things with him. So. all those memories are unneeded. You don’t have to know the answers to those pointless questions.

“Let’s go inside, then we’ll talk.” Your voice sounded hoarse, your throat was dry, and your tongue felt numb. You see Satoru nod as he steps away, letting you open your door. Stepping inside, he inhaled the familiar scent of your cologne. Everything in this apartment screams at you. And only here will he ever feel at home. There’s nowhere in the world that can feel as homely as your apartment. Not even his house, not unless you’re there.

You put your bag down on the couch before you sat beside it. He sat across you, watching your every movement as you rummaged inside it. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him. He started to feel the seriousness of the situation. You placed the three sticks in front of him. Not just any sticks, pregnancy tests, and instantly, Satoru already knew what you were going to say. He already knows why you called him here, and he doesn’t know if he’s happy that you’re having a baby or terrified because he doesn’t know if it’s his or not and if you called him here to officially ask him to stop trying to get you back. If someone else got you pregnant, he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d probably kill himself thinking of what could’ve been if he didn’t fuck things up.

“It’s yours.” Satoru’s eyes widened as he stared at you, watching you avoid his gaze as you looked down, hugging yourself. “What do you…what do you want to do with it?” You asked him reluctantly. If he said that he doesn’t want it, you wouldn’t know if you’ll be able to do it. But looking up and seeing his teary eyes proved you wrong.

“Of course, I’d want you to keep it, Y/N. That’s my baby. But if you can’t…” He paused, thinking about how it happened and how unprepared you were for it. He’s scared that you might want to abort it. He won’t lie, the baby was an accident, but that doesn’t mean that he will see it that way. Even if people turn the world upside down, it’s yours and his. At the same time, he doesn’t want you to have a hard time accepting it. He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to be with him just for it. He’d be present as long and as much as you want him to be.

He won’t take away your freedom of loving someone else even if it kills him.

“It’s mine. What makes you think I’ll get rid of it?” You snapped at him, glaring as your hand instinctively went to touch your still flat stomach. It made him feel warm for some reason, thinking about how the growing life inside you was connected to him and how you wanted to protect it. Satoru sighed, running both of his hands down his face as he stood up, reluctant to sit next to you but not when he saw you starting to cry.

“Hey, hey. Look, I’m sorry, okay? This is my fault. I’m sorry for putting you through a tough spot like this again, Y/N.” He pulled you to him, thankful that you didn’t push him away this time, letting yourself fall into his embrace as you cried on his chest. He could feel your hands tremble as you gripped his shirt, and it sent a tight feeling to his chest as he thought of how hard it must be for you. You want to keep it because it’s yours too, but you probably hate that it has to be his. The thought sent a sharp ache to Satoru’s body. It comes in waves each time you sob, and he could almost feel it physically.

“I’m scared, Satoru.” You wept, gripping his clothes tighter as you let him pull you to his lap. “Don’t be. I’ll be here to support you through this, but I won’t force you to be with me if you don’t want to.” Satoru’s voice lowered at the end. It was a hard thing to say, but if that’s what you need, then he’d do it. Even if that means watching you with someone else. Even if it means being an outsider in your life except for the string that this baby connects the two of you with. After everything that he made you go through, it’s only natural for you to not want to trust him again. He’ll give his life to gain it back, but he won’t force you to do it.

After a few minutes of sobbing, whining, and punching his chest, you finally calmed down. But only because you fell asleep. Your face buried in the crook of his neck as you breathed slowly made Satoru feel like a feather was tickling his chest. He longed for moments like this with you again, and now that he has it, he could only wish that it’d last longer just so he could embed the feeling in his mind.

He took you to bed, carefully laying you down before taking in your sleeping form. Your cheeks look rounder. You obviously got healthier when you’re not stressed over him and his stupid mistakes. He wondered if work was treating you well or more like whether your mother was treating you well. She’s got a habit of using things to get you to do what she wants because ever since you were a teenager, they already had a hard time making you do as they say. She can be harsh towards you, and Satoru’s heard enough of it to feel some hostility towards her.

Now that’s another problem the both of you have to face; to tell your mother about this.

He didn’t get the chance to ask you if he could stay the night, so he’ll just come back early morning tomorrow. He figured that he should ask Shoko for some doctors she recommended so he knew who to make an appointment with for check-ups. And then after that, you’ll talk about how to tell your mom. It’s really not good timing, especially now that you’re starting to work for her company. Something she’s been pestering you to do ever since you got out of college.

Satoru leaned down to give you a peck on the forehead just before he left, letting his hand caress your stomach as if saying good night to his little one too. He doesn’t know if your decisions will change, but he wants to be there for you, whatever it is.

—————————————————————–

After that night, Satoru always came around at your house, and you could not really push him away anymore. You just don’t feel the need to, and each week that passes, you get angrier and angrier at him. Not always, but he just pisses you off a lot more nowadays. Even Suguru wasn’t spared, and only Shoko is the most welcome in your home. You went for a check-up with Satoru on your 6th week and were relieved to find out that the alcohol intake did not affect the baby at all.

The doctor said that it was too early and that the baby was not even feeding through you yet that time. The baby feeds through the placenta, and it takes about 9 to 12 weeks for it to form completely, which means that during the time that you were drinking, the fetus was not consuming nutrients from you yet. You felt a tremendous amount of relief when you heard that it was safe. The doctor warned you to never drink again, and you don’t plan to.

Today marked your 9th week of pregnancy. You haven’t told your mom yet, and to be honest, you don’t want to tell her, but she’d notice. You sat on the swivel chair in front of Kento, who was typing away on his laptop. You were scrolling through social media when it slipped out of your mouth. It’s not like you’re hiding it from him, but you figured that it’d be safer if no one in the office knew.

“Aversions at 6 weeks? I think I got mine at 5.” You whispered as you scrolled past another video about pregnancy. You were wearing earphones, not realizing what you were saying until you noticed Kento staring at you. You honestly didn’t think that he’d hear it. You raised your brows at him, pretending to be nonchalant. Like you don’t know what he’s staring at you for, but he just kept looking at you until you removed your earphones.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked you as if it wasn’t a big deal. You quickly shushed him, glancing at the locked door, “My mom doesn’t know yet.” You explained to him, and he only nodded at you. Very slowly. And in an instant, you were scowling at him. “Are you judging me? I know who the father is.” You narrowed your eyes at him, and he raised his hand defensively, chuckling, probably aware of the mood swings.

“Is it the guy with tattoos who visited the other day?” He was referring to Suguru when he brought you some donuts. “I told you, he’s my friend.” You snarled at Kento again, who’s now leaning on his elbows. It was still early morning, and his paperwork hadn’t stacked up yet, thus giving time for a chat. “Doesn’t mean it cannot happen with him.” He said, and you only nodded, realizing he’s got the point, but that’s not the case for you. “Yeah, but no. Not him.”

There was a knock at the door, and you quickly stood up, knowing who it was. You put your phone down on the table, raising a hand at Kento to tell him to wait for a second. You opened the door, revealing Satoru with a bag with boxes of sliced apples and cheese in it. The moment you woke up, you told him to bring some for you at work, and here he is.

His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Kento, giving him a smile and a nod. This was the first time you asked him to bring you food at work. He visited a couple of times, too, but it’s usually just to check on you or to bring you something to get on your ‘good side.’ Some people at the office know him and thought that he was just trying to make up with you, but the story of how it all happened never really got out. Well…you don’t really know because people are nosy, and they probably have your whole love story memorized but won’t make it obvious that they do.

They won’t say anything about it because they’re afraid of your mom.

“Thank you.” You took the bags from him, looking inside and smiling a bit as your mouth watered at the sight. “Call me if you want something else, okay?” You hummed at him before turning your back, waving goodbye. You heard the door shut after a couple of seconds, and only then did Kento let out a knowing ‘Ah.’ You gave him a funny look, determined to not tell him about it yet, but he shook his head before continuing to type on his laptop.

“He’s the father.” You admitted, arranging the strip of cheese on top of the sliced apple before taking a bite of him. You didn’t think that food could taste this good. You used to believe that pregnant people were just exaggerating their cravings, but now that you’re starting to experience them, you can understand why they cry for pineapples, tomatoes, and peanut butter. It’s such a weird change, but it makes you happy that you can give the life inside you what it needs.

You wondered if you’ll be able to give it a complete family too. You’re still not taking Satoru back, and he’s not bugging you about it either.

For some reason, ever since you found out about your pregnancy, you started to see the fetus as the most important thing of all. Your worries, fears, and trauma seem to dissipate away whenever you remember that you have something to protect and take care of. It doesn’t change the fact that it was formed because of what happened between you and Satoru, but it would be unfair if you’re going to make it suffer that too. Your pregnancy is unplanned, but you will never ever make this child feel unwanted.

“I figured.” Kento nodded, not prying any further into your business which you are incredibly grateful for. Right now, you don’t want to think about anything that has happened in the past months. You’ll tell your mom about it, just not now.

—————————————————————–

“Here,” Satoru put the plate in front of you, still apples and cheese. It’s been a week, and that’s still all that you ever want to eat. You’re 10 weeks now, nearing the end of the first trimester, and you agreed with Satoru that you will finally tell your mom about it. You argued about it ‘til late last night, which ended in him having to calm you down, rubbing your back and buttocks until you fell asleep, and he did too. Only to wake up angry at him again. It was simple, you wanted to tell your mom, and he said as long as you’re comfortable, and you took it as him not caring enough. It’s silly when you think about it, but it still makes you angry.

“Come over tonight. I miss you. Shoko too.” You spoke on the phone, taking a bite of the apple and cheese that your ex prepared for you. You heard him huff at your request to Suguru, but you’re too busy to give him attention about it. “I’ll call Shoko, but it’s a weekday, and I doubt she’ll agree. I’ll be coming over, though.” He answered from the other line, probably getting ready to go to his shop too.

“Mhm, let’s watch a movie. We’re telling Mom today, I’m petrified. But Dad will be there.” Your Dad always made it better for you whenever you had to spend time with your Mom. You don’t understand why he still hasn’t divorced her after everything, but you figured maybe that’s just how it works. Your Dad puts up with everything that your Mom says and does because he simply loves her.

“It will be fine. Satoru’s going with you, right?” You looked over at Satoru, who’s only placing his mug on the table, hearing it clink on the glass before speaking for you. “Of course. Why? You wanna take my place there?” You glared at him, watching him take a sip of the hot coffee. He’s wearing one of the tank tops and pants that he left here that one night he stayed over. You kept asking him to take it home, but he refused, claiming that he’s gonna need it, and it really did happen. You’re still going to make him take it back, though.

“I’m sorry about that.” You heard Suguru chuckle on the other line, cursing Satoru under his breath. “He’s just jealous. I’ll see you later. Y/N.” You hummed before pressing end and turning to your ex, who’s happily munching on his sandwich as if this is house. He looked at you, his movements slowing down as he took in the agitated look on your face. He had to clear his throat and think of another topic just so a fight wouldn’t start again. It reminded Satoru of how you two were when you were just starting; everything is a call for a debate, and that debate turns into fights.

“Y-you didn’t tell me Rie works for your mom.” Your muscles tensed up at the mere mention of her name. Satoru really knows just what to say, and right now, he hit Bull's eye. He knows it because you turned to him again, now with a harsher glare and a pained look in your eyes. “So, you ran into her? And didn’t tell me?” You put your food down, rolling your eyes as you thought of every possible thing that could’ve happened in that interaction.

“It’s not like that. She was just walking in as I was exiting the building. We didn’t even talk.” He explained quickly, moving a chair closer and bracing himself for whatever outburst you have in store for him. It’s either you cry, or you kick him out of your apartment in nothing but a tank top and sweat pants. “We can even ask the guard about it if you want.” He really can’t afford to get you in your feelings right now. But you were quiet, still chewing on the food in your mouth. He didn’t know if it would come, but when the first drop of tear fell from his eyes, he panicked.

“It’s fine, though. I don’t care.” You sobbed, voice cracking as you wiped away the stray tear from your eyes with the back of your hands, “It’s not like we’re anything. And it’s not like I’m taking you back. You’re just with me here because of the baby.” You sniffled, trying to keep a tough facade despite how small you sound, “You can always go back to her, you know? It’s not like I’m forcing you to take responsibility for this. I messed up too.” Now Satoru knows that this is not just about pregnancy hormones anymore.

“You know that’s not true. I was actively pursuing you, Y/N. I broke up—” He started, but you already stood up, whimpering as you stomp your feet, “You broke up with her because you feel bad for me.” You wept, voicing out your real concerns as you tried to close the door, but his hand was already stopping it. You know Rie could get him back if she wanted to. She’s beautiful, she’s kind, and she cares for Satoru really well. Unlike you, who still have to take care of yourself.

That’s why it was so easy for him to leave you.

“Stop it, Y/N. I’m sorry. I really am. But it’s nothing like that. I swear. ” He opened the door wider, careful not to hurt you with it before stepping inside and holding your wrists gently. “Come on, now. Don’t cry. It’s bad for the baby.” You swatted his hand away, but he already caged you in his arms, sitting on the bed as you once again cried to him, spilling out your heart's deepest secrets.

Everything that he needed to hear to realize how deep the wound he had given you was. How bad it had affected you and how bad it scarred you. He doubts that you even realize that you were saying everything out loud, but he’s heard them. He’s heard them, and there’s nothing he could do but whisper sorry to you. There’s nothing he could do but listen to all types of pain that he made you feel.

Maybe you’ll never really take him back, but he could promise you that he’s surrendering himself to you.

Hours have passed, and you both fell asleep again. It was past noon when you woke up to Kento’s calls. Satoru’s arms were around you as you noticed the tear stains on his top. Have you cried that much? You don’t want to think about it anymore. You tried to wake him up and tell him to leave, but you remembered that you were supposed to meet your Mom and tell her about the pregnancy.

“I’m starting to not want to tell her…” You murmured on the phone as you felt Satoru shift behind you. You don’t think the conversation with your mom will go well, considering the type of person she is. You guessed it’d be better if you could just tell her when the baby’s already here, but that’s kind of impossible because you work for her.

“Tell her now. It won’t be any prettier if she finds out from someone else. It won’t come from me, but you know how people are, Y/N. It’s not something you can easily hide.” You sighed in defeat as you hummed. You don’t know how he always says the right things and make the correct choices when he hasn’t even been in the situation himself.

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you if it goes well, I guess?” You rubbed your eyes, turning your head to the open balcony, the sun isn’t out, and it looks like it’s about to rain. It’s a perfect day to stay in bed, but you don’t wanna lie down next to this man. His eyes twitched as he slowly opened them, hand searching for you in the open space beside him only to find you sitting on the corner of the bed. His eyes softened when they caught yours.

“Get ready, now. Let’s meet them.” You said curtly, standing up to go to the bathroom, not bothering to wait for his answer. He could only watch your back as you walked away without giving him a second glance. He wondered what things would be like when you finally decide to be with someone else and only see him as the father of your kid and nothing more. He felt helpless like you were continuously slipping away from his grasp no matter how tight he held on to you.

You moved around each other in that big room. No words spoken, no conversations, nothing. It’s only you and Satoru’s gentle pecks on the skin of your neck as you try to fix your dress in front of the mirror. You tried to pull his hand away, but it was tight yet gentle around you. His hand occasionally brushes against your tummy.

“Daddy’s sorry,” He whispered behind your ear, sniffing your cologne. “Daddy’s sorry for everything.” You scoffed as you used force to take his arms off around you. It’s not that you’re intentionally being mean, but you don’t want to hear it anymore. You don’t want to feel soft for him because he sounds like he’s offering the world to your feet every time he speaks. You’re not giving in to this.

You remained silent during the whole car ride, save from the small hums to his questions. You didn’t really try to communicate. His hand rested on your knees as he talked to you about buying baby stuff when you enter the second trimester of your pregnancy. You thought it was too early, but he was eager to do it, even planning what color he’d paint the baby’s room and what kind of stuff he’d put in there. He’s enthusiastic even if the baby was a surprise to all of you.

You’ve never felt this nervous when walking inside this building before. Now you can’t help but clutch your hand behind your back as you give a tight-lipped smile and greeting to everyone. Satoru was following closely behind you. The door to your mom’s office looked so big that you felt like it could eat you alive. You said to yourself that the moment you open this door, there’s no turning back anymore. And it was true because right now, your mom looks like she’s ready to disown you any minute.

“What did you say?” She looked at you from the frames of her glasses. You can see your father sit up straight with a slight glare on Satoru as you let the words come out of your mouth. “I’m…I’m pregnant, Mom.” You looked down, hearing the wheels of the chair that your mom was sitting on the roll on the tiled floor. The sound was annoying. It made you want to grit your teeth until they felt like they were burning.

You slowly looked up at her, not prepared for the slap that landed on your face. Just as quickly, Satoru was holding you, shielding you with his body as he glared back at your Mom. None of you saw it coming. You expected that she’d slap you, but you didn’t think that it’d be strong enough to make you stagger a bit. You saw your Dad holding your Mom back as she glowered at you.

“All this time, I was thinking you got better when all you did was whore around.” She snarled at you, pointing a finger at your shaking figure. “Please, don’t talk to her like that. She’s still your daughter.” Satoru defended, placing a protective arm around your trembling form. Tears were already falling down your face, and you were clutching the sleeves of his coat.

“She’s my daughter. I talk to her however I want. And really? Y/N? With your ex? How stupid can you be?!” You cried to Satoru’s chest, closing your eyes tight and praying that this would all just end soon. “You’ll abort it.” The statement from your mom made you stand up straight, shaking your head, “No.” It scared you because your mom always has her ways to get what she wants and get things done. You were not an exception to it.

“No, Mom. Please, I’ll do anything.” You pleaded, struggling to get closer just to beg your mother to take her decision back. Satoru didn’t understand just how intimidated you are by your Mother up until now. You used to fight back against her back then, but now that you have something to protect, you’re completely powerless.

“There’s nothing you can do. Abort it. Or you won’t get a single penny from us. I’ll throw you down with the regulars.“

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party-hearses · 11 months

Text

i am a nightmare, you are a miracle // 1

i'll bury us both, fed to the night as ghosts

series masterlist | next chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, ex!Tommy Miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before.

Series Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, language, infidelity, eventual smut, age difference, soft!joel, AU - no cordyceps outbreak, Sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), Tommy stans don’t come for me

Wordcount: 5.8 k

A/N: I’ll be honest — I have no idea what I’m doing. I haven’t written a fic in damn near 20 years, so I’m just kind of throwing this out into the void to see what happens. I'm playing fast and loose with years and ages; it's 2023 and there's no outbreak. Also, not a personal fan of the ‘brothers’ trope, but…here we are.

…I can’t wait until your next business trip…

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes as hard as you can. Who even uses email to have an affair, anymore?

…miss your hands…

The words are hot against your eyelids, seared into your line of vision, despite the dull ache from your own hands. It had been a week, and the wound still feels gaping — all consuming, bitter pain licking at your insides what feels like every minute of the day.

“Dammit, peach. I’ve barely seen you in a week and a half, and this is the bullshit you start?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you’re having an affair?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Tommy’s eyes wild, hands on his hips, southern drawl like syrup over each syllable.

“You’re always workin’. In meetings. Pourin’ yourself into spreadsheets and budgets. What am I s’posed to do?”

His hands in the air, desperate, shoulders hunched.

“Still sounds a lot like you’re blaming me.”

You can feel the tears well up, and you swallow hard to stop them. Do not cry at work. Do NOT cry at work. You breathe deep, the burning in your lungs waning, but not extinguishing. The usual busy noises of your office are absent today, save the soft purr of the air conditioning and the receptionist’s furious clicking at her keyboard. Even the phones are silent; no frantic calls from upstairs to divert your attention from the constant replay of that night.

Finally feeling steady enough to remove your hands from your eyes, you lock your fingers together and lay your cheek on top of them. Everything feels heavy — your workload, your personal life, your head. Your gaze slowly flickers to the office window, the sunlight streaming through, the heat scorching. It seems to call out to your blood, making you feel restless, agitated, but also so fucking tired.

Sleep had eluded you since Tommy had left, and you’d barely been able to steal moments here and there, between dinner for one on the couch and the canned laughs of late-night talk shows. How different your life had been even two weeks ago.

“Did you bring lunch?”

Abruptly brought back to earth, your eyes snap up to the face of your colleague, Ava.

“Um, yeah. Just some veggie sticks and hummus. I, uh, haven’t been feeling terribly hungry.” You smile weakly, the attempt at a joke feeling like a weight around your neck.

Ava nods in understanding, her eyes sympathetic. She had been the second person you’d called the next morning, after your older sister. Kit, five years your senior, had answered, already sounding distracted by her two young children.

“Well, girl, I can’t say I didn’t tell you so. Getting involved with a man seventeen years older than you…”

While Kit had been hard and borderline disinterested, Ava had served as a warm landing for your sobbing, rushing to the empty apartment on a Saturday morning to soothe you.

“It’s Friday. We can duck out early, grab a drink? You could use one, and Jackson isn’t back from his meeting upstairs.” Ava checks her watch, confirming. “It’s not like anyone will even miss us.”

Ava is dependable, fun, beautiful. Her cool California attitude compliments her chic New York style, but she had called Austin home since college. She could wrap anyone around her finger with ease, and her insistence on being your friend made your heart clench.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” You nod solemnly, tears now pricking at your eyes from the tenderness you feel towards her.

She meets the tenderness with a wide grin. “Knew you would, doll.”

As you turn to gather your bag, a sudden lightning bolt of fear strikes you.

“Av, what if he’s there? What if we see him?”

She swallows down a laugh. “Tommy Miller? Downtown?” She leans closer to you, raising her eyebrows. “He wouldn’t be caught dead at Taquero Mucho. Not willingly, at least.”

Ava is right, as always. The lush pink floral interior and neon signage on the walls of the restaurant do not, and would not, mesh with Tommy Miller’s bearish sensibilities. You instantly feel more at ease, letting Ava order pink, fruity drinks for the both of you.

One cocktail turns into two turns into three, and the warm buzz in your veins settles your mind for the time being. Ava sits across from you, happily munching on tortilla chips and chattering away.

“I couldn’t believe Belinda said that! Like, retire already, grandma.” She grins, rolling her eyes.

You chuckle, only half hearing the story she’s been telling. Noticing, she gently shifts in her seat, drawing closer to you.

“Doll, I’m sorry to have been chatting your ear off. You know how I get. Let’s hear- ah, wait!” She notices your empty glass, and as if she had snapped her fingers, the server materializes.

“Two more, please.” She nods toward the server, who rushes away to put the order in, lest they keep Ava waiting. “Okay. So… what are you going to do? We need to get you out of that apartment. And since you refuse to stay with me…”

Your gaze drops to your hands in your lap. If you thought crying at work was bad, crying at lunch was worse. You clear your throat, eyes catching your chipped fingernail polish.

“I don’t know, Av. He- it’s his apartment. It’s not like I don’t make enough to get something on my own, but… I don’t know. It all feels so empty.”

Ava nods as the server places two more pink cocktails on the table. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to him, she reaches for it before responding.

“Where’s he staying? And for how long?”

“His brother’s. Said he’ll give me as much time as I need…but I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t feel like I can be. Maybe I should get out of Austin?”

Ava raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. You can’t let him run you out of town! That’s outrageous. He’s not even worth that.” She rolls her eyes again.

You reach for your drink, sipping it slowly, willing it to quiet the bitter fire in your blood.

“Peach, come on. I- I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything. You’re gonna throw two years away over a one time thing? A-a mistake?”

“It should have never happened, Tommy! Fucking a client? And I know it wasn’t just once! What the fuck were you thinking?”

Tommy’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t speak. His hand goes to the back of his neck, kneading.

“Guess I wasn’t thinkin’.”

Tommy had shattered you. Betrayed you. Split you open and cut your insides out. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that he wasn’t a good man. Complicated? Yes. Hard to read? Yes. Prone to making colossal fucking mistakes? Absolutely. But you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t bad.

You shake your head at Ava slowly, sadly. “I don’t know what I did wrong, Av. Two years. I don’t know what happened.”

Your eyes well up, and this time you can’t stop the tears. You sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as Ava puts her hand on your forearm.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, doll. He’s the one who fucked up. He’s the one who ruined everything.”

“H-he said I work too much. I’m ‘not there’ enough. And…and…the worst p-part is, I don’t think he’s wrong!” It takes everything in you not to wail. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus on the in-out in-out of your breathing.

Ava signals for the check, another of her magic abilities. You can feel the server’s eyes on you as he brings it, quietly clicking his tongue against his teeth. Another sad drunk girl. Tsk, tsk. It’s barely 3 o’clock. Ava hums softly, scribbling her signature on the receipt.

“There’s not a justification in the world for what he chose to do. You worked hard for your career, busted your ass to be where you’re at. It’s no excuse for him to have a full-blown affair with a client.” She closes the receipt inside the booklet and stands. “Now let’s get you home, so you can cry it out in peace.”

Unlocking the door of the apartment fills you with dread. The key feels unwieldy in your hand, and you consider for a split second whether it will feel daunting or freeing to give it back to Tommy. You let yourself in, the apartment hauntingly empty — just as you had left it, just as it had been for the past seven nights.

You’ve only spoken to Tommy sparingly over the course of the week. A few short texts here and there, mostly about the logistics of the arrangement you are both now navigating. He had left for Joel’s late the night it happened, a duffel bag slung low over his shoulder, slamming the door on his way out.

“This it, peach?”

…miss your hands…

Dropping your bag next to the front door, the tears don’t stop once they start.

Ava had offered to come up, but you knew you couldn’t let her. She didn’t deserve to have to wallow with you, no matter how much she wanted to be there for you.

It had been a good distraction, lunch with her, but you still didn’t know what your plan was. Where you’d be going, where you’d be living.

Hugging yourself, you shuffle into the guest bathroom to wash your face. After Tommy had left, you’d moved everything you needed out of the main bedroom and bathroom, suddenly feeling like a trespasser there.

Had he brought her here? Did she sleep in this bed? Did they talk about the future together? What does Joel think?

The last question to run through your mind catches you by surprise, a small gasp escaping your lips. What does Joel think?

If Tommy was stoic and gruff, Joel was downright intimidating. You’ve only seen him smile a few times, and you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard him laugh. He wasn’t, however, unkind, taking to calling you by the same nickname Tommy had, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. Like he couldn’t form his mouth around the languid, round letters - p e a c h. Angular as he was, he had always made you feel welcome, in his own, quiet way, teasing Tommy about you being out of his league. The familial resemblance was strong between the brothers, with their dark waves and warm eyes. But something about Joel made your soul clench, as if he had curved his fingers around your ribs and impressed himself upon your heart. He was comfortable, in a cloudy way — never revealing himself, but not pressuring you to, either. Amicable silence, as it were.

Thinking about Joel calling you out of Tommy’s league makes you scoff, now.

“The rich client with the kitchen remodel isn’t too out of his league, is she?” You mumble to yourself, cold water pooling between your palms.

“I don’t want it to end this way, peach.”

“I didn’t want it to end at all, Tommy.”

You bring the water to your face, scrubbing away the salt of dried tears and sting of betrayal.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when you wake up later on the couch. Fumbling for your phone with one hand, you rub your eyes with the other. As you check the time, your phone alerts you to two new text messages, delivered two hours ago.

Tommy Miller: Will you be home tonight? Tommy Miller: I need to stop by to get a few things.

Your hands tremble as you read and reread the messages. You rub your eyes again, unsure if you’re understanding the text in front of you clearly. It doesn’t change. Panic rises in your throat, searing and sour.

A vicious cross between fury and complete despair surges through you, and you drop your phone into your lap. Tears pinch at the backs of your eyes. Forget figuring out where to live, you hadn’t even considered how you’d next face Tommy.

I don’t want to see you, Tommy. Do you want to talk? I’ll be out, feel free to drop by. Please come home.

You weigh your options, constructing and dismantling multiple messages. Retrieving the phone, you pray he can’t see that abhorrent blue bubble that indicates you’re typing. That shows him you’re there.

As if he’d read your mind, your phone vibrates, his name and picture flashing on the screen. The picture gives you pause — a day you had spent on Lake Austin, the wind whipping through his hair, a broad smile on both of your faces. You feel like you’re going to be sick.

Focusing on your breathing, clenching your teeth, you accept the call.

“Hey, Tommy.” Your voice is small. So small. You feel your cheeks burn at how stupid you feel. You should be screaming at him — biting back the venom he instilled in you — but all you can manage is barely a whisper.

He sounds relieved. “Hey, peach. Didn’t know if I’d catch ya.”

You hum discontentedly. How can he be so cool about this?

“Uhhh, well, I, uh, need to stop by the apartment tonight to grab some things. Would that be okay?”

You don’t know what to say. Would it be okay?

“It’s your apartment.”

The response surprises you, that same venom bubbling over without your permission.

Tommy sighs.

“I don’t want it to be like this, darlin’. Can we talk? Please?”

“Can you make it here without sleeping with a client?”

Tommy laughs hollowly. “Guess I deserve that. Sassy today, huh?”

You picture him then, on Joel’s couch, fidgeting with the hem of his button down with his free hand. Pressed against the cushions, eyes to the ceiling. Gently annoyed with you for ignoring his texts. Football would be switched on in the background, and your heart thrums when you think of Joel being there, watching him. What does Joel think?

You clear your throat, refocusing your attention.

“Let’s get this over with, Tommy.”

Sassy, indeed.

It was easier to be hard over the phone, joined by nothing more than wires somewhere in space. But as Tommy stands in front of you now, elbows on the kitchen island, hands stretching towards you, all you feel is the velvety pull of attraction. The soft lull of two years spent shrouded in each other.

His voice is low, but soft — practically a purr.

“Baby. How do we move past this?”

You don’t meet his gaze, wrapping your arms around yourself. Looking at anything but him, anything but those warm eyes. You know that if you do, it will be over.

“Tommy…I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s that easy. You had an affair. You didn’t forget to take the trash out, or-or-or make a shitty comment about my friends. You slept with someone! You had a relationship with her.” Your voice is measured, eyes dragging from the floor to the ceiling. Avoiding.

“What can I do, peach? Please, just tell me. I’ll do anything.”

“It doesn’t change what happened.” You cross your arms over your chest, defiant now. “It won’t change what happened.”

Exasperated, Tommy slams his hand on the counter, drawing his body to its full height. He’s broad — so broad — his shoulders squared.

“I get it, okay? I fucked up. You’ve made it clear. Joel has made it clear. I fuckin’ get it!” He clenches his fists, bringing them up to his face. “I fuckin’ get it.”

You drop your eyes instantly as your pulse quickens. “What do you mean, Joel made it clear?”

Tommy sighs, deeply, not removing his hands from his face. “Joel will barely fuckin’ talk to me. Can’t get more’n two words out of him. Said he doesn’t blame you for bein’ done with me. Said I know better. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right. I do. Can’t even argue with’m.”

You hum cooly in agreement, your pulse thrumming in your ears. There is a sudden acute awareness of the change taking place in your perception of Tommy following his words; he’s been wrenched open and put on display for you, and the need to step back from the jarring offering is nearly suffocating.

“Okay. Okay.” Hands falling to his waist, revealing his eyes. Bloodshot, tired. Surrendering, but sharp. His voice, softer now, velvet dipped in whiskey. “I’m sorry, peach. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I wish I could take it all back. I…I know I really fucked up.”

You hold his desperate gaze for a moment before lowering your eyes to the floor again.

“Tommy… ” His name splintering across your lips. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” That small voice again, cracking. Shattering. Sparkling pieces scattered across the kitchen floor around your feet. Meeting his offering with outstretched, empty palms. Nothing left to give.

He drops his head, tucking his chin to his chest, and exhales a shaky breath. “Okay, peach. I hear ya.”

You can see his eyes bright with unshed tears. This is the softness that you know, that you’ve craved. The hushed tenderness that you’d shared beneath bed sheets, woven between fingertips brushed against silk skin, delicate whispers in the dark of a once shared bedroom.

As good as strangers, now.

The silence settles between you, mourning both what once was and could have been.

When the door closes with Tommy on the other side of it, it feels final. An unfamiliar liquid sense of relief floods your veins, and you breathe deeply. For the first time in a week, you feel like you can suck in enough air to actually fill your lungs. You hadn’t recognized the somber, weepy creature you’d become, and you were sure no one else had, either. Ava had treated you like you were made of glass, afraid you would shatter at any moment. And as much as you had needed that, your stomach twisted into knots at feeling so helpless. Ending things with Tommy — officially — felt like giving yourself permission to dig out the shards and stitch the wound.

You take in the room around you - a blanket strewn across the arm of the couch, wine glasses littering the coffee table, bottles lined up on the floor in front of it. You shake your head, in something that feels a little like disbelief. The reality of leaving this apartment - your home - had begun to truly set in, but the question of where you would land hung heavy in the air.

Of course Kit would take you in, if she wasn’t multiple states and thousands of miles away. Ava was an option, having offered her couch to you almost the moment she found out, but you had leaned so heavily on her already that taking more would have made you feel too guilty. A hotel would be too expensive for an open-ended move out date, though the prospect of not having to make your own bed or wash your own sheets was tempting.

Dropping yourself onto the couch with a heavy sigh, you begin to aimlessly scroll through the contact list in your phone. You know, deep down, that it’s for show, though you don’t know for who. You know, too, that you’ll end up at Ava’s, despite your unwillingness to do so.

You lean back, pulling your legs up and stretching them across the cushions. Reaching across the empty wine glasses for the television remote, you click it on before throwing your arm over your eyes. You don’t care what’s on, you just need the sounds. Of people. Of laughing. Of life. Resigning yourself to calling Ava in the morning, you slip into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The Saturday morning sun finds you still curled up on the couch, your legs pulled close to your core. Without opening your eyes, you drop your hand to the floor, feeling for your phone. Finding it nestled partially beneath the frame of the couch, you bring it up to your face, cracking your eyes as little as possible to check the time. There’s a missed call, and when it catches your attention, your eyes fly open completely.

Joel Miller - 1 Missed Call & Voicemail

“What the fuuuuck… ” you mumble, swiping to your calls app and bringing the phone to your ear.

“Uh, hey peach. It’s Joel. Gimme a call back when you get this.”

You can’t quite place his tone of voice, and your hands tremble as your brain rolls through all the reasons he might be calling you. Did something happen? Is he angry that Tommy is still at his place? Is he angry that you ended it with Tommy? Is he going to try to convince you to take him back? You play the voicemail again, to see if you can catch any stormy inflections in his deep voice - though you glean nothing more than a hazy awareness of the hunger coursing through your blood when he speaks.

Finally sitting up and crossing your legs beneath you, you stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity. It’s not that Joel scares you, but you don’t know of any time that he’s called you for any reason. Worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth, you finally press the little image of a phone next to his name and wait for the call to connect.

“Yeah?” Joel’s tone is curt, and you can tell he’s at work based on the construction noises you hear in the background. It sets your teeth on edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself. Steeling your nerves.

“Heyjoelit’s-” you manage to squeak, before you recognize the quiet way his breath hitches.

“Peach.” and he’s soft. So soft. Softer than you’ve ever known him to be. And it’s your name on his tongue; honeyed and heavenly. You could drown in it.

“Hi,” you whisper. “I’m just…returning your call.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but you hear the opening and closing of a door, the groan of an office chair, and then silence. You would think he’d hung up if you couldn’t hear his deep, even breathing.

“Peach,” he finally says again, and your skin flares. He clears his throat. “I—there’s— you doin’ okay?” His words are rushed, clumsy, as if he’s trying to get them all out at once. The thought that Joel Miller has anything to say to you, much less too much to say to you, clouds your mind. “Could kill Tommy. Fuckin’ bastard.”

You laugh once, idly. “I’m holdin’ it together, Joel.”

“Attagirl.”

Your skin prickles, and you draw in a surprised gasp.

He continues, unaware of the change in your breathing. “Look, I, uh, know you’re busy, so I’ll get t’the point. I’ve got an extra room. For you. If ya want it, I mean. I know you’re tryin’ to get out of Tommy’s place, and I’m not lookin’ to rush you or anythin’, just..wanted to offer it up. Rent free, ‘n all that.” You imagine him running his hands through his hair as he stumbles through his speech, clenching his teeth. “Least I could do, with my brother bein’ the dickhead he is.”

Oh. It’s pity — he feels sorry for you. You bite your tongue, sink your fingernails into your palm, force yourself to focus through the haze in your eyes. Stupid. Stupid girl.

“Joel, I—”

“I know ya probably have friends you can stay with. I’m not tryin’ t’be weir — peach, is this weird?” He’s lost in his own thoughts, but stops abruptly when the question escapes. He sounds just as surprised by it as you are.

It hangs in the air between you for a moment, and you relish just slightly in the idea that he’s floundering.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” you reply, gently. “I’m okay to figure something out on my own. I’m a big girl.”

“Oh, peach, no. No.” His response is quick, and firm; without any hesitancy, or a second thought. “Don’t for a minute think I don’t know how capable y’are. I know you can, I just don’t want you to have to.”

His words sizzle across your flesh, urgent and pleading. They leave you feeling dazed, unsure of the reality of the conversation. Your eyes flick to the furnishings of the apartment, desperate for something to ground you. Trepidation clutches at your throat, rendering you speechless.

Joel shifts in his chair, and you hear him let out a long breath. “I- I know we don’t know each other. I feel like I’m scarin’ you, darlin’.”

You shake your head, grasping for what to say. Chest tightening at the thought of his worry, the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them. “What would Tommy say?”

It feels like a condemnation; speaking it aloud, between the two of you. As if it would make Joel suddenly realize how wrong it was, to ask this of you. To offer this to you.

“Tommy doesn’t get to say anythin’.” His whisper-soft tone now a growl, clawing at your insides. It covers you from head to toe, and you feel, for the first time in a very long time, shielded from the hurt. A hurt that exceeded the past week, or Tommy entirely. A hurt that was buried so far inside yourself that the aching reminder it even existed left you reeling. Tears prick at the back of your eyes, and you silently scold yourself for crying again.

The silence on the phone is comfortable, as if Joel knows that you’re digesting everything he’s saying. True to his word, he’s not rushing you — just sharing the space with you, allowing you to take it all in.

A loud knocking sounds from his end, and it snaps you out of your trance.

“Shit, sorry peach. I gotta go.” He sounds further away, muffled; the intimacy of the conversation shattered, as if you had imagined it altogether.

Then, abruptly, his warm, inviting timbre restored: “Please think about it. Bye, darlin’.”

“I mean, are you thinking about it?” Ava questions, her eyes on the shirt she’s folding. She’s cross legged on the floor, while you stack books in the cardboard box at your feet.

It hadn’t occurred to you how little you had to call your own, until you had to put it all in boxes.

You don’t respond to Ava’s question immediately, instead chewing on your bottom lip gently. Turning it over and over in your mind, formulating the most diplomatic response.

“How bad would it be if I was?” You avoid her eyes, which you know have turned to daggers at your back.

It’s her turn to mull the question over, bobbing her head side to side as she considers.

“Tommy’d be pissed.” It’s pointed, but not malicious. Honest. “But…we don’t care what Tommy thinks anymore, do we?”

You drop your head, smiling mildly behind the curtain of your hair. No, we in fact, do not.

“Plus, he’s very…handsome.” Ava chooses her words carefully, but you know to read between the lines: Joel is fuckin’ hot. “The whole ‘older man’ thing really works for you, babe.”

“Kit would be more upset than Tommy, I guarantee it.” You laugh softly, unable to help yourself. You get cheated on by someone more than fifteen years older than you, and immediately move in with someone even older? You imagine your sister tutting at you, ever the mother-figure.

“No doubt.” Ava rolls her eyes affectionately as you turn to her. You plant your hands on your hips and survey the bedroom around you. “Seriously, though, how would the…logistics of living with Joel work? Would you, like, have dinner together? Hang out? Be friends?”

You laugh, despite the anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t know, Av. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m kind of hung up on the whole ‘moving in with my ex-boyfriend’s brother’ part of it all.”

Now it’s her turn to plant her hands at her hips. “Are we still harboring some feelings about Tommy Miller, doll?” Her eyebrow quirks.

“Av! Come on. We spent two years together! I’m not just gonna get over it like that.” You snap your fingers before bending down to close the now-full box below you.

“You know what they say…the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Ava waggles her eyebrows, and you laugh, full-bellied, at her levity. “You’re a fox, girl. Believe it or not.”

You roll your eyes, shoving the box out of the door of the bedroom, into the hallway.

“And he’ll be helping you move all this, right? To his house?”

“Nope!” you chirp brightly, “that would be you, babe!”

Kit, as you had anticipated, is not thrilled about the idea of you moving in with Joel. You call her from your office phone on Monday morning, gripping the receiver so hard your knuckles are white.

“Are you kidding? How are you even entertaining the idea?” Her voice is unflinching, and you tap the fingers of your free hand against your desktop, mildly annoyed.

“I’m 28, Kit.” You remind her, as you always do. “I’m the one who would deal with the fallout. Not you. Besides, it’s not like I have a ton of options.”

She scoffs, and you can imagine her rolling her eyes. “So you’ve told him yes, then?”

“No! That’s why I’m…taking a survey. Feeling it out.” You mumble, “You’re obviously not on board.”

Kit sighs, drawn out and heavy. “I know you don’t care what I think. I know you’re an adult. I just…worry about you. I’m so far away, and if anything happened…”

You cut her off. “I appreciate that. A lot. But at some point, I have to take care of myself.”

“I don’t think moving in with a 50 year old man qualifies as taking care of yourself.” She’s trying to be delicate, you can tell, but her remark is biting.

Twirling the phone cord around your fingers, you purse your lips.

“Why don’t you come stay with us for a bit? Maybe an extended vacation?” You can picture the sticky countertops, loud toys, an uncomfortable pullout couch. And Kit’s husband, awkward and gangly, never shutting up about ‘the economy’. Kit sounds somewhat hopeful, though, and it makes your heart quiver.

“Kit…I can’t leave my job. The one stable thing I have going for me.”

“They have finance jobs here.”

“I’m not letting Tommy run me out of Austin.” You echo Ava’s words, an indignant feeling rising in your chest. “I’ve got a whole career here. This is…a minor setback. If I do move in with Joel, it won’t be for forever.”

She laughs softly, but you clock the reluctance.

“I promise. I’m okay. I am okay. I will be okay.”

Kit pauses. “You’ll tell me if you’re not?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

“Well,” she clicks her tongue against her teeth, “best of luck, peach. It sounds like you have your mind made up.”

You shove the last box into the back of your Subaru, and dust your hands off on your leggings.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this, Joel?”

“Yes. Stop askin’ me.”

“If I’m too much, at all, I don’t have to stay.”

“Peach.” It’s a warning. “It’s Tommy that I need out of my space.”

Calling Joel back to accept his offer had been harder than every other aspect of moving out of Tommy’s apartment. Once you and Ava had packed all of your belongings, you stood back to observe — and it was like you had never lived there in the first place. The only thing that truly felt different about the space was that you knew you didn’t live there anymore. You feel a pang in your chest thinking about how Tommy would feel without you there — you didn’t know if him missing you or not missing you would be worse.

“Anything left?” Silas, Ava’s boyfriend-du-jour asks, from your elbow.

You shake your head, pulling down the hatch to close the back of the car. “Just the key. Which you don’t have to stick around for.” You give him a watery smile, feeling the weight of the day through every muscle in your body.

He nods. “Cool, cool. I’ll grab Ava. We can meet you over there?”

You hum in agreement before turning back to the building. Going up the steps to the second floor feels mechanical, a recreation of the thousands of times you’ve done it before, and your legs carry you automatically. The last time, now. Pulling in a large breath, you exhale through your nose, centering yourself while you click the door open.

Sunlight streams through the windows, bathing everything in the late afternoon light. You glaze your eyes over the room, not searching for anything forgotten, but committing it to memory one final time. You recognize that it feels less like a chapter closing and more like a freefall into something entirely unknown — into the mouth of something that lurks beneath the surface, teeth gnashing, ready to consume.

Leaving the key on the kitchen island feels like an offering to that dark entity, but you’re ready — willing — to tumble headfirst into it. So you do, with no grandeur, and no looking back, just a deep breath out and the millstone around your neck lifted.

Joel’s truck isn’t in the driveway when you arrive at his house. Ava is posted up against her car, Silas still in the driver’s seat, arm out the window at her waist. You wave as you pull up, masking the fear radiating through your extremities.

You throw the Subaru into park, and Ava jogs over to meet you. Her eyes are wide, but kind, as you close the door behind you.

“Okay?” She asks, her hand gentle on your arm.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Feels kinda surreal, Av. But I’m good.”

Brushing her off, you make your way to the front door. There’s an envelope clipped to the mailbox, ‘peach’ scribbled on the front of it, and your hands shake as you grasp it.

‘I wanted to give you some space while you got settled. Your key is in the envelope. Make yourself at home — I’ll check on you in the morning. —Joel’

Your heart flutters as you pull out a house key, with a keychain in the shape of a peach threaded through the top of it. Your breath catches in your chest as you run the metal through your fingers, tightening them around it. If Tommy’s key had been an anchor, Joel’s feels like a lifesaver.

Blinking back tears, hands still shaking, you slide the key into the lock and twist.

Eat your heart out, Tommy Miller.

#my therapist would be so proud of me for actually posting this #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal fanfic #tommy x reader #joel miller x f!reader

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saltygilmores · 2 months

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DANCE MARATHON EPISODE (AKA MURDER ON THE DANCE FLOOR)-PART 5

After a quick blowjob break out in the soon-to-be-bloodspattered Stars Hollow High football field, a certain homocidal maniac in a puke green church donation bin coat has returned, and he's ready to dish out some sass. Shane is not in tow yet, but we need to give her time to freshen up and make herself presentable for the remaining few hours of her life.

Lane's pointless bitterness towards Jess is such a fucking waste. My "Lane hates Jess for stupid reasons when they could have been pals" rant has been reheated in the metaphorical microwave too many times already, so I won't repeat myself, but yeah. It's still about that fucking car accident.

Getting your dick sucked on the high school football field before committing a gruesome homocide can really work up a boy's appetite.

Baby you're such a good noticer. *kisses forehead*

I can't think of anyone more deserving of a rock hard permanent public erection. Wait And now, for what is possibly my favorite five-word exchange in the entire series:

The most perfectly executed dry delivery. Ugh! Sheer perfection!

Well, at least egg salad sandwiches beat the Crack and Despair Sandwiches Liz used to pack in his lunchbox.

Miss "My Virginity Spared Me From Becoming Football Field Fertilizer" has arrived with Also-Not-Dancing Butthead in tow. If the food is for the dancers, I better not see him eat anything. I will smack that sandwich out of his hand so fast so help me god (virgins always survive the killing spree).

You ever think about what a monstrous hell it must be for Jess living in a place like Stars Hollow? I think about this a lot. But I like to think that off screen he gets in his car and gets the fuck out of there as much as possible. Anyway, this is another perfectly dry one liner that I absolutely love. I want to fil out adoption papers and take all of his sarcastic one liners from this episode home from the shelter. R: You have nothing better to do than sit in a gymnasum staring at a dance marathon? J:Idk, do you have nothing better to do than sit inside a gymnasium staring at a dance marathon? R:Do you think you're bugging me sitting in front of me and staring like that? J: Do you think you're bugging me dancing and staring at me like that? R: I'm not staring at you! J:How do you know I'm staring at you?

Dean: It's been two years. Maybe you can glance at my dick for once, Rory. Has Rory ever said anything supportive of Dean that wasn't said with the same conviction as if she were a bank robbery hostage? Deany has that constipated look on his face again. Is he sad because no one was staring at him? But someone was. I'll give you a hint, it's a certain MILF who wants to turn that 34 into a 69. Lorelai is 34 years old in this episode, by the way. He's proudly displaying his love of young milfs on his literal sleeve. Listen, you could power Stars Hollow with the combined sexual frustration of these three people + Lane and Dave Ryglaski to make it extra nuclear. When nobody puts out, you get three teenagers eating egg salad and having an "I'm not staring at you!" argument in a school gymansium at 10pm.

Ooooh. Jess is shakin in his little murder boots. J: I'm supporting my town. R: Go back to New York. Oh Rory babe, if only he could, he'd be home now with a smile on his face with a pushcart hot dog in one hand while some easy alt chick rode his dick. Well, yeah he's got that now but he's going to feed her to the swans then take an 8 month vow of celibacy for some reason.

Got em.

He's so LAME. Jared: Hey AmyShermanPalladino, can't Dean get any fun comebacks for once? Why does Milo get all the good sass? AmyShermanPalladino: You can pick from the reject pile. We've got "my former comment still stands" "Are you trying to act tough, you're wearing a tie" and "You're the one who's going"

She's so horny. God help her.

Shane Campbell stars in the newest WB Network vehicle, "My Favorite Murder Victim." He keeps picking at that sandwich like he's going to find a $100 bill in the bread.

You want this poor girl to spend the last precious hours of her life doing math problems?

I guess egg salad will wash the taste of dick out of her mouth.

We heard you the first time, Ice Vagina. What is Dean even doing here, lol.

There's something incredibly erotic about this line.

Dean is like, what the hell is going on? Why is she touching me?

*immediately pushes her off*

Don't give him any more ideas, Jess.

I just want to point out that on the table behind them, fresh fruit and brownies are available for consumption. You know you guys don't have to eat those sandwiches.

Code for "I'm gonna go find the murder implement I stowed away in the bushes earlier"

#gilmore girls #jess mariano #shane campbell #shane is swan food #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #they shoot gilmores dont they #tsgdt #rory gilmore #I can't believe that like a half dozen people read this shit I write and don't unfollow me #bless your hearts #smoochies #I am fucked in the head #I even held back a few really insane things

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juuuulez · 11 days

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🎧 | are we still friends?, michael berzatto.

don’t get green skin (green skin), keep contact (keep contact) / don’t say, "goodbye, smell you later" (bye, later) / nah, i can't / i don't want to end this season on a bad episode.

writing this was really fucking brutal for me. sincerely, someone who’s dated their mikey and come out the other side. i’ll do something nice and sweet another time because this was rooouuughh.

Established Mikey/You, platonic Richie/You, generally just sad stuff.

request a playlist roulette here!

Being with Mikey was warm. That’s the only way you could describe it. Warm in the way he’d look at you, the way he smiled, laughed. His tendency to touch everyone. Kisses on cheeks and hugs from the side. You wanted that in your life, you welcomed it, warmth and love.

But now it’s cold and the cold is biting. It’s harsh and relentless, seeping through layers of black silk, penetrating the nice coat you bought for this occasion. The cigarette between your lips flares with each inhale, a reddened spark you cup your hands over, in futile hopes that it’ll give off heat. It doesn’t.

“Nice shoes.” You remark the second they’re in your vision, black and shiny. It’s not like you look up, either, staring down at the pavement and Richie’s pointed dress shoes. But you know it’s him: you can smell his cologne mixing with the smoke in the air, creating a scent that’s harsh and bitter but seemingly appropriate.

“Thanks,” He mutters, following your gaze. “Tiff bought ‘em.”

You want to make fun of him. Make some stupid remark, berate him for folding so easily, for doing what she says with no complaint. It’s what you would’ve done, what Mikey would’ve done: Lettin’ her make you pretty, huh? What— you gonna be wearing lipstick next? It’s so close yet so far, you can basically hear it, and you’re sure Richie can hear it too.

“She around here?” You end up asking instead.

And Richie shakes his head, already lighting up a cigarette. “Had to go relieve Eva’s babysitter. Some fuckin’ thirteen year-old from our street.”

“Yeah, well, one day she’s gonna be that thirteen year-old.”

The silence settles between you again, thick but not suffocating. Just there. You’re fine to leave it that way, you’ve been standing here regardless, leaning against a brick wall in the parking lot across from the funeral home. Five cigarette butts have fallen to your feet, and you intend on adding to the pile.

“Heading home after this?” Richie asks.

You don’t look up because you don’t want to see the look on his face. Worry. You hate worry, because you lived in worry. A perpetual fear, an anxiety settled deep in your gut, making your skin tingle and itch. But Mikey never seemed to mind; he taught you not to worry, to laugh more, to care less.

Look where that got you.

“Dunno,” You shrug, dropping the cigarette butt to the floor. It sizzles on some residual snow, which you squish down under your nice heels. “Was gonna try and back out of the lease.”

“Thought you loved that place?” Richie is quick to counter, “Y’know, green tiles and whatnot.”

It was a little apartment, one you’d found after hours of hunting. The green backsplash in the bathroom had caught your attention, and you’d spent days chatting anyone’s ear off about how you’d style it.

But now you shrug it off, appearing indifferent. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It’d been five weeks. Five weeks of domestic bliss, or, your equivalent to that. Of finding little trinkets and unique homewares to furnish the new place. Of getting excited after work, because you get to come home to your boyfriend, instead of an empty bed.

Boxes were still shoved into most corners of the place, not yet unpacked. For a moment you wondered if that was the intention. That, in not unpacking, Mikey was saving you the grief of eventually removing his presence from your place. He was making it easier, cutting out the middleman.

“Maybe Chicago isn’t for me.”

The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, and you’ve finally looked up, meeting Richie’s gaze. It’s odd because he’s looking at you, and not at the same thing, like his mind is elsewhere. You get it. Your mind is also elsewhere.

“Fuckin’ stupid,” He mutters, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

So you shrug, another cigarette pinched between your teeth. You don’t remember lighting it. This weird haze has you on autopilot, you’ve been in it all morning. Maybe all week.

“I dunno. Might be good to get away for a bit.” You try to justify.

“Nah, fuck that. You’re not goin’ all alien on us,” Richie continues to contest. “There are people here for you. Y’know.. Tina ‘n all the cooks, and fuckin’.. fucking Fak, and Nat.”

“Natalie said—“

“I know what she fuckin’ said, it’s bullshit.”

Richie flicks out his cigarette, letting it drop into your little pile. His jacket is ironed and those shiny shoes are covered in snow, and for the first time in ages, he looks nice. You notice it. You notice the effort he’s put in, despite everything, and you know he feels the way you do.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” He begins. “You’re gonna come to The Beef once a week. Eat a sandwich, talk to us, ‘n shit. And you’re gonna come to family, too. Always.”

There’s a grimace on your face at the idea. Stepping foot in the restaurant seems like a colossal task, let alone attending family. Because that’s the thing, you weren’t family, not anymore. You’d hoped that one day you would be, for certain, a Berzatto. And now that wouldn’t happen.

“I’ll try.” You end up saying, even if dread builds in your stomach. It’s the most you can do.

Richie seems to understand, letting the silence linger for another moment. “C’mon,” He sighs. “We’re getting a drink. I’m gonna pull one smile outta you tonight.”

The notion of smiling, today, seems foreign. Yet you obey regardless, following along as Richie’s hand finds your back, and he swipes the cigarette from your mouth to throw into the snow.

It ends up being a good night. As good as it can be, at least. Each memory shared, each story told is laced with an underlying bitterness, something that settles on your tongue and behind your eyes. It’s thick and equally cold as the air; prickling like goosebumps. Richie feels it too. Everyone does, but you convince yourself that it’s not forever, that it’ll go away and the warmth will return.

#michael berzatto #mikey berzatto x you #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x reader #richie jerimovich x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months

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AITA for accidentally causing a falling out in our friend group?

I (19) made some friends in college. One of these was J (19M). Throughout the year, small issues built up with him. Notably him constantly (albeit not maliciously) misgendering me. However, he has only known me to go by they/them pronouns since we met, so I don’t see why after nearly a year of knowing him he still couldn’t get them right.

As well as him having very aggressive body language while having conversations/arguments, which always made me very uncomfortable, but he never actually did anything, so I thought it was fine.

The turning point was one night when we were all hanging out, me and my friend M (19F) were talking about how unfair it is that guys can take their shirts off when it’s super hot outside and somehow it got to us talking about how boobs are technically secondary sexual characteristics and shouldn’t even be sexualized by society as much as they are.

J argued with us. The actual opinion on this argument is not important here nor what makes anyone the asshole, but essentially it boiled down to me saying that, if it was hot enough, I personally don’t think it should be wrong for me to be shirtless. He then told me to prove it by taking off my shirt. I said no. There were five other people in the room with us who would not consent to that and it wasn’t hot in the room.

After I explicitly said no to taking off my shirt, he doubled down. Said if I didn’t take it off my argument had no holding and that he was right, which made me uncomfortable. I didn’t feel like I needed to strip in my friend’s dorm to prove a point for a disagreement that really wasn't that serious and I didn't like that he pressured me to after I said no the first time. I can’t remember what I said in response, but the disagreement ended there thanks to the show we were all about to watch starting. However, it made me very uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

Later that night, we went out to get some food like we usually do and sat around in a circle talking. Two of my friends went up to get more food while the other three were having their own conversation which led to J and I talking.

Now, some context: I’m autistic and I have sensory issues which make it difficult for me to eat food. There have been times when I’ve gone the whole day without eating, or maybe even multiple without, and I often stick to foods that are "safe" and won’t make me feel sick (most aren’t very nutritional/healthy).

I'm very aware of my difficulty eating and how unhealthy it is. I had been going back to my house every weekend in order to eat something other than the college food and even bought some vitamins to try and keep myself from getting severely malnourished.

That being said, I didn’t get a chance to eat much that day, and going out with them was my first genuine meal. After eating a meatball sub I got, M gave me her leftover grapes and I offhandedly said to J “I think these are the healthiest thing I’ve ate today.”

And his response to me saying this was “You are so strange. You’re aware of how unhealthy you are, yet you never change.”

For the record, he doesn't know the specifics of my difficulties with eating. I’ve only vaguely mentioned it’s hard for me to eat and that I’m not able to eat a lot without feeling sick. Still, it felt really insensitive, very out of nowhere as we weren't having a serious conversation at all, and hurt my feelings. I got visibly upset at this and responded with a very bitter “Yeah” and immediately dropped the subject because it's not something I enjoy talking about. (This was also not the first time he has made comments about my self-care habits in such a way and while I believe he says them with good intentions I have stated multiple times it makes me feel worse).

I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, so I texted my friends after we all headed back to our dorms about what happened. Both him telling me to take off my shirt and the comment on my eating and asked if I was making a big deal out of it by being uncomfortable and upset. They told me that both things were extremely rude (and that the shirt thing was technically sexual harassment, though I don’t want to call it that) and that I was justified in being uncomfortable. They then mentioned that they had their own issues with J being a little too aggressive in the past that they had brushed aside, but they felt that what happened to me justified talking to him about his behavior.

We tried our best to avoid an argument. We just wanted to have a civil conversation about it as we all genuinely care about him. But when I confronted him about my issues and H brought up the problems she had been having (which consisted of him being too aggressive, guilt tripping the others when he was told to back off, and not respecting her privacy in her dorm) he got very defensive. It escalated into an argument between H and J that escalated to H deciding to cut ties with him due to him refusing to listen.

A few hours later, J sent me and H a genuine apology, which we accepted. I thought things were fine between us, although there was lingering discomfort as there would be with most big arguments. When the semester ended he sent us all messages that he didn’t feel welcome in the group and that he thought it was better to cut ties permanently and wished us all well.

I kind of feel like it’s my fault and that I caused unnecessary drama without meaning to.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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around1302 · 1 year

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XVII. YOU HAVE ME

SPARE PARTS: a series (17/20)

BOLOGNE, ITALY

(W) strong language, family restraints, alcohol use, fingering

good lord this has taken me some time to finish. i’m so sorry, life just got in the way. hopefully 4.3k of a smidge of angst and a fuck-ton of fluff makes up for it!

HARRY’S POV

“What’s the move for tonight?”

“You can do what you want, I’m taking Charlie out.”

Niall’s usual grin twists into a smirk, his eyes glinting. I resist the urge to roll my own.

I am taking Charlie out. Not that she necessarily knows that yet.

I don’t mean to sound like a desperate man, but I need Charlie and I to move on like I need air. I can feel her warming to the idea of me, but at the end of the day she still just sees me as her annoying bandmate who’s up to giving her an orgasm or two.

I need to be more than that to her. I can’t be either nothing or just her temporary fix.

And if there’s one thing that’s apparent about Charlie, it’s that she’s a hopeless romantic. She doesn’t crave sneaking around and fleeting glances and meaningless moments. I’ve seen her face light up more from seeing a couple holding hands in public than when I’ve been literally going down on the girl.

In fact, in the time I’ve known her, she’s only ever dated one person – Zayn, which is also why this could get messy.

(But fuck him. I was there first).

“I’d love to say I’m surprised about this whole thing, but I’m really not.” Niall snorts.

I narrow my eyes, but before I can ask anymore questions, the guys barge into Niall’s suite.

“Fuckin’ Hell, Horan. You have it fancy in here.” Louis gawks far too loudly for the fancy establishment we’re in, but I have to say, I share the sentiment. We all have nice rooms (it’s the most expensive hotel in Bologne, for God’s sake) but Niall managed to bag da Vinci’s fucking shrine.

Niall shrugs, sitting up with that mischievous flicker in his eyes.

“Lia still out?”

“Yeah,” Liam explains, “she’s dragging Charlie and Zayn round the shops. Tried to rope us in but we managed to escape.”

My chest tightens. I force it to relax.

Liam throws his legs up on the Ottoman, stretching out. After the show last night, we’re all exhausted. After nearly four months of touring, non stop performing and the consequential non stop partying, we’re all wiped the fuck out. It’s why Niall and I said no to their little day trip around Italy. To put it frankly: I can’t be arsed with the tourism shit when there’s a mini bar five feet away from me up here.

“Good,” Niall reaches behind him, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

“What the fuck is that?” I spit.

“This, my friend,” Niall flicks the box open. My suspicions are confirmed, “is about to get me the best head I’ve ever had.”

“Holy shit.” Louis grabs the diamond, making Niall fly up and snatch it back.

“For real?” Liam stands too, while I’m still sat in shock.

“Why I got this fancy suite,” Niall’s as giddy as a kid on Christmas, “want to do it tonight. Italy’s always been her favourite place and I figure–”

“You’re twenty-one.” “Twenty-two this year.”

I scowl. Niall’s cheeky grin droops.

“Oh come on, man. Who cares how old we are? I know I’m gonna be with this girl till I’m all old and gross and grey, why not seal the deal now?”

“Because it’s insane!” I splutter. I’m not angry. Am I? Why am I angry?

“Hardly,” Louis sharply laughs, “they’ve been basically married since they met.”

“Okay, but being basically married and being actually married are two very different things.”

“Dude, don’t you think I know that? I have thought about this, you know.”

My jaw tightens.

My best friend is about to propose to his girlfriend, and I can’t say I’ve ever even had one. The girl I’ve been in lo– whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is, I can narrow my anger down to one, ugly thing: bitter fucking jealousy.

So, I do the mature thing; I storm out.

Luckily for me, the second I step out into the hallway – all heaving chest and unnecessary frustration – Charlie, Amelia and Zayn bump into me. They’re all laughing about something, a million shopping bags between them.

“Oh, hey man–” Zayn starts, but I cut him off by grabbing Charlie’s waist and pushing her in the direction of my room. The sliver of skin given to me below her crop top sends a spike through my spine.

I don’t care that Zayn is probably about to start quizzing Amelia to no end, all I care about is the universe quite literally handing me the only person I want to talk to right now.

“Yo, what the fuck?” She twists, staring at me with what I assume is a mixture of vexation and confusion, but I’m too busy staring ahead to notice. Charlie doesn’t make a move to escape my grip (something I know she’s more than capable of doing), so I keep walking us to my room.

I messily scan my keycard and grab her shopping, setting it down as carefully as I can in my haste before closing the door with her body.

There’s something else I want to do before talk.

But, I hesitate for a moment, brushing my lips against hers. I silently ask for permission, pulling her toward me so her lower back lifts from the door and our torsos press together. She hesitates, too. Brushing her nose against mine before kissing me with as much urgency as I got her into the room with.

I sigh into her mouth, completely wrapping my arms around her back to hold her flush against me. “Missed you,” I mumble against her lips, trailing my hand up to hold the back of her head. I rake my fingers through her hair, loosening her ponytail.

“Missed you too.” She gasps, looping her fingers through my belt hooks.

I nearly let myself smile, but then she palms me over my jeans.

Quickly, I hold her wrist, preventing me from dragging her to bed and insisting we don’t leave my hotel room all night. “Go out with me.” I let the words tumble like a subconscious spill, letting my chest do all the work so my brain doesn’t have to.

Frowning, she pulls back. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I want to rewind and let her do whatever she wants with me. Why the Hell did I–

“Go out with you?” She’s smiling. She’s smiling.

“Yeah,” I feel my cheeks heating. I’m getting shy, for fuck’s sake. I don’t do shy. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said those four words over the years, and I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve said it to. I don’t recall nerves ever being a factor in that habit.

“You realise I’m a sure thing, right?” She cocks her head, and I want to kiss the faint dimple that pops beside her lips. I settle for her bottom lip.

“I want to take you out.” I pull her lip between my teeth, bathing in the way she sighs. “Properly.”

“You’re having me on.”

“Nope,” I pop. I need to banish this shy thing. Fuck the shy thing. I realise our proximity might have something to do with that, so I step away, flicking the light on so I can see her properly.

Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are dark and her hair is mussed and– and shit. I’m so gone on this girl. She folds her arms across her shirt, and that’s when I notice the shirt. It’s my shirt – the one I gave her weeks ago, the band she claims to hate, the shirt I’ve dreamt about fucking her in ever since.

The shirt which now rests just below her bra.

“Oh,” she clocks my thought process – probably because I’m staring at her chest – and fumbles with the messy hem. “Shit, sorry. I never even asked if you wanted it back–”

“Never.” I murmur.

A pause. “What?”

I blink back to reality, back to her eyes. “I never wanted it back,” I clear my throat, try and regain some conviction, “the band sucks anyway.” I wink, she chuckles.

God, maybe we should just stay here. We could order room service and continue our theme of fucking in hotel showers and spend all night getting sweatier and sweatier in between the sheets and–

No! No. I need to take her out.

“Be ready by seven.”

I bend to pick up her shopping, handing it back. Charlie takes the bags slowly, looking at me like I just told her my name’s actually Bill.

Then, softly, nearly meekly, she whispers, “I thought we had rules?”

My lungs stop working. “We did. We do.”

Right – I’m not even considering her right now. I know what I want, and I know I want it badly. I need to learn I can’t just demand this. Sure, I’ve waited six years, but she sure as shit doesn’t know that.

Patience is a bitch.

She looks at me, scrutinising, studying. I want to read her mind, it seems to all work so complicated up there. A million bolts and cogs working tirelessly; I’d give it all up for just a peek.

“I suppose I’d be pretty stupid to deny we’re at least friends at this point, right?”

I can breathe again. “Right.” I rush to say.

“So… dinner as friends. Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” No, fuck no. “Bonding time.”

She purses her lips, seemingly amused. Nodding, she swivels from the door, palm wrapped around the handle and about to let me stand in my room and punch the air but…

“You sure you don’t want me to help you out first?”

Her eyes flicker accusingly at my crotch. Specifcally, my hard on, from just kissing the girl.

It’s like I’m fucking fifteen again.

I snort, pushing my tongue against my cheek to stop the habitual impulse to say something inappropriate. I want to scream yes, God, yes but I can’t. Charlie’s like some kind of kryptonite – one handjob will turn into one blowjob will turn into round after round after round.

“I’m good, love.”

Charlie scowls. “You’re really just going to try every nickname in the book, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan, sweet pea.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she swings the door open, so before it slams behind her I shout a reminding,

“Seven!”

And then I stand in my room, and punch the air.

“Jesus, Styles, this place is fancy.”

I smirk. “Only the best for a princess.”

“Hey–”

“I’m kidding! Here,” I let go of the small of Charlie’s back to pull her chair out for her, “sit, before you hit me.”

“I can still reach you from over here.”

I playfully roll my eyes as I take my seat. She definitely can. I made sure to get us a table hidden away, close enough for our legs to accidentally tangle and far enough away from anyone else Charlie doesn’t need to worry about people.

She’s always panicked about mobs. The first one was pretty traumatic I guess, and ever since she’s been the overly cautious one in public. Never seen without heavy glasses and an even heavier hoodie, so I made sure she wouldn’t be spending our first date (that is what I’m declaring that is, friends or not) in fear.

It’s not conceited if saying your name for a last minute res at one of the most established restaurants in Bolonge works. Fame has it’s perks, I’m allowed to admit that.

… I think.

Within a few seconds, a waiter comes over with a bottle of red I preorded on the phone. Charlie leans back, looking at me quizzitivley as he pours us both a glass and leaves the rest between us. We thank the waiter, and I gauge her reaction.

A pause. My heart awaiting a beat.

“I’m impressed.” She raises her brows, a glimmer of a smile on her rouge lips.

“Good,” I lift my glass, clinking it against hers before we both take a sip.

I let my eyes properly roll over her for the first time since I met her outside the hotel. It was too dark and too much of a rush to the car for me to drink her in, and God. She looks fucking edible. She’s wearing a strapless dress that lets my wind wander to every inch of skin I can kiss with her still in the thing – but, Jesus, stop.

Tonight isn’t about that.

Quiet falls on us, because, well. What do we talk about if not for the security of sex or argument, if not for the safety net of anyone else around us? Here, we’re uninterrupted. In fact, no. We’re not anything.

We’re two people on a first date. We’re fresh.

“You know,” Charlie chuckles to herself, setting her glass down and leaning on her palms, “I love trying to figure out the other people at restaurants like this. Like, okay, that couple,” she nods behind me, so I try and turn as discreetly as I can. She hits my leg. “Don’t be so obvious!” She hisses behind a smile.

I’ve just gone and made things worst myself by taking Charlie out, haven't I?

“That couple is on their first date, and he’s trying to figure out how to leave.”

“And how do you know that, Sherlock?”

Charlie shrugs and leans back to take another sip.

“I know people. He’s fidgeting like crazy, looked at the bathroom like five times in the past thirty seconds. For sure planning his escape.”

“Or he just really needs a shit.”

Charlie snorts into her glass, spraying wine onto her cheeks. I guffaw, and both of us fall into laughter too loud for an establishment like this. “Fuck, my makeup.” Charlie taps at her cherry stains aimlessly, so I lean across with my napkin.

“Here, hold still,” I chuckle, pinching her chin between my fingers and trying to get as much grapejuice from her face. In the midst of the scene, our waiter returns.

“Are you… oh.” He clears his throat, and we pause to look up.

“We might need a few more minutes.” I mumble. Charlie grins sheepishly.

Yeah, okay, maybe it is conceited – but thank God we do what we do, because judging by the compressed scowl on the guy’s face as he leaves us, we were one 0 in our bank accounts away from being kicked out.

As I’m wiping at her face, our eyes lock, and the words tumble out before I can think about what I’m saying.

“Niall’s proposing to Amelia.”

She gasps. I sit back.

Silence holds us, until a slowly whispered, “shit,” punctures it.

“Yeah.”

I see her reach for her wine. Then she downs it.

“So I told my mum Gemma was a drug dealer. Of course my mum was like, Harry, she’s nine. But it was the worst thing I could come up with at six years old.”

Charlie throws her head back at the story of myself and my sister, one of my favourite memories to relay. I stab my fork in my pasta and try and muffle my grin as Charlie giggles away.

“I never thought you’d be the type to take WWF wrestling so personally.”

I shrug. “I was a dedicated fan. I still refuse to believe it’s staged.”

Her laughter dies, and she gets this sort of gone off look in her eyes. Like she’s thinking about something, someone, and then it hits me – I’ve been sat here reeling off stories about my sister without any regard for the fact she no longer has hers.

“You know,” she shifts, eyes dropped to her plate. She pushes a piece of broccoli around with her silverware, chewing on her lip. Then, her voice gets quiet, small, when she admits, “I don’t think my parents have called me one time this whole tour.”

She chuckles to herself, but it’s void of any humour.

“They did their usual prayer for my safety before I left, and rang to see if I had changed my mind, but…”

I dip my head to meet her eye. She looks up at me, meekly. Like tears are threatening to spill but she’s using every muscle to hold them back. I’m so terrible in situations like this, I never say the right thing because, truthfully, people don’t often open up to me.

(Not like this, at least.)

So, I go with my gut, and pray it doesn’t betray me.

“Pretend I’m your parents.”

Charlie piques. “What?”

Confidence begins to slip from me, evident in the way I mess with my hair and twist my rings beneath the table. “Pretend I’m your parents,” I repeat – despite the out she just gave me.

“This apart of that daddy kink you were talking about?” She smiles smally.

“No,” I lilt. “Tell me about tour. Look,” I sit up straight, bringing my hair forward and cracking my neck. Getting into character. I lift my hand to my ear, pretending to be on the phone. “Hi sweetie, how’s tour going?”

Charlie snorts. “That supposed to be my mum?”

“I’ve never met the woman, go with it.”

She rolls her eyes, but she sits up and lifts her hand, too.

“Hi mum. It’s fine.”

“Fine? Come on, you’ve been away for months.”

She sighs, giving me that look through those lashes. I lift my brows.

“It’s been amazing, actually.”

I smile. We’re getting somewhere.

“Everyone really likes our album,” she continues, “and I started banging the one with long hair you always tell me I need to stay away from.”

“Heey,” I drop the ‘phone’. She looks pointedly at my hand. I raise it again.

She heaves a breath, her expression stone again.

“I wish you’d try and understand my job a little more. I think you’d see what I’m doing is actually really cool if you took the time.”

My chest aches. I knew Charlie had a strained relationship with her parents, I just never knew why. They’d never come to shows, she would never mention them. I don’t even remember them sitting with her at Poppy’s funeral.

Maybe when Charlie blamed herself for her sister’s death, her parents did too.

“You were wrong, by the way.”

I got so lost in my own anger I forgot we were doing this.

“Wrong?” I ask.

“About the dude with long hair. He’s actually alright.”

I couldn’t let this night end.

We practically got kicked out of the restaurant when we wound up being the last two in there, and then we stumbled our way to my hotel room and have been laid on the bed giggling over nothing for the last hour.

Red wine is strong shit.

So far, I’ve learnt Charlie hates the colour purple, secretly loves 90s horror and sometimes worries she made a mistake by going to that audition six years ago.

“I just want a dog, y’know?”

“You can have a dog.” I laugh.

“No, no,” she flips, her hair messily cascading her shoulders as she hovers above me. I let the wine guide my hand, tucking a strand or two behind her ear. She leans into my palm. “I want a dog, and a spouse, and a kid.”

I caress her cheek, and then she lays her face completely on my chest. I freeze, watching in awe as she shifts so her legs hang off the bed and her head is on the spaces were my shirt gives way to my skin. Charlie tilts her head, closing her eyes when my fingers find home on her scalp.

I just want this, I want to scream.

“What?”

Fuck. Wait. Did I not think that?

The domestic bliss lasts all of ten seconds before she’s sitting up again.

I’m at a loss for words. I’m sure she’s going to leave, that I just fucked up this whole night, but then she’s climbing a top of me. My hands instinctively fly to her thighs, holding her close through the silk while she assesses me from above, her hair a curtain.

“You want friends with benefits forever? That’s your end goal?” She sounds amused, so I can’t tell if she’s being serious or not. I want to shout, is that all I am? Even after today, after everything?

I’m better at holding in my thoughts this time, though.

“You really think we can ever be friends?”

Then, she sighs and straightens. Her hair no longer tickling my neck.

“Jesus, you’re confusing. I thought that was why you took me out in the first place!”

This girl will be the death of me.

“Okay, Charlie,” I sit up, gripping her waist to pull her against me. I feel her chest huff out against mine in three quick, fluttering motions. “Let me be crystal clear,” I cradle her face, now, just brushing her bottom lip. She leans into my touch again, and I feel every ounce of self-doubt fade away with the sigh she lets out. I knock my nose against hers.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

Charlie rushes to say, “You have me,” whilst fisting at my shirt.

As much as I want that to be true, I know she doesn’t believe those words in the same way I want to believe them. So, I stifle a breathy chuckle, shaking my head.

“I don’t think I do.” My throat stutters at the word baby. I haven’t tried that one out yet.

“What do you mean? I’m right here.”

Charlie looks genuinely confused, which I suppose is the problem. The problem I created. I pull back, sinking into her brown eyes till I’m sure I’ve turned to stone. All I’ve wanted for the last six years is to hear Charlie say those words: you have me. Yet, in this moment, I realise I’ve gone about all of this completely wrong.

“I want a redo.” I barely whisper, insecure in my words.

“A redo?”

I quickly lick my lips. “Of everything.” I thumb at her jaw. “I fucked it all up, Charlie.”

“Fucked what up?” She deadpans, clearly tired of my inexplicability.

“You. Me. Us. This.”

Charlie shorts out a huff, as if she’s finally got it.

“We didn’t know this would end up happening–”

“I knew.”

I let my confession barrel before me. If I scare her off, then fuck it. I scare her off. But she needs to know. She needs to know that,

“I’ve wanted you since we were sixteen and you shouted at me for being late to our first recording. I knew the minute you stood there in your stupid scarf and your even stupider boots that I was going to have it bad for you and I’ve not known what to do with it since.”

Charlie looks startled, but she’s unmoving from my lap, so I take it as a sign to keep going.

“I thought that you’d always hate me,” my throat swells, “so I’ve been a prick to you and I… especially after Zayn, I just didn’t…” I shake my head, looking down, losing myself.

It’s the wine, that’s all that’s fuelling this sudden, dumb confession. The wine and the fact that right now my best friend is probably engaged. But, then...

Charlie lifts my chin.

Charlie hesitates.

Charlie’s eyes flick back and forth between mine.

Charlie kisses me.

I kiss back with force, pouring everything I couldn’t say into her lips. I hold the back of her head, moaning against her tongue as she pushes me back to the pillow and grips my shirt so hard it pulls nearly painfully against my back.

And then she stops.

“Zayn told me after Amsterdam he loves me.”

Just found the quickest way to kill a boner.

“Oh.” Is all I can say, apparently.

“But I don’t…” she trails off, her eyes dropping to my lips. “I don’t love him.”

“Okay.” I whisper.

My insides are having a fucking party, right now.

“That doesn’t mean I love you.” She rushes to clarify. I smile.

“I know.”

“But you are the first person I think about when I wake up. And when I go to sleep. And while that’s confusing because most of the time you piss me off, you don’t seem to do that anymore.”

I try not to sound so excited as I respond. “At all?”

“I mean, don’t push it.”

I chuckle, brushing her hair from her face. But then a dreadful pit starts to hole its way through my stomach, and I have to ask,

“You’re not just saying this because you want a dog?”

Charlie smiles against my lips. “I want you, Harry.” One sweet, chaste kiss. “I’m not thinking about the dog right now.”

I lean up to kiss her, flipping her onto her back. My hand slips under her dress, and her breath hitches. “Good,” I breathe against her mouth, rubbing her over her knickers. Her gasp travels to the back of my throat, and I swallow it, keep it, store it, run it over and over in my mind as I push her pants to the side and curl my middle finger in her.

“Stay the night?” I ask, adding my index finger.

“Oh,” Charlie moans, her head tipping back. I kiss her throat, “yes.”

“Yes, you’ll stay the night?” I nip at her neck, losing myself in vanilla and Merlot.

“Yes, Harry,” she pulls my face up, “just assume from now on I will always– fuck, stay the night.”

I grin. Her nails dig into my nape as I pull my fingers out and rub her clit.

“God, like that,” she breathes as I push my finger down harder, tuning myself to every gasp and moan she gives me. I kiss her through her orgasm, muffling her cries with my mouth despite wanting the entirety of Italy to hear how pretty she sounds when she comes.

“Always so good for me, baby.” I murmur, gripping her thigh as I shift my weight and move her core to my own thigh, still covered by the overpriced trousers I asked Amelia to find for me. She bucks her hips, capturing my bottom lip between her teeth. I whimper.

“Baby,” she breathes questioningly. “I like that one.”

taglist: @lilfreakjez @be-with-me-so-happily @sirtommyholland @tpwksm @b-reads-things @tiaamberxx @daphnesutton @mleestiles

#spare parts series #harry styles series #one direction series #harry styles x oc #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #1d series #1d ot5 #1d smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles friends with benefits #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #one direction smut #one direction #one direction ot5 #ot5

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whumpsday · 1 year

Text

Kane & Jim BBU AU #3: Erased

Previous / Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

content: bbu, pet whump, rescue, recovery, caretaking, amnesia, whumper turned whumpee, starvation

takes place 10 years after Liz rescues 913/Jim. don't forget to read ⭐ this drabble ⭐ taking place between #2 and #3 first!!

@bbu-on-the-side BBU Community Days #13: Safety

Jim was a person. He'd been a person for almost ten years, now. It was hard at first, but he was used to it by now.

He couldn't legally work, but he'd been helping out where he could. In a way, he was still doing the same things he did as a domestic, just by choice this time, for his family. He was good at it, and even if he wasn't a fan of all of it, he liked cooking. Liz told him he'd always liked cooking, even before. He had no problem believing that. He even did some odd jobs around the neighborhood that worked in cash, babysitting and mowing lawns and shoveling snow.

He wasn't as involved in the pet lib stuff as she was. It scared him, even after he'd started being able to stand up to the voice in the back of his head that repeated everything his handlers told him. Too risky.

Life wasn't a constant walk on eggshells anymore. He still got scared sometimes, or fell into his old conditioning, but he was safe. He was free.

So when Jim was out grocery shopping, he almost dropped his basket when he saw him.

There, right down the aisle. He'd know that face anywhere. Practically the only face he saw for the first five years of his memorable life.

He almost bolted right away, but something was... off. Master didn't look like how he usually did. Gone were the expensive suits and bitter scowl, replaced with plain clothing and an anxious frown.

He was wearing a collar.

Jim ducked into the next aisle, watching him through the gaps in the shelves. There was no way, right? Master- Kane was wildly rich. He'd have no need to sell himself to WRU.

But Kane went missing years ago. No one knew where he was, or what had happened to him.

He watched Kane further, looking down at a list and plucking items off the shelves, eyebrows bunched together with nerves. Jim had never seen Kane look this... unsure of himself.

There was a barcode on his wrist too, sure enough. It wasn't clear enough to make out from this far, but he could see the number, something with a 4 in it.

He wondered if Kane's owner gave him a name.

It was stupid, Jim knew. But he had to. He couldn't just leave, not after seeing this.

Jim hesitantly approached, ready to run at any time. "Master?" he asked, voice coming out smaller than he'd have liked.

Kane turned, eyeing him up and down, only growing more tense. "My master sent me to do his shopping, sir." He shrunk away slightly, as if afraid Jim would hurt him after finding out he was alone.

"Do you remember me?" Jim blurted out, despite already knowing the answer.

"I'm sorry, sir." Kane's hands gripped the cart's handle tight, like it would protect him. "I'm- I'm bad at- at everything. I'm so sorry."

Of course Kane thought Jim was a person. He had taken care to remove every last trace of his tattoo, though the marks on his neck from the collar wouldn't go away, even after a decade. But Kane wouldn't be able to see that under his turtleneck.

"It's alright," he said softly. The words 913 had wanted to hear so, so badly. "I'm Jim. I knew you before."

That certainly got Kane's attention. "I'm- my designation is 110146. Do you mean... before I was a pet, sir?"

"Yeah." Jim could fully take stock of Kane's state, now that he was standing close. Dark circles ringed his eyes, bruises poked out from under his sleeve. He looked thinner than Jim had ever seen him, to the point it was obvious he wasn't being allowed enough food. And-

Something that looked like a knife mark, barely visible above his neckline.

"Yours hurts you?" Jim asked.

Kane seemed to study him, searching for a shred of mocking for a moment. He found none. "Master can do as he likes with his pet," he settled on.

Jim stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Mine did, too." His heart raced at the revelation. He hadn't told anyone outside of pet lib about his past, ever. And here he was telling Kane, of all people.

Kane glanced at his wrist again, but of course he found nothing. "Yours, sir?" he asked.

Jim tugged his collar down for a moment, revealing the faint outline of a collar that had scarred itself permanently into his skin. "Mine."

Kane's eyes widened. "Oh."

"You wanna get out of here?" Jim extended a hand toward Kane, even as every logical bone in his body screamed at him that he was being a careless idiot, throwing his life away for someone who never cared.

Kane looked around wildly. "I can't just- Master would be furious."

"Life can be better than this. I promise." Jim kept his arm extended. "No more hurting. And I can get you a good meal."

Kane stood there frozen for a long moment, just staring at him, before he broke down in quiet tears. He forced himself to nod. "I- I- Thank you."

He reached forward and took Jim's hand uncertainly, bony fingers wrapping around Jim's own.

"You're doing great," Jim encouraged. Despite a lifetime of resentment, all he could see was the terrified boxie in front of him now. Kane couldn't even remember how cruel he used to be. He couldn't even remember his own name. "Just try and calm down a little. You're gonna be okay."

Kane clung to Jim's forearm like a lifeline. "Yes, s-sir."

Jim tried to calm himself down, too. Having Kane on him like this flipped a switch in his brain that told him to cower and placate, that he was about to be hurt. But he managed to repress it, with some effort. He'd had a lot of practice over the years.

When Kane got himself to stop crying and wiped the tears from his eyes, he nodded. "Thank you for- for being patient with me. I'm ready."

"Good," Jim said approvingly. "I'm just gonna check out what I've got in my basket, and you can follow behind me and pretend to be... you know. We'll get outta here without a second look from anyone. Just follow my lead."

Kane did spare a glance for his nearly-full shopping cart, but nodded agreeably anyway. "Yes, sir."

God, that was still so weird.

Jim eyed the meat section they'd met in. Kane always loved steak. He couldn't afford the fancy stuff he used to make as Kane's pet, but he grabbed a cheap, on-sale cut and threw it in his basket.

"By the way, your name's Kane. Kane de Sang."

There was no issue getting out of the supermarket, and Six- Kane, now, or maybe again- followed behind Jim like his life depended on it. Jim from before. He wanted to offer to carry the bags, but he didn't. He didn't want to do anything to disrupt what was happening, this miraculous whisking-away.

He was being so bad. Master would be beyond furious. Master would punish him worse than he'd ever been punished before. But Six was so tired. He had no idea what was in store for him here, but it had to be better than back home.

Jim led him to an apartment building, opening the door and ushering him inside. "I'm home!" he called, setting the groceries down on the kitchen counter. He turned to Six and gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat there," he ordered, his voice gentle.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Six sat, grateful for the simple, easy-to-follow order.

"We don't have a lot of extra space, so you're gonna be sleeping on the couch, sorry. I'm just gonna go explain what's going on to my sister. Don't worry, she's with us-"

"What the fuck!" a woman shouted as she came out from one of the rooms. She glared at Six, bolting protectively in front of Jim.

Six pressed himself back against the couch, putting his arms up in surrender. "I'm s-sorry, ma'am, I'm so sorry, I thought- he said-" He cut himself off with a sob. He was so stupid to go along with this, breaking the rules. He didn't even know why this woman was angry with him, but at least with Master he knew what to expect. He didn't know how to please these new people. How could he have thought this would work? "I'm sorry!"

Jim placed a hand on her shoulder. "Liz, it's okay."

"You can't have him!" the woman called Liz shouted at Six with a glare, only confusing him further.

"I don't- Ma'am, I'm so sorry, I don't understand!" Six cried.

"Liz." Jim stepped out from behind her and, to Six's great relief, got between the two of them. "Look at him for two seconds. Like actually look."

Liz listened, even though Jim was sort-of-a-pet. Her eyes lingered on Six's collar.

"He doesn't even remember," Jim continued.

Liz eyed him warily. "You're a boxie? You?"

"Yes, ma'am," Six answered, still pressed back into the couch. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that- that my presence here would be a detriment. I could go back?" He could still make it back to the grocery store and home with the shopping. Master would punish his lateness, but it would be far better than a punishment for an attempted escape.

"You're not going back," Jim said so firmly that Six couldn't possibly argue with him. He turned to the woman. "He's just another rescue. Could we host him? I just- I gotta make sure myself. That he's taken care of."

Another? he wondered.

"You sure? You don't have to deal with him again if you don't wanna. There's plenty of people who'd be willing to safehouse. He's put you through enough."

Six's stomach dropped. When Jim said he knew him before, Six had thought he meant they were friendly. Why would someone he's been enemies with help him?

"I'm sure." Jim stepped forward and gestured toward Six. "Liz, this is Kane. Kane, this is my sister, Liz. Neither of us are gonna hurt you. You're safe now."

Six- Kane, he was Kane now, he had to remember- bowed his head. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

Liz wouldn't stop looking at Kane like he was a bomb that could go off at any moment. "We've met," she said coldly.

"C'mon, be nice. He can't even remember," Jim pointed out.

Liz sighed. "Yeah, sorry, you're right." Her gaze softened. "It's good to meet you too, Kane." She headed to the kitchen. "I'll put the groceries away before I head to work."

"Thanks. I'll save you leftovers." Jim sat next to him. "So, you got any questions? I know this is a lot, believe me. I've been through it, too."

"What will be expected of me here, sir?" Kane asked. That was the most important thing. He couldn't do what he was supposed to without knowing what it was first. "What will my duties be?"

"First, you can just rest and recover. It's been a while since you've had a break, I bet, and you look like a strong gust of wind could blow you over. Take a breather. Once you're better, we can split work around the house and some odd jobs I do in the neighborhood, which is mostly just stuff you know how to do anyway. Domestic stuff. If there's anything I want you to do, I'll let you know, so don't worry about trying to guess."

Kane nodded, a bit nervous about not having duties to fulfill. He wanted to make a good impression.

"I mean, I assume you're a domestic, 'cause you were doing the shopping. Unless I'm wrong...?" Jim asked cautiously.

"I am, sir," Kane assured him.

Jim gave him a wry smile. "I was, too."

Liz bopped Jim on the head as she passed by. "See you later. Uh, have fun." She stopped for a moment, looking at Kane quizzically. "Can I see your shoulder for a sec?" she asked, pointing at his right.

"Liz-"

"Yes, ma'am." Kane pulled the neck of his shirt down, exposing the scar there.

She brushed her fingertips against it, gentler than he'd thought she would be. "Does it hurt?"

"Only sometimes, ma'am, when I strain my shoulder too much. But usually not. I've always had it," he reported.

Liz tapped the scar. "I did that." She stepped back.

"Oh." Kane had been told it was a bullet wound. This woman had shot him? Why? Was she going to do it again? His mind raced with fear.

"I don't regret doing it. But I'm sorry it still hurts." Liz nodded at him before leaving the apartment.

Jim shook his head. "She's too much." He stood up. "Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make your favorite. 'Cept I can't get the fancy stuff like you used to get, but I hope you like it anyway."

Food. Kane was going to be allowed a meal, that was what Jim had said, instead of just the scraps. "Thank you so much, sir."

"No problem." Jim led him to the kitchen and indicated for Kane to sit as he started preparing food. It felt wrong. Kane was the pet, he was supposed to be doing the chores. But Jim said he wasn't supposed to yet, so he didn't.

"Any other questions?" Jim asked as he worked.

"What are the rules?" Kane ventured, trying to suppress a shudder as Jim picked up the knife. But he didn't come at Kane with it, he just started peeling a potato.

"Don't hurt anyone or destroy other people's stuff on purpose. Don't go tattling to WRU, obviously. Pretty much as long as you're not hurting anyone, no one's gonna have an issue with you. No discipline. You don't have to be scared of messing up. And you're allowed to want stuff."

It sounded far too good to be true. "Okay," he said, a bit choked up with emotion. "Please let me know if it's rude to ask, but when- when you first got away, was it easy for you, sir?"

Jim paused for a moment, then continued. Kane tensed, worried he'd offended his... new master? But Jim just kept talking. "It wasn't. I was all messed up. I was happy to be out, but I had no idea how to be my own person. And shit was... complicated with Liz. She kept expecting me to be someone I wasn't anymore. And I missed- my master, sometimes. He wasn't good to me, but he was everything I knew. And there were good times too, mixed in with the bad. So it made everything real complicated. But it all worked out eventually. I'm... actually happy now. I'm not the guy I was before, but I'm better." He smiled at Kane.

Kane didn't think he would ever miss his master. There weren't good times too. It was just pain and fear. "I'm glad you're happy now, sir."

"Me, too."

As Jim cooked, it was hard for Kane to restrain himself. When he cooked, he made use of everything he had. Potato peels that he would have eaten raw as he worked were dumped in the trash. He wondered if he would get in trouble for digging those out later. It wasn't against the rules, as far as Jim's description of them went.

At last, dinner was ready. Jim brought over two plates, piled high with food, and set one in front of Kane. He could hardly believe it.

"This is all for me?" he asked, just to make sure.

Jim's eyes fixated on him, watching intently for his reaction. "Yep, dig in."

Kane cut off a bite of meat, practically melting at its delicious taste. It was more than that- it tasted... familiar, somehow.

"Do you like it?" Jim prompted, an anxious look in his eyes that Kane knew all too well in his own. Seeking approval.

"It's the best thing I've ever tasted," he said emphatically.

Jim beamed, picking up his own fork. "I'm glad."

Kane had never eaten this much at once in his life. Everything was so good, better than anything he'd ever been able to make. When he'd finished his plat, he felt full for once, full with food he was allowed to have. It was the best feeling in the world.

"I- I'm sorry if I've wronged you," Kane said. "I didn't know. Thank you for helping me anyway."

Jim stared at him with an unreadable expression. "Oh." He shook his head. "Yeah, I mean, yeah. 'Course. You're pretty much not even the same guy."

A sneaking suspicion had been creeping up on Kane, and he was growing more and more certain of it by the minute, no matter how much he hoped it wasn't true. "Was I...?" He touched his own collar.

Jim glanced away. "Yeah."

Mine did, too. Jim said his master hit him, too. Had Kane been just like Master, but to Jim? Was that why Jim was so anxious for his approval? That's who he was before, that was Kane de Sang?

"I'm sorry," he said again, now feeling the weight of what he'd done. "You didn't deserve that. You're so kind."

Jim wiped at the tears starting to form in his eyes. "Thanks. I never thought I'd- thanks."

"Sir?" he asked, since this seemed to be going well. "You said I was... allowed to want things?"

"Yeah. You're allowed," Jim confirmed.

"I don't think I want to be Kane de Sang anymore."

in canon, liz has a good-sized 3-bedroom house, because housing by the vampire territory border is dirt cheap since no one wants to live there. in a world without vampires, i am whisking their comfortable house away. apartment be upon ye

and that's the final part of this AU miniseries! hope you enjoyed!

taglist in reblog!

#kane and jim au #kane and jim bbu #whump #bbucommunity #day13 #safety #bbu #my writing #pet whump #rescue #recovery whump #caretaking #whumper turned whumpee #starvation #whump writing

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