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jellyfishsthings · 9 months ago

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WARNINGS: this is quite angsty...no actual smut happens just a tiny scene. Also I messes around with some scenes so I feel like it doesn't follow the storyline in the series... that's about it... (should a do a part 2?) part 2 here, part 3

He was nursing a long drink of whiskey on ice as he stared at the blank wall. The year was 1963, and he was currently sitting on a lousy couch in Dallas. The apocalypse was going to take place once again mere days away. He felt bone tired, no one around him understood the stakes and the pressure he was under. He got out of his jacket a black and white photo. A young woman in her early twenties had a huge smile plastered on her face, her head was slightly cocked to the side and loose hair from the messy bun that rested at the top of her head framed her beautiful face. She seemed radiant, her eyes were crinkled from her smile and she seemed like a goddess to him. A piece of heaven that he left behind.

“Who's that?” Klaus whispered in his ear and Five jumped from the sudden sound and he glared at his brother. Out of all his siblings, Klaus was the only one who would understand him. “She is beautiful.”

“She is my wife.” Five said quietly. His voice was soft and colored in an emotion that Klaus couldn't recognize.

“Your what?”

“Are you deaf? I said she is my wife, or at least she was.”

“What happened?”

Five had been at the Commission for several years. After a failed experiment he had turned back to his twenty-year-old self. He had heard whispers of the Scarlet Angel all around him, everyone seemed to talk about his rival, especially in his presence. It was supposed to be the deadliest assassin of the Institution besides him. One gray day he was called into the Handlers office. That was when he saw her for the first time. A tall woman was seated on a chair, her beautiful face turned towards him as he entered the room. Five had never been one to find in someone's physical beauty but at the moment their eyes met he could swear that his heart skipped a beat.

Their first assignment together had been such a success, that they were stuck together permanently. Throughout the following years, Five found himself falling for her harder every day, with every word she said, with every laugh she caused from him, the way she always had his back and defended him whether she agreed with his actions or not. Their fights were the best thing that ever happened to him, she always found ways to leave him speechless, with her smart comebacks, the way she was animated when she got angry, her hands flew around her, her face got angry red and her hair bounced with her movements. He had never seen someone look so exquisite when they were yelling at him. She made him feel alive, adrenaline coursed in his veins. She always got the better of him. She was so… infuriating. On one of those occasions he finally had enough.

He grabbed her face and smashed their lips together to silence her. She was breathless when he distanced himself from her. Her eyes were wild and her hand flew to his cheeks, slapping him. Before leaving him frozen on his spot. They were supposed to be undercover as a married couple at the gala of their target. They had been discussing tactics and strategies when things escalated.

With a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down and headed back towards the ballroom, searching for his supposed wife. They stayed together all night, dancing and acting like a couple. It seemed natural to him to be this way with her. Having her in his arms, and showing her off. Finally a few minutes shy of dawn, they tiptoed towards a huge room where their target hid diamonds. Diamonds they were going to steal after killing him, so the crime would seem like a robbery gone wrong. Just at the last corner, they were almost caught. Five quickly hoisted her up before he pinned her to a wall and he placed his face on her neck. Her skin flashed and her heartbeat was rapid beneath his mouth.

“Play along.” He whispered sweetly to her skin but she was shocked by his actions. So he had no choice. He sucked at her pulse point receiving an immediate reaction. Her legs drew back on his hold, her back arched, her eyes closed and her lips released a quiet breathy moan. At that moment he knew he was already addicted to her. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. He bit and sucked on her neck and her hands tangled into his hair as she tugged at the short strands on the back of his head. She was moaning in his arms and her hips rolled against his. He raised his knee and she started riding his leg shamelessly. He wanted to be inside of her or he was going to burst. He wanted to shut her smart mouth so it would no longer fire comebacks at him. He unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants before pushing her underwear to the side and he waited for a confirmation to continue. She could ask him to kneel, to beg and he would gladly do so. Just to steal one moment with her.

A loud bang echoed through the walls and they snapped out of their daze. But the damage had already been done. Their partnership had been blown to proposition forever. And the rest was history.

Several years later, and many happy years together after being married in secret. It happened, their big bang, the thing that embodied the doom of their relationship. Five had always been a pessimist, even in his early childhood. He was a firm believer in Murphy's law, which stated that when something could go wrong in a situation, always expect it to go wrong. They had traveled in Germany during the Second World War. Five posed as one of the ranking officers in Auschwitz as his wife was expected to do the same. Only, she had been compromised and now she was one of the prisoners. The terrible labor that she endured every day was the thing that would plague him for years to come. After completing their mission and several wounds later they managed to get back to the safety of their home.

“Why didn't you listen to me?” Five snap in frustration and terror. His hands shook as he tried to stitch a big guss on her stomach. She looked paper thin, her bones were visible and her veins along with her arteries stood prominent against her pale skin that lost its color.

“I did. I disagreed with your plan either way. And we had to do something drastic. I took a risk and I lost. It happens.”

“And did it have to happen in one of the most terrifying places that ever existed on this Earth?”

“Snap out of it. You would have done the same. And always where we are atrocious things have happened. So you don't get to lecture me. I am my own person. I made a call and it happened to be wrong. But if I hadn't done that we would have eventually failed this mission. And you don't get to lecture me when you have done nothing but be untruthful to me since the moment this started.”

“Wh- what are you talking about?” Five whispered, his voice quivered with unshown emotions. He could see the inevitable impact between them before his eyes, he had just hoped he could have a few more moments with her. A few more minutes, a few more hours, days, or years. Anything really.

Her eyes were hard and full of hatred. She pulled herself to her feet. The pain that consumed her must have been blinding. The open wounds leaked with blood that stained her skin. She moved towards her coat where she retrieved a dark green notebook and she slammed it against their kitchen table, before placing her hands on her hips and firing a challenging look towards him.

“You know I want to get back to my family, sweetheart.”

“Don't sweetheart me. These equations are only for one person. So is there something you want to tell me, dear husband of mine?”

“Please let me explain…”

“Explain what? That this meant nothing to you? You are an egoistic son of a bitch Five. And I am done with you. And you know why? You made the mistake of placing a date when you started. Our wedding date. You have already shown your true colors. You can leave now. And you can take this, I don't need it any longer. Either way, it was fake and it meant nothing to you.” She said before throwing her wedding ring at him. It thudded against his chest and he caught it mid-air, as he watched her walking away from him and slamming the door of their bedroom in her way. He stood frozen in his place. It was done. The one thing that made him feel alive, the one thing that made him happy left him. He lost it under his own hands. The same night, he left a letter behind him before he traveled back in time, back to his family. To them, he seemed a shy seven years older than when he disappeared. But they didn't know about the two things he carried with him from his last life. Her picture in the breast pocket of his smart jacket and her wedding ring on his collarbones as it hung from a golden chain, both hidden from the world.

“Five. That is just … I don't know what to say.”

“Then don't. It is already hard to think about her.”

“How long has it been since -”

“Six years, eight months and twenty days. My early attempts to get back to you weren't really successful.” He whispered as he toying with her ring. It was gold and smooth to touch, his name had been engraved on the inside. It had been a blast to convince the person who made them that his name was actually Five. And he smiled at the fond memory.

“Will you ever see her again?”

“I don't know. The selfish part of me wishes that, but another part of me knows that it is better this way. Because she is free and safe from me. Klaus, if you don't mind … no more talk please.”

Klaus looked at the pained expression on his brother's face. He had never heard him utter the world “please”, at least not to him. So he simply nodded and stayed with him in silence before their peace was disturbed by their reality.

words: 1.781

#five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves angst

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fantastic-nonsense · 1 year ago

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and then, what about anna? there is no mention of her wanting/being ready to be queen in either two films

This is why the creative team should have kept "Home" as the movie's opening song instead of changing it to "Some Things Never Change," because quite literally the entire point of that song is showcasing how much Anna loves her family and Arendelle and wants to do more for her people:

youtube

It sets up the arc she goes through much better than "Some Things Never Change," foreshadows her becoming Queen, and as a bonus would have made "The Next Right Thing" hit much harder!

the frozen ii ending makes me soooooo angry like the whole POINT of frozen i was that elsa learned that she could rule arendelle with her powers and with anna by her side!!! literally in the bway musical she sings ‘i know i’ll never see that sunny day / when this trial is finally through / and it can just be me and you’ like. elsa WANTS to stay with anna

and they try and explain this somewhat in into the unknown, with the ‘who knows deep down i’m not where i’m meant to be’ but. WHY isn’t she where she’s meant to be. all of the first film was her learning that she belonged in arendelle and her powers/herself wasn’t something to be afraid of. why isn’t she meant to be with her family? with her sister who’s been desperate to reconnect with her? why doesn’t she belong where people readily love her and accept her and want the best for her?

and then, what about anna? there is no mention of her wanting/being ready to be queen in either two films. we don’t even see the offer on screen; we don’t get the sisters’ quiet, vulnerable conversation where elsa admits to wanting to live with the rest of the nature spirits and anna offers to take her place as queen. we don’t see anna begging elsa to stay in the forest because she can rule if elsa’s happier there. we never see their dialogue. it’s just so sudden. is anna once again just going along with what her sister wants? is elsa isolating herself all over again? we just don’t know. they both seem happy, but there’s barely any indication that it’ll lead up to that point.

it just makes no sense for either of their arcs, or their previous wants/needs. if they were meant to stay together, why separate them again? they just got each other back. and now they’re alone again.

#not gonna comment on Elsa because I think responding to that bit would take a lot more mental effort than I have right now #but I CAN make sure everyone who ever discusses Frozen II knows what we could have had re: the songs #the amount of concept design and development lore I know about the Frozen franchise could fill a whole novel fr 😭#frozen #frozen 2 #princess anna #queen anna #Youtube

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angelshizuka · 2 months ago

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I've had to deal with "they chose x over y" type of discussions since 2013 thanks to Frozen, because people refuse to look at things in context, so I'm gonna bring my same arguments here.

Mastermind isn't nearly as simple as "Stolas chose Blitz over Via". Looking at it that way is ignoring literally all the nuance of the situation and an insult to the writers who spent 2 seasons layering the complexity of it. Via was safe at home, Blitz was literally on the chopping block about to be executed. How is his (in the heat of the moment) choice so hard to understand?

If there's ANY way to describe what Stolas did, "Stolas chose Blitz over himself" is WAY more fitting.

#helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #helluva spoilers #hb spoilers #mastermind spoilers #stolas goetia #stolas #blitzø #blitzo #blitz #stolitz #octavia goetia #goetia family #hellaverse #frozen #personal #phone blogging

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rootedinrevisions · 13 days ago

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Too Late: Part 3 (Final Part)

SUMMARY: You find yourself at a crossroads, reflecting on your fears and the love that once defined your relationship with Tyler. After a heartfelt conversation with your mother, you reach out to Tyler, who agrees to meet, unsure of what to expect. What begins as a casual meal at the local diner evolves into a candid, emotional discussion where both of you confront your past mistakes, vulnerabilities, and hopes for the future. As walls come down and trust begins to rebuild, an unspoken connection blossoms once more.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support this story/series has received! This is the third and final part of the story that I have planned. I hope you guys enjoy it! xx

WARNINGS: None really. Mentions of past trust issues (what happened in the 1st part)

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The last of the plates clinked as Tyler set it into the drying rack. His hands moved automatically, a practiced rhythm that mirrored yours as you worked side by side in the kitchen. The early morning sunlight streamed through the window above the sink, casting soft golden streaks across the countertop. The silence between you was no longer heavy or awkward. Instead, it felt easy, almost peaceful—an unspoken truce forged over breakfast and stolen moments.

You rinsed the final dish, turning it over in your hands to ensure it was spotless before passing it to Tyler. He dried it with deliberate care, his fingers brushing the edges of the plate before placing it neatly in the cupboard. Neither of you spoke, but the weight of unspoken words lingered between you, quiet but persistent.

When the dishes were done, Tyler folded the towel and hung it neatly on the oven handle. “I can drive you over to your mom’s if you want,” he offered, his voice low but steady. “So you can grab your car.”

You nodded, wiping your damp hands on the front of your jeans. “Yeah… thanks.”

The drive to your house passed in near silence, the faint hum of the truck’s engine the only sound between you. Tyler kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting casually on the wheel, the other draped across the armrest. You found yourself stealing glances at him, your gaze lingering on the set of his jaw and the way the morning light danced across his profile.

It wasn’t until Tyler pulled into the driveway of your mom’s house and shifted the truck into park that you realized how tightly you’d been gripping your seatbelt. The familiar sight of the front porch with its white railing and your mom’s potted plants brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. You stared at the door, your stomach twisting with a sudden, inexplicable knot of anxiety.

Your thoughts drifted to your mom. The doctors had said they’d call if there was any change, and there hadn’t been. No news is good news, you reminded yourself, but the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. Something about stepping into that house, uncertain whether your mom was going to make it, left you frozen with hesitation.

“You okay?” Tyler’s voice was quiet, but it carried enough concern to pull you out of your thoughts.

You blinked and glanced over at him. His steady gaze was on you, his brows slightly furrowed as he tried to read your expression.

You took a deep breath, nodding once. “Yeah,” you said, but the tightness in your voice betrayed you.

Tyler didn’t look convinced.

Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve as you stared back at the house. After a moment, you turned to him again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Would you... come inside with me? I don’t really want to be alone in there right now.”

The words hung in the air, and you braced yourself for some kind of resistance. But Tyler just nodded, his expression softening. “Of course.”

He turned the truck off and climbed out, waiting for you to join him before the two of you walked to the front door together. You unlocked it and stepped inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards under your feet stirring a wave of memories. Tyler lingered just inside the doorway, his hands shoved into his jean pockets as his eyes scanned the room.

“I’ll be right here,” he said gently.

You gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Climbing the stairs to your old bedroom felt surreal, like stepping back into a time capsule. The walls were still painted the same pale yellow you’d chosen in high school, and the mismatched furniture you’d left behind was exactly where it had always been.

You grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the dresser, quickly changing out of the borrowed clothes. After running a brush through your hair, you tied it back into a ponytail, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked tired—more tired than you wanted to admit—but there was no time to dwell on that now.

When you made your way back downstairs, Tyler was still standing by the door, just as he’d said. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, but his eyes were fixed on the floor as if lost in thought.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached, his voice quiet but steady.

You nodded, offering a faint smile. “Yeah.”

He held the door open for you as you stepped outside, the morning air crisp against your skin. Something about his presence steadied the unease still twisting in your chest. For now, it was enough.

The two of you stepped outside, and you locked the house behind you. Tyler was already back at his truck, standing by the driver’s side door. His hand rested on the handle, but instead of climbing in, he turned to look at you.

There was something hesitant in his expression, like he was trying to muster up the right words but couldn’t quite find them. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak.

You took a deep breath, hugging your arms across your chest as the morning air nipped at your skin. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but having Tyler at the hospital yesterday had been comforting. He’d been a steady presence in a moment when everything felt like it was spiraling. And the thought of walking back into that hospital room alone right now made your chest tighten.

Your dad’s last update replayed in your mind. The earliest he could get there would be later tonight. He’d been out of town on business when the accident happened and was scrambling to book last-minute flights and make the long journey back.

You hesitated, the rational part of your brain warning you this was a bad idea. But you couldn’t help it. You glanced over at Tyler.

“Would you…” You paused, swallowing hard. “Would you come sit with me at the hospital? Just until my dad gets there?”

You braced yourself for some kind of resistance, but Tyler didn’t even hesitate. He nodded without a second thought. “Of course.”

Relief flooded through you, and though you tried to hide it, you were pretty sure he saw it in your face. You climbed into the truck, and Tyler started the engine, pulling out of the driveway. The hum of the tires on the pavement filled the quiet between you, but this silence felt different—less heavy, more comfortable.

When you reached the hospital, Tyler parked and cut the engine. You both made your way through the sliding glass doors and up the elevator to your mom’s room. As you reached the floor, Tyler slowed his steps, glancing at the small waiting area near the elevators.

“Do you want me to wait out here?” he asked, his voice quiet and careful, as if he didn’t want to overstep.

You hesitated, looking back toward the hallway that led to your mom’s room. For a moment, the idea of walking in alone made your stomach churn.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “You can come in.”

Tyler nodded, falling into step beside you as you walked down the hall. His hand brushed yours briefly—not intentional, just the way the two of you moved in tandem—and the fleeting contact sent a strange mix of comfort and nerves through you.

When you reached your mom’s room, you hesitated again, your hand hovering over the door handle. Tyler didn’t say anything, but his presence at your side was enough to make you feel steady.

You and Tyler stepped into the room, the soft hum of machines filling the air. Your mom’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door, and when she saw you, a tired but genuine smile spread across her face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

You moved to her bedside, leaning down to give her a gentle hug. As you embraced her, you felt her gaze shift over your shoulder.

“Tyler,” she said warmly, catching sight of him lingering near the door. “Come in, honey. Don’t just stand there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler replied, nodding as he stepped further into the room.

He seemed hesitant, unsure of how much space to take up. After a moment, he settled into a chair in the corner, his broad frame somehow making the small hospital chair look even smaller.

You pulled a chair closer to your mom’s bed, taking her hand in yours. Her skin was cool and fragile beneath your fingers, but her grip was surprisingly strong.

For a while, the room was filled with quiet conversation between you and your mom. You told her about the house, reassured her that everything was in order, and avoided bringing up anything that might worry her further. Tyler stayed silent, his presence steady but unobtrusive, watching the two of you with a quiet attentiveness.

When the nurses came in to administer pain medicine, your mom began to fade into drowsiness. You smoothed her blanket over her, watching as her breathing evened out and her eyes fluttered shut. The room grew quiet again, a stillness settling over everything.

You glanced over at Tyler. He’d leaned back in his chair, his phone in hand, occasionally responding to a text or scrolling through something. But for the most part, he just sat there, a calming presence you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

Hours passed in that comfortable silence. At some point, you noticed Tyler’s head start to dip forward, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He crossed his arms over his chest, his head tilting slightly as he drifted off to sleep.

It was around then that your mom stirred. You turned your attention back to her as she opened her eyes and smiled at you.

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?” she asked softly, her voice still a little groggy.

You hesitated before nodding. “I’m okay,” you said, though the words didn’t feel entirely convincing.

Your mom glanced past you, her smile growing a little wider when she saw Tyler sleeping in the corner. “Are you two talking again?” she asked, her tone light but curious.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Not really. He’s just… trying to help right now.”

Your mom let out a quiet laugh, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and knowing. “Which one of you is being stubborn?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She raised an eyebrow, the kind of expression only a mother could manage, equal parts teasing and serious. “I mean, Tyler’s here, isn’t he? Sitting in a hospital room with you for hours, even though you two aren’t together anymore.” She tilted her head slightly, studying your face. “That boy cares about you. He always has.”

You shook your head, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Mom, you’re forgetting why we broke up in the first place. He was never around. He missed birthdays, holidays… even our anniversary once. How do you think that made me feel?”

Your mom sighed, her expression softening. “I know it hurt, sweetheart. I know it did. But have you ever thought about why he worked so much? Why he was gone so often?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Because his job was more important than I was.”

“No,” she said firmly, her tone gentle but unwavering. “Because he wanted to give you the world. Tyler would do anything to make you happy, and the way he thought he could do that was by working hard and making sure you had everything you could ever want.”

You started to argue, but she held up a hand.

“He wasn’t gone because he didn’t care,” she continued. “He was gone because he cared too much. That YouTube channel, the storm chasing—it’s how he made his money. It’s how he provided for the two of you. Do you know how many times he called me, asking what he could do to make things better for you? How many times he worried he wasn’t enough for you?”

Her words hit like a punch to the chest. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss.

“I’m not saying he was perfect,” she said softly. “And I’m not saying it didn’t hurt you when he missed things. But he wasn’t doing it to hurt you. He was doing it because he thought it was the best way to take care of you. And maybe he didn’t always get it right, but his heart was in the right place.”

You looked down at your hands, her words circling in your mind.

“Don’t let fear or pride keep you from giving him another chance, sweetheart,” she said gently. “People make mistakes. They grow. And from what I’ve seen, that boy would do anything to make things right with you.”

You glanced over at Tyler, still asleep in the chair, his head tilted at an awkward angle. Despite everything, his presence here—just being here—had been more comforting than you’d expected.

Your mom gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Sometimes love means letting go of the hurt and giving someone the chance to show you they’ve changed.”

* * * * *

Over the next few days, Tyler proved to be a steady presence in ways you hadn’t expected. It started with small gestures—things that felt almost too thoughtful to be coincidental.

The first time, it was coffee. You’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as you worried about your mom, your dad still trying to make it home, and the ever-present weight of Tyler being sort of back in your life. You’d shown up at the hospital bleary-eyed and running on fumes, only to find Tyler already there, leaning casually against the wall outside your mom’s room.

“Morning,” he’d said, holding out a cup of your favorite coffee. “Figured you could use this.”

You’d blinked at him, caught off guard. “How’d you—”

“You’ve been ordering the same thing since I met you,” he said with a small smile.

The warmth that spread through you at his thoughtfulness was immediate, but you tamped it down, nodding as you took the cup from his hand. “Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

But that wasn’t the only time.

The next day, you’d mentioned offhandedly that you needed to grab a few groceries before heading back to the hospital. By the time you made it to the store after your visit, Tyler was already there, leaning against his truck in the parking lot with a bag in hand.

“Saved you a trip,” he’d said simply, handing you the groceries you needed.

“Tyler,” you started, a mixture of gratitude and frustration bubbling to the surface. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his tone calm and even. “But I wanted to.”

And then there were the texts.

How’s your mom doing today?Did you get some rest last night?Let me know if you need anything.

They came consistently, never pushy but always there, like a quiet reminder that you didn’t have to go through this alone.

At first, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that he was just being polite, trying to make up for the past. But the more it happened, the harder it became to ignore.

One evening, after another long day at the hospital, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, Tyler’s latest text lighting up your phone.

Did you eat today?

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening. He wasn’t asking out of obligation. He wasn’t trying to win points. He was just… there. Consistent.

It felt foreign—this version of Tyler who wasn’t promising the moon and stars but showing up in small, meaningful ways instead.

You typed out a quick reply, trying to keep it casual. Yeah, grabbed something at the cafeteria. Thanks for checking in.

His response came almost immediately. Good. You need anything?

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Part of you wanted to tell him no, to keep him at arm’s length where it felt safe. But another part of you—the part that had started noticing the way he remembered your coffee order, the way he didn’t hesitate to pick up groceries, the way his presence made the weight on your shoulders feel a little lighter—wanted to say yes.

Instead, you settled on something in between. I’m good. Thanks, though.

You set your phone down, your emotions swirling in a way that felt impossible to untangle. You could see the effort he was making, the consistency you once doubted in him. And yet, the fear of repeating past mistakes loomed large, a wall you weren’t sure you were ready to let down.

As you lay back on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but wonder: Could you let yourself trust him again? Or was holding back the only way to keep from getting hurt?

The answer felt as distant and elusive as ever, but one thing was clear—Tyler wasn’t going anywhere. And that scared you as much as it comforted you.

* * * * *

You weren’t sure what had compelled you to say yes when Tyler offered to have you over for a few hours. Maybe it was his reasoning—that you needed a break after days at the hospital. Maybe it was the fact that your dad was finally back, sitting with your mom as she started to regain her strength. Or maybe, deep down, you knew you wanted to be here, in his space, no matter how much it scared you.

Tyler’s house was just as you remembered—cozy, and filled with small touches that made it unmistakably his. The scent of cedarwood lingered faintly in the air, and the shelves were dotted with framed photos and little souvenirs from his storm-chasing adventures.

“Make yourself at home,” he’d said, heading into the kitchen to grab drinks. “I’ll be right back.”

You wandered aimlessly, trying to ignore the familiar warmth that settled over you. It felt too easy to picture yourself here again, and that thought sent a pang of unease through you.

As you drifted toward the small desk in the corner of the living room, something caught your eye. The drawer was slightly ajar, and within it, a glint of gold and a small velvet box peeked out. Your curiosity got the better of you, and before you knew it, you were reaching for it.

When you opened the box, your breath caught.

It was the ring. The family ring. The delicate gold band with the intricate etching you’d admired since you were a little girl. The one your mom always said she’d pass down when the time was right.

Your fingers trembled as you held it, a dozen emotions colliding in your chest—shock, confusion, hurt. You didn’t hear Tyler’s footsteps until he was already in the doorway.

He froze when he saw you, his expression unreadable.

“What…” Your voice came out in a whisper, shaking as much as your hands. “How do you have this?”

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “I—” He stopped, as if weighing his words. “I didn’t think you’d find that.”

“That’s not an answer.” You looked up at him, your voice sharper now. “How do you have this? This is my family’s ring. My grandmother’s ring.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened. For a moment, you thought he might deflect or brush it off, but then he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“I had it because… I was going to ask you,” he admitted quietly. “Before we broke up.”

The room felt like it tilted beneath you. “You… what?”

“I’d talked to your parents. Asked for their blessing,” he continued, his voice steady but softer now. “Your mom gave me the ring. She said it was tradition, that it would mean something to you. And I thought—” He swallowed hard. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I loved you enough to want to make you mine forever.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “Tyler… why didn’t you tell me?”

His brows furrowed, his frustration evident. “How was I supposed to bring that up? ‘Hey, by the way, I was planning to propose before you ripped my heart out’? It wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation we were having when you left.”

Your chest tightened at the bitterness in his tone. “I didn’t just leave for no reason, Tyler. You were never there. You were always off chasing storms or working on the channel. I felt like I was just… waiting for you to choose me over everything else.”

Tyler’s expression hardened, but his voice didn’t rise. “I wasn’t gone because I didn’t care. I was gone because I was trying to build something for us. To give you the life you deserved. Do you think I wanted to spend all that time away from you?”

“You could’ve told me that!” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Instead, you just kept pushing forward like I was supposed to read your mind. How was I supposed to know you were doing it for me when you never said anything?”

“I thought you knew!” he countered, his voice finally rising. “I thought you understood. I thought what we had was strong enough to get through it. But instead, you walked away without even giving me a chance to explain.”

The room felt unbearably small, the air thick with unspoken pain. Tyler took a step closer, his eyes locking with yours.

“I didn’t know how to fight for someone who had already made it clear she didn’t want me,” he said quietly, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The emotions swirling inside you—anger, hurt, regret—left you feeling raw and exposed.

Tyler reached for the ring, picking it up from where it rested on the desk. He held it out to you, his hand steady despite the tension in his jaw.

“Take it,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “It’s yours anyway. Keep it, or take it back to your mom’s—I shouldn’t have it anymore.”

You stared at the ring, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of his words, the pain in his eyes, the ring that symbolized everything you’d lost and didn’t know if you could get back—it was all too much.

“I can’t do-,” you whispered, stepping back. “I… I need time to think.”

Tyler’s hand lowered, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then he nodded, slipping the ring back into the box and tucking it away in the drawer.

The argument had left you both emotionally drained, the air in the room thick with all the things unsaid. Tyler had retreated, stepping out of the room and leaving you alone with the silence. You could hear his footsteps as he made his way out the front door and onto the porch. After that, there was only the quiet hum of the house around you. It felt like a heavy kind of stillness—almost suffocating in its weight.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the drawer where the ring had been returned, now hidden away again. Your fingers reached out, pulling open the drawer and picking up the box. You didn’t open the box or look at the ring. You just quietly put the box into your purse. You told yourself you’d give it back to your mom.

Tyler’s house had always held a special place in your heart. The old farmhouse, weathered but sturdy, had been his dream long before you moved in. He’d poured himself into this place, building it up, making it his own. His grandparents’ house, the land that had been in his family for generations—he’d often told you how much it meant to him. The memories of the two of you walking through the fields, sitting on the porch at dusk, talking about the future… it was all a part of him. And yet, it didn’t feel like home in the way it used to. Not anymore.

You’d moved here together once, a promise of a new chapter, a future side by side. And in many ways, it had been your home. A place where you’d shared laughter, arguments, and everything in between. But now, as you stood in the familiar space, everything felt different.

You moved through the house slowly, almost instinctively, as if searching for something—some sign that the past could be healed, that the love you once had could still be found in the cracks of this place. But every room seemed to hold its own kind of sadness, a reminder of what had been lost.

When you reached the kitchen, you ran your hand over the counter, feeling the familiar grooves of the old wood. This was where you used to stand while Tyler cooked dinner, teasing him about his “experimental” dishes, laughing at how he always burned something. He’d smile and tell you that’s why he had you, to make sure you guys didn’t starve. Then he’d pull you into a kiss, the kind of kiss that made you forget about everything else. The kind of kiss that made you feel like nothing could ever tear you apart.

But then, as you stood by the window, your gaze naturally fell outside. The view from here was familiar, the long stretch of land with the barn at the far edge of the property.

And that’s when you saw him. Tyler.

He was standing outside by the old barn, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up, the axe gripped firmly in his hands. You watched, your heart dropping a little in your chest. He was splitting wood—heavy, deliberate swings with a rhythm that seemed almost mechanical. You had seen him do this before. It was his way of working out whatever was on his mind, his way of channeling anger or frustration. It was a pattern you knew all too well, one that had been there even before you left.

When he split wood like this, you knew better than to interrupt. It was his space, his time, his way of dealing with things. He didn’t want anyone there. He didn’t want to talk. It was his silent, solitary method of pushing everything down, of pretending that the world around him didn’t hurt.

You felt a sharp pang in your chest as you watched him swing the axe, each strike carrying the weight of things unsaid. Your eyes burned slightly, the tears you hadn’t realized were threatening to fall welling up.

The sight of him like this—the man you still cared about, the man who had been so much a part of your life—hurt in a way you hadn’t prepared for. You’d hoped that seeing him here, in this space, would make things clearer. But instead, it made you question everything.

Was this your fault? Was he out there, splitting wood because of you? Because of the things you’d said, the things you’d walked away from?

You could almost feel the tension in his every movement, the frustration he was releasing with each swing. He wasn’t angry at the wood. He was angry at everything that had happened between you two—at the distance that had grown, at the things left unsaid. He was angry at himself for not being able to fix it, and maybe, just maybe, angry at you for walking away.

You stood there for a long time, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter, your breath shallow. You wanted to go outside, wanted to talk to him, to ask him to stop. But you knew better. You’d learned that lesson a long time ago. When Tyler was like this, the best thing you could do was give him space. He would come to you when he was ready. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

You blinked, trying to clear your eyes, but the image of him out there—alone, working through his pain in silence—stayed with you, heavy and haunting.

You sighed, picking up your bag and making your way to the door. As you stepped out into the cool afternoon air, the weight of the ring seemed to grow heavier in your bag. Walking down the front steps, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything you had with Tyler was still there, just waiting for you to reach out and claim it. But you were scared. Scared of reopening old wounds, scared of trusting again, scared of letting yourself believe that it could work out this time.

As you drove away from the house, the ring resting silently in your bag, you couldn’t help but think about what Tyler had said. For the first time, you started to wonder if you’d been too afraid to face your feelings for him.

* * * * *

The house was quiet when you finally got back to your parents’ place, the weight of the past few days pressing down on you. The hours spent at the hospital, the conversations with your mom, the raw argument with Tyler—it all swirled in your mind, and you couldn’t seem to escape the echoes of the past.

You were sitting in the living room now, curled up in the old armchair. The dim light from the lamp beside you cast long shadows on the walls, and the soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the house. Your mind was running through everything that had happened. Your mom’s voice rang in your head, reminding you that you were likely pushing Tyler away because you were afraid of getting hurt again. But even as you replayed her words, it was hard to shake the feeling of uncertainty.

It wasn’t love you were lacking. That much was clear to you. The memories of your time together—both the good and the bad—flooded your thoughts, and the love you once shared was still there, even if it was buried under layers of hurt. You could still feel the way your heart had raced when Tyler kissed you, the way he had held you close on the coldest nights. You had loved him with everything you had, and a part of you still did. But now? Now, it felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, too scared to take the leap, too unsure of where it might lead.

Your thoughts drifted to the last few days—Tyler’s quiet presence when you needed him, the way he had shown up, consistently and without hesitation. He brought you coffee when you needed it most, offered to run errands, texted you just to check in. Every little thing he did was a reminder of the person he had become, the one who wanted to be there for you, no matter how hard it might have been for him.

You couldn’t ignore the changes. He wasn’t the same as he had been before. He’d made mistakes, but he’d also shown you that he was willing to work on himself. The way he had apologized, the way he had acknowledged his faults—it was all part of the healing process.

And yet, even now, as you sat there in the silence, your heart was heavy. You were scared to trust again. Scared to believe that this time, things would be different. The fear of repeating past mistakes loomed over you, a constant companion in your thoughts. How could you know for sure that Tyler wouldn’t hurt you again?

You thought back to the day you broke up—how Tyler had tried so hard to be what you needed but had failed, leaving you to feel abandoned. You remembered the words he said, the frustration in his voice as he admitted he didn’t know how to fix things. But now, you knew he was trying. He wasn’t perfect, but he was showing you he cared in a way that mattered.

Maybe it wasn’t about being perfect. Maybe it was about being willing to try. And for the first time in a long while, you started to wonder if you were ready to take the risk.

As you sat there, you felt the weight of the ring in your pocket, still a physical reminder of what could have been. The family ring. The one Tyler had almost given you. He’d wanted to give you everything, to make you his forever. It stung, thinking about how close he had been to doing that, and how you had walked away before you could even see what might have been.

But maybe now was the time to face what had been left unsaid. Maybe now was the time to acknowledge that you weren’t as afraid of him as you were of what it would mean to trust him again. Maybe it was time to stop holding onto the past and to start letting yourself heal, to start letting him back in.

Your thoughts lingered there for a moment, wondering where things might go if you took that next step, if you allowed yourself to be vulnerable enough to take the chance on him again.

* * * * *

You took a deep breath, staring at the screen of your phone, your finger hovering over the “Send” button. You’d thought about this moment a hundred times, but now that it was here, the weight of it was almost too much.

Tyler. You hadn’t really spoken since that painful argument over the ring. But something in you had shifted. The clarity that came after your reflection—the understanding that your hesitation wasn’t about love, but about trust—had led you to this point. You weren’t ready to give up on him, not yet. You needed to talk, to lay everything out, and to figure out if there was a way forward.

With one last deep breath, you typed out a quick message: Can we talk?

You stared at it for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, and then hit send.

The response came a few minutes later, fast and blunt: Sure. What about?

You hesitated, your mind racing. Can you meet me?

There was a long pause before his reply. You could almost feel his hesitation through the screen: Why can’t we talk now?

You chewed on your bottom lip, heart racing again. I just think we need to talk in person.

Okay. Where?

You agreed on a quiet spot at a local diner, one you used to go to together when things were easier. The diner was just as you remembered it—faded red booths, a flickering neon sign in the window, and the faint smell of coffee and fried food hanging in the air. It had been weeks since you’d sat here with Tyler, sharing laughs over milkshakes and fries. Now, as you pushed open the door, the memories hit you like a wave, bittersweet and unrelenting.

Tyler was already there, seated in the far corner by the window. His back was to you, his shoulders hunched slightly as he stared out at the parking lot. He didn’t look tense—just tired, like someone who had long since stopped hoping for something he knew wasn’t coming.

When he turned at the sound of your footsteps, his expression softened, and he offered a small, polite smile.

“Hey,” he said, standing as you approached the booth.

“Hey,” you replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Thanks for meeting me,” you added, unsure of how to start.

Tyler waved a hand dismissively. “Of course. Everything okay? Is this about your mom or... something else?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his assumption. He thought this was about your mom—or maybe something unrelated entirely. You realized he hadn’t even considered that this might be about him. That hit you harder than you expected.

“No, she’s fine,” you said quickly. “It’s not about her.”

A waitress appeared with two menus, setting them down before taking your drink orders. Once she walked away, Tyler leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed loosely. “So, what’s on your mind?”

You traced the edge of the menu with your finger, searching for the right words. “I’ve just... been thinking a lot lately,” you started, your voice steady but quiet. “About everything. About us.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t speak right away. When he did, his tone was careful, like he didn’t want to assume too much. “Us?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. Us.”

For the first time, you saw a flicker of something in his expression—hope, maybe, though he tried to mask it. “Okay,” he said slowly, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the table. “I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I’ve been thinking about why I’ve been so hesitant... why I haven’t been able to just move on or figure out what I want. And I realized it’s not because I don’t care about you. It’s not because I don’t... love you.”

Tyler’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

“It’s because I’m scared,” you continued, pushing through the lump in your throat. “I’m scared of trusting you again. Of getting hurt again. And I know that’s not fair to you, because you’ve done so much to show me you’ve changed. But it’s the truth.”

Tyler leaned back slightly, his hands dropping to the table. His voice, when he spoke, was soft but firm. “I can’t blame you for being scared,” he said. “I don’t. And if I could go back and change the way I handled things back then, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t. All I can do is try to show you now that I’m not that guy anymore.”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “I see that,” you admitted. “And I want to believe it. I do. But this is going to take time, Tyler. If we do this—if we try again—I need to know we’re on the same page.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his voice full of sincerity. “Whatever you need. Time, space, anything.”

The words hit you with a mix of relief and fear, but you pushed past it, meeting his gaze. “I need honesty. Communication. Consistency. If I’m going to trust you again, I need to know you’re not going to disappear or pull away.”

Tyler reached across the table, his hand stopping just short of yours, as if waiting for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he covered your hand with his, his touch warm and steady.

“You have my word,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke something open inside you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—this could work.

“I’m willing to try,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough to give you away. “But we have to start over. From scratch. No rushing, no expectations. We figure this out one step at a time.”

Tyler’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, the kind that reached his eyes. “One step at a time,” he echoed.

The conversation between you and Tyler drifted into lighter topics as the waitress returned to take your order. You both opted for the diner’s signature cheeseburgers, a choice that made Tyler chuckle.

“Some things never change,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You always did love their fries.”

“And you always managed to steal half of them,” you shot back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

For a while, it felt easy—almost normal. The tension that had weighed so heavily at the start of the conversation seemed to fade as you reminisced about old times. Tyler told you about the farm and the projects he’d been working on, and you found yourself laughing at his stories about the chickens escaping their pen and wreaking havoc in the garden.

When the food arrived, Tyler immediately reached across the table and snagged one of your fries, grinning mischievously as he popped it into his mouth.

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Consider it interest,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

As the meal wound down, the check arrived, and Tyler reached for it without hesitation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you said, grabbing for the small black folder.

“I got it,” Tyler said firmly, holding it just out of your reach.

“Tyler, I can pay for mine,” you insisted, leaning across the table in a futile attempt to snatch it.

He shook his head, his grin widening. “You can get the next one.”

“Next one?” you echoed, your cheeks flushing slightly.

He froze for a split second, realizing what he’d said. But instead of backtracking, he leaned forward, his expression softening. “Yeah. Next one.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t argue. Tyler slid his card into the folder and handed it to the waitress, who returned moments later with a receipt for him to sign.

As you stepped outside into the cool evening air, the world felt quieter. The neon sign buzzed faintly above you, casting a soft glow on the sidewalk.

Tyler walked beside you, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. You fell into step together, the sound of your footsteps the only noise between you.

When you reached your car, you paused, turning to face him. He stopped too, standing so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill in the air.

“Thanks for dinner,” you said softly.

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, Tyler reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand.

The simple gesture sent a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in years. You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling at the unspoken promise in his touch.

As you started to pull away, Tyler hesitated. His other hand lifted, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, and when his eyes met yours, they were filled with something quiet and certain.

“Can I—” he started, his voice catching, but you didn’t let him finish.

Instead, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if you were both testing the waters. But as Tyler tilted his head, his free hand moving gently to your waist, it deepened just enough to make your heart race.

When you finally pulled back, your faces were still close, your breath mingling in the cool night air. Tyler’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mixture of wonder and relief.

“Drive safe,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, though it carried the weight of so much more.

“You too,” you replied, your voice steady even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

As you climbed into your car and drove away, you couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror. Tyler stood there on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching until your taillights disappeared into the night.

For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel quite so uncertain.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst

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eepwtf · 1 month ago

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PUNISHABLE—soldier boy x catholic boy part 2

find part one here ⤷ part numero uno

warnings; religious guilt and themes, power dynamics, somnophilia, degradation and humiliation kink, jerking off to underwear (i think my boy has a fetish for that, ben lock your underwear drawer), handjobs, jerking each other off, blowjobs, (not lasting even a minute because first time blowjob, ben being a little shit about it) wc: 5.5k

“you’re such a fucking perv,” benjamin continued, his tone light, almost conversational, as though discussing the weather. “jerking off into my underwear like some desperate little bitch. did you think i wouldn’t notice?” he pressed harder, his hand gripping you through the fabric, and you couldn’t hold back the quiet whimper that escaped your lips.

“liar,” he sing-songs, his tone dripping with regalement. “you act like such a good little saint, all those prayers, all that piety—s’just a cover for the filthy little pervert hiding underneath.”

after that night, you couldn’t look at benjamin the same way. the memory of his hands on you, his voice low and coaxing, lingered like a brand burned into your skin. it churned in your gut, twisting and gnawing until it felt like your insides were corroding, eaten away by the acid of shame. each time you saw him—his easy smirk, the casual way he draped himself over the furniture, the faint smell of him that hung in the air—you felt your stomach turn, the shame rising thick and bitter in your throat.

you couldn’t stay in the room. the air felt too close, too full of him, his presence pressing against you like a weight you couldn’t bear. so you fled. the small catholic temple on campus became your refuge, though it offered no comfort. it was little more than a cramped chapel tucked into an old building, the stained glass faded and chipped, the pews scarred with years of scratches and carvings. the faint smell of candle wax and incense clung to the air, mingling with the scent of mildew from the damp stone walls. the temple became a tomb, and you were the corpse, rotting from the inside out.

you spent hours there, more time than you did in class or the dorm. you’d sit in the shadow of the crucifix, its weathered wood warped and splintering, staring up at the lifeless eyes of Christ as if begging him to look back. the silence was oppressive, heavy and suffocating, but it felt right—like the weight of your sin, tangible and inescapable. you sat for hours in the shadow of his body, staring at the weathered wood, splintering and warped, as if waiting for him to come alive and condemn you. his hands were outstretched, pierced and bleeding, his face frozen in agony. you imagined he looked at you with that same pain, that same accusation, and it broke something inside you.

you tried to pray, the rosary beads dug into your palms, leaving angry red marks that faded too quickly to feel like real penance. you clutched them tighter, grinding the crucifix into your skin until it almost bled, muttering the Act of Contrition until the words blurred together, but the guilt remained, festering like an open wound.

o my God, i am heartily sorry for having offended Thee... the words came out cracked and hollow, meaningless, swallowed up by the suffocating silence of the chapel. …because i dread the loss of heaven, and the pains of hell... but it was too late for heaven. ...but most of all because they offend Thee, my God...

the guilt felt like chains around your chest, tightening with every syllable, dragging you down into an abyss you could never climb out of. …who art all good and deserving of all my love. You didn’t deserve his love. you didn’t deserve anything.

you took to kneeling on the cold stone floor, refusing the comfort of the pews. the sharp bite of the stone against your knees felt like punishment, the only tangible way to feel the weight of your sins. sometimes you stayed there until your legs went numb, until the pain turned into a dull ache and then into nothingness. other times, you pressed your forehead to the ground, curling into yourself like a body at a wake, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

your whispered prayers became desperate, broken things, half-choked with sobs you tried to silence. “i’m sorry,” you’d mutter, over and over, your voice cracking. “God, i’m so sorry. please, forgive me.” but no forgiveness came. only silence.

at night, you dreamt of fire. the memory of benjamin played on an endless loop in your mind: his hands gripping you, his voice low and coaxing, the heat of his breath against your skin. it burned you from the inside out, an inferno you couldn’t escape. when you closed your eyes, you could still see the smirk on his face, the way his gaze had locked onto yours in the mirror. “such a pretty mess.” the words echoed in your skull, a taunt, a curse, a brand seared into your very soul. you felt it sinking into your flesh, carving itself into your bones. you’d wake up gasping, clawing at your skin, trying to scrape it away. but it was always there, a stain you couldn’t wash off.

you thought about confession, about spilling your sins to the priest behind the screen. but the idea of speaking the truth aloud, of hearing it in your own voice, made your stomach churn. The words “i touched myself, i wanted him, i wanted it” felt too filthy to utter, even in the privacy of the confessional. so you stayed silent.

the darkness festered inside you, growing like a sickness. you began to wonder if this was your punishment—not the fires of hell, but this slow, quiet decay. a part of you hoped it was, because it meant God was still watching, still listening, even if only to damn you.

and yet, no matter how much you prayed, no matter how deeply you knelt, the memory of benjamin lingered. his touch, his voice, his scent—they wrapped around you like chains, dragging you down. you were no longer yourself. you were a sinner, a vessel for guilt and shame, rotting in the shadow of the cross.

each day bled into the next, the hours merging into a haze of suffocating monotony. time slipped through your fingers like sand, gritty and coarse, leaving only the weight of your sins behind. the chapel became your entire world, a dim, crumbling sanctuary where you sought absolution and found only torment. you avoided your dorm, your classes, even the dining hall—anywhere benjamin might be. the thought of facing him, of seeing his smirk twist into something cruel or indifferent, made your chest seize.

still, he haunted you.

he was in every shadow, every flicker of light that danced on the stone walls. his voice lingered in the back of your mind, a low, mocking drawl that you couldn’t silence no matter how many Hail Marys you whispered. and the worst part? it wasn’t just shame you felt.

in the deepest recesses of your mind, where the guilt couldn’t reach, a darker truth festered. you wanted him. you still wanted him. the memory of his hands on you, the sound of his breath in your ear, the warmth of his body pressed close—it didn’t just torment you; it consumed you. late at night, you found yourself replaying it all in your mind, over and over. your body betrayed you in the quiet, a burning need rising up that you couldn’t suppress no matter how tightly you clutched the rosary, no matter how fervently you prayed for absolution.

the shame was unbearable, searing hot and cloyingly thick, but it wasn’t enough to stop the betrayal of your own body. your cock ached, straining against the fabric of your sweatpants, a constant reminder of your weakness. you rolled onto your side in your bed, clenching your fists, digging your nails into your palms until they left crescent-shaped marks. you whispered prayers under your breath, begging for the ache to subside, for your body to stop betraying you. but it didn’t.

it never did.

and then there was benjamin, sleeping across the room. the rise and fall of his chest, slow and steady, filled the small space with a rhythmic calm that only made your torment worse. the soft sighs he gave in his sleep, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed—it was maddening. you hated him for being so effortlessly beautiful, for existing in a way that made it impossible for you to look away.

your hand found its way to your cock before you could stop it, the need too overwhelming to resist. you pressed your face into the pillow, biting down hard to stifle the shameful sounds threatening to spill from your throat. your other hand clutched the rosary still tangled around your wrist, the beads biting into your skin as you stroked yourself, slow and deliberate, trying to stay quiet.

your eyes stayed fixed on him, on the faint glow of moonlight that traced the curve of his jaw, the soft shadows that played across his face. each breath he took seemed louder than the last, each shift of his body under the covers like a whisper meant only for you.

it was wrong. it was so fucking wrong. but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. the crucifix above your bed seemed to watch, its lifeless eyes boring into you as if condemning every shudder, every gasp, every sinful thought. you imagined Christ’s agony, his blood dripping from the crown of thorns, his body nailed to the cross for your sins—and here you were, defiling his sacrifice with every stroke, every filthy thought. it should have stopped you. it should have made you fall to your knees in repentance. but instead, it only made the guilt more unbearable, the shame more suffocating, until the pressure inside you broke. your lips moved in silent prayer even as your strokes quickened, the contradiction tearing you apart. "forgive me, Father," you whispered, your voice choked and broken. but even as you begged for absolution, your body craved release.

your gaze flicked to benjamin. he had shifted in his sleep, one arm flung above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin. the sight made your mouth go dry, your hips bucking into your fist as a low, shuddering moan escaped you. you imagined his hand replacing yours, his voice a low, mocking drawl coaxing you to give in. the thought alone sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breaths coming faster, more desperate. “ben,” you whispered, the name slipping past your lips before you could stop it. the sound felt sacrilegious, an invocation of something dark and forbidden.

the beads of the rosary dug deeper into your wrist, the pain grounding you even as your strokes grew frantic. pre-cum slicked your fingers, the wet sound obscene in the silence. the shame was suffocating, a thick, rancid weight that settled in your chest, but you couldn’t stop. your gaze stayed fixed on him, on the soft curve of his jaw, the soft fluttering of his lashes. the ache inside you swelled, sharp and consuming, until it was too much to bear. your body convulsed, thick spurts of cum spilling over your hand, your hips jerking against the mattress as you bit down hard on your pillow to muffle your cries.

the shame was instant and suffocating, crashing down on you like a wave. you froze, your body trembling as the reality of what you’d done settled over you like a shroud. benjamin stirred, a soft murmur escaping his lips as he shifted again, his face relaxing back into the peaceful stillness of sleep. you watched him, your heart pounding in your chest, and the weight of your sin crushed you.

you wiped your hand on the sheets, bile rising in your throat as the reality of what you’d done sank in. you whispered a broken prayer, the words cracking in your throat, and vowed never to give in again. but deep down, you knew the truth. you would.

the shame should have stopped you. it should have dragged you to your knees, should have compelled you to throw open the chapel doors and confess everything—every sinful thought, every wretched desire, every stroke of your hand that mocked the sanctity of your faith. and yet it didn’t.

the guilt had only festered, growing into something dark and rotten that you couldn’t contain. and now, hidden beneath your blankets in the suffocating quiet of your dorm, it had led you to this. benjamin’s underwear was clutched in your trembling hand. you’d stolen it—there was no other word for it—plucked it from his laundry basket earlier that day when the dorm was empty, your chest pounding with adrenaline and revulsion. you had told yourself you wouldn’t do anything, that you just wanted to hold it, to feel the weight of him, the scent of him.

but now, here you were, your cock throbbing in your palm, slick with pre-cum as you wrapped the soft fabric around yourself. it was warm from your grip, but not nearly as warm as you imagined it would be if benjamin were still wearing it. the thought sent a shiver through you, your hand tightening as you began to stroke yourself again, this time slower, more deliberate. the waistband of the underwear brushed against the sensitive head of your cock, and you bit down on your lip to stifle a groan.

in your mind, benjamin wasn’t asleep in his bed across the room. he was here, standing over you, wearing nothing but the underwear now wrapped around your cock. you imagined the way it would cling to him, the fabric stretched taut over his hips, his cock outlined against it. you imagined the heat of him, the weight of him pressing against your palm as you slid your hand beneath the waistband, your fingers brushing against his skin.

you imagined him smirking down at you, his voice low and mocking. "you couldn’t help yourself, could you?" he’d say, his tone dripping with condescension. "you’re so fucking desperate for me." your hips bucked at the thought, the motion jerking the fabric tighter around your cock. the shame clawed at you, hot and suffocating, but it only made the pleasure more acute, more overwhelming.

you closed your eyes, the image of benjamin vivid behind your eyelids. you imagined his cock hard against the fabric, slick with his own pre-cum, mixing with yours. you imagined the way he’d groan, low and guttural, as your cum spilled over the fabric, soaking it, staining it. your hand moved faster, the friction of the fabric almost too much, almost unbearable. the scent of him clung to your skin, faint but intoxicating, filling your lungs with every breath. it was wrong—God, it was so wrong—but you couldn’t stop.

"ah—fuck, ben," you whispered again, the word slipping out unbidden, dripping with need and desperation. the sound of his name on your lips sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your cum spilled over the stolen underwear, thick and hot and endless. for a moment, you couldn’t move. the shame was immediate, cold and biting, sinking into your chest like a blade. the crucifix on the wall seemed to loom closer, its lifeless eyes staring down at you in silent condemnation.

you looked at the mess in your hand, at the fabric now stained with your sin, and bile rose in your throat. you felt filthy, wretched, unworthy of the air you breathed. but even as the shame suffocated you, even as the bile threatened to spill, a darker thought twisted its way into your mind. you imagined slipping the underwear back into benjamin’s laundry basket, unwashed, unclean. you imagined him putting it on, feeling the dampness against his skin, not knowing—never knowing—that it wasn’t his sweat, but yours.

the morning light filtered through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room. you pretended to sleep, curled beneath your blanket as benjamin stirred in the bed across from you. your body felt heavy with the lingering weight of guilt, your stomach churning as the events of the night before replayed in vivid, shameful detail.

you could hear him moving around—footsteps padding softly across the room, the faint rustle of his laundry basket as he dug through it. your pulse quickened, a sick sort of dread rising in your chest as you realized what he was doing. you squeezed your eyes shut, your breathing shallow and uneven, your entire body tensed as you waited for the inevitable moment when he would find it. the underwear, his underwear. covered in your mess.

the sound of fabric being shifted stopped abruptly, and for a moment, there was silence. your heart pounded in your ears, so loud you were sure he could hear it, but you didn’t dare move. “fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, and your stomach twisted into knots.

you risked the smallest glance, peeking through your lashes just in time to see him holding the underwear up, his brow furrowed as he inspected the faint, crusted stains on the fabric. your breath hitched, panic clawing at your throat. he knows, you thought, the words ringing like a death knell in your mind. but then he shrugged, tossing the underwear onto his bed. “guess it’s just detergent or something,” he said to himself, his voice casual, unconcerned.

relief flooded through you, hot and dizzying, but it was short-lived. because then, to your absolute horror, he began to undress. you turned your face back into the pillow, your entire body trembling as you tried to feign sleep. but no amount of self-control could stop the way your breath quickened, the way your cock stirred traitorously beneath the blanket as you listened to the soft rustle of his shirt being pulled over his head, the faint thud of his sweats hitting the floor.

and then, the sound of him slipping on the underwear.

you couldn’t see him, but you didn’t need to. the image was burned into your mind: benjamin, his toned body half-dressed, the stolen underwear hugging his hips, clinging to him. you imagined the fabric pressing against his cock, damp and sticky with your dried release. “shit,” he muttered suddenly, a note of irritation in his voice.

and then, benjamin turned. you quickly shut your eyes, feigning sleep as your heart hammered in your chest. the sound of his footsteps grew louder, closer, until they stopped right beside your bed. “you awake, perv?” his voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

you didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch, praying he’d lose interest and go away. but instead, benjamin chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through the quiet room like a taunt. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” you felt the blanket shift, a slight tug as he pulled it down just enough to reveal your growing bulge. the cool air hit you, making your cock twitch beneath the thin fabric of your sweats, and you cursed yourself silently. “look at this,” benjamin murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. his palm pressed harder, rubbing against you through the fabric. you bit down on the inside of your cheek, struggling to suppress the gasp threatening to escape.

“can’t even keep it down in your sleep,” he said, palming you through the fabric. “what were you dreaming about, huh? was it me?” you wanted to die. you wanted to disappear, to sink into the mattress and never resurface. your hips shifted involuntarily, just slightly, into his touch. it was instinct, pure and pathetic, and you hated yourself for it. and oh, benjamin didn’t miss it. “oh, you like that, don’t you?” his fingers curled around the outline of your cock, stroking slowly, teasingly, as if to prove his point. the friction of your sweats and the heat of his hand made your entire body tense, a shudder running down your spine.

“bet you’d like it even more if i used my mouth,” he mused, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “or maybe my hand. would that make you feel better, freak?” your breaths came faster, shallow and uneven, as his hand moved with deliberate, maddening slowness. you could feel the heat of his palm, the friction of your sweats against your sensitive skin, and it was driving you insane. “you’re such a fucking perv,” benjamin continued, his tone light, almost conversational, as though discussing the weather. “jerking off into my underwear like some desperate little bitch. did you think i wouldn’t notice?” he pressed harder, his hand gripping you through the fabric, and you couldn’t hold back the quiet whimper that escaped your lips.

benjamin froze, his smirk audible even before you opened your eyes. “oh,” he said, dragging the word out, his voice dripping with mockery. “so you are awake.” you couldn’t help it; your eyes cracked open, just barely, and you met his gaze. his green eyes were bright with amusement, his smirk sharp and predatory. “figures,” he said, his voice soft and cutting. “couldn’t even keep up the act, could you?” before you could think of a response—or even move—benjamin’s hand moved again, his strokes deliberate, slow enough to make you squirm. you hated him, hated yourself, hated the unbearable heat pooling low in your stomach, but most of all, you hated that you didn’t want him to stop.

and then, to your shock and mounting arousal, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your sweats, his touch hot and unforgiving against your skin. benjamin’s smirk only widened as his fingers curled around your bare cock, stroking with a firm, teasing grip that made your breath hitch. he watched your face, his green eyes sharp with predatory amusement as he took in every twitch of your features, every shudder of your chest. “look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. “so fucking hard for me. bet you’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, haven’t you? jerking off into my underwear, imagining my mouth on your cock.”

the words sent a fresh wave of shame crashing over you, burning hot and stifling in your chest. the guilt churned, twisting your stomach into knots even as your hips bucked into his hand, completely betraying you. you felt trapped between the two warring parts of yourself—the part that wanted to resist, to run, and the part that wanted nothing more than to give in, to let him ruin you completely. “you know what your problem is?” ben said, his grip tightening just enough to make your vision blur. “you’ve been holding back, keeping all that tension bottled up. you’re so fucking repressed it’s almost sad.”

your throat tightened at the accusation, the words hitting a nerve you didn’t even realize was raw. he wasn’t wrong. every day spent in the chapel, every whispered prayer for forgiveness, every shame-fueled confession—it had all built into this. the weight of your own guilt loomed heavy over you, wrapping around your chest like a vice even as benjamin’s touch ignited a fire deep in your core. “you probably think this is a sin, don’t you?” he whispered, leaning in close enough that his breath was hot against your ear. “some terrible, shameful thing. but you don’t look very sorry to me.”

his voice was like a devil on your shoulder, coaxing you further into the abyss. your lips parted, a faint, broken sound escaping as his hand moved faster, slick with precum now, the obscene sounds of his strokes filling the air. “you’re not gonna pray your way out of this one, baby,” benjamin murmured, his tone mockingly sweet. “but don’t worry—i’ll take care of you. all you have to do is let me.” before you could process what was happening, he dropped to his knees, his smirk softening into something almost reverent as he looked up at you. the sight was enough to steal your breath—benjamin, kneeling between your legs, his hands on your thighs as he tugged your sweats down just enough to free your cock completely.

“fuck,” he muttered, his eyes darkening as he took you in. “look at you. so hard, so desperate. you’re fucking dripping, sweetheart.” you wanted to deny it, to shrink away from his words, but the evidence was undeniable. precum beaded at the tip, glistening in the soft morning light. benjamin’s thumb swiped over it, smearing it down the length of your cock, and you couldn’t hold back the broken sound that escaped your throat. he gripped your cock at the base, his hand firm and unyielding as he guided it toward his lips.

the first touch of his mouth was almost too much. his tongue flicked out, teasing the tip, before he took you in slowly, inch by maddening inch. the heat of his mouth was overwhelming, soft and wet and perfect, and your hands clenched the sheets in a futile attempt to ground yourself. “ben—” you choked out, your voice cracking as your head fell back against the pillow.

he hummed around you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. his eyes flicked up to meet yours, sharp and teasing, as he took you deeper, his throat constricting around you in a way that made your vision blur. “relax,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. his lips were slick and red, glistening with saliva and precum. “let me take care of you, sweetheart. just let go.”

you wanted to. God, you wanted to. guilt clawed at your chest, sharp and suffocating, as your mind flickered with memories of whispered sermons and fire-and-brimstone warnings. this was wrong. every touch, every flick of his tongue, every obscene sound he made was a nail in the coffin of your soul. but benjamin’s mouth was so hot, so wet, and his hands gripped your hips with a strength that kept you grounded, kept you present. “you’re thinking too much,” benjamin said, his voice low and commanding. “stop fighting it. just let me make you feel good.”

he didn’t give you a chance to argue, his mouth enveloping you again with a renewed determination. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he worked you over, his pace slow and deliberate, savoring every moment. you barely lasted a minute. the pressure built too quickly, the heat coiling tight in your stomach and shooting down your spine. your breaths came faster, shallow and desperate, and you tried to warn him, tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“don’t you dare,” he murmured, his voice muffled around you. “i want it. cum for me.” the command was your undoing. with a choked cry, you shattered, your hips jerking as you spilled into his mouth. stars burst behind your eyes, your entire body trembling as the release hit you like a tidal wave. benjamin didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch. he took everything you gave him, his throat working to swallow it down, his hands steady on your thighs as he held you through the aftershocks.

when he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his smirk impossibly smug as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “damn,” he said, his tone full of mockery and amusement. “came so fast i barely got started. guess all that religious repression really does a number on you, huh?” you buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning as fresh waves of shame crashed over you. But benjamin wasn’t done.

benjamin didn’t hesitate, tugging his sweats down in one smooth motion. the sight hit you like a punch to the gut. he was hard—thick, flushed, and straining against the fabric of the underwear you’d stolen just last night. your stomach churned when you noticed the faint, crusted stain near the waistband, the humiliating evidence of your lack of control.

“unbelievable,” benjamin said, his lips curling in disgusted amusement as he ran a hand over the bulge. “you actually came in my underwear.” he let out a short, derisive laugh, holding the elastic band out so you could see the stain more clearly. “for this?” He shook his head, the smirk tugging at his lips making your stomach flip. heat rose to your face, shame and arousal twisting together into a nauseating cocktail. you tried to look away, but your body betrayed you again, your cock twitching faintly despite the raw, overstimulated ache still pulsing through you.

“oh, no,” ben said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low timbre. “don’t you dare act embarrassed now. not after everything.” His green eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unyielding. “you’re into this, aren’t you?” you shook your head weakly, your voice caught in your throat, but benjamin wasn’t buying it. “liar,” he sing-songs, his tone dripping with regalement. “you act like such a good little saint, all those prayers, all that piety—s’just a cover for the filthy little pervert hiding underneath.” before you could muster a response, Benjamin grabbed your sweats and yanked them the rest of the way down, leaving you completely bare beneath him. his gaze swept over you, predatory and hungry, and your stomach flipped at the way his lips curled into a smirk. “you’re hard again,” he pointed out, his voice thick with amusement. “didn’t even give yourself a minute to recover, huh? you really are desperate.”

benjamin stepped back just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of the said stolen (and stained) underwear, dragging them down his legs with an exaggerated slowness that had your pulse hammering in your ears. when his cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, your breath caught. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered without thinking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“close,” benjamin quipped, his grin widening into something wicked. “but i don’t think He’s gonna save you now.” he wrapped a hand around himself, his thumb swiping over the head to gather the bead of precum there. his gaze flicked to you, his smirk deepening when he saw the way your eyes lingered.

“guess i can’t blame you for wanting me so bad,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “look at what you’ve done to me.” he gestured vaguely to his cock, his hand stroking slowly, deliberately, as if to taunt you further. the heat of his body was overwhelming as he climbed onto the bed, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your thighs. the heat of his body was overwhelming, his cock hovering just above yours, so close you could feel the faint pulse of it. the sight of him straddling you, his lips twisted into that infuriating smirk, was enough to make your breath hitch.

“i should make you clean up your mess,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, sending a shiver down your spine. “wouldn’t that be fair?” you swallowed hard, unable to respond. your mouth was dry, your mind spinning, every nerve in your body alight with tension. “but,” he continued, leaning down until his face was only inches from yours, “i think i’ve got a better idea.”

before you could process what was happening, benjamin reached down, his hand wrapping around your cock again. his grip was firm and confident, his thumb brushing over the sensitive head in a way that made your hips jerk involuntarily. then, to your absolute shock, he shifted, pressing his cock against yours. the heat of him, the weight of him—thick and pulsing beside you—sent a bolt of arousal shooting through you so intense it made your vision blur. benjamin hummed, clearly enjoying your reaction, as he wrapped his hand around both of you, his fingers curling tightly to hold you together.

“fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and strained as he began to move. his hand stroked the length of both of you in a slow, maddening rhythm, the friction electric. the slick mix of precum made the slide effortless, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

your head fell back against the pillow, a choked sound escaping your throat as the pleasure built quickly, overwhelming you. benjamin’s gaze stayed locked on your face, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he took in every twitch of your features, every broken gasp that slipped past your lips. “look at you,” he murmured, his tone thick with mockery. “so fucking desperate. you’re not even trying to hold back, are you? just letting me ruin you completely.

you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but the words caught in your throat, tangled up in a mess of shame and arousal. your hips bucked helplessly into his hand, chasing the friction despite the raw ache of overstimulation. “s’not true,” you choked out, your voice weak and trembling.

ben laughed, low and derisive. “no? then why are you fucking into my hand like a goddamn slut?” his words cut deep, but the pleasure was overwhelming, drowning out everything else. the tension coiled tight in your stomach, building faster than you could control. benjamin’s grip tightened, his strokes growing firmer, rougher, as if he could sense how close you were. “pathetic,” benjamin said, his voice a low, teasing growl. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? can feel it—feel how close you are.” he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “do it. make a fucking mess. show me how much you need this.”

his words pushed you over the edge. with a low groan, your body tensed, your release hitting you like a tidal wave. hot, sticky ropes spilled across your stomach and benjamin’s hand, the sensation so intense it left you trembling beneath him.

but he didn’t stop, his hand stroking both of you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last ounce of your pleasure. his own breathing grew heavier, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as his hips jerked forward. a moment later, he came, his cum mixing with yours in a sticky mess across your stomach and his hand.

for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing. benjamin sat back slightly, his chest heaving as he looked down at the mess between you. “well,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “guess you weren’t the only one who couldn’t hold back.” you groaned, your cheeks burning as you turned your face away, but benjamin only laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to your jaw. “don’t worry,” he murmured. “i think it’s cute.”

#eepwtf’s works ! ( •)▄︻テحكـ━一💥#x male smut #x male reader #top x bottom #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x male reader #catholic guilt #religious trauma #catholic boy #soldier boy x reader

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strawchocoberry · 24 days ago

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KISS UNDER THE MISTLETOE

They say, “All good boys go to heaven.” But bad boys bring heaven to you.

New Year’s Eve finds you at the house of a dear friend, surrounded by your beloved friends, chatting, eating and drinking, as you await for the new year to arrive. Just a small gathering of good friends.

And while everyone is marvelling and discussing the present their secret santa brought them, he finds his chance to sneak you out of the living room. The devilish smirk on his lips tells you all you need to know; this demon has one last trick up his sleeve as the year is nearing its end.

He pulls you to an empty hallway, away from prying eyes. You don’t have the time to even ask what he’s planning, when you feel his hands sliding up the skirt of your dress. You watch him completely frozen as he tears a hole into your tights, your eyes darting towards the lively party, scared that someone might walk in after hearing the sound.

“Don’t worry,” he purrs in your ear, biting your earlobe. “They can’t hear a thing with the music.”

“What are you…” Your sentence trails off as your eyes widen, watching him slide your panties to the side and kneel down.

“We’re under a mistletoe,” he says cockily, kissing your inner thigh, while pointing at the mistletoe hanging on the light above your heads. “I gotta kiss your lips.”

Blushed, you reply, “I don’t think that’s how it’s done.”

“Nobody said which set of lips I gotta kiss.”

You want to smack him, but you can’t. He buries his face between your thighs, eating you out shamelessly, not caring if someone passes by and sees you. You cover your mouth with your hands, trying to muffle your moans.

It’s only when you start hearing the commotion, the telltale sign that the countdown is going to start soon. He’s quick to get back on his feet. You think you’ll return to the living room, even though you’re too frustrated he got you worked up but didn’t let you finish. Before you can even move to leave, he kisses you, pinning you against the wall, letting you taste yourself on him.

You hear the unmistakable sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers and you tense. You look at him pleadingly and he meets your gaze with his arrogant, challenging one. You feel him rub his cock on your glistening folds. But even if you wanted to push him away, he’s too strong, holding you captive, trapped between his solid body and the hard wall.

He pushes the crown of his cock onto your hole, but not yet pushing it in, just teasing you. He kisses your neck and you hate how he’s got you turned on, all wrapped up around his finger—his cock—loving how you start to grind your hips against him, trying to take him into your aching pussy.

He thrusts inside you, his hands holding your waist, as his kiss devours your moans. Your little cunt is gripping him so tightly, he feels he might cum right now. But first, he needs to finish what he started earlier—when he started eating you out, only to leave you hanging on the verge of your impending orgasm.

The countdown begins a few minutes later.

“10… 9… 8… 7…”

He kisses your neck, as you bite your lip against your moans and whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely registering over the chaos in the living room.

“6… 5… 4…”

You feel your orgasm reaching its peak, him having to kiss you to prevent you from screaming his name as he fucks you straight into the new year.

“3… 2… 1…”

You hear fireworks signalling the start of the new year. But you’re too lost in your own explosion, shuddering against him, as your orgasm floods your body like a tidal wave. You want to be mad, but your mind is too lost in your orgasmic bliss to properly glare at him.

“Happy new year, my love,” he whispers on your lips with his signature cocky smirk.

“Happy new year, bastard,” you retort breathlessly, kissing him again.

michael kaiser . shidou ryusei . oliver aiku . otoya eita . hoshina soshiro . narumi gen . umemiya hajime . togame jo . endo yamato . kiryu mitsuki . gojo satoru . geto suguru . hirako shinji . kyoraku shunsui . jin marito . sakamaki ayato . sakamaki laito . cú chulainn . chris redgrave . ichinose guren . nicholas d. wolfwood . andy . miyama kirishima . tartaglia . wriothesley . jiaoqiu . aventurine . sampo + your favourites <3

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moonlight-joy · 22 days ago

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The Return of the Black Dread

Fandom: House of Dragon

Request: @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna - Would love to see all their reactions when she lands with the black dread.

Part 2 of The Call of the Black Dread

Pairing: None

When Balerion’s massive wings cast their shadow over Driftmark, the world seemed to hold its breath. The roar of the Black Dread thundered across the night, shaking the very stones of the castle and silencing every voice. Those gathered for Laena Velaryon’s funeral turned their eyes skyward, frozen in awe and terror. The largest dragon the world had ever known was no longer a memory or a relic—he was alive, flying once more.

The courtyard erupted in shouts as the mighty dragon descended. His wings stirred the air like a tempest, sending ripples through the gathered crowd. The ground trembled beneath his landing, the weight of him a visceral reminder of the power that had returned. The Black Dread loomed over them, his golden eyes glowing like molten fire as he surveyed the humans below. For a moment, no one moved, paralyzed by the sheer enormity of what they were witnessing.

Rhaenyra was the first to break the silence, her expression a mixture of shock, pride, and fear. Her hands tightened on her gown, her breath catching in her throat as she watched you dismount. Her daughter—her child—was astride the dragon of legends, a sight that no one had dared to dream possible.

“You…” she whispered, stepping forward, her voice trembling. “You did this?”

You met her gaze with calm conviction, your heart still racing from the bond you had claimed. “I answered his call, Mother. He was waiting for me.”

Rhaenyra stared at you, her emotions warring between pride and fear. Finally, she reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You have done what no one thought possible,” she said, her voice heavy with meaning. “The Black Dread flies again… and he answers to you.”

Nearby, Daemon’s reaction was far different. A slow grin spread across his face, wild and dangerous, as he approached the towering dragon. He was one of the few who dared to come close, his violet eyes gleaming with something between awe and excitement.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself, niece,” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. “Balerion. I never thought I’d see him again.”

He stepped closer to you, his gaze sharp and knowing. “Do you realize what this means? What you’ve done?”

“I do,” you replied steadily, your voice carrying the weight of what you knew to be true.

Daemon laughed, the sound rich and dark as it echoed across the courtyard. “Good,” he said, glancing back at the massive dragon. “Because the world is about to change.”

The gathered nobles, lords, and Velaryons stood motionless, their faces pale with shock. Lord Corlys, the Sea Snake, stepped forward cautiously, his calculating eyes fixed on you. His voice, usually so confident, was hushed and wary. “The Black Dread… how is this possible? He was thought long gone.”

“He was waiting,” you said simply. “Waiting for his rider.”

Corlys hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Then the realm will have much to discuss.” His words were deliberate, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he calculated what your bond with Balerion meant for the balance of power.

Above the cliffs, Aemond returned astride Vhagar, his laughter ringing through the night. But the sound died the moment he saw you. His smug grin vanished, replaced by a look of shock and disbelief as his gaze locked on Balerion. Vhagar growled low, her wings flaring as if sensing the presence of a greater predator.

Aemond’s single violet eye widened, and his grip on Vhagar’s reins tightened. “What have you done?” he shouted, his voice straining to sound confident.

You turned toward him, your posture unyielding as you met his gaze. “I have claimed what was always meant to be mine.”

His lips curled into a sneer, but there was no mistaking the flicker of unease in his expression. “You think this changes anything? Vhagar answers to me now.”

“And Balerion answers to me,” you said, your voice calm but cutting. “Tell me, Aemond—do you truly think there’s any comparison?”

Balerion’s roar split the air, louder and more powerful than anything Driftmark had ever known. The sound seemed to shake the very heavens, and Vhagar shifted uneasily beneath Aemond, her great form recoiling slightly. Aemond’s bravado faltered as he realized the truth: he might have claimed Vhagar, but you had claimed something far greater.

He turned Vhagar sharply, the great dragon hesitating before taking flight. Aemond did not look back, his departure marked by the tremble of a boy who had once thought himself invincible.

As the crowd slowly regained its senses, the atmosphere shifted from shock to awe. You dismounted and stepped back onto Driftmark’s soil, your feet barely steady after the whirlwind of claiming the Black Dread. The air was electric, heavy with the weight of what had just transpired.

“Balerion and I,” you corrected when Rhaenyra murmured his name, your voice steady but filled with quiet triumph. “We are one now.”

The news of that night spread faster than wildfire, reaching every corner of the realm. Lords and smallfolk alike spoke in hushed tones of the young Targaryen who had brought the Black Dread back into the skies. The Velaryons whispered of power reborn, and the Targaryen camp grew more emboldened. The Greens, meanwhile, spoke with growing unease of what Balerion’s return could mean. The return of the Black Dread was a roar of defiance, a proclamation that the blood of Valyria still burned strong.

As you stood among your family, the Black Dread towering protectively behind you, one truth was undeniable: nothing would ever be the same again.

Please support my work with like and comment

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #asoiaf #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #hotd #asoiaf fanfic #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 3 months ago

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Collars of Duty 2

Hybrid!Simon x reader

- Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Just as you're thinking that things might work out a medical emergency occurs. You find yourself confronted with Simon's injuries and an impossible choice.

~4k Words

Content: medical inaccuracies, description of seizure, fainting, discussion of wounds, discussion of wounds sustained during sexual abuse, mention of sexual abuse, talk of hybrids being put down, mentions of suicide, reader is being mean to themselves in their thoughts

One moment you’re rambling, trying to get Simon to relax more, the next his eyes suddenly go unfocused and he starts swaying in the spot he’s been glued to for the past few minutes. He shakes his head but that only seems to make his apparent dizziness worse. His unfocused eyes search the room and land on you. More or less on you, because he seems unable to focus them. What is going on? Then he almost silently crumbles to the floor.

It’s so anticlimatic it almost startles an overwhelmed laugh out of you. You’d expect a body as big as his to make a loud noise when fainting but he seems to soften his own fall before he is truly out.

You’re still looking at him but your thoughts are starting to race. What are you supposed to do? How did this just happen? What did you learn about first aid?

Then his body starts to convulse and immediately you’re on your knees by his side. Oh shit, you are so not prepared for this. You have to scoot back a bit so he doesn’t bump into you and terror floods your veins.

You wish you were back in bed, still on leave. This is not how you wanted to come back to work and you can feel tears starting to swim in your eyes as you frantically look Simon over trying to guess what you can do to help. The only good thing about the bare room is that there’s no furniture he could hit and injure himself further with.

“We need a doctor here!” You barely recognize your own voice. Violently it tears through your throat, panicked. What should you do? You don’t have the necessary training to help him and the way his eyes are rolling makes sweat bead on your hairline. Your hands are hovering in the air uselessly.

“Doctor! Doctor!” You scream again because no one immediately reacts and panic starts to fill your lungs at the way Simon’s body moves. You hate it. The helplessness and the way you can only kneel there and watch his body contort and convulse. It looks painful even through your blurry vision. You want to look somewhere else so you don’t have to watch it but you can’t move.

“Please, help!” Screaming hurts, it feels like the sheer hysteria will rip your vocal chords and finally, after what feels like forever, the door gets yanked open and two nurses rush into the cell. Liz is by your side as soon as the nurses are by Simon’s. Her hands pressing firmly against your shoulders, trying to tether you to reality.

“They’ll take care of him. It’s okay. It’s okay.” She tries to soothe you and you watch two nurses turn Simon onto his side as soon as he stops convulsing. You’re still frozen watching them work calmly but hurriedly and you look at Liz with all the helplessness you feel. Simon’s lifeless body burnt into your mind. Was that your fault?

Did you do this? Your brain desperately replays every second you spent in there with him but you only talked to him? Was there a way to trigger a seizure like this with words?

When they put the big hybrid on a stretcher and quickly make their way from the cell you’re on their heels immediately. This is your hybrid, your charge. Sometime between first hearing about him on the phone and him collapsing you have decided to take him under your wing. It wasn’t even a conscious decision, but the feeling of responsibility is unmistakably there.

The medical staff that transports Simon to the hospital wing of the building is moving so fast that you have to run to keep up with them. At least now your heart has a reason to beat as hectically as it does. Vaguely you realize that Liz is following you too and before you know what’s happening you’ve arrived at your destination.

Simon is transported through a double door that swings shut behind them and when you try to push through another nurse steps into your way.

“You’re not allowed to come in here. Please wait outside.” She says in a kind voice that brooks no arguments and you really have no choice but to listen. What could you do anyway?

You turn back towards the long hallway that leads to the doors. The only splash of color against the sterile white walls is Liz, who approaches you and leads you to the chairs. They’re just as white as the rest of the hallway that has multiple other corridors, all equally as white, branching off. With gentle insistence she presses you down into one.

You sit down without any fight. That just happened. The hybrid did collapse while you were in there with him. They called you in to help him and already you had messed up.

A warm hand finding your back and starting to stroke up and down startles you from your thoughts. Liz’ hand feels soothing and you turn to her.

“They’ll help him. It will be okay. I’m sorry that you had to come back to such a mess.” She says and you can see in her eyes how much she regrets how things are going.

You shake your head. “It’s certainly not the way I would have hoped my comeback goes. But it will be fine.” Whether you’re soothing Liz or yourself, you’re not sure but you even manage a weak smile.

“You were my best bet. They want him put down and the other handlers don’t have the capacity for the care that a case like his needs. And they didn’t exactly jump at the prospect of working with a deranged killer.”

You press your lips together and nod. She’s wrong though. Everything that happened before Simon collapsed doesn’t point to a crazy killer hybrid. Just one who went through something extremely traumatic. He needs time and help.

Or are you wrong? Was he just relatively docile because he was so exhausted? Maybe he is indeed lost and your instinct is off. You’d never questioned your instincts before. But everything that happened with Phillip has knocked most of your confidence right out of you. Maybe the others were right and letting him go would be merciful to him and prevent further harm.

You don’t know how long you sit there listening to Liz trying to soothe you and while you’re trying to collect your thoughts until a nurse approaches you through another hallway.

“You came in with the hybrid?” He asks and immediately you perk up nodding. Any news on Simon would help you to feel better at this point. Just knowing something instead of sitting here and cooking up the worst scenarios in your head would be enough to calm your shaking hands.

“Who is his handler?” His second question comes and you pause for just a second.

Technically you haven’t yet signed the paperwork. Technically Simon isn’t your charge yet and realistically speaking you shouldn’t feel this responsible for him already. But you do. You know damn well you won’t leave him. Not when no one else wants to be his handler and everyone else who has a say is ready to put him down.

You can feel Liz hard stare on you when you answer firmly. “I am.”

The nurse crouches down before your sitting form and you find that it feels good for him to get to your level. You still don’t know all the hospital staff even though you spent almost a week here after the incident with Phillip. But you know that you trust them and they’re the ones who put you back on your feet. So they will help Simon too. They have to.

“They’re currently examining him.” His smooth voice immediately puts you at ease. “He probably had the seizure because of the severe starvation he went through which lead to dangerous levels of hypoglycemia. They will take care of that as soon as they can, they might already be as we’re speaking. But he has suffered many wounds and they’re currently trying to figure out the extent of the damage done to his body.”

You breathe deeply, your churning tummy settling some. They’re helping him. He will probably be okay. Please let him be okay.

Then the guilt slams into you anew. You vaguely had been aware of how bad of a shape he was in but you had prioritized making him feel safe over his physical health and look where it brought him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You should have known better. You should have been able to correctly assess the situation and act accordingly. You should have made sure that he immediately got medical care. You should not have spent those precious minutes yapping away.

You miss the rest of what the nurse says but as soon as he’s gone again Liz grabs your hands and more or less forcibly turns you towards her a bit.

“Stop that.” She demands.

You meet her eyes. “What do you mean?”

She raises her eyebrow and purses her lips in her ‘don’t test me’ way. “That. Blaming yourself for stuff that isn’t your fault.”

You shake your head. “I should have known better Liz. I have worked with so many hybrids; I should have made the right call and immediately talked him into going to the doctor. I should have known better. I should have been better. I-”

“Uh, no I’m gonna stop you right there. Let’s imagine you did. Let’s imagine you immediately tried talking him into that. He might have freaked and attacked you. He might have refused. It might have caused further distress or even made him go even more animal. You do not know and you cannot shame yourself for doing what you assumed was the best.”

Her eyes are set on you and you look at her for a while. It’s quiet in the hallway. The center rarely has medical emergencies of Simon’s scale. The worst that usually happens are slight wounds from hybrids playing too rough or people falling over their own feet and scraping their knees.

You’re pretty sure the last medical emergency had been you and it’s been weeks since then. Still the medical staff here consists of very competent doctors and nurses. The next hospital is a few cities over so the hospital wing of the rehab center is big enough and well equipped to deal with all sorts of medical emergencies and non-emergencies.

You smile weakly at Liz. “You know, my therapist would be proud of your little speech.”

Her chuckle at your answer is relieved. “I think I like your therapist. Maybe you should introduce us so we can gang up on you.”

It feels good to joke, it makes the situation more bearable and you find yourself bantering with Liz. It helps to at least ignore the worry until the nurse approaches again.

“The hybrid is in room 141. The doctor in charge of him would like a word with you before you can go to his room.”

You slowly stand up and Liz is about to join you but you stop her. “I know you have work to do. You don’t have to babysit me just because it’s my first day back and things are a little difficult.”

She seems hesitant. “Are you sure? I know how sudden and overwhelming this must be for you. Especially with how everything is going.”

You try to go for a reassuring nod. You were capable of doing this. Maybe it was hard but you could try to see it as your baptism of fire after your long absence.

“I’ll be fine. And I’ll come to your office later.” As much as you appreciated Liz being there with you, you had to prove to yourself that you could still handle situations like this.

Reluctantly Liz leaves and you follow the nurse to the doctor’s office, heart hammering in your throat. He excuses himself and closes the door behind you and you try to wipe your sweaty palms on your pants as discretely as possible.

The office is a small rectangular room with both walls on the sides covered by big shelves that burst with files, books and papers. A broad desk stands in the middle and behind that the doctor is sitting signing one last paper before looking at you. Behind her a poster hangs on the wall that seems to have some details on the anatomy of hybrid ears.

She’s a beautiful woman and you know from previous interactions that she may care more about the hybrids than anyone else who works at the center. Being in her presence is slightly weird. The last time you saw her, you were a patient. Her sigh is heavy and her gaze serious as she braces her elbows on the desk, folds her hands and looks at you.

“So you’re his handler?” She asks without preamble and her tone paired with her expression almost makes you retract. You straighten up and swallow. Oh today was not a small talk kind of day for her it seems.

Your reaction to her words seems to soften her and she slightly shakes her head, gives you a smile and points at the chair in front of her desk almost apologetically.

“Sorry, take a seat. That’s my emergency room tone. Didn’t mean to unleash that on you. I heard they brought you in from medical leave especially for him?” She says and this time her voice is conversationally. You feel yourself relax.

You take a seat, and nod. “Yeah, I arrived shortly before he collapsed. I tried to calm him down and before I could talk to him about coming to the hospital he had the seizure.”

She presses her lips together for a moment and then smiles almost sadly. “Him collapsing was probably a mixture of the blood loss, the starvation and the adrenaline finally leaving his system because that must have been the only thing keeping him on his feet in his condition.”

Blood loss? You hadn’t seen any actively bleeding wounds that would have been big enough to cause blood loss severe enough to make him faint. You look at her questioningly and she sees that as your invitation to keep talking.

“I did a medical examination as well as a small operation and as his handler you have the right to know about it. I think you should know about it in this case.”

Oh you really needed to sign those papers or you could get into deep shit for sitting in this office before doing so. The hectic beating of your heart echoes in your ears but you don’t want to wait and go through the whole procedure of signing the papers now. You want to know what she has to say so you incline your head in agreement.

There is a slight hesitation, which reminds you of Liz’ call just a few hours earlier, before she goes on. “I guess there’s no nice way to say this. So I’ll just give you the facts.”

You brace yourself for what is to come, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“He suffered severe wounds and we’re lucky the small internal bleeding I found was so slow or he would have died before even arriving here. We managed to stop it. That is one of his newest wounds because if it had been older than a few hours it would have killed him.”

She goes over the paper on her desk and rattles on. “Four ribs on his left are slightly broken, his pinky and ring finger on the right are broken. We have bruises of varying severity all over his body along with wounds in all stages of healing. Some of the cuts on his face needed stitches one shows slight signs of inflammation but I think it should be fine.”

Her next inhale is measured and somehow you know what will follow will be even worse. “He also has internal and external ruptures.”

You cock your head, confused. What did she mean? “I thought he only had one small internal wound that you fixed? Cuts don’t count as ruptures, right?”

Her expression becomes sympathetic as if she doesn’t want to break the news to you and cold dread settles in your tummy, it makes your hands clammy all over again and you wish you could just leave and let someone else have this conversation in your stead. She couldn’t mean… No. Please it was already bad enough. Not-

“The ruptures are anal and rectal. There are some in relatively early stages of healing along with older scars. Without him saying what happened I cannot be a hundred percent certain but if I had to guess… he got sexually abused during the torture.”

Suddenly you feel sick, pressing your hand to your mouth trying not to cry. You can’t even imagine what Simon went through and your resolve to be his handler hardens to unbreakable steel. The doctor’s expression is incredibly soft as she fishes a paper out of the stack and shows it to you.

Hectically your eyes scan the vague words. Nothing that can’t be twisted so it doesn’t sound like the request to put him down that it evidently is.

“He’s the one they wanted put down.”

You already knew that but along with all the other info you suddenly feel dizzy it’s all too much and you feel like you’ll spiral until you harshly remind yourself that this is not about you. This is about Simon and you can damn well hold yourself together until you can find a toilet and break down in private.

She gives you the time it takes you to gather yourself again and then delivers the next blow. “As his handler it’s your decision for now. The request only came in because of what happened with the soldiers but if you say it was an accident and Simon can be helped, he won’t be put down. I think you should decide soon. He’s currently asleep and probably will be for a few hours more but it would be cruel to let him wake up just to put him to sleep again.”

It makes you angry, the way she says it. As if it’s peaceful and nice. As if she isn’t talking about putting him down like an animal. But you’re also aware that she is only playing her part in this and putting the hybrids down is never her decision.

One peek at her face has you questioning whether she chose those words for you or herself. As the head doctor she’s the one tasked with putting a hybrid down when it comes to it. Suddenly you almost pity her.

So you nod at her and stand up ready to tell her that she won’t have to put him down but she speaks before you can.

“Think about it.” She looks around as if to make sure you’re alone in the room before she continues. “I think we both resent that sometimes the center is above the law but consider his feelings. I’ve seen one too many cases where a hybrid became suicidal after only a fraction of what happened to him and-“ Her eyes start glistening traitorously. “- if he chooses that then ... my way would be painless at least.”

Her words rattle you to your bones but you can’t even fault her, or get angry. You cannot even imagine what it feels like to treat a hybrid after attempting to escape life only to watch them succumb to their wounds anyway.

So instead of immediately answering you excuse yourself ready to leave the office. The air is too heavy, stifling and the responsibility nearly suffocates you.

She extends her hand to you. You shake it and for a moment you lock eyes. It feels weird, like the short intense talk you just had connects you more than any of the small talk you’ve shared in the cafeteria before.

As you go to leave the room she is already back to studying papers and working on her computer so you close the door as silently as possible, leaning against it for a moment to just breathe. Taking that opportunity to remind yourself that you can do this. You can do this.

Finding Simon’s room is easy enough and when you enter to go to his bedside you finally let the first tears drip. It feels good to let it out. And your therapist would tell you that it’s important to let the tears out or you’ll drown in them.

You just met him but everything in you hurts for the big hybrid and everything he might have been through. The tears keep coming and you get a chair to sit down next to him.

Everything is wrong. He shouldn’t look small but he does. Small and pale as he rests between the pristine sheets and you want to scream. He doesn’t deserve any of this. He doesn’t belong into a hospital bed with a drip connected to him.

The nasogastric tubing that ensure he gets a steady supply of nutrients that won’t overwhelm his exhausted body along with the monitor steadily beeping along next to his bed remind you, that he’s taken care of for now.

It’s a while before your tears stop and when you blow your nose you feel marginally better. That’s something. You had the moment for yourself so now it’s time to concentrate on the big hybrid.

You consider talking to him again because it seemed to help earlier when he was awake but you don’t know what to tell him. What are you supposed to say, when you have already failed him during your very first meeting?

Seeing the stitches on some of the cuts on his face make them look even worse and you remind yourself that it’s proof that he’s one step closer to getting better.

Time is lost on you while you sit beside him and your phone ringing makes you flinch. You get it from your pocket and seeing Liz number reminds you of the promise you made earlier, to go and meet her.

“Hey.” You’re sure she can hear the guilt in your voice and her laughter coming through is like cool water over a burn that you didn’t even know you needed.

“It’s fine, I knew you wouldn’t leave his side any time soon. How is he?”

You brush your hand down your face, suddenly aware of your exhaustion. “He seems to be stable. The doc said he’ll probably wake up in a few hours.”

That reminds you of the weight of the decision over his life resting on your shoulders, the doctor’s earlier words ringing in your ears. As much as she made you hesitate in her office, you’re sure how you should decide. Even if he ended up rather wanting to die, it is not your call to make.

It is no ones. Once more you grit your teeth over how warped your own thoughts sometimes got in here. The doc had meant it well, you’re sure and she’d had her own reasons for her argumentation but you could not, would not lose Simon without giving him a fighting chance.

As you talk some more with Liz your decision hardens until it is set in stone. But in the end it doesn’t matter because even after more than twelve hours pass, morning turning into afternoon turning into evening, Simon is still not waking up.

#the sewer writes #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #hybrid!simon #hybrid!simon x reader #simon x reader #ghost x reader #hybrid!ghost #hybrid au #handler reader #hybrid!simon riley x reader #hybrid simon riley #hybrid simon x reader #hybrid ghost x reader

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eylih · 4 months ago

Note

Something I'd like to add is the comments about the way the Northuldra look is litteraly pointless. Sámi people aren't a monolith in appearance, they have different groups; with a simple search you can see there is white Sámi and others who are more similar to the Northuldra group from F2, especially in older pictures.

I know the novels aren't exactly canon but it was mentionned in Dangerous Secrets that there are different Northuldra groups in the forest (like the actual Saami) and that Iduna was adopted by the F2 group after her own was wiped off, which explains why she doesn't look like them. Though it might not count as canon, it's actually a good and realistic explanation that (I think) respect the Sámi people.

Also, some people tend to forget that Agnarr was a kid who had no idea what his father's true intentions were. He didn’t know about the colonization part and it's not like he tried to follow Runeard's actions. I'm gonna mention the novel again but the movie alone did a decent job at portraying Arendelle as the colonizer it is. Who knows? Maybe all of this will be discussed more in the next movies.

Indeed, I've never seen any Sámi person complained about Frozen 2—maybe I'm not on that side of internet. I'm one myself but I'm carribbean, an afro-descendent (and colonization we know it well) ane although I think it could have been done better (like giving the full Northuldras a bigger role in their own liberation), I don't think the movie is inherently racist. It's quite simplify but it's still a good depiction of colonization and avoids the white savior trope.

I'm not gonna yap about how actually racist the treatment of the Northuldra by a part of this fandom is cause I already have and it's not the subject lmao

Yeah, at this end of the day, Sámi voices are the only ones that actually matter

I occasionally come across posts that claim that Frozen 2 is racist. One example being is Iduna herself, how she was retconned to be indigenous despite her white presenting self. Another is a video I saw on TikTok saying how they had her marry Aganrr aka her colonizer (even though I sincerely doubt Agnarr would follow what Runeard tried to do her people). And another time I saw a Youtube comment saying how the Northuldra are not Saami but Native Americans cosplaying as Saami.

I've said this before, but I'll reiterate my main viewpoints when it comes to this topic because the response was back in 2022, so might as well refresh it.

My viewpoint on this topic is this -

If you are not Sámi, then I don't think it is appropriate to speak on how well the representation was done. We should let the Sámi voice their own opinions, and not try to interject our own biases or talk over them. This goes for both negative and positive comments.

I understand where people are coming from here. All they want is to make sure that a group of people are being represented well and respected. They want to be sure that Disney is not just trying to cash in on a half-assed job at representation at the expense of a group that was often marginalized, discriminated against, and colonized.

However, I do think that when we try to defend on behalf of others, we often create problems that were not considered one in the first place, due to our own biases. What do I mean?

I often bring @hb-pickle's post (linked below), where she emailed Professor Veli-Pekka Lehtola, one of the people on the Sámi Advisory group that helped work on F2. He gave incredible insight on the development of F2, and was very happy with the work they did and the treatment they received.

He mentions within his response three main concerns they had during development.

That Yelena was a villain at first.

That the Northuldran attire was at first even more vague than it is now, and looked more like a non-specific arctic attire.

That the Reindeers were running in a circle at the end, as this was not realistic.

You can read the original response to see more details on these and how the team navigated them.

Out of these three issues - not one of them is about Iduna saving and marrying her 'colonizer', or about Iduna presenting white. These issues are things that are brought up mostly by western audiences. Thus, western audiences are creating a problem , and thus speaking over the group they are trying to protect.

In fact, even the film team did this to some extent. With the second issue that I mentioned above, the film team explained to the advisors that the reason they did not want to specifically represent Sami clothing and colors with the Northuldra, is because they did not want to 'culturally appropriate' them.

Thus, the team was making a decision on what the Sami should consider offensive, much like how western audiences are doing the same with Iduna's character.

I would advise seeking out Sami opinions. I have linked some articles below that you can check out.

“Reindeer are better than people:” Indigenous Representation in Disney’s Frozen

Disney's 'Frozen 2' thrills Sámi people in northern Europe

The last link is from a tumblr blog that is now closed. However, you can get a little bit of info from this user before the read more, unless someone has their full article somewhere.

#frozen 3 #anti colonization #colonialism #sámi #disney frozen #frozen 2 #frohana #movie discussion #elsa and anna #northuldra

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kingkat12 · 3 months ago

Text

all yours (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, phone sex, dark!Roman is back oops, descriptions of sex, foul language, yandere!reader sort of??

summary: why did Letha call?-- actually, the better question is, will Roman let you find out why?

word count: 8,551

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

a/n: hi lovelies!!! to clarify, there are a few mentions of the beautiful actress Romy Schneider, and I will link her HERE for you to get who i'm talking about!! i had a dream where i called Roman Romy and i thought huh where did i get that from, and then i realized it was because i watched a movie with miss Schneider in it, so there you go!! THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! enjoy!<33

I stared at the missed call from Letha, the glow of the screen illuminating my face as I hid beneath my duvet. Frozen in a fetal position, I listened to the sound of my heartbeat as my thumb inched toward her name.

It was late-- too late to be awake, and too early to make a decision. The silence of my bedroom wrapped around me as my brows drew together in conflict, my head buzzing incessantly. It felt wrong to contemplate calling Letha back, especially as the cinnamon flavour of Roman's cigarettes lingered on my tongue. If I focused, I could still feel the push of his lips against my neck, and the pressure of his strong arms against my waist. It all made me shiver-- I wasn't sure what it would mean for my relationship with Roman if I called Letha back. How could I guarantee it wouldn't all blow up in my face?

I groaned, hopefully not loud enough to wake my parents, before I scrolled away from Letha's name. I needed a reminder of why I had thrown my friendship with her away, why I had messed it all up in the first place-- I had to drown out the memory of Letha's laugh somehow.

So, I pressed my phone up against my ear, placing a hand over my heart to feel it thud against my palm while I waited. The beating of my blood quickened when I realized my call was getting answered despite the lateness of the hour;

"Hey, you,"

Oh, I nearly melted at the sound of his voice. "Rome," I echoed, giving into a soft smile.

I heard the shifting of bedsheets in the background; "Miss me already?"

"Yeah..."

"I left, like, two hours ago,"

"So? I can hear you smiling over there,"

Roman's warm chuckle sounded through the other end of the phone, and I imagined him shaking his head. "Say it again,"

It was impossible not to stir-- I couldn't lay still when his voice was so deep and tired. "I miss you," I peeked my head up from the duvet, as it was getting damn warm beneath my covers. "I'm sorry for calling so late, I just... needed to clear my head."

He hummed, stretching; "It's alright, I wasn't sleeping,"

"What were you doing then?"

There was a rather pregnant pause. "... None of your business,"

"Oh?" I propped myself up on my elbows, intrigued. "Roman, are you?--"

"What did you need to clear your head about?"

I realized I wasn't getting anywhere with this, and that I quickly needed to stop thinking about my boyfriend spread out on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, slowly palming himself through the fabric-- no, I needed to get my mind out of the gutter. "We didn't get a lot of time to discuss the fact that Letha called,"

"Okay... Do you plan on calling her back?"

My heart only beat harder against my palm, and I had to swallow hard as I laid back down on the bed; "Would you be mad if I did?" The silence that ensued made my hands clammy-- I ended up wiping them on my duvet as I waited for his answer, holding my breath.

"Maybe?" Roman sighed, and I heard him tossing around in his bed. "I don't know what this feeling is, but... I just know it makes my chest burn. Doesn't feel good."

Something about his cluelessness made me want to grab his pretty face and pepper it with kisses. "Could be anxiety?"

"Nah, I don't have that shit,"

"Oh, Roman, everyone gets a little anxious sometimes!--"

"Stop rolling your eyes, I can hear it,"

Shocked, my heart nearly stopped-- he was right. I had rolled my eyes, and it freaked me out that he knew . "Fine... I won't call her back, then,"

"Alright,"

"You don't have to worry,"

"Alright,"

"Uh, do you have anything else to say other than alright?--"

"No,"

"... Alright," My brows drew together in confusion, wondering why Roman was retreating into his shell of emotional neglect. It was clear to me that the subject of Letha made him deeply uneasy, that he was probably worried she'd need me to break up with him for us to be friends again, but I tried to find comfort in the fact that he was scared to lose me... despite not being able to say that out loud.

Still, Roman always managed to surprise me-- I heard him sigh once more at the other end of the phone, but this time, in a sulky manner. "Could you say it again?"

"Say what?"

"What you said in the car," I could hear the embarrassment in his voice, knowing he didn't usually make requests like these; "That you're mine."

My eyes widened just a smidge, staring up at my ceiling with a bewildered look on my face. The tone of his voice made my stomach flip, wondering why my brain went haywire for the needy sound of his request. I did my best not to squeal and kick my feet like a little girl-- "All yours, Rome,"

A hum; "All mine?"

"All yours," My smile spread wider than ever before, joy blossoming in my chest. "Only yours."

He let out a shaky breath-- "Shit... don't say it like that,"

"Like what?"

"Like that," Roman shifted around in his bed, and I heard him kicking away his duvet. "I was already horny before you called, don't make it worse."

I was afraid my eyes would pop out of my skull as my air caught in my throat. So he had been doing what I thought he'd been doing? "You were the one who asked me to say it," I tried, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my body. This was definitely not going to help me sleep. "Why were you even doing that right now? It's so late!"

Roman only laughed-- "That call from Letha fucking cockblocked me in the car, what do you expect?"

"Christ," I mumbled, shaking my head as I pressed my palm against my forehead. Something about this was too damn thrilling. "So you're still... y'know?"

"Yep,"

"And... you're doing it right now?"

Another laugh ensued, deeper this time."Nah, I'm not that creepy. Just waiting for it to go down now... which is why you can't tell me you're mine with that sexy little voice of yours,"

Gosh, how that took my breath away. And even worse, was the maelstrom of ideas churning in my head about ways to milk this situation-- I really hoped my parents were asleep for this one. "Roman?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm all yours,"

As expected, Roman groaned on the other end of the line. "Is that a green light?" he breathed. "Don't fuck with me right now, my brain doesn't work properly when you're involved."

I hadn't blushed like this in ages-- "I'm here if you want to go for it," Never in a million years did I think I would be having phone sex, especially not with Roman Godfrey. If someone had told me a month ago that this would be happening, I would've fainted on the spot.

Roman's laugh was deep, warm; I pressed the phone against my cheek as my hands trembled in excitement. "Go for it," he echoed, a mocking tone about it. "I'm not doing this shit alone!"

"Oh?"

"Not a fat chance in hell, baby. What are you wearing?"

My brows drew together as I realized what he was up to. Nervous, I lifted my duvet to check. My mind was so clouded by the thrill that I had genuinely forgotten what I was wearing. "Uh... A big t-shirt and my underwear?"

A hum. "What colour?"

"The t-shirt?" I wasn't sure why that mattered.

Another laugh from Roman ensued-- this was probably the moment it dawned on him that I hadn't done this before either. "Fuck it, we'll skip this part," he murmured. "The panties, babe. Take them off."

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, my trembling hands scurrying to take them off. As I laid my head back on my pillow, discarding my underwear somewhere along the bed, I pressed my phone back up to my ear just at the right moment-- I heard Roman's short, ragged breath, presumably resuming his activities. "Ugh, I miss having my mouth on you," he breathed, shifting around. "I've told you how good you taste, right?"

"Yeah, you have," His words made me want to squeal and throw my phone across the room, my brain going haywire. "I don't get it, but I'm not complaining. I like having you between my legs."

"Good. I'm planning to be there quite a lot,"

I squeezed my thighs together-- this was making me aroused a lot quicker than I was willing to admit. Still, I decided to be bold; "Too bad we were interrupted today... Was looking forward to having my mouth on you as well,"

"Right... As if you'd do that in my car on that open street,"

"There was no one there!" I rolled my eyes at the sound of Roman's laugh. "What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to try one day."

"Yeah?" His voice was deeper now, raw-- "You'd want me to teach you how?"

I could only imagine the sight of him now; the way he closed his eyes, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he worked his fingers around his shaft. I nearly lost my breath just thinking about it, and suddenly my mind was throwing me images of how it would be to wrap my mouth around it. How Roman would hold my hair, slowly buck up into my mouth with a soft grunt, telling me how good I was doing, how nice it felt-- I had a hard time snapping out of it. "Would love for you to teach me everything,"

"Fuck, baby," I could hear the shaky motions of his breath, the way it was on the brink of hitching. "Gonna take my time, teach you all I know... Don't you worry."

"You will?"

"You bet," Roman's voice was now barely a whisper against the phone, his words catching in his chest. "Gonna teach you how to take my cock, I know you'll do so well... So, so well, just like everything else you do."

That was it-- I reached between my legs, closing my eyes as I placed my fingers against my clit. It was impossible to stay away now. "You'll take care of me, won't you? Go slow?"

"Of course I will-- hah,"

My breath grew unsteady; "Shit, Rome, you've got me wet in record time," I dipped my fingers a little further down, feeling my arousal pooling between my legs.

"Yeah? Well, I'm damn hard for you," he breathed, a soft, quiet moan following. "Wanna sink into you, feel your tight little pussy around me..."

Had I not been so out of it, I would've called him out for being vulgar. Roman hadn't been this dirty before. My cheeks were downright burning.

"Wanna fuck you so good, you'll never leave. You'll just keep coming back, letting me make you cum over and over..."

I was squirming at this point-- oh, what I would give for Roman to be here with me right now. Have him wrap his arm around me, rub my clit for me, whispering all these dirty things into my ear instead of through the phone. "I won't leave, Rome,"

That seemed to be the most compelling thing I could've said. I could almost hear the way he threw his head back against his pillow, a small, wanton moan escaping his lips; "You're all mine, baby... Only mine, aren't you?"

Who would've thought this was the thing that would break Roman Godfrey?

"All yours,"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I was rather anxious to see Roman the next day at school-- I didn't know how to deal with all the dirty stuff we talked about on the phone last night. How was I supposed to look him in the eyes, knowing he thought about me like that? I wasn't complaining, but it was incredibly foreign.

We hadn't talked much today, other than the usual good morning text, and I dreaded answering the text he sent me right afterward;

romy schneider: did you sleep well?;)

I was aware that it sounded innocent, but it was impossible not to hear Roman's voice while reading it. All breathy, the signature smirk on display, roping me in with one hand on my waist as he whispered it into my ear... No, I couldn't answer it. Just thinking about it made me blush.

I had made it to second period without seeing any members of the Godfrey family, all until I had to cross the campus to get to my next class. There he was, not too far away from the football field, leaning against a lamp post as he lit his cigarette.

Roman hadn't noticed me yet, and a part of me hoped he wouldn't just yet. I wanted to take my time, watch the way his hair fell over his forehead in gentle motions as he lowered his head towards the lighter, the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette, and the way his beautiful green eyes suddenly darted up and landed right on me--

I nearly squeaked, stopping in my tracks as my breath caught in my throat. Even worse, was the cough that choked itself out of me. I hadn't expected him to notice me staring, not when I was this far away. My hands trembled as I tried to pull myself together, catching a glimpse of Roman's classic smirk as his cigarette lay comfortably between his lips. His eyes darkened, a mischievous shimmer in his gaze as he motioned for me to come over.

I was a mess by the time I reached him, and I tried to rub my clammy hands off my shirt in a way that wouldn't give away my stress. Still, I had an inkling he knew, and I only made it worse for myself when I opened my mouth; "Hey, dude,"

Immediately, it felt like my brain was on fire-- what was that? Stupid, stupid!

Roman seemed taken aback by that as well, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Since when do you call me dude?" He stifled a chuckle, taking a long drag of his cigarette; "I know about Romy Schneider, but this is new."

I only called him Romy Schneider to tease him on days he was exceptionally pretty (which could technically be any day), but dude? Now, it was downright obvious how nervous I was. "I-- Okay, just forget I said that," Kicking away a nearby rock, I lowered my gaze, no longer able to meet his. Roman's face was enough to unravel me, especially after what had been said last night.

Still, he laughed, blowing out a simple ring of smoke. "You're nervous,"

"Am not!"

"Fine. Look at me, then,"

Clenching my jaw, I adhered. My lashes fell heavy over my eyes, my lack of sleep stirring in my chest as I scanned my boyfriend; he was so handsome today, so calm. Roman leaned down, now balancing his cigarette between his fingers as he lowered himself to my level, inches away from my face in a rather intimidating manner-- the tension was so thick, I could probably run my fingers through it. "Is someone a little embarrassed?" he cooed, nudging my shoulder. "Not used to me running my mouth like last night?"

I was relieved to know I didn't have to explain why I was so flustered today-- still, I was being painstakingly put on the spot. "You always run your mouth, Rome, that's nothing new,"

"Not like that, though," Roman's eyes were practically sparkling. "It's alright if you can't take it. Just tell me if you can't."

Can't take it? Who did he think he was? There was a burning challenge in his voice, and mixed with my slight offense, it only lead to the following; "I can take it," I huffed, stepping forward. "You think I can't?"

Roman hummed, the corners of his mouth curving up into an evil grin. "Nah, I think you can. You're a quick learner," He pressed a short kiss against my cheek before straightening up, placing his cigarette back between his lips before leaning against the lamp post again. "You can keep up with me, right?" he mumbled in between a drag. "I'm not scaring you back into Letha's arms?"

Roman said it with a sense of humour, but I couldn't help but catch onto the anxiety hiding behind his words. My brows drew together, watching as he finished his cigarette and threw it to the ground, stomping it. I cleared my throat; "I thought we talked about this last night... You're quite hung up on this Letha thing, aren't you?--"

"No,"

That was too quick to be believable. "Rome?--"

"I'm not," As he turned back to me, Roman's eyes narrowed. I had forgotten how quickly his demeanour could change, with the snap of a finger. Suddenly, he was cold. "Stop projecting on me. You're being dramatic."

Huh? There was no way to contain the grimace that followed. My eyes widened, bewildered that he was snapping at me. That truly came out of nowhere. "What?" I breathed. "I'm not projecting-- Why is this setting you off so bad? We don't even know why she called me or what she truly wants!"

Roman groaned; it was clear that he hadn't meant to instigate a fight. Especially not on school grounds. "Jeez, could you lower your voice? People are staring," His cheeks redded a little as he caught the eyes of a few students passing us by, and he lowered his gaze to the ground, cursing under his breath.

I took a quick glance around, snorting as I turned back to him. "Roman, now that you're my boyfriend, I'm comfortable enough to tell you that you can't snap at me like that anymore. Or talk to me like that, for that matter. Ever! Those days are over, do you hear me?"

Roman's eyes widened to the likes of big, shiny plates of china, staring back at me with a look of both anger and horror. His lips drew a straight line and his jaw clenched before he spat pure venom; "Wow... You really know how to make a big deal out of nothing,"

Those words chilled me to the bone. Shellshocked, I took a step back, holding my breath as my eyes drilled into his. Roman's chest rose and fell in slow, long motions, none of us knowing what to say.

It was at this moment that I heard a cheerleader-cry coming from the football field, catching my attention. My gaze went past Roman and to the team that was practicing, doing some sorts of somersaults in the air as they howled the school's motto. And as we stood here with a clear view of the cheerleader team, practically hiding behind this lamp post, something dawned on me-- why had Roman been standing here in the first place? Why this exact place?

He seemed to be catching onto my trail of thoughts, turning to glance at my transfixion. It gave me a moment to lose face, opening and shutting my mouth as I flailed my arms in exasperation. It only got worse when I realized several girls on the team were waving at him, and I recognized one of them to be one of his earlier flings. Was it the one he screwed back in March? Then, it suddenly dawned on me that Roman wasn't turning back to me, his gaze now resting on the waving cheerleaders and their ridiculously short skirts as he nodded to himself in boyish approval--

My heart sank all the way down to my shoes. "Really, Roman? Really?" I didn't expect my voice to be so frail, so upset.

He sensed my tone, finally laying his eyes on me with an irritated look about him. Roman reached up to move his hair out of his forehead, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke; "What is it now? Just appreciating the view,"

"Appreciating... the view?" I was stunned. Stunned. It felt as though he had stabbed me right in the chest-- who the fuck talks like that to their girlfriend? "I'm glad to see you're invested in the relationship I threw everything away for. Thank you for the reminder, Roman, that you're still just a guy."

With a laugh, Roman was back to smiling-- he was giving me a severe case of whiplash. "What? They're waving at me, it's normal to check out who it is! You know I'm not going anywhere, right?"

No, I had to look away. I couldn't think clearly now that he looked so charming again. Why did he have to be so hot and cold? I had hoped we were past this on the spectrum of Roman-ness. It only got worse when he stepped forward, pressing a warm kiss to my temple. "All yours," he whispered against my skin, placing his hand on my cheek as he towered above me. "Let me walk you to class, hm?"

I had to take a deep breath, my eyes closing to relish in the fact that Roman was kissing me so openly in front of everyone, especially in front of the cheerleaders. Still, I knew I had to gather my thoughts-- the discomfort was lingering in my chest, the creeping unease settling in my mind. I didn't want to let this slide.

I strained a smile to mask my inner turmoil as I put my hand over his, getting up on my tippytoes to press a shy kiss to Roman's lips, feeling him sigh against me. It was short, sweet, and like a temporary band-aid. So when I pulled away, it felt like I was ripping it off with all my might-- I didn't want to. I forced myself to speak, clearing my throat; "I'll walk myself to class, thanks,"

I could see it in his eyes that he was taken aback, not expecting that I would turn down his offer. The flicker of confusion streaked across Roman's face like a flash of lightning. "Uh, okay... What subject do you have now?" he tried, an attempt to drag out our time together.

"... I'm gonna be late," I couldn't help myself-- I pressed a kiss to his cheek, wanting to feel him once more. If there was one thing I could find solace in, it was the fact that I could kiss him as often as I wanted to now that we were together. "Please find another place to smoke. You're breaking my heart."

That seemed to land a blow to Roman, whose brows drew together in a look of hurt. I was reminded of his promises to not hurt me, to do his best to keep me happy, and I left him by the lamp post hoping he remembered his words as clearly as I did.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And I thought my unease wouldn't get worse. As the days flew by, I was positive, hopeful even. However, staring down at the messages Letha sent me this morning, I couldn't help but feel a sense of doom as I waited for Roman's last class to be over.

Several days had passed since the last time I saw Letha at the gas station, where she had tried to apologize to me. Her words of longing, how she insisted that she missed me and never meant for anyone to get hurt, had etched themselves into my mind, unable to be forgotten.

So, I figured it wouldn't do any more harm to read what she had written. I had waited all day to open her messages, after all. It was gnawing on my mind at this point-- My thumb hovered above the message notification, and I held my breath as my eyes grazed the words on the screen;

letha: hey... i didn't expect you to answer my call a few days ago, much less call me back, but i don't want to give up just yet. i want you to know how sorry i am that you were hurt and that i no longer talk to Jasmine, but that you deserve to know the truth after everything you've been put through this past month. i know you and Roman are a couple now, since he told me at dinner... and frankly because the whole school won't shut up about my baby cousin no longer harassing everyone. who would've thought?

letha: you were once mine, and i was yours. i might never fully forgive you for going behind my back, but you were my best friend in the whole world. i'm so tired of acting like i don't miss you. could we please talk?

letha: you need to know the truth about Roman. please.

I should've known this was a bad idea. I should've known. Pressing my phone up against my chest, feeling my heart beat against it, I squeezed my eyes shut as the school bell rang. Several students rushed out of the doors in the hallway, and I knew I had to get myself together before Roman saw me so out of it.

He and I hadn't been properly alone for a while. Although I had missed him and his lips against mine, I was still seething inside about him staring at the cheerleaders and the awful conversation before and after. I was still battling my jealousy regarding the situation; why had he been so snappy, all of a sudden? And why did he feel the need to appreciate the view? Everything about it made me nauseous.

Still, I didn't deny Roman when he caught up with me at lunch earlier today and asked me to wait for him after school. He had been so incessant, so sweet-- I missed my little devil, no matter how insecure he made me.

I got a few odd looks from the people passing me in the hall as I harshly patted my face in an attempt to snap out of my dark spiral of thoughts. Unfortunately, Roman also caught this just as he stepped out of his classroom; "What are you doing?" he asked, grimacing.

Flustered, I watched him throw his backpack over his shoulder, towering over me as I was pressed further against the wall behind me. Despite his look of disapproval, he still looked ridiculously pretty today-- Romy Schneider. His hair was styled in a classic heartbreaker look, the green in his eyes fixating on me as he tried to find a reason for my odd behaviour.

"Nothing," I lied. "Trying not to fall asleep. I've been waiting for your class to be done for, like, an hour."

Roman hummed, leaning down to place a quick kiss on the top of my head. "Thanks for waiting. It's nice to see your face," He placed his free hand on the small of my back, leading us to walk down the hallway. "So... There's a movie going down at the cinema tonight, and I think we should go and make out in the back. Thoughts?"

I held back a sickeningly girly giggle-- my heart fluttered uncontrollably, and it was as though all my anger melted away. "Which movie is it?"

"Not sure. Some Serbian silent film from the sixties,"

"Oh... Right up our alley, then,"

Roman's laugh nearly made me blush. Accompanied by the small squeeze of my waist, I allowed myself to keen against his body, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction.

This was my favourite part of the day. Being paraded down the hall for everyone to see. At this moment, I forgot about my sorrows with Letha, and could suddenly feel the pride blooming in my chest as I got a few jealous, scorching stares from a group of girls passing us by. It only got better when I realized they were cheerleaders-- my eyes followed them, narrowing as a rather evil grin spread across my lips.

That'll show them. I was ready to cut off the heads of the next ones that waved at my boyfriend.

I leaned against Roman's touch, feeling his hand resting at my side. Something told me he was putting up a bit of a show to make up for the incident by the football field a few days ago, and honestly? I liked this. I could live with this.

Roman caught up with my little feeling of victory, snickering to himself as he playfully rolled his eyes; "Getting high?"

"Yeah," I breathed, feeling my cheeks get rosy as he stroked his thumb along my skin, caressing me as we continued down the hall. This was certainly a high-- one I had longed for. In a flash of confidence, I obnoxiously turned my head to watch the seething cheerleaders, flashing them a vicious smile. Bitches.

Roman tsked, the signature smirk forming across his lips. He noticed my glee-- "What do you say we give them a show?" he murmured, his green gaze darting back to me, his burning eyes full of dark agenda.

I didn't have time to protest or agree as Roman grabbed my shoulders, leading my back up against the nearby lockers. Oh, everyone would definitely hate us more now-- but I could only smile up at him and bask in the feeling of mutual thrill.

"Are they still looking?" Roman whispered, biting his lip to contain his excitement.

A quick glance-- "Yeah,"

His eyes practically sparkled. "Good," Suddenly, he snaked one hand around my waist as the other rested against my cheek, his thumb hooked under my jaw to tilt my head up-- It was easier to kiss like that, seeing as he was practically taller than a fucking tree. Roman leaned forward, brushing his lips across mine, feeling the coolness of my breath against his skin, contrasted by the warmth of my quick breath through my nose over his cheek. Then, the soft pillow of his mouth pushed against mine, the pressure so adoring it made my blood heat all the way into my fingertips.

Roman had tried to do similar things in public multiple times before we became official, but I had shut him down every time. Before, it would've terrified me out of my mind to do something so bold; to make such a statement in front of the school that I was his, to show I was so dizzyingly into him that I would let him do this to me in public. But here I was-- craving it.

It was a show of power, and of submission and belonging; Roman's lips were deadly soft, but there was a hint of something more fiery, sincere. My hands quickly tangled into his hair, pulling him closer as I savoured both the moment and the taste of his cinnamon cigarettes on his tongue.

Roman's plush lips were slightly parted, moving a little as though he was whispering a question-- it was so painfully sweet.

Sweet.

And I imagined the sight to be a gut punch to the cheerleaders watching us from down the hall. I wondered whether they had ever seen this side of Roman before, felt this side of Roman, or whether he hadn't bothered to act as though they interested him. Everything about it made me smile-- there was a sinister satisfaction in it.

I sighed against the kiss, a soft smile splayed across my lips as Roman pulled away, gently nudging my nose with his before he straightened up. "Could you stop giving me grief now?" he teased, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Everyone knows we're together. No one's gonna try anything after this, I'm not into the cheerleaders, and I'm dying to roll around in your bed after the movie. Maths always fucking drains me."

Giggling, I reached out for his hand. "Why can't we roll around in your bed, for once? I still haven't been to your place,"

Roman shrugged, intertwining our fingers as he lead me away from the locker. "My mom is crazy, and yours isn't. It's easier that way,"

"Oh?" It struck me that he never actually talked about his parents-- "What do you mean?"

Roman remained quiet as he led me out of the main entrance, and we were now walking hand in hand down to where he had parked his car. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it, that he maybe wasn't ready for it. As I spotted his unease, I wrapped my arms around his, clinging to it-- and I was sure he'd have smiled down at me, had the following not happened.

Our steps came to a halt before I could realize why he froze. I glanced up at Roman, about to ask him why he stopped so abruptly until it became glaringly obvious.

Because there she was, leaning against the bonnet of his car-- Letha. Her nervous gaze flickered between the both of us, breaking out into an anxious laugh as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I thought I would see the two of you here,"

Her perfectly styled blonde hair lay in soft waves over her shoulders, her kind, green eyes piercing me with the softest impact as she searched my face for a reaction other than horror.

I hadn't expected to cling to Roman as hard as I did, but now it felt like I was holding onto him for dear life. My blood ran cold, my whole body freezing over at the sight of her. It was damn awkward meeting her knowing I had ignored all her attempts at reconciliation, and I wanted to crawl up Roman's shirt and hide.

Nonetheless, I planted my feet on the ground and watched as Roman balled his fists, inhaling sharply to contain his disdain; it was clear that he didn't want to see her either. "Letha, I told you not to do this," he said, jaw clenched. "She obviously doesn't want to talk to you."

With small steps, I dared to partly hide my body behind Roman. Free shield, no? This whole meeting had me mortified, wanting the ground to open up and swallow me whole-- I didn't expect my heart to beat so hard, and I prayed it wasn't audible.

Letha cleared her throat, visibly uncomfortable. Her kind exterior started to crack, hardening. "I've just been going insane... I wanted to ask if you've gotten my message?" Her green gaze darted towards me as she asked me the question, and the meeting of our eyes made my grip around Roman tighten. "What message?" he echoed, looking down at me with clear disdain. It felt like his stare was drilling holes into my brain, scanning my inner thoughts to dig out the truth-- I was cornered.

Fuck. "I didn't have time to tell you yet..." This was downright horrifying, and I tried to make myself smaller as I avoided Roman's burning gaze. "She says she just wants to talk, Rome."

Roman groaned, instinctively pulling me further behind him. I was fully sheltered now, and my breath caught in my chest as his next words came out sharper, harsher, as he turned to his cousin; "Letha, she doesn't want to talk to you! What is so hard to understand here?"

Oh, so he was speaking for me now?

Letha groaned, rolling her eyes. "How the fuck am I supposed to know if she's the one avoiding me or if you're telling her to? Come on, Ro!" She stepped away from the car, raising her voice; "Can't you at least step away? She doesn't need you to fucking shield her or speak for her!--"

"You don't know crap about what she needs!" Roman barked, fury burning in his voice. "You threw it all away! Face that you screwed up! And for the first time in my life, I'm needed, and I will shield her as I please!" He glanced back at me, motioning for me to start walking with him to the car.

My breath caught in my throat, not daring to tell him no. Not when he was in this mood, definitely not.

With quick steps, Roman pulled me along with him. "Stop bothering her," he hissed in Letha's face, opening the door to the passenger seat for me. "You've done enough damage. Enough."

I sank into my seat, not meeting Letha's broken gaze as Roman made his way to the driver's seat. I didn't need to see her to know what she looked like right now-- green eyes probably glossed over, her slender arms wrapping around her for comfort.

It only got worse when Letha called my name, her hurt voice making it impossible to avoid her anymore. When I finally turned to her, listening to the sound of the car starting, it almost felt as though I was looking into a mirror. I was sure I looked just like that when Letha abandoned me crying on the bleachers, calling me a whore when I told her about my feelings for Roman before she stormed off. My heart tore into a million pieces, looking into the teary eyes of the girl who used to know me better than anyone else.

Still, did I owe her the kindness of pity? She certainly hadn't shown me any.

I didn't have time to think about it-- Roman quickly drove us out of the school parking lot, groaning as he ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand. I could see that he was still seething, eye twitching as he gripped the steering wheel with a little too much power.

"Such bullshit," Roman cursed-- I hadn't seen him this pissed before. "She has no right to bother you anymore. I fucking told her!"

"She just--" Letha's big, green eyes of sadness haunted me. It made my heart clench, my soul crumble. "She seems really desperate to talk, Rome."

He glanced at me, just for a second, with apparent disdain. "So? I don't get why you're even entertaining the thought of giving her the chance to!" His grip around the wheel only tightened as he turned his gaze back on the road. "But Letha's got quite the nerve to just show up like that... She's begging for you to forgive her so her guilty conscious gets relief, it's damn selfish! It's not about you at all!"

"Why not?" I turned in my seat, feeling my frustration simmer. "Why would it not be about me? Is it so crazy to think she might just want us to be friends again, that I'm someone worth being friends with?"

"That's not-- She doesn't want to be your friend!"

"Then why the hell is she doing all of this?"

"Because Letha obviously doesn't want us to be together, don't be so naive!" Vexed, Roman hit the steering wheel with a loud groan-- it made me jump in my seat. "If you think she's forgiven you for going behind her back, think again! This is her taking revenge on me for all the times I've messed with her friends, okay?"

I didn't want to think about him and Letha's long list of ex-friends; it made me nauseous. I resorted to balling my fists, trying to collect my thoughts. "You didn't even let me hear her out..."

Roman snorted, rolling his eyes as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "You're making it sound like I'm a controlling asshole. May I remind you that you were hiding behind me, holding onto me for dear life?" He turned to me, a sharp look in his green eyes; "And when the fuck were you going to tell me that she texted you?"

Oh... That.

Honestly? I had hoped to get a little more time to think about it. To at least have that opportunity. "I would've told you sooner if you hadn't drooled all over cheerleaders that day," I knew it was a reach, but I didn't know what else to say. As I crossed my arms over my chest, I truly felt how little I had processed that situation. "Appreciating the view, as you said!"

Another groan, along with one more hit against the steering wheel; "They waved at me, it's normal to check who it is when someone waves at you!--"

"I don't give a shit, the thing that matters is that the girl who waved was the one you fucked in March!--"

... Oh no. He didn't need to know that I kept track of that.

"... What?" Roman's angry expression turned confused as his grip loosened around the wheel, quietly trying to process what I had just said.

As soon as those words slipped past my lips, I felt my throat go dry as I pressed my back against the seat. Why would the leather not split apart, swallow me whole, and allow me to avoid the aftermath? I hadn't expected to blurt that out; there was no going back now. "Yeah... And now she's waving at you like she possibly has a chance with you, because maybe you like making her think she still does! How do you think that makes me feel?"

Roman looked like he was two seconds away from ripping the steering wheel off its hinges, eyes wide and burning with fury. "What the fuck are you accusing me of here? And since when have you been keeping up with my sex-life?!"

Sure, I walked right into that one-- I suddenly felt like I had been transported right back into the time I watched Roman from afar. The way I'd watch him throw tater tots at the cheerleaders to catch their attention, the way he'd make me feel small by pulling my hair as he passed me in the halls, and how I had gotten used to the sight of him disappearing upstairs with girls at parties wishing that was me.

It felt like I was that girl again; the one that kept track of everything he did. The one who would compulsively wash my hands if I was introduced to one of his previous flings through Letha. The jealousy, the obsession-- it was all hitting me now. Especially as I turned to watch him, how his lips were angrily pressed shut, confusion visible on his pretty face.

It was too damn overwhelming. I realized my hands were trembling as they reached for the hem of my shirt, anxiously ripping at the seams as always. However, through the storm of feelings coursing through me, I heard Letha's melodious laugh as my memories flooded my mind-- She had been my anchor through it all, despite the fact that she never knew about my feelings for Roman.

No, no, no-- I hated how emotional this made me. "I threw away everything with Letha to be with you, so I'm sorry that I'm paranoid. I don't think you get that she was everything to me. But even despite that, she was my moon and you were... the sun,"

Roman's grip around the steering wheel loosened as his lips parted in uncertainty, brows drawing together as his gaze flickered between me and the road. "You didn't know me back in March," he mumbled, still processing. "That makes no sense--"

"I carved our initials into a tree in March,"

"... Oh,"

My gaze darted back down to my lap, checking out what I had done to my sweater. There were a few loose threads now, that's for sure. I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it, suddenly remembering how I had gotten so lovesick that I drove my keys into a tree during a walk in the park, carving our initials as tears streamed down my cheeks. It had been a horrible March; I couldn't be more happy that it was over.

Roman nodded to himself, chewing invisible gum--

"Okay... Where?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I never expected him to see this. Ever.

I leaned against the tree, watching as Roman traced our initials with a shimmer of fixation in his eyes. The green of the park was a dark contrast to the light green of his orbs, the hazel and blue nuances being the only points placing him perfectly in the scenery. Like this, it was as though I was looking at a painting-- the ones painted by depressed Russian artists before the fall of the Tsars. They always knew how to bring beauty into a world that was only cruel to them.

It was specific, sure, but I had to occupy my mind with something as Roman remained quiet. The wait was nerve-wracking.

Ethereal hues of sunlight shone through the thickness of the trees in the full bloom of summer as I kicked at a nearby chestnut. About half an hour had passed since our argument in the car, and another half hour passed before I finally found the tree in a desolate part of the park. I chewed on my bottom lip, anxiously watching Roman's every reaction.

I expected him to be freaked out. To be disgusted, even. How creepy wasn't this?

However, Roman was painstakingly calm. He ran the pads of his fingers over every cut, every bumpy line-- "This is..."

"Yeah, I know," My arms were crossed over my chest, gaze now resting on the grass nearby. "I never thought you'd like me or that I'd betray Letha like that, so I wanted to... materialize my feelings, if that makes sense? Bottle it up somewhere. Pull a Voldemort."

"A what?"

"Like, horcruxes?" Confused, I got the courage to look at him again. "Roman, have you not seen Harry Potter?"

He shrugged-- "Isn't it, like, for kids?"

"... You used to be a kid too, do you remember that?" Oh, the hypocrisy; "You've been harassing me about not having watched The Godfather for ages, but you haven't even seen?-- Oh, fuck it." It was impossible not to laugh, and I gave into a low chuckle as I pressed my crossed arms tighter to my chest. "Anyway. This tree thing is super creepy, I know, so would you rather I showed you the message from Letha instead?"

Roman finally looked at me, a blank expression on his face. Something told me he didn't want to give away his true feelings regarding the matter. Still, he held out his hand, and I promptly gave him my phone.

Roman knew my password-- that was no issue. He didn't have to ask for it, now staring down at the message from Letha.

I pressed my back against the tree as much as I could, wanting to melt into it and disappear just like earlier in the car. Watching the way Roman's brows drew together in confusion, the flash of annoyance that streaked across his eyes-- it didn't help my anxiety that he didn't say anything, wordlessly handing me my phone back.

I held my breath as I tucked it back into my pocket, waiting for him to say something. However, what he said caught me off-guard;

"The tree thing... It's not that creepy," Roman leaned against it, staring down at me with a nonchalance about him, almost as though he hadn't just read Letha's words of betrayal.

It made me uneasy, but I shrugged; something about the beauty of his eyes calmed me down as I gave in to a soft smile. "You don't have to protect my feelings, Rome, I'm very aware--"

"It's not," Stepping away from the tree, he neared me with careful steps. "I know we've talked about this before, but I'm just a little shocked you felt so... strongly about me. Even during a time when I was pulling your hair. It just doesn't make sense that you'd like me at all, even now."

I sent him a defeated look, leaning my head against the wood behind me. "Why is that so shocking?"

Roman now stood in front of me, and he reached out to place his hands on my waist. "I just don't think anyone ever has in this way," he said. "It's so sweet, it almost makes me nauseous."

I giggled-- "I make you nauseous?"

Roman's next words were said with such a stoic tone, I froze to my spot; "You make me sick,"

Dumbfounded, I let my lips part in shock. It was almost as though his green eyes were filled with pity. "What?--"

"Sick to my stomach,"

Suddenly, I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked. Uhm...? The way we were standing, the way I was pressed up against this tree, gave me the biggest deja vu of my lifetime. This was exactly the same situation as when we played seven minutes in heaven, the very thing that had unraveled everything. I was frozen in fear of his next words, holding my breath.

"Knowing you have the compassion to feel this strongly about me, makes me sick," Roman breathed, his hands kneading my waist with strength that nearly made me wince in pain. "That you've fucked up your life to be with me, makes me sick. And that I'm going to have the worst time letting you go if I must, makes me sick." There was an intensity in him that I hadn't properly seen in him before now-- I wasn't sure whether to be scared or turned on. It only got worse when Roman leaned in, his hot breath against my lips making me shiver; "That I'm ready to go to war with Letha, with family, for you, makes me sick. Knowing I'm ready to rip her head off if she takes you from me... Makes. Me. Sick."

A quiet shiver of air left my body, my shaking hands grabbing at his. "Rome, I--"

"I'll be better for you," Roman's green eyes drilled into mine with desperation, his grip around my waist loosening before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. "Whatever Letha says about me, the truth as she called it, I need you to not believe it. I'm asking you to kill me, in a sense."

"What?--"

"I want you to make me so sick that I die in your arms," Roman let out a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against mine as his eyes closed shut. "I think it'd make me feel good. I don't want to be so bitter and angry all the time... and I feel good with you. Really good."

Oh.

My heart swelled as I brought my hands up to cup his face, my thumbs stroking over his cheeks as we stood still. There were leaves rustling in the distance, and a sweltering breeze that passed us briefly, but all in all, it was just Roman and I in this deserted area of the park. I could easily agree that it felt good, that it felt right-- just my pretty boyfriend and me.

I got up on my tippytoes, pulling Roman in for a gentle kiss. It made my heart swell, made the tips of my fingers burn as I felt his cold breath against my cheek when he exhaled through his nose.

It was just us, and I needed it to stay that way. We needed it to stay that way, to work as we needed to.

I couldn't let nostalgia kill this. Not for Letha, not for anything in the world. I wasn't sure what it was that she was dying to tell me, why she felt the need to tell me the truth about him as she claimed-- wasn't this his truest form?

Roman's hands pushed against the small of my back, drawing me in as close as humanly possible. The kiss deepened with every breath, with every pull of the other-- "Choose us," he pleaded, mouthing his words into my lips. "Me and you. Us."

His desperation nearly made me burst into flames, similarly to a phoenix; Roman would've gotten that reference if he had seen Harry Potter. It seemed I might actually have to watch The Godfather for him to do so. Still, I sighed softly into the kiss, my hands going into his hair to tug him closer.

I made my decision then and there-- I wasn't going to answer Letha. I could figure out the truth about Roman on my own, thank you very much.

"Me and you," I breathed. "Us."

(AAAAHHH if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading!!<3333 here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 8, PART 9, and PART 10 if you want to check them out!! THANK YOUUUU!)

(and credits to @august-diehl for the gif!!)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium

@mil88691 @tloughost @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

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uvobreakmylegs · 1 year ago

Text

Lamp of the Body

first part of a fic long in the making based on some stuff @hypnoswrites and I were discussing about Chrollo :D

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 2

Warnings: mentions of accidents, injury, isolation, mentions of strangulation

Word count: 6.3k

You were struggling to breathe.

You couldn't see anything.

Your heart was pounding hard against the inside of your chest.

You were scared.

Scared of what? You weren't sure. All you knew was that the adrenaline was rushing through your system while you panicked. And what furthered that panic was the fact that you couldn't move. You were stuck, laying on your back and frozen in place while all of your senses told you that you were in danger.

Then you noticed the figure sitting next to you.

It was too dark to make them out, but you saw their general shape and the way they leaned over you.

Once they realized that you had seen them, they moved.

A hand reached out, turning your face towards them before caressing your cheek in slow motions. An act that should have been comforting, but instead the panic in you worsened and you began to cry.

The figure did nothing to comfort you; they only wiped away the tears that fell. Despite that action that to most would have indicated some amount of care, you didn't feel anything like that when their skin brushed against yours.

They didn't care.

In such a vulnerable state, you were at the mercy of such a person, one who had no concern over your distress.

As if you were simply a spectacle to them.

They wiped away another tear in a robotic manner, and still said nothing when those tears continued.

It didn't seem real.

That was your first thought when you woke up in the morning, your eyes going over details in the bedroom: the thin bits of light showing through the cracks in the blinds, the soft rug that lay on the floor that you had picked out when you'd first moved here, and the door to the walk-in closet that was currently closed. If it had been open you would've seen both your own and Chrollo's clothes hanging inside of it.

At the thought of Chrollo, you looked to the other side of the bed, finding that your boyfriend was still there beside you. You took in the sight of his face, how peaceful his expression was and the way his bangs partially covered the tattoo on his forehead, only allowing little bits of the design to be seen through the black locks. It looked as though he was still fast asleep based on the way his eyes remained closed and how steadily his chest rose and fell with each breath. As much as you felt compelled to scoot over closer and cuddle up against him, in the past your boyfriend had proven to be an incredibly light sleeper and you worried that the action might wake him up.

With all that Chrollo had done for you, the man deserved to get as much sleep as he wanted.

As quietly as you could, you got out of bed and made your way over to the bathroom, periodically looking back over to Chrollo and finding him to still be asleep each time you did. But as you looked back at him one last time before entering the bathroom, you were once again struck by how it still didn't feel completely real, that you were able to look at the image of your sleeping boyfriend.

That you were able to look at anything at all.

The lights came on when you flipped the switch, and instinct had you closing your eyes as they adjusted to the light. When it no longer hurt to have your eyes open, you made your way over to the sink, covering your mouth to yawn before you looked at yourself in the mirror. The gray eyes of your reflection stared back at you, briefly flitting about as you took in the messy state of your hair and wrinkled sleep clothes before you went back to staring at your eyes.

Maybe some might find it weird to be referring to them as being “yours” considering that they were definitely not the eyes you'd been born with and had come from an unknown donor, but seeing that they'd been placed inside your skull, it seemed silly to say otherwise.

Still, to think that just a few months ago you hadn't been able to see at all, your original eyes permanently damaged because of that car accident.

You'd lived that way for almost a year, and after getting used to the world being in total darkness with only the images in your memory to go off of, it didn't seem real that you were able to see again.

You brought a hand up to your cheek, watching as your reflection did the same and lightly brush beneath the area under and around your eye, your fingers briefly lingering on the small bits of scarring on your skin.

It didn't seem real, but clearly it was.

“Is everything alright?”

Hearing Chrollo's voice surprised you, and you looked over to find him entering the bathroom, smiling at you when you made eye contact.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” you answered, adding “sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't,” he said, “I woke up on my own a moment ago.”

You were about to reply when another yawn came on that you couldn't suppress, and you covered your mouth with your hand.

His eyebrow raised as he asked “are you sure you don't need more sleep?”

“I'm fine,” you said, “I don't think I'd be able to sleep anymore, anyway.”

He nodded.

Then Chrollo walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your form and holding you close to him. You reached up and grabbed at one of his hands, to which he responded by taking your hand in his and lightly squeezing.

“You came in to admire yourself, I see,” he said.

You laughed a little.

“Don't know if there's much to admire here at the moment,” you answered.

“I disagree,” he said, “there's quite a lot to admire about you.”

“Well, you're biased, so I don't know how much I can trust you on that,” you said.

He chuckled, taking the hand that he held and lifting it so he could place a kiss on your skin. As he did that your gaze went back to the mirror.

It was a nice image, you thought to yourself. You and your boyfriend, both of you with hair that needed to be brushed and looking rather disheveled after getting out of bed, standing together and holding one another in a moment of peaceful quiet.

A definite contrast to what life had been during the last nine months where the days had been filled with anxiety despite how hard you tried to adjust to a new way of living. Unsurprisingly, having one of your senses be unexpectedly taken away was a difficult thing to cope with.

Despite what had happened, you spent a relatively short amount of time in the hospital as Chrollo had been insistent on you returning home with him as soon as possible. You hadn't minded that too much. Even though you hadn't stayed there long, the loss of your eyesight had made your other senses get stronger. As such, you'd grown to truly hate the smell of hospitals, the feeling of needles poking into your skin and the never-ending beeping of the machines you'd be hooked up to.

Being in the comfort of your home while you recovered was preferable.

And hopefully it would be a while before you needed to go back for any doctor's appointment, though when you did, the staff at the hospital would definitely be surprised to find that you were able to see again.

Chrollo seemed to notice that your thoughts had drifted elsewhere as he asked “what is it, love?”

“Nothing too important, I guess,” you said, “just thinking about what'll happen if I ever end up back at that hospital. They'd be surprised if they saw me with how adamant they were that there wasn't anything that could be done for me.”

You looked back at him while asking “why wouldn't they have mentioned the guy in Padokea?”

“I don't know,” he answered, shrugging as he added “perhaps they were worried what might happen if they recommended an experimental surgery and then something went wrong.”

“What do you think could've gone wrong?”

“I'm sure there's a number of things, though I can't say what exactly they might be.”

“I thought you knew everything,” you said teasingly.

He smiled as he answered “I'm afraid I must concede that I only have a basic knowledge when it comes to the world of modern medicine. That's why I usually go to Machi if I have any questions.”

You hummed, looking back to the reflections in the mirror.

You could lose that. In a mere moment your eyesight could be taken away and your world would become dark again.

Remembering the way things had been caused the anxiety to swell inside of you, and this time you voiced your concerns.

“Things will stay this way, right?” you asked him, “nothing's going to happen where the eyes won't work out and I'll need to go back to not being able to see, right?”

Chrollo's hand went to rest on your shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly as he asked “is that what you're worried about?”

You nodded.

“It'd be sad to get back my eyesight and then have it taken away again,” you added.

Chrollo pulled you around so you were no longer facing the mirror. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss against your lips before holding you against himself.

He spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love,” he told you, “nothing's gone wrong since we came back, and if we were to call up that professional, he'd tell you that everything is fine.”

“You're sure he'd say that?” you asked.

“I'm sure.”

His hand was on your head stroking your hair. That alone was able to quell the anxiety that had begun to grow in your chest.

“After all,” he continued, “I promised that you'd be fine, didn't I?”

You nodded, remembering what he said to you almost a year ago.

You still remembered the way he'd grasped your hand and the feel of the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat sleeves brushing against your skin. You remembered the cast that your leg had been trapped in and the constant beeping of the monitors beside your bed. You remembered the darkness.

And you remembered how easily your spirits were lifted when Chrollo spoke to you.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

At the time you thought he was only saying that so you would feel a bit better about your situation, that he was simply doing his best to be a supportive boyfriend as he navigated through the results of this accident with you. While the future may not have been completely bleak, it was without a doubt going to be different than what you could have ever imagined and you and Chrollo were going to need to find a new version of your “normal”.

At the time you never would have thought he'd find a way to make things go back to the way they'd been before the accident.

Yet he had.

And now you were here.

Still not completely recovered as the trauma that had come with being in such a nasty accident remained with you and would likely stay with you for a long time to come, but you were still in a much better place than you had been in the previous months.

And Chrollo had been by your side every step of the way.

He pulled away, cupping your cheek and moving your head up to look at him.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling after.

He kissed you again before saying “we may as well start getting ready for the day.”

He let you go after that, moving over to his side of the sink.

“Are you working today?” you asked.

“No, not today. My schedule is free.”

“Do we have anything planned?”

“Nothing in particular,” he answered, “although I suppose I should figure out something fast, otherwise you'll be insistent on watching horror movies all day.”

You pouted a little as you asked “what's wrong with that?”

“Ordinarily there would be nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately, you never seem to be able to pick any good movies,” he replied.

“Rude.”

“It's the truth, love.”

“Even if it is, you aren't supposed to say that.”

“So I'm supposed to lie to you?”

“When it comes to my taste in movies, yeah.”

“Interesting.”

There wasn't any malice behind either of your words during that bit of banter, and you couldn't help giggling a little bit after. Chrollo also had a soft smile on his face, though the somewhat distant gaze his gray eyes made it seem as though he was thinking about something.

His eyes…

… Huh. You hadn't really thought about it before.

“We almost match now,” you said.

“Hm?”

He glanced over to you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Our eyes,” you explained, pointing to your own as you continued with “we almost have the same eye color now. It's off by just a few shades.”

Chrollo's hummed as he smiled again.

“So we do.”

Was that a dumb thing to point out? If it was he wouldn't say anything like that. And with the amount of time the two of you had been together, he was probably used to hearing such things from you. How a man like him wanted to be with someone like you, you would never know. But after the events of the past few months, you could say with one hundred percent certainty that he deeply cared about you.

Really, you didn't deserve him.

“I'll do whatever you want to do today, Chrollo,” you said, smiling at him again.

He smiled back at you as he said “I'll need to make sure I come up with something good, then.”

The accident happened when Chrollo was away on business, during one of his trips that he took every few months that lasted up to a few weeks on average. You never quite knew what those trips were about; Chrollo said he couldn't tell you and communication with him during those times was shoddy at best, so you didn't even have much to go off of to figure out on your own what he was doing. There was a constant curiosity burning in you about what he was doing exactly, but since he told you that you didn't need to know, you stopped pressing the issue.

If Chrollo said so, then you trusted him.

Not that your trust helped at all in how lonely those weeks would be while he was gone. With communication being almost non-existent while he was away and no one else around to hang out with or even really talk to, the feeling of isolation would take over fast. For that reason, you figured that things would be more interesting if you were to step out of your routine. That day you headed out to attend a convention that was taking place not too far from where you lived in the hopes you could browse around, perhaps make a few new friends, but mostly to do something different.

When you were on your way was when a careless driver slammed headfirst into the taxi you'd been riding in.

Your leg and collarbone had both been broken, and one of your wrists and a few of your ribs had been fractured. Terrible injuries, to be sure, but those were things that you could recover from.

The loss of your eyesight was a different story, and the doctor who'd treated your injuries had informed you that there was no way to bring that back.

Hearing that had been hard.

It was made harder still when your attempts to reach Chrollo failed.

Even after giving them his number, the hospital had been unable to contact Chrollo as every single call they made failed to go through. With you stuck in bed with all of your injuries and not having anyone else you could contact, it was a devastating few days.

But on the afternoon of your third day in the hospital he showed up unexpectedly, heading straight to your room and calling out to you once he saw you. Relief filled you in the moment where you heard his voice, but the gravity of the situation brought you back down not long after. His hands grasped yours, and you felt the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat brush against your skin as you tearfully told him that you couldn't see anymore.

It seemed to take him a moment to process that information as he remained silent at first.

After a few moments, he pulled your hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss to your skin.

And then he spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

The words had been spoken with conviction.

And he was right.

Everything had seemingly gone back to the way it was before, and that fact in of itself was better than you could've hoped for.

It was hard to breathe, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through you while you lay frozen in place. You couldn't move. No matter how many times your brain ordered your limbs to break free of their state of stasis, they wouldn't comply, and you were stuck, laying as though rigor mortis had set in.

The figure was there. Though you still couldn't see them clearly, you felt them watching you.

Why wouldn't they help you? Why did they only ever watch?

Your jaw refused to open so you could ask those questions, and you were left to harshly breathe through your nose while the figure continued to observe you.

The next morning, while you fought with the eggs that didn't want to be unstuck from the pan, a thought came to you.

“What sort of things does Kortopi like?” you asked, looking back to where Chrollo sat at the table.

“Kortopi? He likes books. He also enjoys making miniatures.”

“Miniatures?”

“Those sets you can get from hobby stores,” Chrollo clarified before adding, “what makes you ask?”

You turned back to the pan as you answered “I wanted to do something for him since he helped us out. I thought maybe I could get him something nice; like I could put together a basket of stuff he'd like as a way to say 'thank you'. Same with Pakunoda and Machi.”

You paused before adding “and Shalnark.”

“Why the hesitation in naming Shalnark?”

Of course he picked up on that.

“… I don't want to say anything bad about your friend,” you replied.

You glanced back to find that his eyebrow had raised slightly.

“Oh? What did he do?”

You were hesitant to answer, because while Shalnark had been rather intrusive when he'd been here with you, he had been helping you and Chrollo out. Still, you knew from past experiences that Chrollo wasn't going to let this go.

“…. Some of the questions he asked me were a little invasive,” you admitted, “and I think he might have been going through our stuff.”

Chrollo didn't seem surprised.

“Shalnark does have a bad habit of being a bit too nosy,” he said, “but I doubt he meant any actual harm in anything he said or did.”

“Why didn't you bring this up back then?” he then asked.

“He was doing us a favor,” you said, “and you said that I could trust him. Just… Maybe if he ever comes back, we should make sure you're around to keep him in line.”

You heard him let out a chuckle as you went back to your cooking.

“He usually listens to me, so that shouldn't be an issue,” Chrollo said, “and if you'd like, I can take care of getting him something.”

“Nah, I'll still get him a gift as thanks. It'd be rude if I didn't,” you said, “hopefully I won't need him or any of your other friends to babysit me again.”

The eggs managed to not be burned when you pushed them out of the pan and onto your plate, and after months of being out of practice when it came to cooking, it felt good that you'd managed to do that much.

“I still don't think you needed to call on them as much as you did,” you added, “I would've been fine on my own for a few hours those times you were gone.”

“It was better for you to have not needed them than be in a situation where you were having an emergency and couldn't get help,” he answered.

“I'm not sure how much trouble I could've gotten into on my own, honestly,” you said.

“You never know.”

“I guess. I feel bad for taking up their time like that, though.”

“They were happy to help,” he told you, “but I do think your idea of gifts as a way of thanking them is a good one.”

Setting the plate of eggs down at the table, you sat down as you asked “where are you heading out today?”

He was already dressed to go out, and he'd finished up his coffee just as you took your seat.

“Nowhere special. I just need to take care of a few things in relation to my last job,” he answered.

“How long will you be out?”

“Not long. I should be back after lunch.”

“So not long enough that I need someone to look after me,” you said.

He smiled as he said “not this time, no.”

A beat of silence passed, and though you suspected you knew what his response would be, you decided to make a request anyway.

“If I finish this really fast, can I come with you?” you asked.

Though his smile didn't falter, Chrollo shook his head.

“It's not the sort of trip where I can bring you along,” he said.

“Not even if I stay in the car while you go do whatever?”

“Do you really want to be stuck in a car for hours?”

“No,” you admitted, “but it'd be nice to get out for a little bit.”

He nodded while reaching over so he could grasp your hand.

“I know that you're feeling closed off from the rest of the world, love,” Chrollo said, “but I'd much rather you stay in here while you continue your recovery.”

“I feel fine, though. Better than I have in a while,” you replied, “I could start going out a little, right?”

“Perhaps. But not on a trip like this.”

“What then?”

“We can figure that out when I get back.”

He stood up then, and there was a sense of finality in the conversation as he pushed his chair back in place, though he kept his cheerful demeanor when he smiled at you again.

“No need to get up,” he said to you, “I'll see myself out. Don't stress yourself and stay inside.”

That last part was definitely tacked on because of what you'd said.

“Even if I feel fine?” you asked.

“Do it for me, love.”

He finished that off by placing a kiss to your forehead.

Well damn. How could you refuse when he asked you like that?

He smiled at you, and you smiled back at him. Everything was fine.

You were fine when he walked out of the room, gathering his things before making his way to the door. You were fine even when you heard the jingling of his keys and the sound of the door opening. You were fine when you called out one last “goodbye”, to which he responded in kind.

But the instant you heard the front door lock behind him and you could no longer hear his footsteps, your mood fell.

Life got lonely when Chrollo wasn't around. Largely due to how small your world had become as you were lacking when it came to other people you could be around. And while the accident had made things smaller, it had been getting to be that way even before the crash. Friends and family didn't contact you anymore and you didn't know anyone outside of Chrollo's social circle, of whom you very rarely saw. The most time you had spent with anyone aside from your boyfriend was a few hours at a time during those months of recovery when he got his friends to look after you when you were bedridden.

Did your old friends or any of your family even know about the crash?

You had no clue, but since Chrollo said you didn't need to worry about them, you didn't think about them most days.

Though it didn't help how the apartment felt incredibly empty whenever he was gone.

But it was okay.

It would be fine, you told yourself as you finished up your breakfast. Chrollo wouldn't be gone long. His lack of packing an overnight bag or getting one of his friends to stay with you was proof of that. He'd be back before the day was out and everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine as long as Chrollo was with you.

After all, he'd said so.You had your eyesight back.

Though it had taken a while to get to that point. Months of staying put in bed so as to not strain yourself, and then getting used to walking on your own again after your broken bones had healed up. Despite having no vision, muscle memory had kicked in when you were feeling well enough to walk without assistance, and you didn't have much issue navigating the layout of the apartment once your leg had fully healed.

That was when Chrollo came to you with a proposal.

The medical professionals told you there was nothing that could be done about your sight, yet Chrollo had found a way around it, telling you of an experimental new surgery being done somewhere within the Dentora Region of Padokea. Under normal circumstances, you might have been skeptical, and just hearing the word “experimental” made you nervous. But Chrollo managed to convince you to give it a shot. All it took was a single conversation and he had gotten you to agree.

You were glad that he did, otherwise you might not be here like this right now. Back to what your normal had been before the accident, at least for the most part. Being able to be on your own and not needing to worry if you were becoming a burden to your boyfriend. Going back to waiting for him to return from his work and eagerly greeting him when he walked in the door.

Chrollo had done a good job of keeping up a positive attitude while you recovered, but now you were feeling better mentally, his happiness seemed a bit more genuine.

Maybe at some point soon, you could start to go out again like you had before the accident.

That would be something to discuss once he was back.

You woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard as you sat up in bed, your arms shaking as you struggled to support yourself.

Another nightmare. The same as the others where you couldn't move and someone sat by and stared at you. But this time had been different.

You could still feel their hands around your throat as your air was cut off completely.

A quick check by placing one of your hands to your neck confirmed that it had been a dream; no one was trying to choke the life out of you.

That only brought minimal relief, however. Even if it was only a nightmare, the images were still fresh in your mind, and it had left you shaken. The thought of being unable to fight back or even cry out while someone sat on top of you and tried to kill you was one that made you feel incredibly helpless.

And you were so, so tired of feeling helpless.

Glancing next to you, you were able to make out Chrollo's form on the bed. He was still asleep, otherwise he no doubt would've asked you what was wrong.

Maybe you should tell him.

They'd started weeks after getting back from Padokea, and the first few times you hadn't thought much of them. And even when they continued, you decided to keep it to yourself. They were simply been the result of stress, likely in relation to the accident, and that at some point they would stop on their own. You didn't want to bring it up because you didn't want to saddle him with anymore of your issues. After all, you weren't a child and Chrollo deserved better than for you to go crying to him whenever something mildly inconvenient happened.

If the nightmares had stopped quickly you wouldn't have considered talking to him.

But if anything, they were only increasing in frequency. Not only were they leaving you emotionally exhausted, but you felt that you were being drained physically as well. Your nights were becoming restless and you spent almost all of the next day tired as you tried to recuperate.

No wonder Chrollo didn't want you going out; he could easily see that you were tired and took that to mean that you still weren't well enough for the outside.

It still seemed strange that they would continue as long as they did, though. Especially when you were considerably less stressed than you'd been before the surgery. Why were they happening when things were going well?

… You didn't know. You just wanted them to stop so you wouldn't need to deal with them anymore.

For now just rest, you told yourself.

With that, you settled back down onto the bed, though your gaze went to Chrollo, still asleep and with his back turned to you. After a moment, you scooted over to be closer to him, resting against his back and placing a hand on his arm. Chrollo didn't wake.

A little unusual given how often he awoke to even the slightest of movement on the bed. He must have been more tired than usual. Part of you was sad because of that; it would've been nice to feel him hold you back, to give you some form of reassurance, even if it was one small piece of physical affection.

But waking him up would be selfish.

So you stayed still, not moving any further, keeping your hand on his arm and your face against his back while you took in his scent.

You can deal with this much on your own, you told yourself.

Just rest for now.

“How would you feel about moving?”

You looked up from where you sat on the couch over to where Chrollo stood on the other end of the room. Moments ago you'd both been reading separately, and he'd gotten up when his cellphone had gone off so he could take the call in another room. He had just come back in and that was the first thing he said, and it managed to catch you so off-guard that it took you a bit to process what he just said.

“Moving?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

“And go where?”

“Out of the city,” he said, “somewhere in the country. That would be nice, wouldn't it?”

“…. Huh.”

He seemed surprised at your reaction, as he asked “you don't want to?”

“I don't know,” you said, “I was really looking forward to walking around here again when it's okay for me to go out.”

Shutting your book and placing it to the side, you asked “where exactly are you thinking?”

“Somewhere near the mountains would be nice.”

“…. Wouldn't somewhere near the mountains be several hours away from here?”

“It would.”

“Won't that interfere with your job?”

He shrugged.

“Relocating won't effect me much,” he said, “my work already requires me to travel. Adding a few more hours to my trips is hardly a sacrifice.”

“Besides,” he added, “I think a new environment would be better for you, especially one that kept you away from the stresses outside here.”

That made sense. Everything he said made sense, as it always did.

But still.

“I really like it here, though,” you said, “there are specific places I haven't been to since the accident that I want to visit again, and I won't be able to do that if we move. Not easily, at least.”

“I understand, but you shouldn't be sacrificing your health just to see certain places again.”

“I'm not sacrificing anything.”

At that, Chrollo leaned against the door frame before he sighed.

“You haven't been doing well, love,” he told you.

You frowned.

“I thought I was doing pretty good, all things considered,” you said.

“You spend most of your days exhausted.”

“I'm not that exhausted.”

To that, Chrollo gave you a pointed look. One that clearly told you that he didn't believe you and you knew you couldn't continue to insist that he was wrong.

“Okay, maybe I'm not doing as great as I'd like, but I'm still getting used to things. It doesn't mean we need to completely leave the lives we have here,” you insisted.

Should you mention the nightmares, that those were probably part of the issue? No…. He might use those as another reason as to why what he was suggesting was the correct decision, and therefore, the decision that you needed to go with. Like most things when it came to your life.

Not that there were any bad decisions that Chrollo had forced on you, but you generally had little input on them as he expected you to go with what he wanted. Like the eyes. He had basically told you that it was happening and you had been in such a depressive state that you didn't offer much resistance.

But it was different now. You liked it here and you wanted to stay. Plus he'd had this place even before meeting you, and the thought of forcing him to move out of his longtime home made you feel guilty. Even if he was the one who wanted it.

“Moving somewhere else just feels like a really extreme reaction,” you continued.

“Trying to keep your health in mind is extreme?” he asked.

“…. Maybe just a little bit, this time.”

Your voice was a bit more hushed when you answered.

After a moment, he pushed himself off the door frame and began to walk towards where you sat.

Chrollo would get his way again. You could already tell: he was going to talk to you, explain all of the reasons as to why he was right and shoot down every argument you had until you were forced to agree that there was no point in doing it in anyway other than his. Then by the end of the week he'd have found some home away from here, if he didn't have his eye on something already, and you'd find yourself packing up everything before the end of the month.

You loved your boyfriend. You really did.

But you didn't want to leave your home.

Maybe you could find some sort of compromise, figure out something to say that would get him to back down temporarily.

So before he could speak, you asked “what if we just held off on that for a few months? Wait and see how I'm doing after a longer period and come back to the topic of moving?”

“It's been some time already and you haven't gotten better,” he countered.

Sitting down next to you, Chrollo reached out and took your hand in his.

“I understand why you don't want to leave,” he continued, “but we do need to consider what is best for you. And I think staying so close to where that crash happened is having a negative affect on you.”

Giving your hand a light squeeze, he asked “don't you agree?”

You surprised him again when you shook your head.

“I get what you're saying,” you then told him, “but I don't think I'm going to get anywhere if I keep running from my problems. Yeah, I'm tired, but I really want things to go back to how they were. I really want to move past what happened.”

“So I'd feel a lot better if I could at least try to tough it out for a little while longer,” you continued, adding “and maybe you're right, that a change in environment is better for me. So maybe in a few months, if we find that I'm still in the same place, we can look into leaving.”

You stayed quiet a moment before adding “if that sounds good to you.”

It didn't seem like he felt that way. Or did it? You couldn't quite read him at the moment, his expression rather stone-faced as he presumably thought over what you said.

At least he was taking your argument into consideration. At least that was something.

“Alright then, love.”

You sat up straighter when he said that and stayed quiet so he could continue with “we'll hold off on it and come back to this discussion at a later date. However, if it seems like you're getting worse, we will be looking into moving.”

You nodded.

He squeezed your hand again as he then asked “you will tell me if you aren't doing well, won't you?”

“Of course.”

Chrollo stared at you for a moment.

Then he finally conceded, pulling your hand up to his lips so he could kiss it.

You responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, which he couldn't help but smile at.

It wasn't good to lie to him. You knew that.

But you were going to get through your issues without bothering him.

You weren't going to burden him anymore.

#reader insert #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #hxh x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter

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