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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year ago

Text

With Discretion

Here it is! I hope you guys like part 1. Part 2 is in the works. I am planning for this to be a 2 parter, 3 at the most haha we'll see! You can find more of my work here. In the meantime enjoy this one! (Once again, gif credits to @londonharry 🫶🏻)

Warnings: Infidelity (adultery), inappropriate relationship, mentions of drinking/partying, mild dirty talk, slight praise kink, multiple and forced orgasms, dry humping, choking, oral sex (f receiving described, m receiving mentioned), fingering, sex (protected & unprotected)

WC: 12.7K

You had never intended on sleeping with your husband, Caleb’s, boss but you had six months ago and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since. It was overwhelmingly excellent and of course, unforgettable. You didn’t even feel guilty anymore when you fantasized about him when you and Cal would sleep together. The way it developed felt almost like a TV drama scriptwriter had taken over your life and was writing your character into a completely surreal situation.

You had suspicions that Cal was having an affair. You lived in the suburbs so his commutes to work were nearly an hour there and back, so when he had to work late it made sense to get a hotel and stay the night in the city. But it was hard to miss the fact that over the course of the past year, the odd late night at the office had suddenly become more commonplace.

At first you thought nothing of it, but one day he made the mistake of using your joint account to make a reservation at one of the fancier restaurants in the city. You just so happened to be checking the activity of the account that afternoon because you were expecting a reimbursement from a purchase you had made for a client a few weeks before. A simple call to the restaurant confirmed your suspicions that it was a reservation for two. And not even an hour later, you’d received the usual text he sent when he was “working late”. Maybe it was just for business but to verify, you decided to show up at his office an hour before the reservation. Their building was a skyscraper and housed a couple different offices, but when you made it to the 23rd floor and it was pretty desolate your suspicion started rising. You had only visited his office once when he’d first go hired. He had brought you along on a Sunday to help him set up and decorate without disturbing any of his coworkers. The building had been just as vacant as it was tonight. Regardless, you headed over to his office and saw the blinds and door were closed, so you knocked just in case and after not receiving any response you opened it up and peeked inside to find it empty with no sign of him even coming back and you sighed.

The feeling of reality just bitch slapping you across the face was strong, but before you could even start to feel any disappointment your entire body froze when a deep voice came from behind you: “Excuse me, can I help you with something?”

The man before you was striking, it stunned you for a second, suspending time as you looked deep into his furrowed eyebrows. He seemed concerned that a stranger was peeking into the CFO’s office. You were quick to explain that you were Caleb’s wife and were stopping by to see if he wanted a dinner break since he was working late. That’s when he introduced himself as Harry Styles, CEO, and verified that he’d only asked Caleb to stay late twice in the 3 years he’d been working for him. When he saw your face fall he caught on quickly and immediately apologized. You then explained that you had suspicions of Cal’s unfaithfulness for months now and had actually come in to confirm your suspicions. He asked if there was anything he could do to help, but you assured him there was not and went home.

You were devastated initially, but as time went on you were just annoyed that you hadn’t caught on sooner. It seemed so obvious now that you were aware, there was even more damning evidence that you had failed to see before. And well, you were afraid of what this meant for you because Cal was a bit older than you and he had money, and had some personal funds invested in your event planning business. You wanted to fight about it or to get him back, but you had a lot to lose if your marriage ended so you decided to be selfish & just let it be. At least now you knew and you could just start to move on emotionally.

A few months after that interaction with Mr. Styles, Cal had left for a “business trip” with all of the top executives from the office. So you and your friends took a trip to the city to bar hop a bit and much to your surprise, you saw Mr. Styles leaning against the bar and you made your way over and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around he was surprised to see you of all people.

“Why’s the CEO of the company not in Tokyo for the all executive business trip?” You had asked with a playful grin.

“Because there’s no business trip to Tokyo.” He responded with a smirk.

You had expected Cal to lie, but the confirmation of it had once again made you close another emotional tie to your husband. Harry had been so kind and ended up buying drinks for you and your friends for the night and even brought you guys into the VIP area with him and his friends.

He was fun, sweet, and very attentive. Even a little flirty with you, dare you say, but you chalked it up to the drinks you’d each had. But as the night progressed your friends and Harry’s friends slowly started disappearing one by one. And nearing 1am it was just you and one of your more drunken friends along with Harry & a couple others from his group. Your friend, Cece, was plastered and you wanted to get her to bed so you thanked Harry for his generosity and let him know that you would be heading out, but he insisted that his car service drop you guys off at your hotel. Your friend ended up passing out in the car and because of this, Harry offered to help you get her up to her room. Once she was safe in her own room for the night Harry walked you up to your room and well, that soon turned into a lot more than you had expected…

… SIX MONTHS EARLIER …

“Thank you so much for helping me get her up here.” You smiled as you held your friend Cecilia’s door open as Harry hurried by, carrying her bridal style to her bed.

“Not a problem.” He assured as he gently set her down. She groaned and stirred a bit, “We should probably leave a bin within reach.” He glanced back to you as the heavy door closed with a loud thud.

“Good thinking.” You smiled as you hurried over to the other end of the room where a trashcan was nestled beneath the desk. You sighed when you saw that the liner had not been put in and was just sitting neatly at the bottom so you bent down to do just that.

Harry didn’t mean to ogle you the way he had been all night, but he couldn’t help himself. You looked absolutely breathtaking and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how Caleb could just screw you over the way he was. Harry didn’t even know he was married until you had shown up at the building a few months back looking for him. In his eyes Caleb was immature and a complete fool, even if he was 15 years his senior. Because if he had someone like you at his side he would never dream of doing anything to jeopardize that.

“Alright, that’s all set.” You said as you put the garbage can by Cecilia’s bedside, flicked on the bedside lamp, and then turned around to smile at him.

“Well at least she had a lot of fun.” He said as you started making your way out of the room.

“Exactly.” You giggled as you shut off the big lights and opened up the door and you both made it back into the hall. You walked to the elevator in a comfortable silence and then stopped before it, you turned to him to say goodnight.

“Are you up or down?” He asked you as he walked up to the buttons on the wall.

“Up. Much to my displeasure.” You mumbled and he smiled.

“Scared of heights?” He asked and you nodded in confirmation, “Me too. I hate that my office is all windows.” He said with a chuckle, “First time I got in there I decided to look out of it and I got a spell of vertigo for a few hours.” He admitted and you frowned a bit.

“Oh wow, so it’s bad.”

“Yeah, awful.” He confirmed just as the elevator chimed to indicate it’s arrival.

“You don’t have to take me up, I know it’s late and-”

“No, it’s alright. Just want to make sure you get in safe.” He assured as you both stepped inside.

“Thanks, that’s sweet of you.” You smiled as you pressed the button to the 15th floor.

“It’s nothing.” He assured you with a smile, “Ummm…you can tell me to fuck off if I’m prying, but I guess I’ve just noticed that you don’t seem all that upset about Caleb cheating and lying to you about his whereabouts.” He said and you sighed.

“I was at first, after I went to the office?” You reminded and he nodded, “But I then decided that it was out of my hands and like…I don’t know, it’s not that I don’t love him enough, but I just…don’t want to fight and if all this is is like a fling or midlife crisis,” you giggled, “It’ll sort itself out.” You explained and he hummed. “It might also have a lot to do with everyone telling me that marrying and older man was a bad idea.” You admitted with a slight smile and he did as well.

“So no one was supportive?”

“Not really.” You confessed.

“How old are you now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“30, turning 31 soon.” You said.

“Oh, I just turned 31! It’s just as annoying.” He assured and you giggled.

“Good. People’ve been a lot more invested in my personal life since I turned 30.”

“Oh yeah…"when are you getting married?", "Are you going to have children?", "When are you going to start acting your age?"…” he recited all of the same questions people seemed to concerned to know the answers to and you chuckled.

“Exactly.” You hummed, “I mean, I was 24 when we got married. Literally fresh out of grad school. That same summer.” You said and he hummed in understanding.

“Did you date long?”

“A year and a half or so? We met at an entrepreneurial convention and I was manning a booth for the place I was working at, at the time and we just got to talking. You know how he can just get along with anyone…” you explained and he nodded. “I did fall hard and fast…but I mean, I think he just wanted to snatch me up before I lost interest or something because I wasn’t in a rush to be married. But he seemed to be and well, I agreed because I did love him-er I do, sorry! I do love him.” You corrected yourself, feeling a bit shocked by your fumble.

“I mean, feelings can change.” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah…I mean, clearly his have.” You said as the doors opened up on your floor.

“I mean, sounds like yours have too a bit.” He said as you started guiding him down the hall.

“I think you made a mistake in walking me to my room. I’m pretty deep in.” You explained, changing the subject and he smiled at you.

“It’s no bother. I quite like talking to you.” He said and you smiled up at him.

“I ummm…like talking to you too, Harry.” You assured him. “So what about you? Any lucky lads or ladies?” You asked him and he chuckled.

“Hmmm, sometimes, but not to any serious capacity. I’m always so busy with the firm.” He explained, “It’s not like I don’t want that though…I just want to make sure that when I do have that it’s…as right for me as possible. I don’t know, not so big on wasting people’s time, you know? Like if I were in your shoes I would make a fuss and try to get even in someway…” he said and you chuckled.

“So vengeful!” You teased.

“Well you’re married to the guy! You made a commitment to each other, you know? It’s just disrespectful in my opinion. If something changed for him then he should say that instead of sneaking off with someone else, you know?”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” You concurred as you made another turn, “But if I were to “get him back” or give him a taste of his own medicine I’m just not sure that it would make anything better for me at least.” You explained as you slowed down as you reached your door, “Like, do I think bout it sometimes, yeah! Of course I do.” You chuckled, “But I don’t think it would impact him in any way. I wouldn’t advertise it to him either, you know?” You explained as you glanced down and opened up your bag to search for your key.

“Well if not to get back at him then just for yourself. I mean, if he’s out there getting his ego boosted by who knows who, why wouldn’t you?” Harry asked and you smiled as your eyes flickered up to his.

“I mean…thankfully, I don’t think I need that validation from anyone else.” You explained and he smiled a bit, “I know who I am and I am happy with who I am, in every way. And, not to sound arrogant, but I know what I bring to the table as a partner and if that’s not enough for someone then… their loss.” You concluded with a simple shrug.

“You’re absolutely extraordinary.” He said softly, as if he were in awe of you. You felt your cheeks warming as all of the blood rushed to your face at his compliment and you looked away. Bashfully shaking your head as if that would help ward off the feeling his compliment elicited from you.

“Hardly.” You said lowly and suddenly his hands were on your face and he was tilting you up to look up at him. His touch was gentle as his eyes flickered back and forth over your own.

“You are, Y/N.” He assured you softly and you felt like your were on cloud 9, your hands grabbed around his wrists firmly, “If I had you, I would never be so careless with you.” He said with so much conviction.

His words made your heart beat wildly and your insides melt. You were so affected by him, it was getting hard to keep yourself together in his presence. He was overwhelming in the best way and you wanted to feel completely immersed in the energy that he exuded. The attraction that was brewing between the two of you was reaching its boiling point. It was getting hard to ignore the signals of desire that your body had been giving off since you started hanging out earlier. But now, the subtlety was gone…your pupils were blown wide, his were as well. You were running hot all over, but particularly between your legs, you were so wet for Harry, you were certain that your panties were an absolutely sticky mess at the crotch.

“I think I-uh…sh-should ummm…get inside.” You stumbled on such simple words because you were trying so hard to just behave for another few seconds.

“Yeah.” He agreed, but neither of your were letting each other go. “Did you find your room key?” He asked and you nodded.

“S’in my purse.” You assured and he nodded and reluctantly let you go.

“Good.” He smiled as you dug back into your little bag and retrieved it to show him, “Alright, in you go.” He said softly and you turned around and slid the key into the slot, waiting for it to turn green so that you could turn the handle. He was quick to step forward and help you push the heavy door open.

“Thank you.” You hummed as you stepped past the threshold and turned to face him again, “Thank you for literally everything. The drinks, the laughs, the ride, the chat…” you smiled at him and he returned the friendly gesture.

“It was my pleasure.” He assured you.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You smiled.

“Me too.” He confirmed, still standing at the door. Neither of you made a move to retreat.

“Ummm, can I…hug you?” You asked through a timid giggle and his dimples carved deep into his cheeks.

“Of course you can.” He said and you were quick to pull the latching lock out so that the door wouldn’t shut on you when he let it go.

You were going to hug around his body, but he hunched down at bit so you could reach him better, which resulted in your arms draping over his shoulders. Harry’s arms then naturally wrapped around your waist and as you closed the gap between your bodies you relaxed into his hold for a few seconds, leaning your head against his. He smelled divine, you were tempted to take a big inhale of him but decided against it almost instantly.

You initiated the pull back and your hands rested on his shoulders, your noses nearly brushing from how close you were. You started to close the gap as your eyes fluttered down to his lips and he nudged your face to the side a bit, allowing him to fit his face better against yours. "What am I doing?" Was the last thought you had before your eyes fluttered closed and your lips met his in a sensual kiss. You two pulled back almost instantly, lust and longing clouding your minds to a dangerous degree. But before you could decide against it, you tugged at the collar of his shirt as your lips smeared together urgently once again. One of his arms remained around your body as the other pushed the room door open until you were both shrouded in darkness. He blindly flipped back the latch and as soon as the heavy door closed your body was up against it as his hands found your face and held you in place as your kiss started to deepen.

You hadn’t been fucked in at least four months by that point and with the attraction that you felt towards Harry, you didn’t care that you were married. After all, Cal had already tainted the marriage with his own affair… with this in mind you just gave in. You licked into his mouth and he ended up moaning before he shoved his tongue past your lips. You guided his hands to the parts of your body that craved that long missed masculine touch. His hands felt bigger than Caleb’s and he was groping at your bottom the second you guided his hands there. He stayed there for a few minutes as you kissed heatedly, but soon he started to slide his hands up your body. He was intentional as he felt and familiarized himself with the curves and dips of your body. Your skin was tingling from his attention and buzzing in anticipation of where his curious hands would travel to next. You immediately got dizzy when his right hand landed over your neck and started to tighten a bit around your throat.

“Harder.” You begged breathily and he sighed in relief before squeezing harder against the sides as you kissed sloppily.

You felt him trying to nudge your legs apart with his knee so you parted them and as he pressed closer you whined when you felt his thigh nudged against your center just a bit. You needed more though, you were greedy for it and ground down against him and he flexed his quad, the bulge of his muscle created a surface of better friction for you and you moaned as you started to go faster. You immediately felt the turning up of his lips as he smirked, more than glad that you were so eager for it.

“Better?” He asked and you nodded, “Good. Get what you need, Y/N.” He hummed before he pressed his forehead to yours. Your pants and soft moans were heating up the minimal space between your faces but he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were. You were clinging to his shoulders for dear life as you humped at his thigh to your heart’s content and Harry would have it no other way.

Harry only wanted one thing and that was to get you off as many times as were physically possible. You deserved the world on a silver platter and he was determined to give you whatever you would let him tonight. How could anyone in their right mind neglect someone as gorgeous, smart, and extraordinary as you? He didn’t get it…how anyone could neglect your body or choose another’s…that’s why any guilt he felt about this immediately evaporated. His other hand was securely latched at your waist, keeping you steady as you used him to get off. He wanted you to do whatever you wanted, whatever you needed to feel good.

You were so determined! You wanted to come so badly and were doing everything in your power to cling to that little spark of pleasure that would shoot down your legs and make you shudder each time your clit rubbed against his thigh. The slick mess in your panties caused the glide to be smoother and so you started grinding with more intention until your jaw was dropping open as you moaned in celebration of your impending orgasm.

“I’m- oh, I’m coming!” You got out as you lost your rhythm and fell forward into his chest and Harry’s hands went to your hips. You continued grinding wildly to draw out the pleasure of your orgasm as much as possible. Harry was encouraging you with his words while his strong body kept you steady as your legs grew weary from the orgasm that had just taken you out. Your ragged breathing and the pulsing of your pussy were synced with the beating of your heart, you swore he could hear it as well and you tried to straighten up.

“S’alright, I’ve got you. Holding you nice and tight, just take some deep breaths, baby.” He said cooly as you tried to recover.

As the seconds passed your inhales finally became deeper and you were able to relax into Harry’s hold. He was patient, waiting for you to make a move to regain your strength.

“Jeez, I haven’t come like that since I was a teenager.” You confessed through a giggle and he chuckled.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” He asked and you glanced up at him.

“I’m not sure…I just hadn’t been so turned on that I was able to.” You said and he grinned.

“Are you saying I turn you on more than your husband?” He asked haughtily, a satisfied glint in his eyes.

“No, no, no…Don’t do that to me.” You responded through a nervous laugh and he chuckled.

“You’re right, that was low. Sorry.” He apologized and you smiled.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, he could still see the lust glazing over your gaze. “Can I return the favor though?” You asked him, more than ready to do your best for him.

“Can I make you come again first?” He asked and your eyes widened a bit.

“Again?” you questioned him and he nodded.

“Yes, again.” He said as he started walking you back deeper into the room, “And again, and again, and again until your poor, little pussy can’t take anymore.” He said before kissing you deeply. You moaned at his dirty words and gasped when the backs of your legs were met with the edge of bed. You fell back and he climbed over you, still kissing you fervently.

His big hands slid up your thighs, helping you part them around his body so that he could get even closer still and the moment you felt the seizable bulge in his pants pressing near your center you felt an impatience to feel and see what he had to offer you. Of course, his company was lovely, but you were absolutely touch starved and in dire need of a good fucking. Your hands slid back to his firm bottom and you pressed him deeper against you still. His grin broke the kiss and you opened your eyes to meet his playful gaze.

“Cheeky little thing.” He smiled and you only offered a shrug to excuse your handsiness. "Are you still okay with this?” He asked you and you bit your lip to suppress the grin that was threatening to take over your face.

“I don’t know but I want it. Need it.” You said and his gaze softened a bit.

“How long’s it been?” He asked you and you sighed.

“Since I’ve been fucked? Four months.” You said and he looked displeased.

“I mean since you’ve come.”

“Since I’ve come? Not by my own devices…?” you said and he chuckled, “I honestly don’t remember.” You confessed and now he just looked flat out offended at this.

“You’re lying…”

“Why would I lie about that?” You giggled.

“And even after that you haven’t cheated?” He asked with a chuckle and you shrugged.

“Well, I am now.” You said and he smiled.

“Well I’m definitely following through on what I said before. Gotta help you make up for lost time.” He smiled and you playful rolled your eyes at him. “Nuh-uh, none of that bratty stuff.” He said to you and you grinned.

“After everything I’ve been through?” You asked and he grinned.

“Pulling that card are you?”

“Of course.” You smiled and he bit down on his lip, “What?” You asked him.

“You’re just so fucking pretty.” He said, voice soft and sweet.

“Ummm, thanks.” You responded softly. You suddenly felt so small beneath him.

“Yeah, of course.” His smirk was giving you butterflies. His hand started trailing up your thigh, making its way to your center. When he finally reached your panties he did his best to contain his amusement at just how wet you were for him. “Shit.” He whispered lowly as his eyes met yours.

“I know…” you giggled, “M’so wet for you.” You whispered back and immediately wriggled a bit when you felt him slide the material to the side and soon the warmth of his fingers were making direct contact with your slit.

“Say it again.” Harry asked, his lips tickling against yours as he made his request.

“I’m so wet for you, Harry.” You said again, practically tingling in anticipation. He could feel your arousal seeping through as he ran his fingers down to where your entrance was. Harry almost moaned at how sopping wet you were, you’d made a proper mess for him and he didn’t even ask before kissing you hard and then sliding down to the ground.

“Harry, what’re you- Oh my god…” You gasped breathily when his thick tongue pushed into your entrance. Your eyes fluttered closed and your fingers buried into his hair as he started to bury his face against you even more, he was nuzzling against you, his nose bumping against your clit a few times before he licked up the entirety of your pussy and then dexterously used it to flick at your clit until your body started to turn to mush, “Oh fuck...that’s so fucking good…” you praised him and when he started to gently suck at you, your vision started to blur and your abs to tense. You would be mortified by how quickly you were building up to an orgasm if everything that he was doing wasn’t distracting you from having a singular thought apart from “Keep sucking”.

He moaned against you as your orgasm starting to take over you. It made you come harder to know that he was enjoying it as much as you were because even as you were withering, he never stopped. He did slow down enough to let you come down from it all but when he’d realized that you’d caught your breath you felt his fingers teasing at your entrance. You parted your legs further, non-verbally communicating to him that you wanted him to finger you. He kissed at your inner thigh and you smiled as you felt him sucking at you.

“Are you-”

“Yeah. S’just for you, for the memories.” He hummed before he sucked a bit more, ensuring that he left a dark hickey and you giggled, but soon your breath was hitching as he laved at your clit as he introduced his index finger first, feeling it out to see what you were able to handle.

It did feel nice, but you needed more. He wasn’t stingy when you asked for it, instead he rewarded you with his middle finger as well. His hands were so big, so this did make a difference. He was feeling around with his fingers, searching for your spot.

“Just a little bit deeper.” You said as you propped yourself up on your elbows to be able to see him.

“I’m not hurting you?” He asked. His tenderness was making your heart flutter.

“No, I’m alright. Now just curl your fingers into- Oh fuck… r-right there!” You encouraged through a bright smile and he grinned as he watched your head fall back onto the bed. He started to go a bit harder until your legs started to tense up, soon enough they were trembling as your toes curled and you started to come once again. You couldn’t believe how good you felt. Beautiful colors were bursting behind your closed eyelids as you rode the wave of pleasure you had been so fortunate to catch. You could practically hear the blood roaring in between your ears at how hard your heart was beating. And the longer he kept his fingers pumping inside of you the longer your orgasm lasted. You whimpered as your legs shook from yet another orgasm as he expertly prodded his fingers into your g-spot.

“Good girl…come for me.” Harry spurred you on.

You genuinely felt like you were going to explode because he had found the perfect pleasure point and it’s like you couldn’t be turned off. You felt so much pressure building inside of you, it was making your back arch and your legs shake and your moans to pour incessantly from your mouth, but you couldn’t ask him to stop. It felt too good to put an end to it yet. Fingering had always done wonders for you, but add to that a partner who’s intentional about it, and well your body will do things you never thought it capable of. Again, he’d give you small breaks to help you catch your breath and start up again. Your entire body felt like it was vibrating as he built you up again. Your hips thrusting to try meet his fingers, hoping to feel him deeper as he fucked you with them and used his mouth to lick and slurp at your clit until your body was going limp once again as you came. This time there were no colors, just white as your ears rang.

But then you gasped as he pushed himself to stand, his body loomed over yours and a he gave you mischievous grin before he started pounding his long, thick fingers inside harder and faster than before, never failing to miss the spot you showed him. And as his dark eyes met yours with a hungry gaze you felt completely lost. You could feel your poor little pussy throbbing as he started to work you up to the summit of pleasure again, but this time it felt even bigger than before. You had that pins and needles feeling tickling up your legs and to your core, but it felt like it was coming from the inside. Fighting to get out.

“Gonna come again. I can feel it.” He said lowly. The deep tones of his voice settled over you like the warmest hints of sunlight, making you feel toasty from the inside out.

“It feels…fuck, it feels like so much.” You whimpered.

“I know, baby. You’re gonna squirt for me, aren’t you?” He asked and you nodded furiously at the insane pressure threatening to just explode, “Come on then, give it to me. Show me how good it feels, Y/N.” He hummed with a subtle arrogance that you swore was the thing that did you in or maybe it was that he suddenly started to rub your clit with his thumb. Your head fell back into the mattress and your back arched for a few seconds before the fireworks took over. You couldn’t contain your moans and cries as you felt yourself quite literally exploding with your orgasm. He held one of your legs open with his free hand, taking in as your writhed in pleasure, gushing cum for him. He started to slow down, but you had so much more. It’s like a part of you that had been repressed was finally free.

“D-don’t stop! Not yet! I-I need more!” You begged breathily.

“How about I fuck the rest out of you?” He asked instead as his fingers slowed down and rubbed into that spot. You immediately nodded and he was quick to lean over you and attach your lips together.

You helped each other get undressed and then he fetched a condom from his wallet before texting his driver to dismiss him for the night. In the meantime you made yourself useful and grabbed two towels from the bathroom to put under you. Already you felt wobbly on your legs and Harry was more than pleased. You watched with a salivating mouth as he rolled the condom down his long and deliciously thick shaft. He stroked himself a few times and it made your walls flutter in excitement.

“Grab a pillow for me, please?” He asked you nodded and reached back, blindly feeling around until your fingers grazed the corner of one and pulled it down, “Thank you. Hips up for me.” He said softly and you did as he directed. You’d heard of this before, never really certain of whether this worked or not, but you guessed you were about to find out. He tucked it beneath you, asking a few times if it was comfortable for you until it was positioned just right.

And from one moment to the next the reality of this situation dawned on you and your excitement turned into hesitation. You were suddenly anxious about this…were you really about to cheat on Caleb? Your husband. With his boss? It just felt like the most surreal situation and when you finally got out of your head Harry was looking at you with a tenderness in his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He said and you swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry if I…caused a lapse in judgement or-” he was cut off as you tugged him down by the neck and kissed his lips with so much need. You didn’t want him to feel bad for this. This total stranger, basically, had shown you more attention and kindness than your own husband had in ages. And you talked yourself out of believing that this was for revenge on Cal. No, this was for you. You wanted it, you needed it desperately. Even more so as you felt the tip of his cock tickling at your labia as he hovered over your body. His hands were securely on your hips. But you parted your legs further, to let him rest against your entrance.

“You sure?” His question was mumbled against your mouth and you nodded.

“Yes. I’m sure.” You reassured him of your decision. “I’m just…nervous.” You confessed. “Like…I never thought I would be in this situation.” you said through a breathy giggle.

“Yeah, this is definitely a unique situation.” He agreed with a smile on his lips.

“I guess I just need you to know that…like I’m not a bad person.” She said and he shook his head.

“I don’t think that you are, Y/N.” He assured, “I think that you’re fun, smart, sweet, strong, and beautiful…or at least from what I’ve seen.” He said softly, “If anything I’m the bad person for…not giving a fuck that you’re married.” He chuckled and you did as well.

“If it helps I don’t think you’re a bad person either.” You assured him and he smiled before he kissed you again.

“Mmm…you might after I’m done with you. Gonna ruin you for my cock.” He smirked as he started to push inside.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he started to stretch out your entrance with the thick head. “Fuck you’re tight.” He hummed in delight as he added more pressure with his hips. He was just starting to wonder when the tight ring of muscles would give when they did, and the leaking and sensitive head of his cock was sucked into your delicious little pussy. You moaned together in relief as he surged forward, not able to wait for your to accommodate to his intrusion. He just needed to get in you, it was like he had lost all self-control; forcefully spreading your walls apart with his girth and then finally settling inside of you fully. You whimpered at how deep he was and he shifted his hips a bit, doing his best to find the spot that had you in puddles for him.

“Oh god…” you sighed in relief when his cock finally found your spot. Your thighs squeezed around his hips to push him in as deep as possible. You swore he was in your stomach and it hurt so good. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, Harry.” You implored and he wasted no time in giving in to your request.

His thrusts were hard and merciless. It almost felt like with each deep thrust he was knocking the air from your body. You felt drunk and dizzy on his cock as he pounded into your spot so hard that your vision started to blur. Before you even realized it your walls were spasming around his erection and your were writhing around with an unexpected orgasm.

When Harry felt you tighten up he grinned and moaned at the feeling of you coming around him so suddenly. He was mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with each powerful thrust. He was melting for your pretty and whiny sounds of approval and of the sound of his name being uttered and moaned from your lips with so much gratitude.

“Shit…” he swallowed thickly as his cock slipped out from how wet you were now. He quickly guided himself back inside of you, thrusting in the way you had liked and then started rubbing your clit as well. He chuckled as he felt your legs trembling around his hips as you came yet again. His own legs felt like they were about to give, so he slowed down and wrapped his arms around you before carrying you higher up the bed so that he could kneel on the mattress. “Get on your tummy for me.” He said and you did as you were asked, “Let’s get this under you…there you go.” He said as he placed the pillow back under you and you got the chills when you felt his fingers rubbing against your entrance the up to your bum, rubbing against your much tighter hole. Then you felt the weight of his cock back at your entrance and he slowly pushed inside. You squeezed the comforter in your fists as his cock somehow felt even bigger than it had before. You literally gasped and he moaned as he gave a few testing thrusts before some part of you just opened up and let him bottom out, that one did make you yelp. “Alright?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s just so fucking big.” You mumbled into the bedding and he grinned.

“Yeah it is, but you’re taking it all so well.” He assured you as he started to grind into you and your were paralyzed. "Fuck baby, take all of me." he grunted in time with his thrusts. He was right up against your favorite spot this way and it was making you feel loopy as it was stimulated over and over and over again. He wasn’t even going hard, he was just focusing all of his efforts into getting that spot and well, he seemed to be enjoying it too as he moaned and groaned above you. “Fuck you feel so good…you’re so fucking good.” He moaned with a satisfied smile.

You had never come vaginally as much as you had tonight and these orgasms were different than the clitoral ones you typically had. These orgasms felt bigger and like it was taking your whole body to achieve them. Your mind was blanking every single time…and this one was going to be the end of you, you were sure. You could feel yourself throbbing around his cock hard. He started to gyrate his hips and you literally gasped.

“There? Is that it?” He asked with a smirk you couldn’t see, but it was evident from his tone.

“Yes, right there! You’re going to make me come!” You warned and he hummed and put more of his weight over you. You welcomed it and your heart nearly beat out of your chest as one of his hands slid up your arms and to your hand. You let his fingers interlace with yours and squeezed as you got closer and closer to your orgasm. It was absolutely overwhelming as you cried out in ecstasy as your orgasm literally crawled up from your toes to the top of your head. Every part of you was hyperaware and feeling tingly as your mind floated freely in gratification. You were covered in goosebumps and your limbs felt like jell-o as he fucked you through it. You were reeling, completely pliant in his arms and as soon as you started to come down from that incredible orgasm he started to thrust into you nice and deep not letting your orgasm end. His thrusts were timed so perfectly, you were trembling and begging him for more, so he gave you more. He went harder and deeper as he shifted to straddle you and fuck you like that. You were basically weeping as he fucked two more orgasms out of you like this, it just felt so good you couldn’t even stop it. Your body was just responding to it and you were so out of sorts.

“One more like this and I’ll give you a break, baby. Just one more, can feel your little pussy squeezing me, throbbing around my big cock.” He said and you moaned, practically drooling on yourself and the bed by now.

It’s like you had no say over it, you just surrendered to the feelings and let yourself drown in them with no shame or remorse. That last orgasm was earth-shattering. You were vibrating uncontrollably as your ears rang and the tears slipped from your eyes even though they were screwed shut. You were just grunting in time with each hard thrust he delivered into you until your come was gushing and spurting out of you. You were gasping because the intensity of it all made you feel like your were free falling. It was soaking his cock as he moaned and then pressed inside as deep as he could before he came undone, filling the condom with his come but wishing he could’ve just unloaded in that tight, sweet pussy of yours. His hands pushed you deeper into the mattress, making it just a little bit harder to breathe and that somehow made it all the better. When he finished, he relaxed his body he just fell over you, covering you in his warmth. Time felt suspended as you both caught your breaths. You swore that mentally you weren’t all there now and wouldn’t be for a bit.

“Am I crushing you?” He whispered, this words tickling the shell of your ear and you smiled, eyes still closed because to you, it felt like the room was spinning.

“Yes, but in a good way.” You hummed bad tiredly.

“In a good way…” he repeated lazily through a playful smile.

“Mhmm.” you said and then your smile widened as his fingers found yours and interlaced with yours again. He shifted a bit and you rolled along with him so that you were on your sides now. His cock was still softening up and you were grateful that he wasn’t quick to just pull out and go. As much as you needed a fuck, you also needed the tenderness and affection of another person and he seemed to understand that. You tangled your legs with his and he squeezed your fingers before pulling your closer into his body.

“Was that alright?” He asked softly and you laughed a bit.

“I’m like…mentally on another planet…I feel like I’m floating… so yeah, I’d say that was alright.” You whispered and he laughed a bit.

“Good.” Is all he said.

When you had come down enough he proceeded to get back between your legs. His tongue and mouth were a lot more gentle this time around and again, he made you come several more times until your body was so sore that you just couldn’t give any more. You sucked him off eagerly and made him come once more before you both passed out. You woke up around 7am when his alarm went off, but instead of seizing the day he fucked you once more, bare, and it was your turn to mark him up. You were so exhausted that you flaked out on breakfast with your friends and didn’t wake up again until just shy of midday.

“Feel free to shower if you need to.”

“Yeah, I think I will.” Harry said lazily as he checked his phone.

“Mmmkay. I’m gonna order something in, do you want anything?” You asked him through a yawn.

“Will we have time?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a late check out.” You assured.

“Oh alright.” He smiled, “What’re you having?”

“Probably some eggs and pancakes and well coffee. I’m quite drained.” You said with a smile.

“I’ll have the same. Eggs over easy though.” He said as he stretched.

“Oh, same!” You smiled as you rolled over to reach the telephone and he hopped in the shower while you place the call.

Thankfully nothing was tense or awkward which you appreciated. Harry didn’t take long, so you were able to get showered as well and had literally just stepped out in your robe when Harry was placing the tray down on the little table in your room. You guys made conversation, he asked about your business and what kinds of events you liked to do, if you were interested in any other ventures. It was very, very normal. You were just waiting for the bubble to be burst by the metaphorical needle that was your reality…that being that you were a married woman who had just cheated on her husband, but it hadn’t come… and whether it did or not, this couldn’t happen again. Maybe when you were out of his presence and left alone with your thoughts, because you liked him way too much to feel anything bad at the moment. You thought it would happen when it came time for him to go, but that wasn’t how your goodbye went at all.

“Umm…before I go I just think we need to…debrief a bit.” He said and you smiled at him.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed easily.

“I mean…I like you, I think we’re very compatible and like…we just have a connection I think.” He said and you nodded, “And I mean…I can’t say I respect Caleb as a husband and a man after…hearing what he’s put you through, but I still respect him as my employee and obviously what he does outside of work isn’t really my business.” Harry spoke clearly and concisely, but he was looking for any signs of distress from you at this but you were just nodding.

“Yeah, I agree 100%. Like, thank you…for hearing me out and…helping me out, but obviously this is not something that can happen again. And well, I like you too, a lot.” You said and he smiled a bit, “I just don’t want you to walk away thinking that I just used you to get back at him, you know? And I mean…I don’t think us running into each other often will even be an issue. He doesn’t ever want me involved in any of his work stuff.” You said simply and he nodded.

“Right. Well, I did have a great time with you and ummm…I don’t regret it. I hope you don’t either.” He said more meekly and you shook your head.

“Nope, no regrets.” You assured him with a smile, “Thank you though, again for everything. You’re a really wonderful person, Harry.” You said and he smiled bashfully at your compliment. Moments later you were ensuring he had all of his things as you walked him to the door and you guys hugged briefly before he made his way out into the hallway and gave you one final wave before he was gone and disappearing amongst all of the strangers in New York City.

… PRESENT DAY …

As was expected, you hadn’t seen or even heard anything about Harry since then, just like before. But one thing you couldn’t help but notice was that now Caleb was around a lot more. Well, it took a few months after the whole thing with Harry, but it felt like things were going back to how they had been before. You had no idea what had happened between him and his mistress, but it couldn’t have been good because he was suddenly so present and even doting on you like when he was first trying to convince you to go out with him. And on this particular night you were in the middle of doing your skincare routine before bed when Cal came into the en-suite, just in from the office.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He hummed and kissed your cheek in passing.

“Hi, how was your day?” You asked as he undid his tie.

“Really fucking good.” He grinned, “So on Saturday we’re gonna have a celebratory dinner for a deal that we closed. It’s not everyone from work, but a few of the guys. S’nothing official, just those of us who did the grunt work to get this client. Do you have plans?” He asked as he moved on to his shirt now.

“Nope, no plans. Why?” You asked in confusion, as your eyes met through the mirror.

“Obviously I want you to join, sweetheart. If you want to.” He smiled in confirmation.

“Oh, sure!” You said quickly, “I’d love to.” You happily accepted his invitation.

“Excellent! It’s formal wear, we’re doing a fancy dinner.” He grinned, “So get yourself something nice in the next few days yeah?” He said.

“Oh, ok. Is there like a specific vibe I should go for?” You asked as you turned to him and he came over to you and grabbed your face gently.

“Hmm…” he hummed pensively, “I’d say something sexy, but really classy. S’gonna be the first time you meet my work friends. Wanna show you off, gloat a bit.” He said to you, voice low and sultry.

“Okay…do I have to wear a bra with it?” You asked and he chuckled before kissing your lips deeply. After a few moments he pulled back with a smirk as his thumbs ran over the apples of your cheeks lovingly.

“Mmmm, I’d prefer you ditch it for the night…but that’s just my opinion.” He grinned and you chuckled, “Probably pack a bag for overnight in case we get a little too wasted, yeah?” He asked and you nodded in confirmation, “Alright sweets, m’gonna hop in the shower.” He said before letting you go.

Needless to say, you were shocked. Hell must’ve been frozen over because Cal never even took you to the office holiday parties! So of course you accepted his invitation before he could take it back. Seeing Harry at this dinner had definitely crossed your mind almost instantly, but from what you knew, he didn’t really socialize with his colleagues outside of work so you got the possibility of seeing him again out of your head. Specially now that it seemed like Cal had made it past whatever midlife crisis he had been suffering. Maybe it was about time that you put the fantasies on the back burner and focused back on your husband. After all it seemed that he was extending an olive branch with this invitation. Making up for lost time and for his distancing from you. And well, in the interest of perhaps seeing Harry again in the future, you wanted to really wow his coworkers and make sure that you scored more invitations to work things.

*********

You had spent your lunch hours for the next few days scouring all the boutiques in your suburb for a dress that made you feel sexy but that wasn’t too slutty or suggestive. Always in the back of your mind asking yourself if Harry would like it, but then bringing yourself down from that hopeful cloud. You had found a dress that you loved and bought it, but despite that, you had walked into one more shop before heading back to your house.

You were looking through the racks when a beautiful magenta fabric caught your eyes and when you pulled it out of the bunch you immediately smiled at the dress it belonged to. It was a halter neck, which you would never typically go for, but you could already envision it on your body. There was a slit and the back had a little cutout that you imagined would serve to draw the gaze to the curve of your lower back and ultimately your bottom. The dress you had just purchased was a lot more understated, it flattered your shape and was definitely a less showy color, but you were practically drooling over this dress. It was gorgeous.

“It’s stunning isn’t it?” The clerk suddenly appeared beside you with a smile.

“Yeah…” you smiled at her.

“Want to try it on?” She asked with an enticing arch in her eyebrow.

“Absolutely.” You responded almost too quickly and she smiled and grabbed it for you and guided you over to the changing room. "Oh my god..." you sighed dreamily.

You were a vision in it. The color just livened you up and made you feel electric, powerful, and sensational. Your previous dress did make you look elegant and beautiful, but gave more of a demure and understated beauty vibe; it was the kind of dress you’d be expected to go for and typically did. But this other dress, it brought out an air of confidence in you, you could see the difference even in how you posed in it. Caleb did say he wanted to show you off…And well, even if you upstaged the evening, your husband had been having an affair for a year and while he seemed to be coming back to you, it couldn’t hurt to remind him of what he had and perhaps it would help to keep repairing the invisible, but tangible, distance that still existed between the two of you.

“I’ll definitely take it.” You said to the clerk with a smile.

After rushing a few streets down, you returned the other dress and then hurried home to your meeting. You’d keep the dress hidden in your closet until Saturday and surprise Cal with it as well.

**********

Cal had been quick to get ready, he didn’t stray too far from his day to day look, he just ditched his tie. You were working on your makeup when he told you that he’d be down in his office when you were ready to go. The dinner was at 7pm and you did have quite a drive according to Caleb, so you hurried to get your look together so that you could get on the road quickly. After spritzing on some setting spray you rushed into your closet and pulled the bag off of your new dress and smiled as soon as you saw it again. You quickly got undressed and slipped into it. You hurried back to the vanity to get a visual to tie the pieces of fabric for the halter top and you were struggling a bit.

“Sweetheart, are you almost-” Caleb’s voice stopped as he just gawked for a moment before he smiled, “Wow.” He said softly as your eyes met though the mirror.

“Yeah? Like it? Is this okay?” You asked timidly and he nodded.

“Yeah. You look great.” He smiled as he came up behind you, “Need some help?”

“Please.” You responded and he aided in getting the ties situated.

“There you are, my darling. You all packed?” He asked softly and you nodded and allowed him to peck your lips.

“Yeah, my bag’s on the bed.” you said and he smiled.

“Perfect, I’ll take it and go start the car, OK?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You assured and he went to do that as you wrapped up the final details of getting your shoes on, grabbing your purse, and finally getting on a bit of perfume and tucking a little travel version of it in your bag. You felt like a million bucks for the first time since Harry…and well, it was nice to feel good on your own, not because of another person so this felt so special. Like you were reclaiming yourself in a way. And so with that feeling of confidence making you glow you grabbed the bottle of wine you’d purchased as a gift and locked up the house before you carefully slipped into Cal’s Quattroporte, it was his baby and he’d take it out anytime he was feeling on top of the world. You hoped that you had something to do with it for now.

The GPS indicated that you guys were heading down towards the Hamptons, which was a bit over an hour drive. Cal was conversing with you about your work and clients, which was kind of odd. He never really cared much for your event planning business apart from giving you the start up money. But you soon realized that he was nervous because he was incessantly tapping at the steering wheel and clearly, he was talking with you to keep his mind off of whatever was making him feel this way. You wondered if it was the fact that this was going to be your first time meeting his work friends? You knew that he always tried to create boxes to compartmentalize his life and merging them could sometime be nerve-racking. Instead of letting it trip you up and darken all of the light and positive feelings your were having over this invitation, you decided to just focus on how good you felt.

“Sweetheart, we’re almost there.” Cal’s voice and his firm squeeze to your knee roused you from your slumber. You yawned and rolled your shoulders back.

“Sorry, didn’t realize I fell asleep.” You spoke a bit groggily and he smiled at you.

“God, did you guys rent out the biggest Airbnb?” You asked as you looked out the window. You were driving down the line of mansions by the coast.

“No. Didn’t spend a dime on this getaway thankfully.” He chuckled, “We’re going to the CEO’s vacation home.” He explained and you quickly turned to him.

“The CEO rents out his vacation home in the Hamptons to his employees?” You asked him incredulously, Harry seemed way too Type A for something like that.

“No, sweetheart. Of course not.” He scoffed through a laugh, “He’s the one throwing the party for us.” He explained and your stomach literally turned and you swore you were about to start sweating cold.

“So w-we’re sleeping at your boss’ house? You said it was work friends!” You said to him with panic in your eyes.

“Did I not mention that?” He asked and you shook your head, still in disbelief, “Oh, well either way, Harry’s from work and I mean, we’re not really friends or anything yet, but we’re friendly.” He explained, “And well, considering I just made him half a million dollars richer this week alone I’d say we’re about to get a lot more chummy.” He explained with a cocky grin.

“Cal, my tits are out! No one’s gonna take me seriously now…oh god.” You mumbled lowly and he chuckled.

“It’s alright, s’not like this is an official work event.” He assured you.

But suddenly you didn’t feel so hot in your dress. You didn’t want Harry to think that you wore this dress as soon as you heard it was at his place to impress him or to try and seduce him after you had both agreed that it was a one time thing. Yes, he was hot and you had played with the idea at first, but that’s all it was! An idea. A fantasy that you could keep playing at in your mind but had no intention of following through with. You didn’t seek each other out because you both knew that what had transpired between the two of you so many months ago had been a sort of lapse in judgement that you both just indulged in to do some justice to whatever had been in the air and sparking between you two that entire night. You weren’t a cheater like Cal and you weren’t interested in jeopardizing your marriage because for the last couple of months it felt like you were on the mend and you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.

“All your coworkers are going to think I’m a whore.” You said with slight irritation and Cal scoffed.

“They will not. You should see some of the women they bring around…”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.” You mumbled lowly. “I just don’t want to make a bad impression or give anyone the wrong idea about…us. You know how people are already and-”

“You worry too much about what other people think, sweetheart. Who cares? If I cared what everyone said or thought I wouldn’t have you, would I?” He asked you with a small smile and well, the fact that his tenderness did nothing to your heart was a bad sign, “I mean, what’s the point of living life if you’re not going to have fun and take risks? You took a fucking risk, sweetheart! And I’d say it payed off.” He grinned at you and you shook your head before looking away to avoid him from seeing you smile at his compliment, “Hey, don’t turn away, look at me, sweets.” He insisted as he squeezed your knee again and you reluctantly turned back to him, “It’s going to be fine. They’re gonna love you.” He assured you and you just exhaled slowly and nodded, forcing a smile onto your face.

Finally, you were pulling up through a large iron gate and following the path down to the entrance of the home. There was a parking attendant that signaled for Cal to pull into one of the lines that had been drawn out for a parking space. Thankfully, there were already other cars there, so you wouldn’t be alone with him and Harry until more guests arrived. As soon as Cal parked the car someone was opening up your door to help you out, it was all very extravagant. You wondered if Harry always had this level of service or if it was just because he had guests tonight.

“Thank you.” You smiled as the man extended his hand and helped you down form the vehicle.

“Certainly. Do you have any bags you’d like us to put in the guest room?”

“Oh sure, they’re in the trunk.” You informed him and he smiled and hurried on to the back. You shot Cal a look and he looked just as surprised at this level of attention and service.

Cal did offer to help carry the bags, but the man insisted he would do it as he led them over to the entrance of the home. There, someone else was waiting and took over for the man that had helped at the car.

“Good evening, Mr. Hargrove.” The man greeted Caleb with a nice smile before slightly glancing to you, “And who-”

“Gerard, this is my lovely wife, Y/N.” He said with a bit of emphasis which was odd, specially when Gerard’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. It shouldn’t have been too much of a shock to her…Harry himself had said that he had no idea Caleb was married.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Hargrove.” Gerard smiled and well, you hadn't actually changed your surname, but you didn't have the heart to correct Gerard. He looked to be a sweet man a already had been thrown for a loop just knowing that you were Caleb's wife.

“Pleasure to meet you, just Y/N is fine though.” You assured with a friendly smile and he nodded once.

“Well, I can escort you to the room you’ll be staying in before guiding you to the dining area?”

“Please, that would be great. I’d like to freshen up a bit”, “That won’t be necessary, just tell me which room.” You and Caleb spoke at the same time and then chuckled.

“Umm, you can go head, honey. I just want to freshen up and use the bathroom before we start drinking. I’ll meet you over there.” You assured him.

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah, of course. Go celebrate with everyone.” You insisted and he smiled and grabbed your face gently before kissing your lips quickly.

“Thanks, sweetheart. See you in a bit.” He assured and you nodded.

“Alright, let me show you to your bedroom.” Gerard said and then he got a bit awkward when you were alone as he guided you down a hallway.

“Ummm Gerard?”

“Yes, miss?”

“You don’t have to be weird around me. I expected that Cal had been here before with another person. Or persons…” you explained as you kept walking.

“Right. Well I’m sorry for making you feel odd, I just had no idea Mr. Hargrove had been married recently.” He said and your smile faltered a bit.

“Umm…it’s been seven years actually.” You said as he stopped in front of a door and turned around quickly with a concerned look on his face. “Ummm, have you worked for Mr. Styles for long?” You asked and he nodded.

“About 15 years.” He stated.

“And Caleb has…stayed here with other women how many times?” You asked him.

“I don’t know that I should-”

“I’m not going to cause a scene, I assure you. I just…I need to figure out if there’s anything worth salvaging after the most recent affair. It’s the only one I found out about.” You explained and he looked sad for you.

“I wish I could tell you for certain, but since he started working for Mr. Styles I uh- I’m really not sure, but there’s been a few. I’m sorry.” He said and you sighed.

“Alright, well thanks anyway. Is this it?”

“Yes, this is the room.” He said as he opened it up and let you in. He came in behind you and set your bags down on the large bed. “You have your own bathroom through here. If you need anything ironed or steamed for tomorrow feel free to just leave it hung up on one of these hooks and we’ll take care of it while you’re at dinner.” He assured.

“Thank you so much, this is gorgeous.”

“Of course, Miss. Anything else?”

“Obviously you’re quite busy, how would I find the dining area after I’m done?” You asked and he quickly explained and you nodded, keeping his directions fresh in your mind before you scurried into the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you and then turned around to look at yourself in the mirror. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as all of the information that Gerard had shared with you started to sink in. You started to wonder how long ago the cheating had started…maybe it was before you had even been married. The only good thing that could come of this dinner was seeing Harry again. And well, you knew that he probably wouldn’t even speak to you too much, but at the very least you could just steal discreet glances of him and forget about the fact that your marriage was basically a farce. But that wasn't all Caleb's fault, after all you had also slept with someone else. With his fucking boss of all people. But god, you would do it again if he wanted to...

***********

Caleb was glad that you had headed off to check out the room and freshen up. He had been so in his head about so much that Gerard almost tipped you off about his affairs. He had always been a man who wanted the best, who wanted more…and well when he got you he was shocked that he had managed it. You were everything he had ever wanted in a partner and throw in the fact that you weren’t just after his money, well he snatched you up right away lest he lose you to someone else. It’s not that he wasn’t happy with you and everything you had together, but sometimes he just needed to switch it up, he had always been like that so he never advertised that he was married. And while usually his extramarital affairs were limited to single events for work, things started to change when he met Daniela. Daniela wasn’t as ambitious or entrepreneurial as you were. In fact, she was a midlevel employee and seemed happy in her position. But she was about your age, if not a year or two younger, and yes she was smart and gorgeous in her own way, but she never made an effort to stand out all that much, but she was so good at what she did that she naturally stood out.

He met Daniela two years ago when he was told that she was the most reliable statistical analytics person they had. So he started to go to her to double check all his numbers, a second pair of eyes could never hurt when it came to numbers! But he soon found it helpful to also run all of the data he had for presentations to clients and other board members by her. Daniela was sweet and soft spoken and a bit shy while Cal was a people person. So what started out as him just doing nice things to get on her good side so that she would keep helping him, soon turned into gestures designed to increase their interactions because he liked her. His acts of kindness became motivated by these deeper feelings that he himself couldn’t understand at first because she was the opposite of everything he ever really went for, but they were there. Daniela had started to like his attention and thoughtfulness and so they started to have lunch together often or to get coffee together and the attraction grew.

All of this wooing reached it’s culmination after a Thanksgiving party a coworker threw. Caleb offered to walk Dani to her car and they ended up kissing. And after that they continued to see each other outside of work and Cal started to fall for her. He had pulled her into his project with this new client, so that they could spend more time together but also to get her on Harry’s radar because she was absolutely brilliant. But he had fucked it up; upon realizing the depth of his feelings for Daniela he decided to start writing out some talking points to talk to you about his growing feelings for her and brainstorm how to bring up the topic of a divorce to you. But Dani had no idea he was married, so when she saw that notes on his phone she got angry and broke things off with him. And here he was, months later, still heart broken and longing for Daniela.

“You look beautiful.” Caleb spoke softly as he came up to the bar beside Daniela. She sighed as she recognized his voice.

“What do you want, Caleb?” She asked lowly.

“Just to talk and explain. I want to fix us-”

“There is no more us, Caleb. You’re married and I have a boyfriend now so get over it.” She stated firmly and he sighed.

“Please just…I’m going to end it with her-”

“Caleb, please not tonight.”

“Does that mean we can talk soon?” He asked hopefully and she sighed.

“I don’t know, Cal…I’m just processing all of the lies…I just don’t trust you right now.”

“OK, I understand. I’ll just…give you some space.” He said and she nodded, “I ummm…I want to warn you that I did bring her with me tonight. I stupidly wanted to make you jealous-”

“Jesus, Cal..." she sighed feeling the anxiety starting to churn up her stomach, "Just…keep it together because I don’t want anyone to be suspicious and think I’m a home wrecker.”

“No one even knows I’m married. I like to keep the personal things private. So everyone will be meeting her tonight and learning about...my marital status so-”

“Well I don’t want to meet her. I couldn’t, it's humiliating…” she said lowly and he nodded.

“OK. I won’t introduce you.” He said and she swallowed down that awful feeling of disgust in herself, “I’m really sorry, Dani. For everything.” He said quietly as the bartender came back with her two drinks.

“Thank you.” She smiled to the bar tender and hurried off without acknowledging his apology…again.

“Anything for you sir?” He asked and Caleb sighed.

“Ummm, not right now. Thank you.” He assured and turned around only to see Daniela smiling at the man she had brought with her tonight.

He looked about her age and was quite bulky and strong, very handsome. Caleb couldn’t help but feel insecure as she watched him being introduced to some of the others that approached her. This wasn’t a big group, just about 10 of them or so, but with the plus ones, the group was a bit larger and well, hopefully he could sit somewhere where he could keep an eye on her. He felt his heart lurching in defeat as her boyfriend tucked her hair behind her ear in a delicate motion, she had this piece from her outgrown bangs that really defied her new hair part. He’d done the same thing to her plenty of times before and he wished he could be the one to do it for her now.

Caleb had really tried to smooth things over with Daniela at the very least but she felt so betrayed. Understandably so, and she made it clear to him that she wasn’t ready to forgive him and that she intended to move on with someone else and it hurt that she seemed to be fairing well. Caleb had tried to move on too, to focus back on you and your marriage…hopefully being around you more would reignite the love he once had for you, but it wasn’t happening, he was too far gone.

He was running out of lifelines to salvage his chances with Dani. Earlier in the week, when Tamika (Harry’s assistant/intern) mentioned to him casually that she was excited to meet Daniela’s boyfriend at Harry’s dinner Cal felt his heart darken with anger. And in his anger he decide that he wanted to make Daniela jealous back, which is why he invited you, his wife to this dinner… all to make his mistress jealous. He knew that this was fucked up and unfair to you, but he was in love and he was desperate to get Daniela back however he could and she would be his again tonight. He had no idea how to proceed, but he was certain of one thing, whatever he did to get Dani back had to be done with courage, all the love in his heart, and most important of all, with discretion.

READ PART 2!

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demonicbaby666 · 3 months ago

Text

iii. Take Out with a Side of Make-out

Feelings are Fatal Masterlist | Masterlists | iv

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Words: 5.4k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, there's literally no warnings for this chapter though...

When you woke, it was to an empty apartment. Your quiet movements to lounge were of no importance because she was gone. JJ was gone. The only mark left of another having inhabited the space was a lonely, loosely folded blanket on the couch that sent a cold shiver up your spine. You walked forward and took the material into your hands, cradling it between your arms and chest as though you could trick yourself into believing it was the woman who marked its fibres with her scent.

The question of JJ’s whereabouts or sudden departure remained unanswered as you scoured the room for clues. There was no note, no remnants of a coffee made before her leave, nothing but a few strands of golden hair that glinted off the sofa and pillows in the morning light. Still, you stood there for a few more minutes. Eyes closed, mind racing, you breathed in the last bit of JJ you had left held precious in your grasp.

You allowed self-pity to settle into each slow step leading back to your room, praying your floorboards would turn to quicksand and put you out of your misery. The door creaked open, the hinges crying to be oiled and reminding you of yet another task you had left unchecked. Beside your bed was your phone, a beckon of hope for your worrisome mind that you ran to in desperate hopes an explanation lay waiting in a grey bubble.

With a single tap, the black screen lit up. You scrolled through everything unimportant without an ounce of remorse. So brutal in your search for answers, you ignored even Garcia, her clump of twenty-odd messages moving up and up till they disappeared entirely. She could wait till later to hear about the so-called ‘hot date’ and how he turned out to be a grimy creep.

With every passing icon, hope dwindled. The last notification stared at you with its time stamp so ancient that all it read was yesterday. In a late ditch effort, you clicked the text chain with JJ, thinking things could slip between the cracks when it came to faulty technology; you’d dropped your phone once or twice, surely that was enough to dislodge a wire or two. The chat was desolate of new messages.

The dread you felt that Sunday set the tone for the upcoming week, which was entirely bleak.

Work was work, and managing an independent bookstore had its good moments. Informing your colleague a friend of hers, or what turned out to be a friend of a friend of a friend of hers, attempted to spike you was not one of them. The only consolation to the awkward encounter was the consoling hug you received, which, for all intents and purposes, filled the gaping space in your chest that yearned for some form of physical intimacy on that first Monday back.

Police reports were filed, and comfort was found in the awaiting punishment your date would face, but it was hollow and sapless. Each dying day, when the sun took its rest, you still stood in front of your mirror and noted the toll life without solace took on you. The dark circles under your eyes had worsened, taking on the appearance of bruises a person would sustain in a fighting ring. The fullness of your face was no more. Your cheeks looked gaunt and hollow. There was no colour to your face, no life force spare to light up your eyes after days of endless sorrow. The longer you looked, the more you realised you had fallen victim to a situation that was of your own making.

There was little news on JJ. When a text finally came through on a bleak Wednesday, it was direct and uninformative.

‘How are you?’

The reprieve from your anxieties was short-lived, and you scolded yourself for thinking JJ owed you anything when she disappeared out of thin air the moment the question of how she was doing was posed.

That’s when the anger came. The blinking cursor mocked you with its potential. Endless texts filled with barbed remarks and pointed accusations were written, deleted, and edited until only the worst of the worst were left. It tore at your chest to read the message back and come face to face with the literate poison you had conjured. The words were sour on your tongue, and your voice was broken between sobs of a pained acknowledgement as you read. There is nothing hurt people do better than share their hurt, but that would not be you. You would not inflict damage upon the person you knew you would always love. No message was sent that day or the following.

Time moved, and you clung to each new day's possibilities. Maybe if you gave JJ the space she appeared to need, she’d find her way back to you, but no matter how hard you fought to find hope and happiness where there wasn’t any, every passing hour you lived and breathed remained a quiet torment. Despair followed you like a shadow you couldn’t shuck, and for the first time since you parted ways with JJ, you considered the elicit relationship between you was coming to its inevitable end.

The thought plagued you throughout the week till Thursday and Friday came and left, leaving you empty and tired, ready for Saturday’s promise of a day you could spend under your bedsheets utterly and tragically alone.

The stages of grief had run their course, and you found yourself at the finale.

There’s a misconception that when you find acceptance, it’s freeing and beautiful; tranquillity sheds beams of light over all the gloom and loss, like the sun peaking through a winter forest, thawing frostbitten earth. This contrived interpretation does not paint the harsh reality of acceptance. The hole cut through your chest did not feel less hollow; if anything, it was more prominent, leaving an imprint on your past, present and future. Songs, places and faces were draped in black garments, polluted by the faint air of heartache and neglect.

Acceptance was the sword at the end of a fight that found your throat and put you out of your misery. Acceptance was realising in the death of your old self, you’d strive to be someone better in the next. Acceptance was knowing that you wouldn’t be victim to your circumstances anymore, that you’d carry your pain like armour, wear it proudly as you built your walls back up and never let anyone bulldoze them again. There would be no cracks in the foundations this time, JJ would not sneak her way into your heart, and the parts of her that remained would be snuffed out.

So Saturday became the closing of a chapter, and Sunday began anew with the shrill of your phone waking you up at 7 am. Not quite how you expected the day to start, but you tried to avoid taking the abrupt start to the day as a bad omen.

It was an easy decision to silence the call and reclaim the morning as your own. The first step—going back to sleep.

The second call came through three hours later, and you couldn’t excuse ignoring it under the guise of self-care when sleeping past 10 am was bordering on excessive for someone who went to bed before the sun had fully left the sky the night before. Begrudgingly, you threw an arm over the side of your bed, violently clambering until your hand landed over the vibrating device. Too familiar with the screen layout, your finger pressed the general location of the answer icon as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello,” you mumbled, too tired to acknowledge the gruffness of your voice, though you could feel the greeting grate against your throat like sandpaper.

“Shit. Did I wake you up?”

Of course, it was her. Out of everyone who could’ve called to be greeted by your crackled, prepubescent morning lilt, it had to be JJ.

Shooting up, suddenly very awake, you gripped the phone tighter and cleared your throat.

“I had to get up anyway,” you stated blankly.

“Oh.” She was off-put. You could hear it in her scattered tone. It was unknown whether it was from your lack of enthusiasm or the reason for her calling.

There was only silence for a beat, and you could hear the thoughts churning inside JJ’s head from the other side of the phone speaker. The responsibility to fill the silence was not yours. You weren’t the one to call, and you wouldn’t be the one to encourage JJ to speak now that she had suddenly re-founded her interest in you.

“You still there?” she asked, sounding nervous enough for you almost to abandon your indifference to the unknown subject matter of the call. Almost.

“Yes,” you replied, seemingly unbothered despite feeling the exact opposite. “Just waiting.”

There came a sigh, and you steeled yourself to remain calm for what was to follow. No one’s heart ought to be beating as fast as yours was at 10 am.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been MIA this week. Work has been hectic, and I’ve had a lot going on, but I should’ve checked in more.”

“Yes, you should have.” There was another bout of silence, then a drawn-out breath shared by you and JJ. You knew for this conversation to lead anywhere, you needed to give leeway. But you were hurt and still harboured anger towards JJ, enough to leave her sitting in the static atmosphere for a few more seconds.

“You’re right.” She finally relented, sounding surer than she had been in the last few minutes. There was a bit of shuffling coming from JJ’s end of the call before everything stilled. “I was stupid and blindsided by unimportant things when my attention should have been on you. I should have called. I should have come over and comforted you and kept you safe after everything that happened. There are so many things I should have said and done, but I’m calling now and asking for just a fraction of forgiveness. Let me make it up to you.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” you asked, waves of curiously eroding the shores of lasting anger.

“There’s this thing…”

“Oh well, that changes everything. A thing. Why didn’t you say that earlier? That makes everything okay then.” You were sure she could hear the roll of your eyes in your bit-off tone.

“My mom’s coming to town next week and I’m being forced to host a luncheon, or what a normal person would call a barbeque.” She paused momentarily, taking a deep breath before rushing through the rest of her request. “I thought you could come along as my date so I could avoid all the badgerings over my lack of love life.”

“Let me get this right,” you began with a humourless laugh. “To make up for not being there when I needed you, you want me to do you a favour by pretending to be your date so your family and friends don’t pester you?”

“It doesn't sound so great when you say it like that.”

“Probably because it isn’t,” you stated matter of factly, the amusement peeking through the cracks of your tone.

“Free food.”

“Not happening.”

“Good company.”

“I'm assuming you’re dubbing yourself the so-called good company?”

“You like my company!” JJ feigned offence so well that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I tolerate it at best,” you stated, failing to hold back a smile. “It’s still a hard no.”

“I’ll pick you up and drop you back home.”

This particular clause in the imaginary contract piqued your interest. For reasons unknown, the image of JJ being at your beck and call, wanting your company at her side so badly she’d go out of her way to make it happen, elicited a fuzzy feeling in your chest. A week away from her was good. It was the breathing space you needed to realise things had to change. And as unconventional as it may be, perhaps this was the opportunity to enforce the change you strived for.

“Will you at least consider it?”

“Fine,” you dramatically sighed, dropping your body back on your bed and looking at the barren ceiling.

The conversation came to a natural close after JJ graced you with more details of her week, this time holding little back. She asked question after question, making it silently known your morning would be hers. Your allotted time to make coffee and sip on it also belonged to her, and try as you might have, though you tried little, there was nothing to be done about the rather annoying fact you quite clearly did crave JJ’s company after going so long without it. So you allowed time to spill through your fingers and words to flow from your mouth. It didn't sting or hurt when it was time to part ways. You didn’t yearn for anything more. It was nice: being content with the mediocre.

The following week, you hoped for more of the same. Finally, you were happy to settle for normal, but the week presented nothing of the sort. First, the box of chocolates came, waiting for you outside your apartment on Monday evening. Innocent enough. Then came the bouquet of flowers the following Tuesday that you discovered within the walls of your apartment, sitting idly and beautifully on your kitchen counter. You pondered on the time JJ must have set aside to hand deliver the array of thalictrums, tulips and gardenias, wanting so badly to place meaning to the gift that was left to coerce you into agreeing to accompany JJ next weekend.

Buds took root in the soil of your heart, and ever-present weeds of affection sprouted. Thwacking away at the blooms, knowing the conditions were no longer suitable for sustaining a garden of pathetic hope, you placed the second gift JJ bestowed upon you in a cream vase you found locked away under your sink.

Placed by the window, the sun bled colour through petals like stained glass the following Wednesday morning, a bright sight to gape at whilst mindlessly stirring milk into coffee.

That evening, as you swept through the doors of your apartment, you fiddled with a parcel left in your mailbox. It was no bigger than your palm, neatly wrapped in Kraft paper. Attached was a note written for Saturday. The handwriting gave away who had sent the gift but did nothing to alleviate the boding curiosity running rampant in your belly.

Under the brown coverings was a black box, its contents half unmasked from the lid taking the brunt end of your less than gentle treatment. It was a bracelet. A dainty thing comprised of thin gold chains looped together and delicately placed opposite the clasp was a single tiny diamond. It was perfect. It was too much.

Pulling your phone out, clicking JJ’s contact highlighted under favourites, you listened to the rings chime by your ear. You reached her voicemail, and having been unprepared to leave a strongly worded message, you hung up, navigating your way to your text chain, only to be greeted by three dots.

17:30 (JJ) - On a case. But no, I’m not returning it. I’m not taking it back. You’re keeping it, and if you choose to come with me on Saturday (which you should), you’ll wear it.

17:31 - It’s too much, JJ.

17:31 (JJ) - No, it’s not. If anything, it’s not enough.

17:32 - I’m hiding it in your bag next time I see you.

17:33 (JJ) - Can you accept the gift like a normal person and say thank you?

17:34 - No.

17:35 (JJ) - The bracelet stays with you. You deserve to be spoiled. So, suck it up cause I’ve got to go.

And just like that, you were alone. A sappy smile in place, standing in your kitchen gazing at your pretty flowers and your pretty bracelet. It was right about then that you realised how utterly fucked you were. There wasn’t a force on earth strong enough to hold you back from attending Saturday’s luncheon as JJ’s honorary date.

Questions of motives and intentions sprouted fast in your mind like pockets of unruly weeds. Doubt reared its head, peeking through the cracks of cheap blinders fabricated on broken dreams. Once upon a time, you may have tricked yourself into believing your own delusions. JJ felt the same way you did. That’s why she called you at ungodly hours for pleasure and only that. JJ searched for opportunity after opportunity to be in your company, and that’s why she ignored you for a whole week. You really had been blinded by love.

You greeted the petulant childlike dreams with the fortification of your guard. There would be no more longing, pining, or losing yourself in a make-believe future you thought you could see through the rose-tinted lenses of JJ’s unreadable gaze. There would be no mistake about it, when Saturday arrived, you would play your part, and you would do no more than that.

By Thursday evening, you were convinced the gifts had stopped. Sluggishly trailing upstairs after a tiresome day and unlocking your apartment, nothing awaited you. It was both a relief and a hard-to-admit disappointment. Surely, through some type of psychic link, JJ must have known she’d swayed your better judgment and swindled you into agreeing to her terms.

Of course, no such thing existed, and the blonde was very much still on the train of buying her way back into your heart. You discovered this when sitting down, scrolling through the endless list of restaurants on delivery apps. The options were vast, and your indecisive mind was too worn out to take on the challenge of picking which cuisine spoke most to your palette, let alone what you wanted off the menu if you ever managed to dwindle the options down to one.

Your fridge was barren, and the contents of your cupboards were mainly noodles and dried foods that didn’t sound all that appetising, given that you’d have to find the energy to move to the kitchen and engage in making something. So, after thirty minutes of idle scrolling and scornful glances at your kitchen, you gave up, choosing to sit in the glum of adulthood and responsibility.

At that precise moment of defeat, a buzzing rang from beside your door. You weren’t expecting anyone and most friends knew the code to let themselves in so they wouldn’t ring up. Maybe they had the wrong apartment?

Another buzz.

Huffing, you stood and walked over to the intercom. The quality on the screen was grainy, but you saw the delivery driver clear enough, hands filled with bags of food as a motorcycle sat idly behind him.

“I think you might have the wrong apartment,” you said, ignoring the pang of hunger that shot through your belly. “I can buzz you in, though.”

He held a receipt up to his face, scanning it momentarily. “Second floor. Apartment five?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, this stuff is for you,” he declared, motioning to the bags he had in hand.

“Come on up,” you sighed, admitting defeat.

When the food arrived, you apologised to the delivery driver, realising he was carrying not one, not two, but three bags filled with containers of food. The waiting time, plus the journey up flights of stairs, can’t have been enjoyable, and you felt bad for only being able to offer a sympathetic smile as consolation. The guilt reduced once your eyes landed on the receipt and you discovered two things. One: JJ was indeed the one to send the surplus of food. And two: she’d left a hefty tip that more than made up for the inconvenience.

Aware the blonde may still be busy on a case you didn’t bother calling.

18:40- You know I can’t eat all of this, right?

18:46 (JJ) - Is that an invitation to come and help?

18:47- Are you going to make me ask, or would you rather I not fit into the dress I’ve picked for this Saturday?

18:47 (JJ)- On my way!

18:56 (JJ)- Wait… WAS THAT A YES TO COMING?

19:00- Yes, Jennifer Jareau, I’ll be your date for your family BBQ.

19:04 (JJ)- You know I only like it when you use my full name when your mid orgasm ):

19:05- If you crash whilst texting and driving, then you’ll be lucky if you ever get to see me again, let alone touch me.

19:09 (JJ)- Texting + driving = no sex. Noted.

19:10- I’m eating all the spring rolls. You don’t deserve any.

Not even ten minutes later, JJ barged in, reaffirming your theories regarding texting and driving. Additionally, it led you to believe she’d picked up speeding as a habit outside of work. You were about ready to scold her when you turned to the door to see the blonde in a bit of a state. Her eyes were bulging, scouring around the kitchen, paying no mind to her hands as she yanked the keys out the door and came scurrying towards you, panicked.

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

You dropped the breath you had been holding, rolling your eyes. “The spring rolls, as well as everything else, are untouched,” you said, hiding your smile with the turn of your head. “Stop being dramatic and help me plate all this food.”

Satisfied, JJ made her way to the counter, eyeing its contents like a hawk ready to strike. To her credit, she followed the orders, picking noodles up with chopsticks and plopping a healthy amount on each plate, divvying curried meats and sides between you. There was a reprimand on the tip of your tongue, watching rolls of crispy filo pastry piled one after the other, the distribution system far from fair. Any feelings of injustice died at the sight of JJ’s smile.

“Happy?” you asked, sidling up to her, wanting so badly to kiss the corner of her lips, where her cheery smile sank ever so slightly into her cheek.

“Yup,” she answered, popping the p at the end of her sentence as she grinned, handing you your plate. “Couch?”

“Sure.” You took your food and padded over to the living room, settling comfortably into plush pillows.

There were nearly twenty shows you could list that had safely made it into the category of ‘background noise’, and you settled for throwing one of them on, happy to chat with JJ rather than get sucked into a fantasy world.

It was the right choice because as soon as the blonde came to join you, her mouth would not close, safe from when she politely cut her sentences short to shovel food into her mouth. She was animated like this—talking about her work, friends, family, and anything really. Warmth pooled in your stomach, seeping into your bloodstream and circulating your body till all you knew was comfort. This was home. The couch, noodles, light conversation and JJ. It was all the epitome of belonging.

The light from the TV abruptly dimmed. An ‘Are you still watching?’ message appeared on the screen, bathing empty glasses, plates and take-out boxes that had migrated from the kitchen to your coffee table in a tinted red glow.

At the exact same moment, your and JJ’s eyes landed on the screen and then shot back to one another. Laughter rumbled through your chests at the sore sight of guilty lopsided smiles. It seemed you both had lost track of time, too focused on idle chatter.

Once the excitement had died down, JJ moved to stand. “I don’t think we ever were watching,” she muttered, shooting you a mischievous smirk as she walked towards the door.

“You know,” you drawled, eyeing JJ speculatively. “I hear it’s usually good manners to say goodbye to the host before you leave.”

She glanced back, mouth set in a firm line, giving you a specific look that translated directly to ‘Are you serious?’ and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m getting something from my bag if you must know.” And she did just that. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a black box similar to the one you received on Wednesday, only this one was slightly bigger and flatter.

“I’ve already agreed to Saturday JJ. I don't need any more bribes.”

“That’s not-” she cut herself off, shaking her head and returning to the couch. “Just open it already,” she ordered, plopping beside you. Despite her carefree persona, there was no mistaking the nervousness to JJ as she bit at the side of her mouth, waiting for you to take the proffered gift.

“Alright, alright.” You raised both hands with a grin, surrendering and taking the box from her hand, hoping to dispel some of her anxieties. “No need to get feisty.”

She continued to fidget, your teasing going right over her head as you drew your eyes away from her ringing fingers to the lid of the black box. It bore the same mark as the one you’d previously received, a local jeweller by the looks of it, but not one you recognised.

The lid came off with a pop of trapped air, and underneath lay a familiar sight. You recognised the gold chain, simple and elegant, but where a single gem was placed on your bracelet, on this necklace, lay a cluster of small diamonds, all circling a polished ruby.

“JJ, it’s-” you gasped.

“I swear if you say too much again,” she rushed to say.

“Actually,” you went on, straightening your neck to face the blonde. “I was going to say beautiful.”

Her face lit up. A bright smile pulled at the contours of her cheeks as her eyes fixed solely on you.

“Yes, it is.”

A shy smile blossomed over your lips, and your cheeks flushed with the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about the necklace anymore. Tension grew heated in the silence, leaving you breathless as you darted your attention back to the little box in your hand, thumbing over the golden chain.

“Let me?” JJ asked, and you watched as her fingers slithered into view beside your own.

Cautiously looking up at her, seeing hope beam so openly over her features, you nodded.

She took care in taking the necklace from its home, running the chain through her fingers as she pulled it through two divots puncturing velvet. She let the chain hang between her fingers, holding it up and waiting patiently for you to turn.

“Oh, right,” you muttered, shifting your position so you had one leg tucked under the other, your back facing JJ.

There was some shuffling behind you before you felt the warm press of JJ’s chest against your shoulder blades, her fingers tickling your neck as she swept your hair aside. Fighting to keep composure, you swallowed down the beginnings of a whimper.

Appearing to be in no rush, JJ brought both hands around your head and rested her palms over your collarbones. You shivered as the cold metal fell against your heated skin, failing to ignore the way JJ had paused to let the small gem dangle between your breasts.

Her warm breath grazed your neck, and you could feel the tip of her nose press against the underside of your ear. Arousal bubbled low in your stomach, fizzling beneath the fluttering butterflies that had claimed your body as their play place, and a week without JJ’s touch suddenly started feeling a lot more like years. You craved her kisses, her hands, her tongue keeping you vocal from between your legs. The memories were coming waves, pulling you backwards both physically and metaphorically to JJ.

Finally, the necklace was dragged along your chest, and JJ leaned back to clasp it shut. The brief reprieve from the mounting traction you felt towards the woman behind you was, unfortunately, short-lived, and it wasn't long before the soft pad of fingers grazed the line of your jaw. The touch was light and easy to dissuade if you so chose. You could push against the angling of your head and remain an unwilling participant in this nefarious scheme JJ was conjuring up.

Instead, you closed your eyes and allowed JJ to guide your face to hers.

The air was thick, and silence rang through the room, disrupted only by your bated breath and hastening heartbeat. A kiss ghosted over your parted lips. All it would take to bridge the gap between you was one minute move forward.

She smelt like beef and bean sprouts and burning desire, but you knew the taste of lips only promised regret.

With one long exhale, you pulled away.

“I should put the food away,” you announced, leaning forward to grab the plates and cutlery off the coffee table. Standing and moving to the kitchen, you didn't look back, too focused on berating yourself between stilled breaths.

You’d been in your apartment long enough to know the water always ran cold for a few seconds before eventually shifting to a temperature sufficient to clean your dishes. However, this didn’t stop you from plunging your hands under the icy waters. It was a needed relief, and the pull back to reality was instant, allowing you to see the mistake you’d almost made. Still, the feel of JJ’s lips haunted you.

Her presence was felt more than ever as she appeared behind you, and you hoped, for the umpteenth time, that your better judgment would emerge victorious in the fight against clouded lust. But your restraint was pulled taut and on the brink of snapping. You knew if JJ pushed, you’d break.

For someone consumed by thoughts of another, you paid little mind to the person in question, leaving yourself vulnerable and ripe for the taking.

The tap spluttered, and a messy display of steaming water burst through the faucet. The shock pulled you from your anxieties, though another surprise awaited you when JJ crept up closer behind you, sliding her hands around your waist and resting them over your belly.

“I can help,” she whispered hotly into your ear.

Your full-bodied shiver left JJ feeling emboldened. Her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. Her wicked smirk pressed against your neck. And her chest pressed firm against your back, locking you in place with the edge of the sink cutting into your hips.

The trail of her fingers against your stomach was scorching, never settling on one spot long before moving to another. Too lost in the sensations coaxing your body into a state of relaxation, you scarcely reacted to JJ flipping you around and settling your thighs over the soft curve of the sink.

Her tongue slid into your mouth with a sense of urgency as she savoured the taste of you with languid strokes, moans vibrating from her chest and tunnelling down into your throat.

You held both hands to JJ’s chest, applying enough pressure to push her away, maintaining it to prevent her from getting close again. You couldn’t do this. Not again. “It’s late, and we’ve both got to get up early for work tomorrow.”

Even if this was for the best, it was hard not to leave caution to the wind, take JJ’s hand and guide her straight to her bedroom, especially when she looked so much like a kicked puppy with the pout she was sporting.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” you said with a sorrowful smile, jumping down and ushering her towards the door. “And JJ?”

She turned instantly, looking half-ready to run back into your apartment before her smile faltered, “Yes?”

“Thank you for tonight.” You dug your chin into your chest, peering down at your newly acquired necklace. “And this, and the food, and the flowers,” you tried hard not to choke on your own words, “and well, everything.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

There was so much sincerity in the way JJ had said it. It left no space for doubt. The only problem was that she seemed pained by the admission, so much so her eyes looked glassy and far off.

You wanted to ask her what she meant, why she seemed so saddened by her own words, but by the time you found your voice, she was gone.

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venus-haze · 7 months ago

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Power in the Blood (Father Paul Hill x Nun!Reader)

Summary: There’s power in the blood. Father Paul knows this. Soon, you will, too.

Note: Female reader who's only referred to as "Sister," but no other descriptors are used. Also, the newspaper clipping isn't on the wall in this, for obvious reasons. I’ve been working on this fic in one way or another for about a year, but watching The Devils (1971) and Immaculate (2024) earlier this year as well as encouragement from my amazing friend @zaras-really-dreamless finally gave me the push I needed to finish it. Major visual inspiration from this scene in particular. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Angst, yearning, and unrequited feelings. Elements of Catholic mysticism. Sexually explicit content which involves dubious consent by way of religious manipulation, members of the clergy engaging in sexual acts, oral sex (f. receiving, but it's related to the stigmata and vampirism), blood play.

In retrospect, Crockett Island was the only place it could have happened. Desolation hung over the remote fishing village like fog in the early mornings, when you’d take your walks before the Monsignor awoke, and you heard the woes of the fishermen as they prepared to sail out for the day—oil spills, restrictive fishing laws, better paying jobs on the mainland but leaving everything they knew behind in exchange. Despite coming from the mainland yourself and otherwise alien to the ways of the dying village, your being a woman of the cloth on the largely Catholic (though predominantly non-practicing) island made the islanders trust you, consider you one of their own a bit more than they otherwise would have as you took on the burden of buoying their spirituality as the Monsignor’s health continued failing, and he could no longer fulfill the task himself.

You’d begged the diocese for help, hardly considered yourself equipped to care for the ailing priest and run a parish, however small, essentially on your own. But for a parish as small as St. Patrick’s, you were all the help the diocese would care to send. The letter you received in response to your detailing all of the things Crockett Island’s parishioners desperately needed boiled down to “wait until the old man kicks it.”

You supposed it was a miracle the diocese even sent you there in the first place. Though most of the islanders took the arrival of a young nun like yourself as a breath of fresh air, Beverly Keane didn’t seem all too pleased to have her self-appointed position as number two at St. Patrick’s knocked down to number three. She seemed to settle down when it became clear you had no interest in engaging in petty politics in a church that barely counted three dozen people for regular Sunday mass attendance.

The island’s social life, small as it was, interested you more. People were more open to receiving you as a friend than as a representative of the church, undoubtedly put off by Beverly Keane’s self-righteous fanaticism that veered into cruelty. You got to know the regular parishioners, like Erin Greene, who’d grown up on the island, left for some time, and returned pregnant yet eager to become a mother to her unborn baby. She taught at the island’s small school with Beverly, who encouraged you to take up teaching there, obviously hoping to bring a religious curriculum to the tax-payer funded public school. You declined.

Besides Erin, and to your chagrin Beverly, who was convinced the two of you were compatriots of some kind despite how often you clashed, you found yourself spending increasing amounts of time with Sheriff Hassan. Despite dutifully filling an essential role in the community, he hardly seemed any closer to gaining acceptance despite a year on Crockett Island.

The day he and Ali moved onto the island, you had a cold, and thus weren’t part of the unofficial welcoming committee. Your head pounded from the sinus pressure when Beverly brought the Monsignor back to the rectory afterward, and you barely heard what she said. You met Sheriff Hassan a few days later, when you were feeling well enough to shop for yourself and the Monsignor for the week. Among your expectations about Hassan Shabazz, his being handsome enough to make your breath hitch for just a moment before introducing yourself wasn’t on the list. But he was understandably weary of you, expecting the same horrendous treatment he undoubtedly received from Beverly.

Over time, he found you were only interested in buying groceries and not in underhandedly converting him or Ali. You were both lonely outsiders to the island and found some solace in regular conversations about the mainland, or observations about the islanders, occasionally broaching the topic of religion, which had a comfortable place in the space you two shared in the general store, sometimes over a cup of coffee he’d brew for you.

You admired him. His dedication to his son, the efficacy with which he performed his thankless job, and the unwavering faith he had in his religion, while yours had long lost its luster since you’d become Monsignor Pruitt’s live-in nurse in all but name.

But the days became your own when the Monsignor made his trip to the Holy Land, ill-advised considering his health. When you voiced your concerns to the parish, your outsider status was paraded through the discussion by Beverly, who insisted you had no way to understand how much the trip meant to the Monsignor, and by extension, every good, practicing Catholic on the island. At the time, to your frustration, she had won.

Besides, even if he were there, you weren’t sure a man on death’s door himself would have been able to give Mildred Gunning Last Rites. Torrential rain pounded against the rectory when you could barely hear the phone ring.

You had picked up with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Sister, it’s—it’s my mom. I think she’s—”

“Sarah, do you want me to come over and see her?”

“Yeah, she’d want that. Just be careful with the rain.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Grabbing a flashlight, you had only half pulled on your raincoat when you hurried outside, in a near sprint to the Gunning house. You almost slipped and fell on the way there, and then you wouldn’t have been any good to anybody, and the last thing Dr. Sarah Gunning needed was to tend to a broken leg while her mother was on her deathbed.

The door was unlocked when you arrived, the house quiet and dark save for a few lamps left on.

“Sarah?” you called out.

She emerged from her mother’s room, eyes red. “I thought I was ready for this a long time ago, but being face-to-face with it…”

“Are you sure this is it?”

“As sure as I can be. She hasn’t been eating. There’s only so much I can do,” Sarah said, her voice breaking in despair. “Sister, I—she’d want you to be here. Even though she didn’t know you very much, I could tell she liked you.”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her a hug before approaching Mildred’s bedside.

Despite her labored breathing, she managed a kind smile when you took her weathered hand in yours and prayed the Our Father with as steady of a voice as you could manage. Then, you knelt, pulled the rosary from your raincoat pocket, and prayed until your knees ached and you nearly passed out from exhaustion at staying up so late. You almost thought you had dreamed it, the way she went, as peacefully as drifting off to sleep. It was only the cry of her daughter that pierced through your haze, and you struggled to your feet as you allowed Sarah privacy and called Sheriff Hassan over to certify the death, as was necessary for the burial Mildred would have undoubtedly wanted as a Catholic.

When the Sheriff arrived, about fifteen minutes after you called, you’d become acutely aware your nightgown had soaked through in the rain, and pulled your raincoat more closely over your body, ashamed you’d even forgotten such a detail in your haste.

“I should head back now,” you said. “I’m so sorry again, Sarah. You’ll be in my prayers. I’ll contact the diocese first thing in the morning."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sister."

“Do you need a ride back to the church?” Hassan asked. “This shouldn’t take long.”

You smiled, tempted by his offer, the prospect of spending more time alone with him. Instead, you shook your head. “Thank you, Sheriff. I think I can manage.”

Crockett Island was quiet the following day, when Annie’s son Riley arrived home for the first time in over a decade, following his four year prison sentence. You could tell through his polite greeting he had no interest in speaking with you further than his mother’s introductions. Fair enough.

Monsignor Pruitt was supposed to return that evening, but you had been calling the diocese to try to get confirmation that they could send a priest over to perform the funeral mass if needed. As usual, you got answering machines or the run around of being told to call different offices, none of which could apparently help you.

When you returned to the rectory after visiting with Sarah Gunning, you noticed the light on in the distance. Beverly had planned to meet the Monsignor at the ferry and bring him home. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe he survived the trip, both there and back.

“Monsignor, it’s me!” you called out. “How was your trip? I’d love to hear about—” You froze when you came face to face with a priest. A priest who wasn’t the Monsignor. Younger, handsome, absolutely unexpected. “Hello. I–I’m sorry, who are you? Father—”

“I’m Father Paul, Paul Hill,” he said kindly. “The diocese sent me.”

“That was quick. I thought they’d been ignoring my messages.”

“Yes, I’m afraid the Monsignor became ill on his trip, and I’m here until he recovers. I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and brought my things into what I assumed was his room.”

“Please, make yourself at home.” You hastily made a sign of the cross. “But the Monsignor…I don’t think the islanders could take another loss. I’m so sorry, you come here and your first mass is a funeral.”

“Funeral? For who?”

“Mildred Gunning, an elderly parishioner who had been ill with dementia for a few years, I believe. She passed away two nights ago,” you said. “That’s why I’ve been calling the diocese all day. We need someone to perform the funeral mass.”

His deep, brown eyes widened with all the terror of a deer being chased through the woods. “Are–are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I was there when she passed.”

“Did she suffer?”

“No, it was like she had fallen asleep,” you said softly, watching in wonder as tears fell from his eyes. “Father?”

“I’m sorry, Sister. These things affect me deeply.”

You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Can I make you coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please,” he said, his voice empty, an almost far away sound to it.

“While that’s brewing, I’ll call Dr. Gunning, Mildred’s daughter, and let her know you’re here. I don’t think she’d want any deviation from the typical funeral rites. Her mother was quite devout.”

“Yes, I know.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Yes, I–I figured.”

He retreated into the Monsignor’s room. When you brought the coffee to him, he requested you leave it outside the door, which you found odd. Even more strange was having to tell Beverly that she missed the Monsignor’s arrival because he wasn’t arriving in the first place, and the diocese forgot to tell you that he’d become ill on his trip and Father Paul was serving as his replacement until he recovered. You privately figured the assignment would be more permanent, as yours had unexpectedly become.

Mildred Gunning’s funeral was held in St. Patrick’s Church less than a day later. A simple, solemn affair that saw the church nearly packed for the first time outside of Christmas or Easter. Mildred had lived and died on Crockett Island, everyone knew her in one way or another. Father Paul conducted the funeral mass as if mourning the Pope himself, and you were particularly struck by his grief, the way he nearly fell apart while giving the homily.

He fared no better at the wake that followed the funeral mass, held in the community center. Father Paul was utterly disinterested in speaking with any of the parishioners who tried to introduce themselves to him or sought solace and spiritual guidance in his presence. Thus, the burden once again fell on your shoulders, and you almost thought the diocese would have been better off ignoring your calls after all.

You sighed. You couldn’t let your cynicism get the best of you. It’d be entirely inappropriate for Father Paul to treat Mildred’s wake as a social hour. Besides, people with such deep empathy for others, especially someone they’d never met, were rare, as reminded to you by Beverly, who made her way over to you with a plate of cheese and crackers and a slight sneer on her face.

“I suppose it’s nice and all, but it’s not like he knew the woman,” Beverly muttered.

“He needs time to adjust,” you said. “This isn’t the best way to start out his tenure here.”

“Yes, well, let’s just hope he gets his act together soon.”

You could swear the diocese had you on some kind of blacklist, the way your calls to them went unanswered, letters returned with vague instructions and empty assurances. Father Paul had no idea how long they intended for him to stay on Crockett Island or the condition of Monsignor Pruitt.

Your living in the rectory made sense when you were caring for the Monsignor, but with Father Paul fully capable of taking care of himself, you wanted to know if you’d be staying on the island, and if so, if separate arrangements would be made for your own housing. The island was too small, too chatty, for you and Father Paul to be living alone for too long before it was turned into something it wasn’t.

The bitter taste of married life settled on your tongue as you took up most of the responsibilities around the rectory while Father Paul moped . The old man could hardly help with cleaning, and you didn’t want him anywhere near the kitchen, but your new roommate was an able-bodied man who could spare to pick up some slack, couldn’t he?

“I made dinner, if you’re hungry,” you said, emerging from the kitchen and into the living room where he sat on the couch. “Just spaghetti and meatballs. The jar sauce from the store isn’t too bad. I usually add—”

“Red wine and oregano to it. I know.”

“Oh,” you said, taken aback by his statement. “I guess Bev told you. Not much of a secret recipe.”

“You’re pretty young for a nun,” he said, turning to you. “What made you want to give up a normal life for this?”

“It’s my vocation. For as long as I can remember, I knew this was what God called me to do. I never wanted another life.” You sat down next to him, sparing a glance around the room. “This is it for me.”

“Crockett Island?”

You conceded a small smile. “I was hoping for somewhere a little more exciting, but I think there’s a chance for something amazing to happen here.”

He shook his head. “That time’s long passed. Look around you, Sister. People are leaving in droves, and the ones who’ve stayed…it’s just too late.”

“Please, Father, I know this island may seem like it’s dying, and presiding over a funeral as your first mass here doesn’t help that, but the people still need guidance,” you pleaded, taking his hands in yours. You couldn’t contend with the diocese sending you to rot with the rest of the island. It couldn’t be for nothing. “The Monsignor is no longer well enough to fill that need, and I couldn’t do it on my own, but together, I think we can do something great if we try. This might be the island’s last chance to have life breathed into it again.”

“Sister—”

“I agree that Crockett Island is hardly a place anymore, but it’s somewhere to start, isn’t it? We couldn’t have been sent here without a reason.”

He swallowed roughly, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’re right, Sister. I—Thank you.”

You smiled, relief washing over you at his words, at his assurance you wouldn't have to bring revival to Crockett Island on your own.

Following your conversation with Father Paul, his attitude completely shifted. He was friendlier with the parishioners, taking extra time to spend with Leeza, offering to hold Riley’s AA meetings in the community center to save him a trip to the mainland, and, inexplicably, he liked Beverly, who’d changed her mind about Father Paul since the wake and warmed up to him. The only time he wavered was when he visited with Sarah Gunning, still grieving the loss of her mother and considering moving her practice off of the island.

He’d return to the rectory on those evenings quiet, morose, seeking the comfort you selflessly offered him. A warm embrace in which he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck. A hand to hold and squeeze in his own, intertwining his fingers with yours. Teetering on the brink of an intimacy you’d made vows against, you weren’t quite sure how to bring it up to him, not when he needed you, and you, him, to fill the hunger in your heart for a man you knew you could never have.

You allowed the beast to live in you. Fed it. Nurtured it. Cared for it. Guarded it with a shameful protectiveness, shielding it from your regular confessions with Father Paul, in which uttering its name would make it real, and thus ripped away from you and destroyed.

Ash Wednesday and the first week of Lent were resigned to a haze in your memory, hardly able to think of the beginning of the holiest time of the liturgical year without feeling sick. Not after the potluck. You were sure it had been Beverly, Sheriff Hassan was, too. You knew she was cruel, but to harm an animal, something so innocent…You couldn’t stand to be in her presence for long after that, and silently resented Father Paul for keeping her so close. But you supposed everyone had their vices.

Yours came to a head in a dream, one that felt all too real, that you could hardly remember when you awoke apart from burning hands on your skin, lips pressed to yours, you and Sheriff Hassan in throes of passion. You laid in bed with a lump in your throat and aching between your legs. You hadn’t experienced a dream like that in…you couldn’t even remember.

The entire time you sat through mass, you thought you were going to be sick. You couldn’t concentrate on the readings or the homily. Taking the Eucharist felt wrong, and your hand shook when you brought the communion wafer to your lips when Father Paul handed it to you. Finally, when mass ended, and you were sure the church was empty, you approached him with trepidation.

“Father, I have something I need to confess.”

“Would you like to go to the confessional?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to hide behind it. I need to be transparent and held accountable.”

He nodded. The two of you sat in a pew, facing each other as you crossed yourselves.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“Three days,” you answered.

“What is it, Sister?”

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts, Father, about someone incredibly close to me, who I care deeply for. Instead of asking the Lord to take these feelings from me, I’ve been indulging in them, and last night I—I had a dream about him. A sexual one that I experienced physical pleasure from.” You were in tears, guilt wracking your body as you spoke. “I’m so ashamed. I should have been stronger. I’ve been sinning against God, exploiting this man in my heart when he’s done nothing to deserve such disrespect. Sheriff Hassan is—”

“Sheriff Hassan?” Father Paul’s gaze darkened ever so slightly, and you leapt to the sheriff’s defense in his absence.

“He didn’t do anything, Father. Nothing more than friendly smiles and kind words, never anything inappropriate. It was me, letting my lustful thoughts ferment instead of nipping them in the bud right away. He committed no sin. It was me.” Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

“Why him?”

You were silent for a moment. “He’s a good man.” Better than most you’d come across. Kind, selfless, just—the virtues that were few and far between among the men of the cloth you had met. Above all else, even when it was difficult, Hassan Shabazz was good. “I love him.”

“You don’t love him, Sister. Lust after him, yes, but you don’t know him, not enough to love him the way you think you do.”

With a shaky, reluctant sigh, you nodded. “Will you help me, Father?”

He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course, it’s the least I can do after you helped me through the trial God set out for me when I first arrived here.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get through this together, Sister. Let us pray.”

The following Sunday, you tried to match the enthusiasm he had for ten o’clock mass that morning. You had gotten used to it by then, the way he always seemed to know something you didn’t or was aware of details about the islanders you weren’t keen to even after living there for two years. He was easy to trust, you supposed.

Sitting in the wooden pew, you focused on following along with mass until the homily following the reading from the Gospel. Father Paul’s homilies were always a bit odd, cryptic, even. You assumed his faith was influenced by mysticism, and sought out books by the likes of St. John of the Cross and St. Francis in an attempt to better understand him. The way he spoke that day unsettled you, a fantastical fanaticism that felt out of place on Crockett Island.

Then, when it was time to receive the Eucharist, there was a solid minute where you were sure you had never hated anyone more in your entire life than you hated him. Telling Leeza Scaroborough to walk, goading the poor girl to step out of her wheelchair in an act of cruelty you couldn’t abide by. You got up from the pew, en route to smack him across the face when she did it. Leeza stood up from her wheelchair, and with tentative steps forward and tears of disbelief and hope in her eyes, she walked up to Father Paul and received the Eucharist.

Everything that followed was a blur, but you knew you were one of the few in attendance who hadn’t broken out into frenzied celebration. Something just wasn’t right. You found yourself hesitant to make eye contact with him when you took communion, and remained quiet even as mass ended, the cacophony of elated voices almost background noise to you.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but I need to speak to our dear Sister in confidence. I’m sure you all understand,” he said, murmurs of affirmation from the congregants who had crowded around him, except for Bev, who had a puss on her face at being excluded.

Father Paul ushered you into the sacristy, closing the door behind you.

“Is something wrong, Sister?” he asked.

“How can anything be wrong? Leeza Scarborough can walk again.”

“Yes, a miracle occurred in this very parish, right before our eyes, yet you seem…hesitant.”

You chewed on your lip before murmuring, “Seeing isn’t always believing.”

“You were the one who told me this island needed life brought back to it, who said we could achieve great things together. Now I’ve done that, by the grace of God Himself, and you have cold feet?”

“It’s not that.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“You know I do,” you said, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. “Maybe my faith is still weak—I’m still weak. I’m sorry, Father.”

“You’re not weak, Sister.”

“I think I’m going to get some air,” you said.

He nodded, distressed by your continued lack of enthusiasm. “Alright.”

Leaving St. Patrick’s through the side door in the sacristy, you tried to muster up the joy and faith you were supposed to feel, but found yourself coming up disappointingly empty. You had seen it with your very own eyes, and had been standing right there when Leeza walked for the first time in years. It couldn’t have been a trick, not orchestrated or premeditated, not by her. But Father Paul seemed so certain. Was his faith that much stronger than yours? Strong enough that he could be a true miracle worker, a vessel of God Himself on Crockett Island of all places?

Even the more skeptical congregants present, like Erin and Riley, had bared witness to it. Could attest to what had happened just as everyone else had, as you could. As a nun, you were undoubtedly expected to believe, be among the most fervent of Father Paul’s advocates. Beverly wasted no time in declaring the act a miracle worthy of the Vatican’s attention. Your faith still wavered despite what should have been undeniable proof.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been walking around the island, but the sun was beginning to set and you realized you were tired and hungry. The general store wasn’t much farther of a walk from where you ended up while mindlessly wandering, and so you made the trek into town, telling yourself you were getting a few groceries for yourself and Father Paul. Really, the only person you knew you could speak to without judgment would be in there.

When you entered, Hassan greeted you with an emotional distance you expected. He probably figured you’d be among the dozens of people eager to relay Leeza’s miracle to him, underhandedly attempting to invalidate his own faith.

Grabbing a jar of sauce and a box of pasta, you brought them up to the counter. Your mouth was dry while he rang up the groceries, but you couldn’t help asking, “Have–um–have you seen Leeza recently?”

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Walked right in here and bought a Twinkie earlier.”

“Amazing, how it happened.”

“I know about what happened to Leeza. I don’t believe what happened to Leeza.”

“Neither do I.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“It doesn’t sit right with me,” you said. “It felt more like a show was being put on than a miracle. I don’t think she had anything to do with what happened, but he had to have done something. He was so sure she would walk, and I just felt angry, betrayed that he’d make a spectacle in mass. In all honesty, Sheriff, my faith has been wavering for a while, but this didn’t make it any stronger.”

“It makes me feel a little more sane to hear you say that.”

“Well, if anyone can get to the bottom of this, I’m sure it’s you.” You smiled, taking the bags of groceries from the counter. “Have a good night, Sheriff.”

“You too, Sister.”

Walking back to the rectory, you wondered if anything would be able to make you change your mind about actually bearing witness to a miracle.

Father Paul hugged you as soon as you walked through the door. “I was about to send out a search party for you.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Father. I just needed time to think.”

He looked at the grocery bag in your hand. “And to see the Sheriff.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sister, something incredible is happening here. I need to know you’re on my side,” he said, his urgency striking you like lightning.

“I am. I want to be. Please just be patient with me. This is—it’s a lot to process.”

“I can’t do this without you,” he said softly, caressing your cheek. “I need you.” His gaze fell to your lips.

“I should start on dinner,” you whispered, pulling away from him.

“Let me, you cook enough for me already,” he said, taking the bag from you. He pulled out the jar of sauce. “Red wine and oregano, right?”

You nodded. “That’s right.”

“Make yourself comfortable out here. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

The following half hour or so was unbearably tense, and you could hardly focus on the book sitting in your lap, The Dialogue of Divine Providence, while he cooked. The two of you ate in near silence, and you retired to your room early, falling asleep almost as soon as you changed into your nightgown and crawled into bed.

Burning pain seared your limbs when you awoke in the middle of the night, the pungent scent of iron assaulting your nose, and for a moment, you thought you were dying. You reached over to the lamp on your nightstand, your arm heavy as you moved it. With trepidation, you pulled the cord, a phantom sensation in your hand as you did so.

Soft, white light from the bulb illuminated your beside. Lifting your hands to your face, you let out a panicked whimper at the gaping wounds in your palms, gently bleeding crimson and flowing down your arms to your nightgown. The fabric around your torso was blotched with blood, each tinge of pink becoming red with every ragged breath you took. You tried kicking at the covers, but found it excruciatingly difficult, and to your horror, discovered identical wounds to the ones in your hands through both of your feet.

Your hands shook as you screwed your eyes shut, telling yourself it was a dream, and that when you opened your eyes, the blood would be gone, the wounds healed. Except the pain was all too real, pulsing in your wounds, tears stinging your eyes as you choked out a sob. Your simple bedroom, with little more than a bookshelf, desk, chair, and crucifix on the wall, threatened to suffocate you as your panic set in.

A groan pulled from your lips as you pushed yourself out of bed, your legs nearly giving out beneath you. The strange sensation of your bare feet on the wooden floorboards made you feel dizzy, or maybe it was blood loss. Each step forward was more agonizing than the last, but you needed help. You needed someone else to see you, a witness to what was happening.

“Father Paul!” you cried out from the doorway, your voice hoarse and low, barely carrying across the hallway. “Father, wake up!” Mustering what strength you could, you threw yourself against his bedroom door, your closed, bleeding fist erratically banging against it. “Father, please!”

“Sister, what’s going—”

As soon as he opened the door, you collapsed into his arms, sending him stumbling backward with the sudden burden of your body on his. He looked at you, gaping at the blood that covered you—and him.

“Father?”

“I should call Dr. Gunning.”

You shook your head frantically. “Don’t! Not yet.”

“What happened?”

“I woke up, and I was like this.” Your bleeding hands clenched around the hem of your nightgown, keeping it at your thighs. “I’m too afraid to look.”

“May I?” he asked, his own hands shaking as his fingers brushed the blood-drenched fabric.

Staring at him for a moment, reckoning with the further vulnerability you were about to display to him, you breathed a soft, “Yes.”

He pulled your nightgown up, the fabric sticking to your skin from the congealed blood. You stared at the ceiling as he lifted the garment over your head, too embarrassed and mortified to acknowledge your body bare before him. His fingertips brushed your torso, and you moaned. In your horror, you looked down to see deep, fresh wounds on your sides.

“Oh my God.”

“Do you know what this is, Sister?”

Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “It can’t be stigmata. I’m not pure enough, not devout enough. He’d never—”

“Of course He would. He saw you needed faith, a reminder of His love for you, and look at you now,” Father Paul said with hushed fervor as he took in the state of you. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed your forehead, then pressed his lips to each of your weeping palms, and then your feet.

Desire twisted in your gut at the sight of him beneath you. He kissed your feet again, a terrifying hunger in his gaze as he brought his lips higher up your legs, his hands brushing your skin with a reverence you felt unworthy of receiving.

You watched as he dipped his fingers into one of your side wounds and then brought the digits to his mouth, tasting your blood from them. With a ragged breath, he brought his face to your torso. His tongue plunged in the valley of your wound, lapping up the blood that gently flowed from it. A moan tore from your throat, pleasure rolling across your skin as if you truly were a vessel for the divine. Surely it was the same sensation that inspired St. Teresa of Avila’s eroticism, a mystical ecstasy that saw her driven out of villages and cloister herself in search of the purest, incorporeal love.

Except before you knelt a man of God whom you could reach out and touch, eagerly devouring your flesh as if able to find salvation in your blood. His teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a shudder that echoed through you like a worn-out hymn. Words failed you, the pleasure you received from his ravenous consumption of you overtaking the pain from your wounds.

Holding his head against your side wound, you wanted more, the feeling of him indulging in you. Taste and eat. Everything you felt and saw was in shades of violently blossoming red, deeper and deeper with each curl of his tongue and brush of his fingertips, his unadulterated worship, his veneration for you, serving as the flowing cup of God’s grace and mercy.

Rapturous bliss hummed through you like an ecstatic prayer, pulsing in your wounds on your hands, feet, and sides. You felt like he was part of you, a mystical union between yourself and him.

But just as high as he’d taken you, you quickly came down. The gravity of the situation, of what he’d done, what you’d let him do, weighed on your conscience more heavily than any illicit feeling you’d ever harbored toward Sheriff Hassan.

Father Paul took your face in his hands, eyes glistening with a joyous faith you no longer envied. “Your own miracle, Sister. Do you see it now?”

“You did this to me?” you asked in distressed horror. “You—Who are you?”

“Not me, Sister,” he said. “Here, let me show you. You’ll understand everything. I think you’re ready.”

He held out his hand, and despite everything in you screaming otherwise, you took it.

#father paul x reader #father paul hill x reader #father paul hill #monsignor pruitt #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #midnight mass fanfic #slasher x reader #<- for my own blog organization

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n4tsum1-san · 7 months ago

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when you think about it, sunday and robin's ideologies are like the indifferent cruelty of the universe vs. the indomitable human spirit

this is kind of an oversimplification but think about it...

sunday is a bird in a cage. his cautious nature was taken advantage of by the dreammaster, and he was indoctrinated into the belief that only strong people survive, and the weak can never find true happiness. he believes the universe is cruel and unforgiving. like the charmony dove he and robin rescued when they were young, only for it to crash and die later. birds will always be better off caged, as long as they are satisfied by fleeting glimpses and dreams of the sky. there is no shame in escape; on the contrary, the seeds of escape exist in everyone's hearts.

robin is a bird who flew and almost fell. she chose a high-stress career full of competition, and the more successful she is, the more scrutiny and pressure she faces. she visited war-torn planets and witnessed desolation firsthand. she nearly died when she got shot delivering medical supplies to the frontlines. and she questioned herself – why do birds fly if they're destined to fall? do we sing to cover up suffering and give people false hope? – but she found an answer. birds fly because it's their dream, their home, their irrevocable right. even in the face of an immutable fate, if you can still sing out without a tremble in your voice, it will definitely be felt.

and in the final fight against sunday, she says this:

"Brother... The weakness of humanity cannot be redeemed by others."

no matter how much sunday wants to protect everyone from the cruelty of the universe, he can't. ultimately, it's not up to him. it is as acheron said:

"The most critical aspect of this plan is not to convince everyone to choose the right path... But to inspire them to save themselves."

yes, reality is harsh. many birds fall and many people die. some suffer fates worse than death. it's natural to want to escape reality, hell, it's okay to feel that way. but things will never change if people escape all the time. the human spirit is destined to shine as much as it is destined to go out. sunday recognizes this, but robin understands it on a more profound level.

#guys go read robin's character stories they're pretty cool #honkai star rail #character study #hsr spoilers #hsr 2.2 #2.2 spoilers #hsr robin #robin hsr #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #penacony #one singular meme #made by yours truly #not a reblog

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two-white-butterflies · 5 months ago

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parallel lines | d. targaryen | part ten

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

Grief makes us do unspeakable things. It sharpens our claws, and protects us against things that may happen in the future. It forces us to be reserved, makes us shut up.

But sometimes grief makes us explode.

Makes us yearn for the love that hasn't been granted to us.

"You're not allowed to talk to him." the police guard scoffs.

Alicent weakens. Her first child tied in cuffs, never allowed to live life as a free man again. "I'm sorry," she mouthed - staring deep into Aegon's eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line, entirely unsure if the descent into madness was caused by his parents.

He cannot blame them, even if it was.

He walks away.

So you're leaving in the morning, on the early train.

The music in your airpods blasted. Harwin continued loading your luggage into the trunk. He doesn't know when he'll see you again.

I could say everything's alright. I could pretend and say goodbye.

"We'll keep in touch." you promised, wrapping him in a warm embrace. Daemon's hand found the small of your waist. "I'll call you everyday." Harwin made the same promise.

Basically his full-sister at this point.

"- I'll miss you." Harwin pressed a kiss on your forehead.

Daemon opens the car door for you. It was the beginning of your life. A life that you fought hard to have again.

I won't stop loving you.

I'll always be here by your side. I'll never want you to say goodbye.

Aemond smiled, hearing the radio play your favorite song. He wonders if you're better now - living the life that he took for so long. "So Mr. Aemond Targaryen, is it your first time in therapy?" the older woman adjusted her glasses.

"Yes." he answered with a smile.

(FIVE YEARS LATER)

yourname: ❤️ thank you for visiting us in 🇦🇺 thank you for the cute photos @helaenasphotography

liked by harwinstrong and 321 others

>comments

harwinstrong: My Heart 🥲🥺

helaenasphotography: always welcome guys! ✨

RhaenyraStrong: When are you coming home? Missing youuuu soo muchhhh - yourname: soon, i promise!!

It's been five years since you disappeared off the face of the earth. You can still remember the day that you left. It was a Sunday.

May 7, 2023.

You moved to Switzerland with Daemon, enjoying the snow and the scenery around you. He started teaching in an international school. You postponed your law degree, instead you focused on running a daycare and healing from your scars.

You were lucky to welcome your first child.

Daenerys.

After Switzerland, you moved to Australia.

The warm sand was kissing your barefoot. The beach was beautiful in the morning, you liked the way the sun stung your skin. "Let's go for a swim," Daemon pleads, "I don't want to get stung by jellyfishes, love." you whined, but he continues pulling you in the water.

The water was warm, though slightly colder than the sand. A sigh escaped your mouth feeling the seaweed wrap around your feet. It was another day in paradise. "They won't bite, I promise." he pressed a kiss on your lips.

He was enjoying this life.

"It's not my problem if I get bitten anyways." you wrap your arms around his body, using him as a floater. He chuckles, remembering the time he had to haul you to the hospital because of a snake bite.

It was a garden snake, not the venomous kind.

"I'm sorry for that," he laughed, walking until the water reached your shoulders. The seaweed was ticking your thighs. "I'm glad that everything happened the way it did. I got justice for my mom's death. I got you. I got Daenerys." you whispered.

"I love you, Dae." you confessed.

"I love you too," he hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

harwinstrong posted to his story!

caption: daemon n daenerys. visited australia 🇦🇺! cheers mates

replies

RhaenyraStrong: Aww he looks so cute RhaenyraStrong: Please take more pictures!

Harwin smiled, helping you load the luggage inside of the car. "Two years and you're finally coming home." he states, placing his hand on your head and messing with your hair.

"I'm sorry that it took a while. We had a lot of things going on." you exchanged a knowing look with Daemon.

Harwin takes a closer look at the little boy. "Jesus, he looks exactly like you." he observed. "- don't let Daemon hear that." you placed a finger to your lips, continuing to rock the little boy to sleep.

"The car is ready." Daemon says, opening the door for you.

Harwin sits in the passenger seat, while you and Daenerys are in the backseat. "Is she strapped properly?" Daemon does his final rounds of safety inspection. "We're ready to go, dad." you confirmed.

yourname: thanks for the photos @helaenasphotography ❤️

liked by harwinstrong and 1,382 others

>comments

RhaenyraStrong: Congratulations are in order!!

jacejacejace: I'm so excited for the wedding 😍 ate that

daemontargaryen: "If there is heaven in this life, it is my mother." ❤️

liked by harwinstrong and 96 others

>comments

RhaenyraStrong: Daenerys was so little then 🥲 they grow up too fast

joffreyminecraft_gamerboy: uncle daemon can u plese by me robux? - daemontargaryen: ok

LaenorVelaryonLaw: Keep posting pics of Dany and (Your Name) I'm tired of seeing your eyesore face on my newsfeed - daemontargaryen: You follow me, so?

"Dany, be careful. Vissy has soft bones." you dutifully reminded. In the span of five years the children in the family grew.

Rhaenyra and Harwin had Aegon, Viserys and Visenya.

"I don't know how you take care of these many kids. Daenerys just by herself is a handful." you chuckled, admiring the way Rhaenyra raised her children with tenderness and affection. "Harwin decided to have an early retirement, so we're with the kids 24/7." she humbled.

6 children. 1 teenager, and 1 adult child.

She's a legend.

"Has Jaehaerys and Jaehaera ever asked about their father?" you inquired, wondering if you should help shoulder the boulder of raising Aegon's kids. "I legally adopted them, as far as they're concerned Harwin and I are their parents." Rhaenyra confirmed.

Aegon was a strange creature. He always had that blank look in his eyes. He'd always joke about the most deranged topics, but when his children entered the room - his eyes would light up. He was a horrible person, but you think that he's a good father.

To some extent.

"Enough of that, I'm so excited for your wedding." Rhaenyra placed a hand on your forearm. Your eyes light up at the thought. "I already picked out a few bridesmaid dresses. I just need y'all to choose." you announced. "- I think they're in my room." you remembered.

Rhaenyra motioned for the maids to grab the gowns.

"Let's have a fashion show!" you smiled.

yourname: 08.23.24 🖤 Officially Mrs. Daemon Targaryen

liked by 1,239 others

helaenasphotography: Congratulations guys! I couldn't stop crying last night :(( ❤️

RhaenyraStrong: We did it baby!!!

harwinstrong: congrats sis and bro

daemontargaryen: thank you for marrying me.

liked by 100 others

>comments

harwinstrong: Thanks for inviting us. We had fun.

helaenasphotography: Congrats guys!! 🥳 Cheers to forever

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dsudis · 2 months ago

Text

Dreamling Bingo Fill: What Remains

Square/Prompt: D2, "Scars"

Title: What Remains

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dreamling

Additional Tags: Scars, Hand Injuries, Graphic Description of Wounds, Retired Dream, The Kindly Ones

Summary: Dream is content with his scars.

Dream woke to a springtime smell, bright and sharp in his nose, and opened his eyes to see that the marigolds in their windowsill pots had bloomed, orange and yellow and cheerful. The morning sun was shining on them, and Hob was already out of bed; the sounds of him puttering around the flat were faintly audible over the music that was always playing if Hob had no one to talk to.

He didn't recognize the music, though he knew that if he listened long enough, the name would come to him. It was something up-tempo and cheerful; Hob knew, too, that spring was here. Spring, and Sunday, which meant a changing of bandages.

Dream lay on his back and raised his right hand into the light, studying it in the glow of the sun. The scars that made up nearly the whole inner surface of his index finger and thumb had faded from red to a vibrant pink which he found he rather liked. Yesterday he and Hob had wandered about some botanical garden or other, looking for a flower to match the color, debating happily over fuchsias versus azaleas until they found that stand of calla lilies that were absolutely inarguably perfect.

The scar also trailed downward from his hand nearly to his elbow, with a few jagged branches curling around his forearm. These, too, had healed to sturdy scars; it was only the palm of his hand where a waterproof tan bandage still obscured the wound.

It might not be a wound any longer. Today was Sunday; today he would find out.

He lowered his right hand a bit, and raised his left to meet it, trying, as he often did, to recreate what he remembered of his last moments as—whatever he had been, before he became a human being whose identification bore the name Morris LeReve, which Hob found delightful and Dream found as good as any other name. He had no right to the one he could no longer even speak—not Dream, though Dream was the nearest approximation in English, the one Hob had latched onto after hearing his sister say it.

His sister had been beside him, before it happened. They had sat side by side in some desolate place, and she had been sad, and angry, and resigned.

He had only been tired, so tired that he could feel nothing else through it, smothering under the weight of what he had been, back then. He had not been able to feel sadness, or fear, or anything, but he had known that he was about to die. He had known how it would happen: he would take his sister's hand.

He had not known that when he took her hand, there would be a great flash of light, like lightning striking from the tip of her finger to his palm. He had not known that dying would make a hole in him, letting loose all of him that was too much, too heavy to bear, too vast to be held in a form that looked like his.

It had torn free of him in that instant, in that great flash of light, and gone away to someone else who could, thus far, bear it better. And he had been left with this form, and this ragged hole in himself, and—

He smiled, dropping his two hands to rest on his chest, and remembered how it had been, the beginning of his life as he knew it.

There was the flash of light, and the impossibly vast something rushing away from him, or he from it—for he was no longer in that desolate place when he could see again. He had blinked the afterimages from his eyes, had still heard the echoes of the explosion in his ears. He had been leaning against something, just barely sheltered from the torrential downpour that had arrived along with him.

He had looked down and seen his hand, his arm—raw from fingertip to elbow, torn open to reveal wet red insides. He had seen the blood vessels of his wrist pulsing nakedly among the shreds of muscle, miraculously unbroken but horrifically vulnerable. He had not known where or what he was, but he had known that he was hurt, even if he could not exactly feel any pain; he had begun to keen, a high helpless wordless sound, for he had not known what words he could possibly use in that moment.

Then the door had opened, and he had barely begun to fall through it before someone was kneeling beside him. All at once strong arms were cradling him, and he had looked up into a face he knew just as Hob said, "My friend, my friend, what has become of you?"

"My friend," he echoed back, his head lolling against Hob's shoulder as he realized he knew what these words meant, and how they applied to this man. Hob had been worried for him, the last time they met. "My friend, my friend—" and then the words came to him and he answered Hob's question. "Death became of me. I became this. Here."

"Not a bit dead," Hob had said. "Too warm and chatty to be dead," and then he hoisted Dream up and carried him inside.

He had bandaged Dream's arm, asking again and again if it hurt, but it didn't; eventually he had conceded that there didn't seem to be enough left of the ruined places to have nerves to hurt with, and he attended to other concerns instead.

It was only days later that Hob had suggested seeing a doctor about it, but Dream had refused. That had been after Dream had remembered where the townhouse was, and realized that the key in the pocket of his jeans opened its door, and discovered the cards and papers neatly arranged on the table which made him not only the discarded shell of an unfathomable being, but also a human being and citizen of the United Kingdom named Morris LeReve.

Hob called him Morrie sometimes; Dream faithfully pretended to be mildly annoyed by it, so that Hob would continue to find it funny and thus continue to call him by it, just now and again. Hob would stop, if he were actually upset by it, and if he knew that Dream actually liked it, he would scrupulously call Dream by that name and no other, but Dream liked the ordinary name his sister and Hob called him by well enough. He liked Morrie being a thing Hob said just sometimes, half jokingly.

Hob always listened when Dream was definite about something, as he had been about the fact that his hand and arm would heal in their own time. Hob had done all he could to help without forcing Dream to change his mind: he had bought a variety of salves for the wounds, and yards of gauze and tape to shroud them in, and he carefully examined and cleaned and re-anointed the whole length of the broken places. First each day, then every other day, and then every three, every five, as the bandages grew smaller and more and more scar tissue could be exposed to air and light. Every day, whether bandages were to be changed or not, Hob rubbed in a cream to soften the scars, and helped him to flex his fingers and hand and wrist, to keep them mobile.

Now the marigolds Hob had planted to make his own salve from were blooming, and they might never be needed for anything other than their bright lovely colors.

There was only one way to find out. Dream got out of bed and then spent a few moments carefully tidying the coverlet and putting the pillows neatly in place.

It was one of the things he had never needed to do in his old life, one of the thousand things Hob had taught him to do with his own hands now that he was human. He could use his right hand nearly as well as the left now, even if his index finger and thumb could not bend on their own or grip; it was mainly a matter of smoothing things into place, and that his right hand could do well enough.

When he was finished he stood for a moment, admiring his work, and then he pulled on a t-shirt and went looking for Hob.

Dream found him promptly; Hob was in the kitchen, studying something on his phone. All the things for bandage changing were set out on the table, along with a steaming mug of tea and a jar of honey.

Hob looked up with a smile as soon as Dream walked in. "What would you like to do for breakfast today? Full—" Dream kissed him before he could offer a Full English, something Dream had declined every morning of his existence thus far. Hob thought he was wearing Dream down; Dream was sure he could train Hob out of it sooner or later.

"Poached eggs," Dream announced, sitting down beside his mug of tea and opening the jar of honey, noticing as he did that it was easy now, just like making up the bed. He spooned the honey out left-handed, until the rich sweet scent of it drowned out the tannic smell of the tea, and added, "I'm going to get them right this time. I watched more videos."

"Ought to move somewhere with beehives," Hob murmured. "Or stop bothering with the tea bags."

"Every man has a right to make his tea the way he likes," Dream informed him primly; it had been Hob himself who told him so.

He smiled when Dream defended himself, and didn't make any more objections, nor offer to put the lid back on the jar for him. Dream could do it just fine, and did, once he had had a sip of his wonderfully sweet tea.

Then he offered his scarred hand to Hob, his palm turned up to display the bandage.

"Right, let's do this," Hob said, and ceremoniously applied sanitizer to his hands while Dream peeled the bandage back.

It didn't hurt to pull it off; it didn't feel like anything, except maybe a faint tugging sensation. Everything the bandage stuck to was scarred.

He gasped a little at the sight of what the bandage had covered, but Hob made a calmly approving noise. "We did think it might be this week," he said, and ran gentle fingers down along the angry red spots that had been the last raw places when he put the bandage on—and now were scars, closed up and shiny-smooth. "Look at you go, you living creature. Look at you heal."

Dream smiled, feeling oddly shy at the warm, proud look in Hob's eyes. He hadn't really done anything, except to go on living all these weeks, and eating and sleeping and letting Hob look after his injuries—and learning things, and dancing, and laughing, and discovering all the ways his human body liked to be kissed and touched, and comparing them with all the ways Hob's body liked to be kissed and touched...

He had done a lot of things, actually. He had lived; he had healed. And now the last of the wound left behind by what he had been before was closed, and all that was left was one great scar.

And him, a person who liked his tea very sweet and was going to successfully poach some eggs today while Hob made toast. Here he was: living on, scars and all.

----

[This fic is also on AO3!]

#dreamling #the sandman #fic #scars #dreamling bingo 2024 #dreamling bingo

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doumadono · 10 months ago

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Sinful Sunday! I'm begging you for a non-con with Dabi forcing fem reader that he kidnapped on Shigaraki's order to suck his dick, and fucks her later. Bonus points if you add some degradation. Thanks!

SINFUL SUNDAY

Warnings: non-con/rape, kidnapping, degradation

You had a gut feeling that encountering Tomura might lead to trouble, and unfortunately, it did.

Despite his claims of you being his sunshine and his little precious princess, you weren't. These were merely words your vulnerable mind longed to hear, and he skillfully used them to gain more and more of your trust.

You had always been a pawn in his game, but never before had you felt so utterly powerless.

Shigaraki's cold, calculated order still echoed in your mind: "Kidnap her. Make her suffer. Her family is not willing to pay, so I don't need her anymore. Make her parents weep for their precious, spoiled bitch."

And Dabi, the villain with the Blueflame quirk, had been all too eager to carry out his leader's wishes.

The desolation of the League of Villains' hideout matched the ache in your chest as you were dragged into a dimly lit room, the stench of smoke and sweat overwhelming.

Dabi's grip on your arm was firm, his touch searing your skin like his flames did before.

You knew what was coming, and yet you couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine.

"On your knees, whore," the black-haired man growled, the cruelty in his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You hesitated for a moment, your pride still clinging to the tatters of your dignity, but the fire emitting from his open palms and the flickers in his eyes quickly extinguished any rebellious thoughts. With a quiet sigh, you sank to your knees, your gaze fixed on the floor as your body trembled.

Dabi's laughter was like ice shards, piercing through the silence. "Good girl," he murmured, his fingers tangling in your hair as he forced your head up, meeting his gaze. "Now, show me what a good little whore you can be."

His other hand fumbled with his zipper, the sound of it sliding down sending a wave of nausea through you. You couldn't help but stare at the growing bulge in his pants, your heart pounding in your chest.

With a sinister grin, Dabi pulled out his cock, the length and girth of it making your eyes widen in shock. "Suck it," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. "And don't you dare bite."

You hesitated, your mind screaming in protest, but your body seemed to move on its own, leaned forward and your lips parted. The taste of him was unfamiliar, musky and salty, and you couldn't help but gag as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth.

Dabi's grip on your hair tightened, forcing you to take him in further, your eyes watering as you struggled to breathe. "That's it, whore," he purred, his free hand running down your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw. "You're a natural at this."

You wanted to protest, to push him away and run, but you knew it was futile. The coldness in his eyes told you that he would only chase you down, and the thought of enduring more of his cruelty was enough to keep you still.

He began to thrust, his hips moving in a sickening rhythm as he fucked your mouth, each movement sending a wave of pain and humiliation through you. You could feel your eyes watering, your makeup running down your face, but you didn't dare pull away.

Dabi groaned as you sucked him harder. He face-fucked you brutally, slamming his cock deep into your throat, choking you, making you gag. He took pleasure in your pain and discomfort, his eyes glinting with sadistic glee. You could feel the bile rising in your throat, but you swallowed it down.

"That's it, you dirty little whore," Dabi grunted as he pulled back to let you catch your breath.

He continued to fuck your mouth, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, his balls slapping against your chin. You reached up to rest your hands on his thighs to steady yourself, but Dabi grabbed your hands and pinned them behind your back, forcing you to take him deeper.

"Don't touch me," he growled, his voice full of contempt.

You whimpered as he continued to fuck your mouth, your eyes watering, your lips bruised and swollen.

Suddenly, Dabi pulled out, his cock glistening with your spit. "Enough," he said, his voice cold and distant. "Get up."

You did as you were told, your legs shaking as you stumbled to your feet, your entire body trembling with fear. Dabi's gaze raked over you, a cruel smirk twisting his lips as his eyes landed on the buttons of your shirt. "Take it off," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. "Let me see what such a whore has to offer."

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers trembling as they fumbled with the buttons. With each one you undid, you felt another piece of your dignity slipping away, until finally, your shirt hung open, exposing your bra and the soft curves of your breasts.

"Very nice," Dabi murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. "But I want more."

He reached around, his hand cupping your breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric of your bra.

You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, the pain mixing with the humiliation and fear that coursed through your veins.

Dabi's other hand pulled at the waistband of your tight jeans, tugging them down, leaving you standing there in just your bra and panties. He took a step back, his gaze raking over your body, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "On the bed," he commanded, nodding towards the grimy mattress in the corner of the room. "I'm not done with you yet, cunt."

You did as you were told, your legs trembling as you climbed onto the bed, your heart pounding in your chest.

Dabi followed, his movements predatory as he crawled onto the bed, his cock hard and ready. "Spread your legs," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. "I want to see everything."

Your mind screamed in protest, but you spread your legs, your face flushing with shame as you exposed yourself to him.

Dabi's grin widened as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock nudging at your pinky entrance. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice dripping with disgust. "You actually enjoy this, don't you, whore? Pathetic."

You wanted to deny it, to protest, but the truth was, you couldn't help the way your body responded to him, the way your hips arched up, seeking more of his touch.

Dabi seemed to sense your weakness, his cock pushing into you with a cruel thrust, filling you completely.

He began to move, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force, each movement sending a wave of pain and pleasure through you. You couldn't help but cry out, your nails digging into the sheets as you tried to muffle your cries.

Dabi's hand reached up, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat. "Scream for me, whore," he hissed, his hips moving faster, driving you closer to the edge. "Let everyone here hear how much you love my fucking cock."

You couldn't help it, the knot building up inside of you, overwhelming your senses. With a keening cry, you came, your body shuddering with the force of your release.

Dabi's laugh was like ice, chilling you to the core as he continued to thrust, merciless in his pursuit of his own pleasure. "You're mine now," he sneered, his eyes raking over your body. "Mine to do with as I please."

Tears rolled down your flushed cheeks; his thrusts were painful, leaving a burning sensation in your pussy.

Dabi leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered obscene, degrading things to you. "You're just a filthy little slut, aren't you?" he hissed. "A dirty little whore who loves being fucked like this, who loves feeling villainous cock inside her. Your fucking family kept you so pure and untouched for your future husband, hmm? An arranged marriage would it be, huh?" He reached down, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in harsh, brutal circles as he fucked you harder, faster.

Finally, with a roar, he came, his cock twitching inside of you as he filled you with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot and heavy against your neck, his weight crushing you into the mattress.

You lay there, your body trembling, your mind numb with shock and humiliation. Dabi's grip on your hair loosened, his fingers stroking your cheek gently, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice soft and mocking. "You're learning to be a good little whore."

And with that, he rolled off of you, improved his pants and chuckling darkly left the room, leaving you lying there, your body bruised and violated, your mind shattered. You couldn't help the tears that fell, your sobs echoing through the dark, obscure room. But there was no one there to hear you, no one there to comfort you. You were alone, trapped in a world where you were nothing more than a plaything for cruel, sadistic men.

And as you lay there, broken and violated, you couldn't help but wonder if there was any hope for you, any chance of escape from the nightmare that had become your life.

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #dabi smut #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki smut #dabi x you #anime smut #bnha smut #dabi fic #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi mha #dabi fanfic #mha smut #divider by cafekitsune

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itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland · 7 months ago

Text

Finding Peace Pt.8: Safe (Spike x y/n)

Request: No. Part 8 of the Multi Fic.

Summary: Spike continues to search with y/n but the obstacles keep piling up. Will he have to make the ultimate sacrifice?

TW: None

Word Count: 1.7k

Previous | Next

*I apologize for taking so long. Big girl job got in the way. Enjoy!*

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"What would it take?" Spike's words kept ringing in your head. You laid in bed, disconnected and wondering. You knew what it would take, a soul. For him to have humanity, connection, love. All the things that a vampire was incapable of. You could never ask him for that. A price too heavy to pay. A journey too perilous to take. Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. You run to it hoping it’s Spike. Hoping he has come to his senses and he's ready to make amends. I mean, it's been a week now.

You open the door to see Matteo. Matteo never knocks.

Before you can ask he barges in, "I need to talk to you."

"Okay..."

"I've been thinking... about us. About this" he points between the two of you. "And it doesn't make sense to me anymore."

"I’m confused. What part doesn't make sense? Our agreement hasn't changed."

"You're right but... you can't tell me you haven’t felt things. Things that make you want more?" He looks at you, hopeful.

Your eyes sadden, you close yourself off. "Matteo, our agreement hasn't changed. I already explained the circumstances. I can't give you more."

Angered, Matteo growled. "But you can give more to the vampire?"

You're taken aback by his reaction. You stand your ground. "Whatever I have with Spike is ours to deal with. You and I made a pact and if it no longer serves you, we can end it."

Matteo is angry, cornered. This is not how he wanted it to go. "Is there a chance? Any at all, between us?"

You walk closer to him, placing your hand to his cheek. You look him in the eyes stern but caring. "No."

He is defeated, heartbroken. Like a wounded animal he retreats from your touch. "I guess that's that, then."

Matteo walks out of your house, quiet and hurt. You stand there, alone and desolate. First Spike and now Matteo. Everyone has left you and you are in ruins once more. You close the door and pick up the pieces of your heart.

Two weeks have passed and no Spike. You start to give up hope. You feel tempted to go to his crypt, find him and apologize, beg, reason, anything. But you stand broken and alone. This is how it must be. Cursed slayers don't get happy endings. You continued your pattern of getting up, hunting, sleeping and repeating.

One morning you walk into your porch, enjoying the warmth. Sunny Sundays alleviate the pain. You never get letters because you have no one to care for you but you decide to check your mailbox for shits and giggles. A note is inside. When you open it one thing is scribbled on it.

"Wait for me."

No signature or return address, but your heart knew it came from Spike. Your breath gets caught in your throat; tears prickle your eyes. You don't know how long the notes has been there. You don't know how long you will wait, but waiting was your only hope.

A month has passed and with every day you have grown tired and anxious. You feel like you're about to explode. You've been diligent in staying in your lane, being patient and waiting for him. But your skin itched, and your thoughts ran a mock. You decide to have a quick nap to calm your nerves, like you have done every day since Spike was gone. You hoped to find an escape in the dream world.

A dimly lit room and the smell of wisteria appears. A soft whisper is heard in the distance. Laughter. Two people enamored and connected in bed. A sigh of pleasure. Your hands roam the man's body in desire. Your mouth trailed kisses from his neck to his chest. His body never slowing down, pinning you down. You felt free in his bondage, in his care. Your body submissive and pliant to his touch. Spike never slowed down as he thrust inside you, thirsty and focused. He mumbled sensual and dirty things into your ear, making you tighten around him. You craved more. You wanted him whole. As he surrendered his body, his essence into you, your body contracted and coiled in pleasure. You begged for release. He teased you, wanting to keep you like this, breedable and his. You felt the air leave your lungs as his thrusts became slower, longer as if teasing your release, coaxing it out. Grasping at his back, the sheets, the pillow, anything, you find your release. A fast crash that leads your body to convulse in pleasure. Spike rides out your climax giving you more to scream about. As you come down from your high you beg him to climax inside of you, to have the ultimate union of vulnerability. As he thrusts inside of you his speech becomes incoherent, a sign that he was close. He bites down with his regular teeth on your shoulder, brandishing you, making you his. His thrusts become sloppy and inconsistent until he climaxes groaning into your neck. You both lay there in the aftermath, holding hands. Proud of what you made. You turn to him, and he's gone. You're left naked and alone. You try to get up but can't. You twist and turn, twist and turn.

You wake up with a gasp. You're sweating and aroused. These dreams were a reoccurrence for you. A pattern of torture. You decide you've had enough. You've been either on auto pilot with your routines or escaping in your sleep. You decide to find Spike. You don't know where he is, but you were going to start at his crypt.

When you arrive at Spike's crypt you knock. No answer. You're confident that he's not in his crypt but you barge in anyway. Cobwebs everywhere, at least more than usual. You call out to him as you descend into his room. The bed is a mess, but it looks like no one has slept in it for a long time. You wander around, touching everything, reminiscing on his touch. You give up and come back up, a demon friend of Spike is sitting on the couch. He must have gotten in while you were lost in your nostalgia.

He looks up, scared "Spike's gone. I already told you. I can't pay his debt."

You calm him down and assure him you're not there to collect a debt.

"Where is he?" You ask.

"He didn't say. He just said that he'd be back and to not get too comfortable." He looked downcast.

You sigh and bid the demon goodbye. Spike was really gone. He wasn't avoiding you; he was just gone. You decide to get some hunting in before daylight.

Another month passes by and no Spike. Whatever he was up to, it was sure intense.

Buffy asks you to accompany her to the basement of the school.

"Something wiggy has been happening down there and I'd like some back up." She said.

You assent and follow her to the school basement. Everything is quiet, too quiet. You both share a knowing look and get ready for a fight. Suddenly a muttering is heard. Low, incoherent. You both approach the sound and find a man slumped over, covered and small.

"Spike!" You call to him. He doesn't move, still muttering to himself.

You crouch down, hoping to get his attention. He looks up, eyes wild and unfocused.

"Are you my executioner?" He whispered.

You furrow your brow, what an odd thing to say. "It's me y/n. Why are you down here?"

He is unable to answer coherently. His words are jumbled and nonsensical. You look at Buffy, asking for help. Together you both ease him up and help him stand straight. He pushes both of you away.

"Cursed. Cursed. Cursed." He repeats to himself.

"Um, yes. That's me. Can we get out of here? Take you somewhere less weird?"

He shakes his head. "This is where I belong." And he takes off deeper into the basement. Before you can run after him, Buffy holds you back.

"Let him go. He's not part of tonight's fun."

You sigh and nod and continue to search the basement for possible danger. After hours of searching nothing seemed out of place. You both retreat.

"Sorry for bringing you down for nothing." Buffy says.

"No worries. You had a hunch and we followed it." You respond.

"Well, let's call it a night."

Buffy heads down her street and you walk down yours. As soon as Buffy was out of sight you bolted to the school focused on finding Spike.

When you arrive at the basement you commence your hunt. It becomes rather difficult to find him but you follow the muttering. Like a low hum of consistent arguing. When you find him he is standing, facing a wall. You gently place your hand on his shoulder, and he reacts violently, holding you against the wall.

“Spike, it’s me.” You say calmly.

It takes spike a couple of minutes to register who he is talking to. “You shouldn’t have come for me.” He says coherently.

“I had to. This place is not your home.”

“Home is nowhere. It is unreachable. Home is with her.”

You contort your face in disgust. Of course he’s talking about Buffy again. It’s you that’s come for him but all he can think of is Buffy.

“Spike, come home with me. Let me care for you.” You reach out to him.

He stands there. Hesitant. He refuses to make eye contact, but he takes your outstretched hand. “Please.” He whispered.

You didn’t know what he was asking for but you knew that you couldn’t let him rot away in the school’s basement. You walked him home with you.

Spike was in a fog. Torture and pain in his heart. He knew what he must do but his words failed him. To touch you was to find respite. However, he couldn’t ask you for more. He didn’t know how. He was afraid you’d turn him down again. For today he chose to be rescued. For today he chose to go with you. Just for today, he chose to be safe.

#buffy the vampire slayer #william the bloody #btvs #spike the bloody #spike x yn #spike x you #spike y/n #spike btvs #spike imagine #spike #spike x reader #buffyverse #buffy x spike

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tweedlefan · 4 months ago

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"I will tell you what," said Jack heavily. "I respect the cloth, of course, and learning; but I cannot feel that a man-of-war is the proper place for a parson. Just take this morning... On Sunday, when we rig church, I dare say he will tell us to treat one another like brethren, and to do unto others, you know. We will all say Amen, and the 'Leopard' will sail on with all those people in irons in that filthy hole forward, just the same. But that is only what occurred to me this morning: in a larger way, it seems to me uncommon odd, and precious near to cant, to tell the ship's company of a man-of-war with loaded guns to love your enemy and to turn the other cheek, when you know damned well that the ship and every man jack aboard her is there to blow the enemy out of the water if he possibly can. Either the hands believe it, and then where is your discipline? Or they don't, and then it seems to me to come hellfire close to mockery of holy things..."

- Jack Aubrey in Desolation Island by Patrick O'Brien

#aubreyad #really liked this passage #jack is portrayed as a bit of a himbo but when it comes to human relationships he absolutely understands what's what #does he like confronting that the religion that is treated as the core of his nation is incompatible with his entire way of life?#of course not! but he's also smart enough to know that it's a line he has to walk to keep his crew in order #his entire job is walking lines and he's extremely skilled at it

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superstar-nan · 5 months ago

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Fight Tooth and Nail

Epilogue

Summary: Just kidding :>

Words: 696

Fun stuff: Grief and mentions of death. I posted chapter 13 the same time as this one, so make sure you didn't miss it!

First ♡ Prev

───── (\ /) ─────

You didn’t go back home after you burned down Fazbear’s Fright. You should’ve. But you didn’t. You needed a few days to grieve, and you couldn’t do that at home where everyone acted normal and ordinary. Where nobody knew the hell you had been through. Your best friend’s family deserved to know what happened to them. But what were you supposed to tell them? They were murdered by a haunted serial killer bunny robot? You couldn’t tell them. You couldn’t tell anyone. In a few days, they would ID your best friend’s body amongst the ashes, and even then they wouldn’t know the full truth.

Michael knew. So you stayed with him.

You got the feeling Michael wanted to be there for you more than you wanted him to. After you broke down in an anguished, desolate cry in front of a burning Fazbear’s Fright, Michael pulled you into an embrace. You didn’t want to be held by him. You wanted to grieve alone and away from anyone. But you knew if you had pulled away from him, it would’ve burned him more than the fire. So you let him hold you as you cried in the darkest despair of your life.

He took care of you, and though you wanted to be alone, you still cherished his kindness towards you. He gave you the will to live, the least you could do was mumble a thanks as he bandaged your burns. You even allowed him to bandage your bite marks, but this time you wanted it bandaged. Through it all, You wondered if he was using taking care of you as a distraction from his own trouble.

You didn’t talk to Michael about your grief, and he didn’t talk about his feelings about killing his dad. Instead, you two coexisted in a heavy misery; the kind that you were able to forget briefly when curled up against Michael late at night, watching something unimportant and boring on the TV.

It was early Sunday morning, a few days after your five nights at Fazbear’s Fright, when Michael came home. You hadn’t realized he was gone. You sat up from the couch and yawned. On second glance, Michael looked quiet and heavy, as if there was something weighing on him.

“G’morning,” You slurred. Your eyes burned; you had cried yourself to sleep again. “Where’d you go?”

Michael didn’t answer you at first, and that made you shift, sitting up more fully. “Just out,” He said, like you would ever believe he was ‘just out’.

You fixed him with a more focused gaze, and he brushed it off, readjusting his hoodie and taking off his hat. “You haven’t left the place for days, and now you decide to leave at the crack of dawn to go ‘just out’?”

Michael shrugged.

“You went to Fazbear’s Fright, didn’t you?” The words felt like sand on your tongue.

Michael stiffened slightly, almost imperceptible if you hadn’t been living with him for the past week.

You swallowed, and it was dry. “What did you find?”

“I didn’t say-”

“Michael,” Your voice was a plea, and you knew he couldn’t resist you when you were in genuine pain. “What is it?”

Michael set down his backpack and ran his hands through his dark hair with a shaky sigh, “He’s not there.”

A chill traveled your spine, sending a deep shiver through you, “What?”

“No endoskeleton was found. It should’ve been there. They found...”

“Bones,” Your voice was as cold as ice. “They found bones, but they didn’t find metal.”

Michael exhaled again, and it was a tired and weighted sound, “I’ll find him.”

“We’ll find him,” You corrected him.

Michael said your name in an exasperated sigh, but you interrupted him.

“We’ll find him.” You said firmly, “You’re not doing this alone.”

Something lonely softened in Michael when you said that, though you hadn’t meant it in a supportive way. He cleared his throat, and looked out the window, “It won’t be easy finding him. It might take a while. But... he’ll be back. He always comes back.”

You rested your head against the couch’s arm, “And we’ll be there when he does.”

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you-know-honey · 1 year ago

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Sᥕᥱᥲrιᥒg Bᥱforᥱ thᥱ Aᥣtᥲr

Swiss x gn!reader

Sumary: Jealousy comes to Swiss, he doubts his beloved, how can you show him your love?

Word Count: 3340

Note: Bad English, I planned this while listening to a song in my language and watching an edit of Vapor (cosplayer) and I can only say that I could only think Swiss. Gender neutral (let me know I missed something on this)

Swiss was still grumbling as he placed some candles in the endless candlesticks on the ceiling, his tail wagging causing the sound of a whipping in the air. He was annoyed. Something was wrong with him. He kept walking around the chapel ceiling putting candles. That job was silly, he knew why Pope Terzo had put him to do something so ridiculous. To take him away from you, to keep stealing your precious time.

Ever since Terzo had returned from one of his trips he had taken you as his favorite Sister of Sin, always requesting your presence even for silly things like accompanying him for a walk in the gardens with the excuse of helping him pick some flowers for the Sunday Black Mass.

Swiss understood that it was your job and that you couldn't refuse, although you didn't take those orders with displeasure, on the contrary you seemed very happy to do them. That was what bothered him, the tender smile with which you nodded to all of Terzo's stupid requests reminded him of the same smile you used to give him. He didn't think of Terzo as someone deserving of that smile.

Sometimes he had even barged into your room in the middle of the night to ask you for things. Even though he could ask a ghoul. Once Swiss even spent 15 minutes under your bed when he almost caught them having an intimate moment. I could feel Terzo's burning gaze on you when he found you in that nice lingerie that night.

Always trying to touch your hands, your shoulders or your waist, Terzo always managed to touch some part of your body or to hold you close to his body. But you wouldn't move away, you seemed so happy to receive that touch from him.

He never left you alone with Swiss, as soon as Terzo saw you near Swiss he would steal you away from him and that drove Swiss crazy.

"I am a Pope, I have power over everyone, even you. If she chooses to have me by her side you won't be able to stop her. She is human and you are a demon, it makes sense that at the end of this game she chooses me." Was what Terzo replied when Swiss tried to stop this behavior of his with you.

He clenched his knuckles and jaw and backed away.

Then, in that state of annoyance, he met you in a desolate hallway. You had had some free time and decided to seek him out to spend some of your scarce time together.

The Swiss was so intent on mentally ranting at Terzo. He bristled like a cat when he heard your voice echoing down the hallway.

"Hello" your tone was kind and sweet, as it had always been with him. He kept his head down, just listening to the sound of your boot heels on the floor.

A gust of air blew in through the huge window and carried your scent into Swiss's nostrils who instantly grimaced in disgust.

"You stink." He replied curtly, you were surprised that he spoke to you that way, even he himself was surprised.

"What?" you asked innocently. In truth you had no idea what he was talking about, you didn't think he was referring to your sweat which was definitely not strong enough to stink. Still you felt embarrassed.

"You stink like him" your puzzled face annoyed him and he let out a fugly smile as he shook his head "So he's been close enough to you to mark you with his disgusting scent"

"What are you talking about?" you walked cautiously, slowly approaching Swiss, frowning, you didn't like where he wanted to take this conversation.

Even though you didn't know what he was talking about, it scared you to see him like this. He had never been so rude to you before. You were tired of course and annoyed by all the extra work Terzo was putting on your shoulders, but you wouldn't join in an argument with Swiss.

"I'm not stupid you know? That's Terzo's disgusting smell. You've been with him so long and so close that…you reek of him" Swiss' tail snapped in the air with a whipping sound and dodged your hands when they tried to cup his cheeks.

"It's my job Swiss-" you tried to move back closer to him but he grabbed your wrists and pushed your hands against your chest. That annoyed you more than his words had. If there was one thing you hated, it was being scorned.

"I know!" he shouted and he himself was surprised, he finally looked into your eyes and you could see them crystallize "But you have to make him so happy? you obey what he says like a lapdog! You just do what he wants. I can't believe you don't realize that he only wants from you the same thing he gets from all the other Sisters of Sin" He wasn't even able to look you in the face when he said that.

Now you understood, this was a stupid jealousy scene. You massaged your temples hoping it would bring down your annoyance but it didn't happen.

"And what do you expect me to do? To refuse or worse, to do it reluctantly? He is a Pope! His wishes are literally my orders! I thought you understood that! You are a demon at his service after all…I don't expect you to understand, I've worked hard to get here." You felt sick right away, the kind of anxiety that turns your stomach until you throw up. You didn't want to yell at him. "I don't expect you to understand, you can go back to hell anytime you want, but this" you pointed to everything around you. "It's where I belong."

"Y/N…" he was silent for a while "I just want to be able to be with you without him having to show up at the door every 10 minutes. You seem so happy with him, you smile at him like you smile at me! I thought it was something special…that I was special to you" Swiss was getting out all those insecurities that had started to eat him alive since you and Terzo became so close "Why do you do that? Why do you let him get so close to you?!"

You took a long sigh and began to try to clear your mind, searching for the right words. Avoiding his gaze as much as you could. You were hurt by what he was insinuating, as if you agreed with all those approaches. That kind of distrust hurt you.

"I'll see you later. You already said too much anyway Swiss." This time he was the one who tried to approach you, you raised your hands so he wouldn't touch you. It was the first time you felt you didn't want him to touch you, you weren't in the mood to argue or to listen to more things like that, you just weren't ready to promise that if you opened your mouth again you wouldn't explode in him all your tiredness and frustration over the days of having to be always alert to keep Terzo at bay but happy.

You dodged out of the hallway as fast as you could. If you stayed another minute it would be a disaster.

You were completely surprised by the way he acted, you expected something like that if you were dating Sodo, you expected more from Swiss, he was always kind and sweet, he had never acted like that when you were in the service of the rest of the Popes. Your heart shrank a little with disappointment. A lapdog?' That's how he thought of you? It broke your heart that he saw you as a servant or even worse that you were perhaps enthralled with Terzo's constant flirting. It killed you to think that he distrusted you, even though you had never given him reason to think so.

"Quite a job…I thought it was the earth ghoul that took care of this" said one Sister as she wiped her sweat with the back of her hand. They had been busy with gardening chores for hours.

"The demons deserve a break too, Laurie," you told her as you filled a basket with white tulips, red carnations, and a few stamonium flowers. It had been a request from Sister Imperator for that night's Black Mass. Laurie looked at you with a raised eyebrow, she wasn't surprised that you treated them humanely anyway, you were already known among the other Sisters of Sin for that.

"As you say but I really hate the earth, although the flowers are pretty." she tried to take a stamonium flower from your basket but you pushed it away in time.

"They're poisonous flowers." you pointed out as you took off your gloves and leaned against one of the greenhouse walls. You sighed again.

As much as you tried to forget the argument between you and Swiss every time you thought about it your stomach churned, you were not able to go back inside the abbey, you didn't feel able to see him again without crying. You were not upset with him, when you thought about it with a cool head, he was just jealous, if a girl had been as close to Swiss as Terzo was to you you would have been upset too.

He was a demon and jealousy is a very human feeling that he wasn't used to, he didn't know how to respond to that overwhelming emotion.

But now things were tense and you were afraid that you might have made a bad decision to leave him alone in the hallway. This was his first fight about it and it certainly wasn't like you had much experience in relationships with handsome supernatural beings.

"Why are you sighing so much?" asked Laurie brushing the dirt off her knees.

"It's nothing, I'm just tired" you pretended to yawn to take weight off your sad expression.

"Then go and get those flowers to the altar before they dry and go to sleep." You nodded, maybe sleep would help a little, it wasn't a bad idea.

"Not a bad idea Laurie" you took the basket in your hands and cleaned your habit to carry the flowers to the main chapel.

The walk was silent, you could hear the leaves crunching under your feet as you walked. Maybe praying could help you to clear your mind.

Swiss walked along the wall and returned to the floor. Placing the last Syrians on the altar table, he just wanted to go to bed, forget that horrible day and go on with you as if nothing had happened. Resiviendo your beautiful smile and know that it would only be his.

"What if he stopped loving me?" he asked the Lucifer figure behind the altar. "Give me a sign please, that I haven't lost it…"

The afternoon sun illuminated the chapel beautifully, the large windows made the whole place look magical and ethereal. Something that motivated Swiss to keep talking to the figure, he wasn't sure if Lucifer also listened to demons but he would like the help. When they had started to leave Mountain warned him of something that although he already knew he preferred to ignore 'The hearts of mortals change, ours never will' he didn't want to think that your heart was now in conflict between him and Terzo.

After all, the Pope was right, Swiss was just a demon in the service of someone, Terzo was the Pope, leader of the demons, he could hand you the world on a silver platter if you wanted him to. Swiss could not offer you that, he would always be tied to the ministry, he would pass from generation to generation as part of the furniture. It made sense that your heart would change…NO…I didn't want to think about that.

"Swiss?" your voice echoed throughout the room until it reached his ears. His tail tensed and he turned quickly to look at you. He hadn't noticed when you arrived.

You were standing in the doorway with the basket of flowers in your hands, watching him carefully. Everything was so tense. You wanted to run as fast as you could away but you couldn't give him that pleasure, besides it wouldn't be very mature of you to do something like that.

"What are you doing here?" asked Swiss, the words came out of his mouth defensively, thinking the worst in his pessimistic spiral, you could break up with him at any moment.

"Just bringing the flowers" you clarified showing the basket in your hands.

"Sure…" He was nervous, you could see it in his eyes. You wanted to laugh but your own nervousness prevented you.

You nodded at his words and began to form small bouquets to leave in the vases arranged throughout the temple, moving as far away as possible from the altar where Swiss was doing the same. You glanced sidelong in their direction and as soon as they made the slightest eye contact you pulled away startled.

This was becoming untenable for both of you.

You walked back to the door to assemble the largest and most fabulous bouquet, the one that would be placed on the altar, under the huge figure of Lucifer.

You spent more time on it than on the other bouquets, nervous. Swiss just couldn't take it anymore, walked to the front of the altar, and taking a lot of courage, called your name.

"Y/N!" his tone was clear even though you could tell how nervous he was.

You turned around clenching the bouquet in your hands tightly, dropping a few petals on the floor.

"Yeah?" you replied holding your breath in your chest.

Swiss took on a more confident and solemn attitude, perhaps being in front of the altar and being bathed in the evening light gave him more courage. He had to get the idea out of his mind, he wanted to be able to run and hug you. But first he had to solve this problem.

"Do you love?" he asked you "Is there someone you love in your heart?" he asked you, you opened your mouth instinctively but nothing came out of it.

"Yes" you answered confidently "I love someone" you saw his chest swell as he held even more air into his lungs.

"Is there a possibility that your love has changed from person?" he asked, her voice trembling, fearing the answer.

"That's impossible." You didn't know where he was going with that but a nervous chuckle from you made you look up from the floor. Feeling your gaze on his eyes melted him inside, responding to your gaze with a hopeful smile. But he needed to know the full extent of that idea in his mind.

"The person you love…is it Terzo?" he felt silly for asking but he couldn't bear the thought of even imagining you with him again. He knew that if your answer wasn't what he expected he would cry right then and there. You didn't answer "That's right, then-" he was quickly interrupted by you.

"NO. I don't love Papa Terzo. My love belongs to someone much more special and much less jigolo. You. The multi-ghoul Swiss." You stepped forward with confidence in your walk and your words. The orange and whitish light bathed your habit and what little hair it revealed.

Swiss dodged your gaze. I wanted to believe you but I really needed a little more, a little push to jump over that wall of insecurities and run to you.

"Swiss…" you said taking another step towards him. You wanted to reassure him so your smile was still there for him and your eyes dilated more as you saw every detail of his face and body, totally enraptured.

"Look into my eyes Y/N" he let the air out of his lungs and looked at you with hope, with the excited eyes of an infant but with the fear of the lie of a lover "And say…I love you".

You took a step forward, still clinging to the flowers "I love you" you said confidently and the echo in the walls repeated your words.

"Okey" Swiss ducked his head to one of the windows, still not wanting to see you "Now I'm not believing that, at this point. So say it again." he folded his hands to keep you from seeing them tremble.

"I love you" you took another step. Closer and closer to him, but you would show him that you loved him in any way he wanted.

At the words he seemed to shudder, the wall of his insecurity began to weaken and hints of a smile tantalized his face.

"Again" he murmured, looking at you at last, waiting for you in front of the altar.

"I love you" you said again, moving a little closer to him with excitement in your gait.

His hands went nervously behind his back and your expression became more solemn "Again".

Another step closer "I love you" this time the words were honeyed, in an intense way.

"Again" Swiss sighed feeling his will fall.

"I love you" There it was again, the right tone to make him simply want to kneel before you and praise you like a god. Another step closer, you were so close, just a few steps.

"Again" the words came like a gasp out of Swiss' mouth.

"I love you" you said and the sound of your heel on the first step echoed in the air along with the sound of your laughter.

Swiss wiggled his leg nervously and looked down at the floor like a shy puppy "Again" he begged.

"I love you" you said. Almost close enough to put your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly, feeling him sigh as he felt your touch on him. "Do you love me Swiss?" this time it was you who asked, you knew the answer.

"Madly." Swiss' arms were released from his back and hugged you tightly, clinging to your body like life itself, sinking his face into the hollow of your neck, kissing and breathing in your scent. "Please…" he pleaded "promise his heart won't change."

You laughed and it drove Swiss away with some fear.

You caressed his hand and intertwined it with your own, pointing to the altar behind him, leading him to that altar, leaving the flowers on the marble table and cradling Swiss' cheek in the palm of your right hand, stroking his trimmed beard, he was totally bewildered.

"Can I swear to you before an altar of my sincere love" you said.

Swiss sighed, amazed by the words from your mouth but even more so by how your essence completely enveloped him in an enormous fog of love. "I can tell everyone that I love you" Swiss caressed your cheek with his hand, you caressed it like a cat happy with his touch, he approached you, your face, touching your lips with his "Your lips I was taught to feel what tenderness is." Finally you joined your lips with his, butterflies began to gather inside your stomach and flooded your brain, no honey would be so sweet, no wine would be so intoxicating and no spell would be so Lovely like that kiss, the way his lips kissed yours, tasting you, wanting you, praising you with tender desperation.

"I will never tire of being blessed with your sweetness…" Swiss pulled away enough to murmur sweet words against your ear, making your body goosebumps. He smiled. No one but him would be able to love and idolize you until he made you feel like the goddess you were in his eyes.

His heart would never change, nor his mind or his body. He would be the most devoted parishioner to you, to your love, to your existence.

Link to the Vapor tik tok that inspired me CLICK HERE

#the band ghost #nameless ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #papa terzo #swiss x reader #swiss ghost #jutty taylor #ghost band #ghost the band #ghost #ghost band fanfic

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